#Park Jimin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pjmmania · 2 days ago

Text

If Snow Decides to Fall

4. “I need the truth.”

Chapter Warnings: Heavy smut (the heaviest, Jimin and reader get super kinky), pregnancy, explicit language, profanity, angst, misogynistic language

Taglist: @marihoneywk

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*One year ago*

The guys were gathering on the set of a new in-house photo shoot. The ones who weren’t in a chair for hair and makeup were just sitting around, passing the time with casual conversation. All but one had arrived.

“I’m going to call him again,” Hoseok sighed to Taehyung and Namjoon, “I mean, he’s always the last one, but he’s pretty damn late this time.”

The man in question was going through one of the roughest periods in all their years together. The past couple of weeks had been joyless for him, the days unbearably hard to get through.

Right as he pulled out his phone, the lagging man appeared from the door to the set. He was clad in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking as if he’d just woken up.

“There he is,” Namjoon nudged Hoseok before calling out, “Jimin-ah!”

The man pushed his straight, dirty blonde hair out out of his eyes and smiled tiredly as he made his way over, “Morning.”

Taehyung chuckled to cover up the deep concern he had for his friend, “It’s two in the afternoon.”

None of them needed to ask him what was wrong, or why he’d obviously slept in so late. Namjoon put his arm around his shoulder, “Day by day. Just keep pushing through.”

Distantly, Jimin nodded, looking down, “I’m fine, guys. I’ve been through harder things than this.”

His words weren’t exactly believable, but the group got the sense that he wasn’t in the mood to dive deep into it yet, so they let it be.

Then Jimin was called by one of the makeup artists to go and sit in one of the vanity chairs. He left the small cluster of members to do as he was told, plopping down in the chair next to Yoongi with a yawn. He appeared to tune most things out, simply going through the motions of life.

Hoseok looked at Taehyung and Namjoon, “He’s really not looking great. I’m worried.”

“He’ll be okay eventually,” Taehyung sighed, “He’s just going through the first phase of a breakup. Soon enough he’ll be pissed at her, like we all are.”

The leader clicked his teeth and shook his head, "Seoyeon...I don't know if I've ever gone from liking to loathing someone like this. Whenever I think about what she did, I feel like running through a brick wall."

The other two concurred. Their smack talk was interrupted by the door opening and closing. In came the stylists with their outfits. There were two women. One was Chaeyoung, and the other was a brand-new face.

The trio tried not to stare rudely, but they couldn't help it. They couldn't remember the last time someone new joined the team, so this was intriguing. Luckily, the women made their way to them first, seeing that they were done with hair and makeup, and ready to change clothes. They wheeled the clothing racks, hanging on which were seven garment bags with seven names.

"Hi," Chaeyoung chirped, "You guys know the drill. Find your bag and go change. We'll help with any adjustments."

She noticed that they were looking at the newcomer, waiting to be introduced. She smirked, "Oh, and this Y/N, our new team member. Y/N, this is Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung."

You already knew who they were, of course, but you were able to conceal most of your embarrassment as you bowed your head slightly, "Hello, it's nice to meet you all."

They were extremely warm and friendly.

"Welcome," Taehyung smiled, "We will try not to make you regret taking this job. At least not right away."

You laughed, "I'd appreciate that."

Always emotionally intuitive, the leader noticed the blush on your cheeks. He could tell you were a little starstruck and playfully pushed Taehyung to ease your nerves, "Ah, don't listen to him. We're an easygoing group. Thanks for being here."

You looked at his kind face and nodded. Then, the three took their individual bags and went to change. They'd be in suits today - the photoshoot had a distinguished and suave aesthetic.

Over in hair and makeup, Jin watched the interaction. Subtly, he gestured over to you without moving his head too much, "Who's that?"

Jungkook and Yoongi glanced in the same direction, while Jimin remained zoned out.

One of the makeup artists replied, "That's Y/N. She just started. Chaeyoung has sort of taken her under her wing for now, but apparently she’s expected to be quite an asset to the team.”

The woman who was fixing Yoongi’s hair gave further context, “I heard she comes from the runway world.”

As each of them were given their finishing touches and sent away to go get changed, they came up and introduced themselves to you. Chaeyoung was amused with how bashful you were acting, when she’d already seen a more confident side of you. It was like a receiving line of global superstars, saying hello to you, one after another. Your first impressions of their personalities were a fair match to what you expected.

Jimin was the only one you didn’t get to formally meet, but you didn’t notice. By the time he got up from his vanity chair to come and grab his garment bag, you were already occupied with the task of tweaking the other members’ looks. Your back was turned to him as he left to go change, fixing Jungkook’s tie. You wanted them to be worn a tad looser than normal.

A few minutes later, the last member returned in his suit. His eyes were trained on the cuff of his jacket, which had a loose button. Wondering if there was time to fix this, he lifted his gaze to find the nearest stylist. There was one he recognized brushing over Jungkook’s lapels with a lint roller, so he headed that way.

A hand on your shoulder caught you off guard, halting you from rolling the tape cylinder over the black fabric of Jungkook’s jacket. You turned around to find Jimin standing right in front of you. He had a casual smile on his face, which faded as soon as he realized that you weren’t who he thought you were.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he bowed his head a little, “I thought you were someone else. Are you new?”

The youngest member smirked, “Did you not hear, hyung?”

“Uh, no,” he grinned awkwardly, “Sorry.”

You laughed, feeling a bit uncomfortable yourself, “It’s alright. I’m Y/N, I started a couple of weeks ago. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’m Jimin,” he smiled, pushing himself to be more cordial than he felt like, being so worn out, “I have a loose button on my cuff here. Could we pin it back down or something?”

“I can fix it,” You nodded, “I’ll just need a flat surface. Come this way.”

There was a table you spotted set up away from the set, against the wall. Nothing fancy, just a collapsable table with water bottles and some snacks for the crew. When you got to it, you cleared some space and pulled up a black folding chair to sit.

Anticipating the next step, Jimin took off his jacket and handed it to you, leaving him in the classic white button up and the black tie. As you took it from his hand, you made brief eye contact. What everyone had said about him turned out to be totally true - his eyes were much harder to meet than the others. They were bigger in person, able to pull anyone right in without even trying. He was just gorgeous. You were afraid that if you looked at him for too long, you wouldn't be able to focus and resort to humiliating yourself. The game of acting professionally had just become more challenging.

You cleared your throat and laid the jacket on the table where it was needed. The rest of it fell on your lap. Then you unzipped your waist pouch, where you always kept some supplies handy. Watching you pull out a needle, some black thread, and tiny scissors, the man standing over you spoke with a bit of urgency, "Oh, I don't know if you have time to full-on sew it. I appreciate it, but maybe just a pin would be fine?"

You quickly glanced at the set. They seemed about ready to go, but you knew what you were doing, "It'll only take me a minute."

With that, you turned the cuff inside out and snipped the loose thread, pulling it out and removing the button completely. The needle was poised between your teeth.

Jimin put his hand on the table, putting some of his weight on it. His blonde hair, parted in the middle, draped forward and covered a little bit of his eyes, "I get the feeling this isn't the first time you've done this."

Focusing on your task, or at least trying to, your cheeks flushed. You felt the warmth in your face and mentally kicked yourself for it, praying he didn't notice. His voice was lower than you would have imagined. The interviews you'd seen of him all displayed a much lighter tone. Park Jimin was the only one out of the seven that was proving to go against your presuppositions.

You kept your attention on threading the needle, "I used to work backstage on runways, taking care of all the wardrobe malfunctions. I guess I learned to act fast."

It didn't occur to him that so soon after a wretched heartbreak, he could feel that feeling, but he did. That feeling when he made a woman blush, that prick in his ribs. Maybe it was only his subconscious trying to fill a void, or trying to gain some confidence back. Maybe he was simply intrigued by a woman who wasn’t falling at his feet, as he was so used to. Either way, it was there.

A smirk grew on his lips, “Then how on earth did you end up here?”

You were sewing the button back into the fabric of the jacket, laughing bashfully, “It was a fun environment and all, but I wanted to partake in the creative side for once. Evidently here I get to do both.”

He chuckled genuinely, and it gave you enough of a boost to make eye contact with him again. His grin was contagious this time, not intimidating.

“Are you assigned to our styling team specifically?” he asked you.

“I am.”

Oh, the fun of a little harmless flirting. He felt a lightness that he hadn’t felt in weeks, “Sorry to warn you, but we’re all a little clumsy with our wardrobes sometimes. There will probably be plenty more malfunctions to fix.”

You pulled the thread through, “I don’t care. It’s kind of fun to me, actually.”

“You’re done already?” his eyes went wide.

You snipped a little excess thread, “Mhm. I told you it would only take a minute.”

You rose from the chair and held up the jacket, positioning yourself behind him so he could put his arms through. He took the reins from there, tugging at the hems in front to straighten everything out.

Then he turned back to you with a half grin, “How do I look?”

You pursed your lips, failing to conceal your smile, “Fine, just one last thing.”

He wasn’t prepared for you to get so close to him, taking a hold of his tie. Your face was suddenly so near to his chest, and you could feel his eyes peering down on you.

Over on set, Taehyung saw this interaction. Without making a fuss, he gently elbowed Hoseok, chuckling, “Hey, remember how I said Jimin is going through the sad phase right now?”

He subtly gestured over to where the two of you were. Hoseok saw it immediately - the look he was giving you. He’d seen it many times before. It was the expression he always made when he had his sights set on a woman, locked in and calculating his next step, trying to figure you out.

Hoseok scoffed with a tiny smirk, leaning in to mutter in the other's ear, "Oh boy, I know that look."

"Yeah, I think I skipped a step in the middle of sadness and anger." the younger member sighed, arms crossed.

"A rebound?"

He laughed quietly, covering his mouth, "A rebound."

"Poor new girl," Hoseok whispered. If she was smart, she'd run the hell away. And Jimin should know better than to go after her, of all people. Staff are off limits."

"Eh," Taehyung shrugged, "Maybe he just wants a little flirtation, you know? It doesn't have to lead to anything scandalous."

Unrelated to their discreet conversation, Yoongi called out, "Jimin-ah! Hurry up!"

The shout brought you back to reality. You quickly worked your fingers to loosen his tie, just as you had with the others.

Jimin called back, "One second!"

He then returned his focus to you, admiring the cute, frazzled expression on your face. His voice was soft and raspy, "Did I not tie it to your liking, Y/N?"

You released a flustered laugh as you adjusted, "No, you did. But the concept here is supposed to be a little more relaxed. Debonaire, but not too stiff. Alright, that should be good."

"Thanks," he nodded courteously, beginning to step away, "I'll try not to ruin all your hard work."

You put your supplies back into your waist pouch and smiled, "You're welcome."

He returned to the set, joining the rest of the rest of the members with a refreshed, pleasant expression on his face. His mood had lifted, and although they couldn't openly say anything, all of the guys noticed. They shared glances with one another, all thinking the same thing.

Meanwhile, you went back to standing at Chaeyoung's side to watch them do the shoot, unaware that a simple and brief encounter had just changed the course of your life.

*Present day*

You were totally zoned out in this meeting, reflecting on the night before. The headspace that was supposed to be taken up by thoughts of the guys' pending tour was instead occupied by the words exchanged last night.

You couldn't shake the question he asked you and the way he asked it, with optimistic eyes and a curious smile. It echoed in your mind:

"Would you like to move in with me?"

It made your heart race with both elation and intimidation. The conversation that ensued was rational and calm. Jimin understood your shock at the proposition and told you to take some time to mull it over. You couldn't lie to yourself. It would make a lot of sense to live with him. You loved each other, and you were having a baby. Plus, this was one of the best ways to create that stable home environment - a little family living under one roof.

But if it wasn't for this baby, would he have wanted to? What did this mean for your future, not as parents, but as a couple? There was something to be said for remaining cautious with this. If you weren't at that point in your relationship, it could backfire to the detriment of the two of you and your child.

The Director of the Styling Department, Jang Sanghee, adjourned the meeting. As everyone else got up to go back to their personal work spaces, she called to you and Chaeyoung, “You two, please stay for a moment.”

You shared a look with your coworker and slowly sank back down into your chair at the long conference table.

Sanghee smiled at both of you once the door was closed. She was a warm woman, creative and smart. It was no wonder she was in this position. Her hair was a fitting shade of blonde and she always wore happy colors, matching her sunny disposition. She was someone the whole team respected and wanted to emulate.

“Ladies,” she folded her hands on the table, “First of all, thank you both for all your hard work on the concept for the tour. Because of your efforts, we are ahead of schedule. I wanted to speak with both of you due to a new development I’ve received from Management. The date for the boys’ new music video shoot has been confirmed for the first of September. I’m unable to attend this time, as my husband and I are taking a vacation for our anniversary, I’d like to send you two instead, since you’ve been working so close to this particular concept. You know the vision best.”

You were thrilled to have been asked, flattered that you were considered good enough to go. Chaeyoung smiled, “Wow, thank you so much. Have the looks been chosen for the music video yet?”

Your boss shook her head, “No, which is why it’s great that we are ahead of schedule with the tour. You can both take a pause on that for the coming weeks and pivot to this project.”

You inquired, “Where is the video being shot?”

“In Los Angeles,” Sanghee replied with a nod, “I will forward the email I got from Management about the location and the smaller details. You’ll love it, though. It’s a gorgeous, dated theater and we’re working with a large budget.”

Your heart dropped a little bit. You’d be five months along at that point. Though air travel would likely be safe for you, you’d need to consult with Doctor Yoon before accepting the offer. And that meant you’d need to tell Sanghee sooner than you planned. However, it was lucky that your check-up was in a few days. You’d be able to ask her then.

Chaeyoung’s excitement was evident, “It goes without saying, but I’d love to. Thank you again.”

Sanghee set her eyes on you next, tilting her head slightly to one side, “And you, Y/N? You don’t seem particularly enthused.”

You felt ashamed, unaware that it had been showing on your face. Instantly, you perked up and forced a more jubilant expression, “Oh, no I am. Thank you so much for choosing us. It’s just…I can’t give you a confirmation until Thursday. I hope that’s alright.”

The superior nodded, “Of course. May I ask why?”

You thought now was as good a time as ever, even though you really had no choice, and you trusted that both women would keep it confidential. You glanced behind to double check that the door was closed.

You inhaled deeply, “Well, I was planning to wait for a few more weeks to tell the office and HR, but I guess it’s alright to do it now. I’m expecting.”

Their eyes went wide, as did their smiles.

Chaeyoung, who was sitting next to you, brought you a hug, “Oh my gosh, congratulations!”

Sanghee grinned cordially, “That’s wonderful, Y/N. Congratulations. When are you due?”

“Early January,” you replied, face a bit pink from the flattery, “So I’m not very far along, but I’ll be right in the middle of it come September. That’s why I need to get my OBGYN’s approval to travel by air. I have an appointment this Thursday.”

Chaeyoung gasped excitedly, “Oh, that’s what these doctor’s appointments of yours have been for!”

You laughed. It was refreshing to receive a positive response to the news, for once. They would likely react very differently if they know who the father was, but they didn’t , so you’d take it.

Your boss stood up, grabbing her laptop, “Well then, you let me know what your doctor says and we will go from there.”

You nodded, “I will. Thank you very much.”

Sanghee left the meeting room to go back to her office. You and Chaeyoung followed her, walking side by side. She nudged you with her elbow gently and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “We’re going to lunch, on me.”

She was dying to know more, talking with her mouth full of bulgogi, “I need detail, Y/N. When did you find out? And who’s the father?”

You chuckled, taking a bite of your tteokbokki. The spice was likely to give you a little bit of heartburn, but you were craving it, “I’ve known for about a month.”

You had no idea how to answer the second question. Quickly, you shoved another mouthful of food in, giving yourself more time to think of a believable answer.

Chaeyoung looked at you expectantly, “Aaand? Come on, who is it?”

You swallowed, “He’s someone I’ve been seeing for a while. Nothing super serious, but I think he’ll stick around.”

She seemed to buy it, “That’s good. And hey, if it doesn’t work out it, don’t worry. Child support exists for a reason. What does he do for a living?”

You stammered, unable to make something up fast enough, “O-Oh, I really don’t think I should say. He’s a very private man.”

Chaeyoung grinned mischievously, “When a man is described as ‘private’, that means he’s rich. Is that true?”

You turned a shade of pink again, nodding bashfully, “Um, yeah. He’s affluent.”

She took her glass of water and clinked it against yours, giggling, “Cheers to that. I’m happy for you. I think you’ll be a great mom. The twins love you.”

You started to ease up, “Thanks, Chae. I have been coming around to it more and more. Any advice?”

“Oh, a ton!” She laughed, “I could go on for hours. I don’t want to overwhelm you, though, so my advice for right now is to hydrate well, buy a bigger bra because your boobs are about to get huge, and brace yourself to feel hornier than you ever have in your life.”

You broke into a laugh too, “Is it really that bad?”

She shrugged candidly, “I mean, it’s different for everyone, but I couldn’t keep my hands off my husband for weeks.”

Jimin entered your mind. Past images of him doing filthy things to you played like a film reel. You hadn’t been intimate since finding out about the pregnancy, and until recently, the thought never occurred to you. Both of you were far too concerned with more pressing matters. Now that the dust was settling, your desire for him was coming back with a vengeance.

“We’ll see.” you said.

“So if you’re due in January,” Chaeyoung began to ponder aloud, “You’ll be back in time for the tour. That is, if you’d want to bring the baby along.”

You froze. How could it have never crossed your mind? The tour would kick off in May. You were expected to go, as a stylist. Of course, no one had a clue that your employment would probably be terminated by then, as you and Jimin would likely make an announcement before the baby was born or shortly after.

However, there was a good chance that your job status wouldn’t matter. You had yet to discuss it, but you assumed that you’d be going along on the tour anyway. Surely, neither of you would want the baby separated from Jimin for that long.

“No pressure, of course,” Chaeyoung assured you after noticing that you were lost in thought, “The company would never mandate you to go with a newborn. At that point, it would have only been four months.”

You nodded, “Right. I guess it will come down to doctor’s advice.”

“Speaking of that,” she said, “Do you think you’ll be allowed to go to LA?”

You breathed out, collecting another bite of tteokbokki in your chopsticks, “I hope so. From what I understand, everything is normal. I had a clean bill of health at my first appointment.”

“I hope you can go too. I don’t know if I could manage all of that alone.”

“I’m sure you could,” you grinned, talking with your mouth full, “Plus, the guys will be happy to know you’re going. I think they enjoy the banter with you.”

She nodded, “Yes, but it will be the same for you too once you’ve travelled with them, like if you go on the tour. I’ve been with them since the early days, you know. They’ve grown to trust me. I’ve seen them go through a lot, even heartbreaks.”

You swallowed and took some water to handle the spice, “Heartbreaks?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sad look in her eyes, “I’m only sharing this with you because you’ve been around their girlfriends before and maintained the code of silence.”

You sat on the edge of your chair, hushing your voice, “What is it?”

She glanced around the two of you in the restaurant, making sure no one was within earshot. Then she looked at you and leaned forward, “Before you were hired, Jimin had a long-term girlfriend. I won’t say her name, but he was head over heels for her. A bunch of us on staff were betting that he’d marry her one day.”

It felt like you’d been kicked in the gut, “I see…When did they break up?”

She tried to recollect the timeline, “Hm, it was really close to when you started. Maybe a couple weeks?”

Your eyes widened, “A couple weeks?”

Jimin never mentioned this woman before. To hear that he’d been in love so close to meeting you sent a bad feeling down your spine. It made you jealous and frustrated…and frustrated that you were jealous.

Chaeyoung took another bite of her meal, humming with a nod, “If I’m remembering it correctly. None of the boys ever said so, but I’m almost positive she was the one who ended things. The poor guy was a wreck. It was horrible to watch, really. We all think she was using him.”

“For what?” You inquired, “Fame?”

“In essence, yes. And money. She’d get to go to all these big star-studded parties with him and rub elbows. She moved on to some big CEO here in Seoul, I’m pretty sure.”

You erased any indication of upset from your body language, “That’s awful. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “My guess is that she had almost everything she wanted in him, except for one thing - publicity. Jimin’s always been super private, and she wanted the notoriety. I think she stuck around for so long, thinking that he’d get there one day, but nope.”

There was a sharp echo of what your parents were trying to convince you - that he’d never get around to going declaring this relationship in public. You shoved it away. This was a totally different scenario.

“How long did they date?” You asked.

“A little over two years.”

You were dumbfounded. How could you have never heard about this clearly significant part of his past? You wanted to know more without sounding nosy.

“That’s a long time for her to hang on, if what she wanted was to be seen with him.” You disguised a question with as a general statement, hoping it won’t prompt her to divulge the information you wanted.

Chaeyoung’s perfectly shaped eyebrows went up, “Well that’s the thing. He did take her out on dates.”

“How?” your brows furrowed, “They were never caught, right?”

She chuckled, “They did exactly what the other guys and their current girlfriends do. They wore masks, sunglasses, hats. They drove around with tinted windows. They went in the back entrance of places and reserved private rooms. And sometimes, they paid a tad extra for discretion. Before their time, idols were having to figure out how to do this. It’s like there’s an unwritten guide on how to date in their world. Nothing new.”

You felt so ingenuous. You knew there had to have been other partners in Jimin’s past, but it was off-putting that you were blind to one that had been there right before you got together. How could you not have known if he was just getting out of a serious relationship? And how could you move in with him without knowing all the facts? It was certainly a large thing to leave out, and it planted a most unwelcome seed:

How well did you truly know this man?

“Anyway,” Chaeyoung said, “When we get back to work, you should probably go tell HR. Now that your boss knows, you might as well tell them.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded, “Yeah…okay.”

All of the guys were gathered in Namjoon’s studio. Jimin had texted in their group chat that he needed a few minutes that afternoon to speak to them, and it had to be all of them at once.

Everyone was there now, so there was no point in drawing it out. He wanted to be able to look them all in the eye and announce it unabashedly, so he stood up. All of the members were looking at him with expectant faces, worried yet relieved that they were finally about to learn what had been going on.

“I know everyone has a busy day, so I’ll make this quick,” Jimin began, “I’m sorry that I’ve been hiding something from you all, and I know it’s been more obvious than I would have liked to admit. I only ask that you guys don’t freak out and listen to me.”

Jungkook gave him a slight nod while the rest remained silent in waiting. He took in a breath through his nose and then exhaled the last bit of nerves, ready to just get it over with. He didn’t even want to give them time to ask questions.

“There’s more going on between Y/N and me,” he said, “We’re having a baby.”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Mouths were agape, eyes were wide, a few curse words were tossed around. Internally, none of them were as wildly upset as Namjoon. He knew something was deeply wrong. He just knew it. His gut had been proven right.

Not that he wanted to be flooded with horrible reactions, but Jimin was confused as the silence went on and on, “Um…Nobody has a comment on that?”

“I’ve got one,” Yoongi had his hands behind his head in shock, “How the fuck did this happen?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s face was more worried than upset, “No offense, but birth control is ridiculously easy to get these days. Were you really not being careful?”

He told them the truth, scratching the back of his head, “We have always been careful, aside from this one time.”

“Wait, so you purposefully had sex without protection?!” Jin scoffed, “Jimin, how could you? You were asking for it.”

He sighed, feeling the heat rise, “It wasn’t like that. I mean, yes, we were both getting caught up in the moment, but she assured me that it wasn’t that time…you know, in her cycle.”

There was a collective groan in the room. Namjoon felt his blood boil.

The confessor defended both of you, “Roll your eyes all you want, but it happened. She’s nine weeks along, and we’re doing this.”

“Look, I’m never one to tell people how to live their life,” Yoongi’s approach was much calmer this time, “But this is going to change everyone in this room. We have the right to be honest about that. Not to mention, it’s going to get your girlfriend fired. You are going to have to come clean about this sooner or later, you know that, right?”

Jimin was becoming slightly annoyed, “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”

He had to settle himself down a bit for continuing, “And you’re right. All of you do have the right to be uneasy about this. I know it’s going to impact all of your lives too, and I’m sorry about that. But that doesn’t mean you get to make me and Y/N feel guilty.”

“We’re not trying to make you feel guilty,” Taehyung shook his head, “It’s just…holy shit.”

Hoseok took a composing breath, “I mean…are you happy about this, Jimin?”

He sat back down, “More and more, I really am. I’m a little upset with myself and I’ve been strained by all the unknowns, of course, so that’s been hard. But I love her and from the moment she told me, I’ve had this sense that it’s all meant to be. I know it sounds weird, but that’s the truth.”

Jin, as the oldest, felt compelled to take the lead, “No, it doesn’t sound weird.”

The others all looked at him, confused. This included Jimin. The oldest member took note of this and continued to defend this stance, “Hey, this was always going to happen, right? It’s not like none of us want kids. I know I do. One of us had to be first. I think we should all do what we can to support and be glad that it’s with someone that he loves.”

Jungkook finally spoke up, “I agree. How we respond to this will set the precedent, but it goes way deeper than that. One of us is really going to be a dad. I’m happy for you both, hyung.”

Yoongi came around, smiling a little, "You know what? Fuck all of it. I'm happy for you too."

Jimin felt a wave of relief start to wash ashore, bit by bit. It turned out that Jungkook had been right. It took them a few minutes to come to terms with the news, but eventually all of them embraced it - all but one. He started getting hugs and encouraging pats on his shoulder, shows of support and congratulations. It made him wonder why he'd been so afraid to begin with. These men had gone to hell and back with him before, and they would do it again. His gratitude for their camaraderie reached new depths.

Now feeling more relaxed than he had all day, he noticed Namjoon sitting there with a tense look on his face. He was staring ahead at nothing, looking like he was in some form of trance.

"Joonie?" he questioned hesitantly, "You're the only one who hasn't said anything."

The leader snapped out of it, finding that six pairs of eyes were glued to him, observing his body language. He let out a sigh and looked down. It pained him, but he strongly felt that he needed to be a voice of reason here.

"Jimin, you're my little brother and I love you..."

Taehyung remarked in the background, "That doesn't sound good."

Namjoon went on, "And it's because I love you that I feel like I need to say this. We all watched you go through the worst heartbreak of your life a year ago. I can't bear the thought of you going through that again. What Seoyeon did to you was unconscionable."

Jimin hadn't heard that woman's name in a long time, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't still sting, but even greater than that was the knee-jerk reaction to defend the woman he loved now, "I hope you aren't insinuating what I think you are."

"Yeah," Jungkook stepped in, "You're not seriously comparing Y/N to that clout-chaser, are you?"

The leader played his cards civilly, "I am simply saying that I have questions. You said you both willingly had sex without protection, right?"

Your boyfriend's temper became short, "Yes, we did. The key word there is 'both'. It was a mutual choice. You can call it dumb, but we're both to blame for it."

"I understand that much, but what about the second part?" Namjoon raised another inquiry, "The fact that she told you she couldn't get pregnant? Does that not make you or anyone else here a little suspicious?"

Jimin was seething now, "So what, are you saying she lied to me?"

Jungkook put his hand on the fuming member's back, but had a bad feeling that this was going to escalate further. Jimin's eyes were burning.

"I'm saying you need to consider that very carefully. Think about it. A baby links her to you for the rest of your life. To you, your money, your fame. All of it."

Jimin put his face in his hands, using every ounce of strength not to blow up. The two youngest in the group focused on cooling him down, while the others joined forces against the heavy accusation.

"Namjoon," Hoseok scowled, "I can understand that you think you're protecting him, but I think you're way out of line. Y/N is not a gold-digger."

"Yeah, think about what you're saying," added Yoongi, "You're saying she got pregnant on purpose. It makes no sense."

Jin chimed in too, "I thought you'd given up on this idea after we talked at my apartment."

That made Jimin perk up again. He looked at Jin, and then back at Namjoon with a dagger gaze, "Oh, so you've thought this about her for a while, have you?"

Jin shrunk a little. It wasn’t his intention to pour gasoline on the fire.

Unappreciative of being ganged up on, the leader raised his voice, "Maybe I have, but only because I don't want you to be screwed over again! I won’t be gaslit by all of you for having a fucking memory.”

“I’ve got a memory too,” Jimin’s tone became more aggressive, “And mine shows me that she couldn’t be more different than Seoyeon.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been thinking with your dick ever since you met Y/N, so maybe your judgement is clouded.” the leader spat.

The room erupted with a collective scorn of what had just been said. Jimin shot up. It was time to remove himself from these surroundings, otherwise this would go to a place he might live to regret. Rarely had he ever been so angry, and never at Namjoon.

His entire face was tight with fury, a vein in his neck bulging out, “I’m not going to just sit here and listen to this shit anymore. I’ve said all I needed to say.”

He turned around and stormed out of the room. Shutting the door behind him, he used his last bit of self-control not to slam it. Such a crashing sound would alarm the entire floor. However, this left him with a body filled with resentful energy. He began a brisk walk toward the stairwell, fists screaming at him for permission to punch a hole in the wall.

He opened the door to the stairwell and started to hustle down. It would be a long way to the lower floors, where a practice room would be waiting for him, but he needed the physical exertion.

Rounding the corner onto the sixth level, you appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He ran into you, making him realize how rage-blurred his mind had become. Jimin snapped out of it instantly, worried that he'd hurt you.

"Shit," he checked you with a quick scan of your frame, "I'm sorry, baby. Are you alright?"

You gasped when he used your pet name and darted your gaze around, "Shh, you can't call me that here. And yeah, I'm fine."

The silence between you made both of your somewhat heavy breathing more apparent. Now, you had follow-up questions for each other. At the same time, you asked it:

"What's going on?"

Both of you laughed a little, but fakely. Jimin said, "You go first. Why are you climbing up here instead of taking the elevator? And what's with that distant look on your face?"

What were you supposed to tell him? That you were rattled by what Chaeyoung said to you at lunch? That you were bothered with the idea of him getting out of a serious relationship just before starting something with you? This wasn't the time or place for it, but you could give him a half-truth instead. You softened your voice to a whisper, hesitating for a second, "I'm going up to talk to HR."

His eyes went a little wider, "Really? Already?"

"Yeah. I was in a meeting this morning and I kind of had to tell Sanghee and Chaeyoung, so I'm going to tell HR now," you explained, "Don't worry, I'll leave out certain information. It's just a formality."

He nodded slowly, glancing up at the ceiling for moment before sighing, "Alright. I guess you would have had to in the coming weeks anyway."

"Yeah...Anyway what's up with you? You look like you want to kill someone."

Jimin found some dark, twisted humor in that and chuckled, but he didn't want to share the reason. You were already dealing with enough - telling you that one of the members thought you were a scheming social climber would wound you, ramping up insecurities. As your partner and the father of your child, he felt it was his job to protect you from strife.

"No," he feigned a smirk so convincingly, "I've just got a lot on my mind, but that's my normal."

You grinned back, "Me too, especially these days."

Not wanting to get caught, he began to walk past you. As he brushed by your ear, he asked lowly, "Will I see you tonight?"

You assumed he wanted to continue the conversation about moving in together. It would allow you to speak with him about the things you learned regarding his past, which was uncomfortable but also essential. You needed to be an adult and talk it through.

"Yes, I'll be over later."

It was early in the evening, still plenty of daylight outside. Jimin was showering off, feeling as though he needed to rinse the remnants of this tense day off his body. The heat of the water was higher than usual, but he hardly noticed. The conflict was replaying in his mind over and over again.

Part of the reason he decided to shower was to get away from his phone. It had been blowing up ever since that dicey meeting with calls and texts from every member besides Namjoon, asking if he was alright and saying how bothered they were by the leader’s words.

Jimin had no idea when he’d feel like speaking to him next. All conflicts in the group were swiftly squashed, but this was a new level of agitation. Not only had he basically called the mother of his child a gold-digger, but he also insinuated that your relationship was purely rooted in sex. It caught him totally off guard, especially coming from a friend who was usually a peacemaker.

When you entered the apartment, it was right after work hours. You heard the faint sound of the shower running as you took your shoes off and set your bag down. Better not to go and meet your boyfriend in the bathroom, you thought. You didn't trust your hormones not to wig out and overtake you. You were intent on talking to him about his ex and asking him some related questions.

It seemed that Jimin didn't hear you enter, as the shower droned on for a while. It gave you time to wander into his kitchen and grab yourself a snack. He kept some packets of cookies in the pantry at all times, for when his sweet tooth would take hold. Unfortunately for him, your appetite was starting to change, and his sweets were beginning to disappear with every one of your visits.

You sat at one of the stools at the kitchen island, lazily munching on a cookie as you waited for him.

When Jimin finally turned off the water, he could have sworn that he heard the sound of crunching plastic. It gave him pause from towel-drying his hair. He shouted out to you, "Baby?!"

You called back to him, "Yeah, I'm here!"

All you heard in response was "Ah."

Then, his bare footsteps approached you. Out he came, entering the kitchen with wet, slicked-back hair and a black robe tied at the waist. The sight was by no means easy for you to look at, but at least he was covered.

From his viewpoint, the sight of you was a comfort. Not that he wanted you to be this worn out from work, but it was endearing how you looked while languidly eating his snacks.

He kissed your cheek, which was stuffed with food, before grabbing one of the soft baked goods for himself. His palm met the cool marble surface of the island as he leaned against it. Before taking a bite, he asked you, "How was the meeting with HR?"

You shrugged, "Nothing significant. They handled it very professionally, as expected. Basically, they walked me through the maternity leave policy and told me I was more than welcome to adjust my work schedule if necessary."

"That's great," he said with a full mouth, "Also, I've been wondering about this since running into you in the stairwell. Why did you have to tell Sanghee and Chaeyoung today?"

"Oh, right. Sanghee asked me and Chae to go with you guys for the music video filming in September. I couldn't say yes officially without a green light from Doctor Yoon, and I was honest about that. So basically I had no other choice but to tell them."

Jimin's eyes were round with excitement for you, "Wow, that's awesome, baby! You'll be able to travel abroad with us...You don't seem particularly thrilled, though.”

You turned your head a little so you were facing him directly, "Huh? Oh, no I am. I'm just...You know how yesterday was a long and weird day for me?"

He nodded.

"Well, today was longer and weirder."

He hummed as he swallowed the contents in his mouth, dusting any crumbs from his hands by rubbing them together a couple times. He walked behind you and started to massage your shoulders, "If you're in the mood to talk about it, I'm here."

His lips were so close to your temple as he said that. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let him work through your muscles. You let out a breath through your mouth, so quietly and delicately that it was almost impossible to hear, but Jimin was right there.

He began to kiss the outer shell of your ear, and you did it again. You rarely got upset with his effect on you - it was often more than welcome. But in this instance, you were fighting it. You wouldn’t let yourself be taken by him tonight. It felt like giving a pass to everything you had learned about him, as if sex would be a means of saying that it was all okay. Besides, that wasn’t the only matter that needed to be discussed. He’d asked you to move in with him, for goodness sake.

Jimin was fighting it too. If he caved to desire, he would be proving Namjoon right. He would be, in essence, thinking with his dick. Therefore, he was resisting his own biology, but very poorly. It had been a month since he’d had you. A whole month without touching you, feeling your warmth around him.

The more he pictured, the more he lusted after you. Soon enough, his body began to betray his standing. His lips suckled gently on the skin right below your ear lobe as his length began to swell.

You felt it against your lower back and sighed, shaking your head, “Jimin…Not tonight.”

In a turn of events, now you were upset at yourself. Your hormones protested the refusal, a carnal knot tangling in your core. It had been so long without his hands on you, so long since you’d seen him come undone.

Jimin was never one to push the envelope. He took you at your word and backed off. Forcing a totally content expression, he gave you some space. He retreated to the wall next to the entryway to the kitchen, back against it.

You swiveled in the stool so you could face him. Even though you’d just rejected his advances, the raging pregnancy hormones made it impossible to stop looking at him.

He gave you a small grin, “I really am here to talk, if you want. I know we probably have lots to go over, huh?”

You barely heard his thoughtful sentiment, too captivated by the optical banquet before you. His robe was a bit loose at the top, creating a low ‘v’ that exposed the inner bump of his pecs. His hair was wet and pushed back, exposing his nearly perfect hairline and forehead. And then was the worst yet best of all - the protrusion at his crotch.

Your face was pink as you drank him in. Jimin watched your chest rise and fall in the way it always did when you were needy. That did him in, turning him into the man you’d come to know so well over the past year. Fuck whatever Namjoon would have to say. He knew nothing.

He brought on the final blow, the devilish upturn of his lips.

“Do you wanna talk about it or not?”

You looked down, “I...”

“Why did you look away, baby?” He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered over to you, teasing you with that sultry voice of his.

He stood next to you, body angled toward you as he leaned sideways over the counter, propping his head up with his hand. This pulled the neckline of his robe open even more, giving you a more complete view of his chest. Your eyes were starving as you began to feel a pool of wetness form in your panties.

You looked at the tent in his robe. It was taunting you. You pursed your lips together and looked back up at his eyes, which appeared to be devouring you on the spot.

You were both at the point of decision now, each of you laboring against the magnetism.

Jimin inched closer to you, his tone dropping low, “Not in a talkative mood, are we?”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up.”

You practically pounced on him, standing up and sealing his lips with yours. He smirked pompously into the kiss, arms wrapping around your waist.

You weren’t playing around tonight, biting down on his lower lip. He groaned, his cocky demeanor being replaced by an insatiable appetite. You exhaled a moan as he lifted you up and set you on the countertop.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathed as he sucked and nibbled on your neck.

You were greedy for more, running one hand through his wet hair and gathering some in your fist to hold him against your flesh.

“I need you so fucking bad,” Jimin growled, “It’s been so long.”

“I know,” you moaned, “I wasn’t in the mood for a while but now I want it more than ever.”

“Mm,” he went back to attacking your lips, “You want me, baby?”

Your mind felt foggy with desire, your womanhood soaking your underwear with arousal, “Yes, I want you so bad it hurts.”

He pulled his face away from you for a moment. His eyes were black with primal lechery as he took your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, “Is this because of your hormones, hm?

You smiled a little, panting, “They’ve been nuts lately.”

He hummed with satisfaction, “My poor baby, dealing with so many side effects from carrying my child.”

It appeared as though both of you had discovered a new kink. He was obsessed with the thought of it, and you were set ablaze when he said it.

You resumed the making out promptly, losing yourself in the taste of him. Jimin’s hands cupped your ass, giving it a squeeze before lifting you off the counter. You kept your legs wrapped around his torso and occupied his lips as he carried you away.

The next thing you knew, you were set down with your back on his bed. He assumed his rightful place on top of you, his robe parting at the legs so that his cock became free.

"You are far too covered for my liking." he said, pulling you up so you sat on his lap.

You couldn't help yourself. As he went to undo the buttons of your cream silk blouse, you wrapped your hand around his length. Your touch made him stop, his palms meeting the surface of the comforter at his sides.

His eyes closed, brows knitting together for a second before relaxing again. He licked his lips and sucked in a hitched breath once you began to palm his balls. You were addicted to this facial expression - fully absorbed in the moment and dying for more.

"What are you doing?" his voice was raspy, "I was in the middle of getting you naked."

You sank into the role of innocence, "I'm sorry. Would you like me to stop?"

"No," he returned all too quickly, "No, keep going. In fact, do more baby. Please."

The word 'please' was your cue that the time to act innocent was over. You smirked and removed your hands. You scooted off his lap and then off the bed entirely. Jimin followed you to the edge of the bed, anticipating your next move. Before proceeding, you decided to give him a little show. You wanted to bring him to the brink of madness.

Tantalizingly slow, you undid button after button of your shirt. You let it fall from your shoulders and pulled the rest of it off your body, dropping it to the floor. Your boyfriend was transfixed by your breasts, so plump and cupped by your bra, spilling over it.

"Your tits look bigger." he said.

You removed your bra, "Do they?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, "They do."

You smiled softly and removed the rest of your clothing. As you pulled your jeans down, you turned around, giving him a full view of your ass in a pair of seamless black panties. When you faced him again, he looked as if he wanted to eat you alive.

Jimin began untying the loose knot of the robe, pulling the fluffy garment off his body. He sat there fully bare, cock straight and veiny, more than ready to receive your touch. The image was so obscene - muscular thighs that could probably suffocate you spread open, balls hanging off the bed at the base of his leaking, throbbing member.

You maintained a sensual eye contact as you lowered onto your knees in front of him. The rug beneath his bed offered some comfort.

Jimin could have blown his load just looking at you like that, so gorgeous and eager to please.

“I wouldn’t wait too much longer, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Otherwise I’ll have to pick you up and blow your fucking back out. I- Ah, shit.”

You’d successfully shut him up by engulfing his entire cock in one go.

You began bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace.

“Fuck,” he sighed with a shaky disposition, “I missed this pretty mouth of yours.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him bite his lip and allow his head to fall back. Your jaw became slightly sore after a minute or so and you pulled off, a popping sound releasing as your lips broke contact. His dick sprung up and down, stiff with longing.

Jimin gritted his teeth, piercing you with sexually frustrated, blown-out eyes. He took a firm grip of your hair, making you moan while looking up at him.

“Did I say you could stop?”

He couldn’t fight the urge to boss you around while you were literally kneeling before him. He searched your eyes to make sure you into it, and they were radiating all the right signals. You loved it when he became dominant like this.

Without giving you the chance to respond, he placed his other hand in your hair and pushed you back down on his cock. You gave him full control of your movements, loving the tingling tug on your scalp.

His mouth fell open in a slew of moans, one for every time you reached the base of him. He was acting like a man possessed, totally unaware of all other surroundings.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, “So mine.”

You whimpered around him.

“Shit,” he hissed, letting you go free for a moment as he stood up, then he went right back to owning you, “How did I go so long without this? Did you miss having my cock in your mouth, baby?”

You hummed in agreement.

“I thought so,” Jimin began to hold your head in place and thrust his hips instead, rutting into the confines of your wet lips like an animal, “God, Y/N…Feels so fucking good. I bet you want a big load of my cum in your throat, hm? Or should I fill up that pussy again?"

The thought of him shooting his seed into your sopping cunt made you both moan. Now there was no reason why he couldn't.

You choked on him when you tried to say something. He permitted you to pull off his dick, still holding you by the hair. The way you looked up at him, eyes glassed over with arousal and tears from gagging, made his cock twitch. He was getting close.

You were catching your breath when you said, "Both."

There was a hint of a leer on his face before he began thrusting inside your mouth again, going full force. You mewled as he face-fucked you, letting out his own grunts and groans.

"Fuck, you want both, baby? I'll give you both."

His ruts became sloppier and his breaths jagged. He was approaching the pinnacle, while you were enjoying the act of driving him insane.

"Shit, sweetheart," his head launched backward, "I'm cumming!"

Your tongue was flooded with a warm saltiness as he let out a loud whine. His eyes screwed shut and mouth locked in an open shape, his hips compulsively gave it a few final ruts. When he came down from the rapture, he collapsed back into his original sitting position on the bed.

You swallowed what he gave you and wiped the excess saliva off your chin before being picked up and laid on the comforter. You were grinning at each other, but you didn't want to lose the fire and get all soft and cushy just yet. You were having too much fun.

You laughed and mirrored his own words back at him, "I wouldn't wait too long."

He chuckled darkly, "You're a little minx, you know that? Now let's get these annoying panties off."

They were a thin, delicate material - easily torn apart when he used the right amount of force. The ripping sound was quick, as if it took no effort at all. You gasped at the sudden action, subdued once more.

Heaven came to you once his fingers grazed over your bud. He cursed when he felt how soaked you were.

"Let me taste you," he said, shifting backward, "I wanna taste how ready you are for me."

Normally, you preferred his fingers, but all bets were off now. You were so horny that any form of contact from him would feel amazing. You nodded hastily, letting him trail down your body. He left kisses and suckled as he moved down. When he got to your belly, he took more care.

He lingered right below your belly button for a moment, placing several kisses there, "When will you pop? I want to see my baby grow."

You smiled softly, "Soon, I hope. If I'm going to have all these symptoms, I at least want something to show for it."

"Mm," His fingers traced over your womb, "If being this cock hungry is one of your symptoms, I'm more than okay with it."

You would have giggled, but then his lips attached themselves to your inner thigh and you gasped instead. You resorted to shifting your hips toward him, greedy.

When his tongue finally met your clit, your back arched off the bed. To hold you in place as you writhed, Jimin gripped your thighs. You tasted delectable, a different flavor than before getting pregnant.

"J-Jimin..."

You didn't care about anything else. You'd forgotten all about the tension you felt when you arrived, and all of the stressful topics you had to talk about. In this moment, you knew he was all yours.

His tongue flicked over your femininity rapidly, applying the right amount of pressure.

"You're so juicy, baby," he sighed, "So ripe for me and me alone, isn't that right?"

You were a moaning mess, non-verbal.

He squeezed your thighs, "Hm? Use your words."

You half moaned, half chuckled, "You sound like - ah, you sound like a dad already."

He would have found it amusing, but he was far too entrenched. In a way that only Jimin could, he turned what you said into something filthy.

“Then why don’t you cum for Daddy?”

That name hadn't yet been introduced in your intimacy, but in this context, it brought you closer to ecstasy. You mewled under the power of his tongue, and the way his lips located just the right place to suck gently.

He was already getting hard again by the sound of your pleasure, the warm, slick feeling of it on his face.

"Tell me how it feels, sweetheart." he muttered before returning to work.

"S-So fucking good, Jimin." you whined.

He looked at you with sinister eyes and a grin, "Baby, that's not my name tonight. Come on, say it. I can tell you love it."

Your face got redder, "It feels so good, Daddy."

His cock twitched, "Are you gonna cum on my tongue? Do you want Daddy to fill up your pussy again?"

It snapped, the bundle inside you. You squirmed, legs shaking as you unraveled. The moans you let out were panted and beautiful, giving him gratification.

As you came back down to the world, Jimin smirked, "You came fast."

You smiled through your afterglow, "I told you, my hormones are nuts. But you might have had something to do with it too."

He kissed the insides of both of your thighs, "I could fucking live down here, right between these gorgeous legs."

You ran your hand through his hair, "Are you hard enough yet?"

Jimin kissed your knee with a smirk, "Oh, is my baby getting impatient for her second load?"

You said nothing and grabbed his wrists to pull him over your body. He chuckled at your fervor, but neither of you was laughing when his cock aligned at your folds, prodding and searching for release. His face was hovering over yours, and you gave him a slight nod to signal that you were ready.

His face had been drained of any fluff and romance, replaced totally by carnal ardor. He was going to fucking ruin you.

His hips rolled forward swiftly, filling you to the hilt immediately. You gasped, sensitive from your orgasm. He found a quick pace right away, groaning at the feeling that he'd been missing for a month.

"You're so fucking tight, sweetheart," he grunted, "So fucking tight and needy for Daddy's cock."

His filthy words were encasing you in heat, making you ache for more, "I-I wish you...I wish you put your baby in me sooner, Daddy."

Jimin began to fuck you harder, more turned on than he'd ever been in his life, "Yeah?"

"Y-Yeah," you panted, "Because now you can - Ah! Now you can fuck me raw like this all you want."

"Holy shit," he moaned, eyes squeezed shut, "You're such a dirty girl. Everyone at work thinks you're sweet as can be. How wrong they are.”

"I'm only like this for you." you moaned.

His head dipped to the valley of your breasts, "That's right, baby. My cock drives you wild every fucking time, hm? That's how you ended up like this."

Then he pulled out for a second, breathing heavily. He became upright on his knees and pulled you toward him, legs up on his shoulders. You moaned at how effortlessly he was able to take control of your body, positioning you exactly how he wanted.

When he re-entered you, he hit much deeper, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. As his hips slammed into yours, your boobs moved in a circular motion.

He delighted in it, "Fuck yeah, look at those tits bounce."

Their movement caused you soreness. They'd been sensitive for a while now, but it was nothing too painful, "They're a little s-sore, Daddy."

Jimin smirked amid his euphoria, "That's because they're getting all nice and big. They need to be able to make lots of milk for my baby. Fuck, that's so hot."

He railed you harder than ever before, unrelenting and rough, chasing another orgasm. You knew you were going to be wobbly after this. You were a mess below him, practically sobbing as he made the world spin. You were delirious, and it only encouraged him to keep pounding into your cunt.

Sweat was beginning to make both of your bodies sticky.

“Look at you,” he exhaled, the air in his lungs feeling scarce, “So fucked out for Daddy. So starved for my cum, even though you’ve already got my child inside you. You’re insatiable. Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want it, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

You were so close to a second climax that you couldn’t speak.

Jimin let go of one of your legs so he could give your ass and underhanded smack, “Don’t make Daddy ask again. Fucking beg for it.”

You whined, “Please cum inside me! I want your load, Daddy! Please give it to me!”

He could tell how close you were and wanted to send you up to the stars. With both of your legs still up on his shoulders, he started to rub your clit in the circular motion he knew you loved.

“O-Oh!” you moaned, “I’m gonna cum!”

Your peak rammed into you just as hard as his dick. Your cunt squeezed and clenched around him, making him groan out, “Christ, that’s it baby. Milk my cock for my seed. This cunt has me so close already.”

You were bordering on overly sensitive now, the pleasure becoming a faint, delicious pain, “I want it, I want it all Daddy.”

“I know you do,” he gritted his teeth, “You’re going to take it all, just like you did last time. Fuck.”

He was nearing the end, taking your legs and letting them return to the plush surface of the bed. Then he returned to a missionary position, jackhammering into you with desperate, inconsistent thrusts.

“So close,” he chanted, “Oh God! Gonna give you such a big load. Cup my balls, sweetheart. Feel how much cum I still have for you.”

Obedient as ever, you did as you were told, reaching around to hold his balls in the palm of your hand. They felt so swollen and full, heavy with more of the genetic material that had helped create the child in your womb. You gently caressed and rolled them.

“Ugh, keep doing that!” he released a moan, sweat dripping down his temple, “I’m cumming!”

With one last shattering sound, jets of semen poured into you. His hips slammed into you out of reflex as he rode it out, cursing and mewling. His member was pulsating inside of you, making you hum with contentment.

Jimin’s arms gave out and his weight fell on you, making you giggle as both of you heaved. You were both in a glowing, exhausted, perspiring state, bodies tangled.

It was only then that he dropped the promiscuous demeanor, kissing your breast lazily, “Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.”

You wrapped your quivering legs around him, pulling him in deeper, panting, “I love you too.”

Then he lifted his head, giving you the chance to see his worn out, adoring smile. His chest was rising and falling, and strands of damp black hair were dangling over your nose. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling it back so you could see his entire face.

“One of our best ever,” he exhaled, “That was unbelievable.”

You laughed, “I agree.”

He rolled off you, closing his eyes and relishing in this blissful feeling, “I’m afraid I’ll have to shower again. Join me?”

You smirked and twisted around so that you were on top of him. You kissed him slowly and deeply. Jimin’s heart could have burst. As always, you managed to take all of the worries out of his head. You erased all negativity, all anger. He felt your soft lips on his and experienced nothing but optimism.

His hands went to your cheeks, keeping you right where you were for what felt like hours.

“This is why I want you to move in with me,” he mumbled between kisses, “I want to come home to you, and for you to come home to me.”

Though you feigned a small grin, the conversation you had with Chaeyoung broke through this perfect bubble. Now that your sexual urges had been quelled, you couldn’t ignore what you had come here to discuss in the first place.

Your heart began to deflate as you imagined him loving that other woman, being devastated from losing her, right before he became smitten with you. The more you remembered, the more your face fell.

“Y/N?” Jimin’s eyes were confused.

You frowned and climbed off of him, sitting up.

Your boyfriend was perplexed, sitting up beside you. The way you were staring straight ahead unnerved him, “Sweetheart, what is it? Do you…not want to move in?”

You closed your eyes with a sigh, “It’s not that. I would, I just…I was told something today that really caught me by surprise. I need the truth.”

He couldn’t imagine why you were talking about honesty. He’d never transgressed against you in that way, at least not severely.

“Okay,” he gave you a nervous smile, “What do you want to talk about?”

You were deadly serious, turning your head to look him in the eye. He took note of how concerned, and even a little hurt, you were.

“Tell me about your ex. The one who left right before we got together.”

#angst #jimin x reader #bts #fanfic #jimin #park jimin #romance #bts fanfic #jimin smut #bts fic #smut #pregnancy #bts smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #established rp

58 notes · View notes

kookiewithluv · 2 days ago

Note

⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.

#thankyou so much for sending me this ask anon #thanks anon!#anon ask #kookiewithluv #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin fic #jimin smut #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin #jimin ah #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jiminshiii

37 notes · View notes

daffyjjk · 13 hours ago

Text

My ultimate comfort show 🥹—I used to skip work and wake up at 4 AM just to watch them. Feeling so nostalgic, and I miss them so much. 2025, please hurry up! (Congrats to my lovelies Jikook 💕). You made my summer feel so special and peaceful. I love you more than starlight!

#ays jikook #jikook #kookmin #bts #jungkook #park jimin

36 notes · View notes

jkvjimin · 6 hours ago

Text

my roman empire 🧍‍♀️ | for @yooboobies ♡ cr. namuspromised

51 notes · View notes

lokisasylum · 2 days ago

Text

Sorry but I will only be trusting Jimin and JIMIN ONLY when it comes to explaining what HIS music is about.

As much as I somewhat "appreciate" Jin, I still haven't forgotten the way he lied about "not knowing Like Crazy" during the fanmeet or how he "only heard Seven before it". When HE was the same dude who kept commenting and congratulating Jimin during FACE era and even wrote to him on weverse demanding that Jimin send him a signed copy of FACE, during the SAME two weeks after "Like Crazy" achieved the Historic #01 on BBHot100 with the very caption starting with "Hey, Mr. Billboard Number One Singer--".

Like come on, man who you trying to fool here?

#unless Jimin himself comes and publicly states that I'm calling bullshit #even Pdogg NEVER used the word “Army” or “for Army” when they were creating “WHO”#who by jimin #muse by jimin #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin

26 notes · View notes

angel-cryptid · 3 days ago

Text

Alien Stage fans, I present to you: Jimin from BTS.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION

#† journal #park jimin #luka alnst #alnst luka #luka alien stage #alnst #alien stage

25 notes · View notes

dolljmins · 1 day ago

Text

❀ ᪲　 ❀ུ͏ 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 ♡?

#۫ .♡۰୭ৎ ۫ . ۫ .🦥#park jimin #kpop #vintage #aesthetic #bts #cinnamon girl #white #brown sugar #aesthetic moodboard #coquette moodboard #soft moodboard #kpop moodboard #cute moodboard #pastel moodboard #vintage moodboard #moodboard #1950s #flowers

25 notes · View notes

theschizotypalsolilquy · 15 hours ago

Text

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #park jimin #kookmin #jeon jungkook

35 notes · View notes

seoul-bros · 3 days ago

Text

Jikook Sucess at the BreakTudo Awards 2024

Award season is on again and Jimin and Jungkook are making their presence felt.

Jimin won for Rising International Artist and International Hit of the Year (Who)

Jungkook won for International Male Artist and K-pop Hit of the Year (Standing Next to You)

Other winners included Cha Eun Woo as International Crush and Queen of Tears for International Series.

It’s a good day for Korean talent.

Post Date: 19/11/2024

#jimin #park jimin #jungkook #jeon jungkook #cha eun woo #queen of tears

44 notes · View notes

writtenwhalien · 12 hours ago

Text

a lover's redemption | chapter 3

chapter 3. the new normal

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 13.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3

17th July 2009

The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.

“They confirmed the crash?” Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.

Han-Jae nodded. “Mostly. But he's gone.” He downed what was left of his drink. “Did we take care of the family?”

Jihoon swirls his glass. “We’ll let them go, they have no one.”

“Except Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,” Han-jae counters.

“They mean nothing to us.”

“But they were loyal to Sehun.”

Upon hearing this, Jimin goes still, realising what’s happened.

“Their loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and they’ve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.”

Han-Jae says nothing else of the matter but his face does little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. “The other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. They’re digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Inconvenient?” he echoed. “The detectives are a problem?”

Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Funny,” Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. “You said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger — trafficking charges. Another detective’s on the case, isn’t he?” His tone sharpened. “You’ve been careless, Han-Jae.”

The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Watch your tongue, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s lip curled. “You’ve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."

Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."

"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."

"Foolishly?"

"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.

Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.

“I’ve given you more than enough leash,” Jihoon continued, his voice rising. “But if you think I’ll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.”

Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. “We’ll talk about this later,” he spat. “We have somewhere to be.”

Jihoon didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. “Get a gun.”

Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Now,” Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."

Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.

Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.

Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.

“Jimin,” she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I can’t do it.”

His mother’s embrace tightened. “I never wanted this for you, Jimin,” she murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. “But this is your life now. Your father won’t wait. If you don’t go back, he’ll only get angrier.”

Jimin shook his head. “Why do you let him—” His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. “You have to go now, before he comes looking for you.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.

The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them.

Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.

Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.

Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.

Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.

Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he ordered both boys.

Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.

Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. “I warned you to stay out of my business. But now, you’re here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The detective spat at Jihoon’s feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. “Come here.”

Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Now, Jimin."

Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.

Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.

"This man is a threat to us,” Jihoon said, calmly. “End him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “I-I can’t—”

Jihoon’s hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. “You’re weak,” he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. “Your mother’s made you soft.”

Jimin’s head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. “Is that why you always send her away?” he asked, teeth gritted. “To keep her away from me?”

Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. “She chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, it’s her choice. And it’s time you grew up and realised that.”

Jimin’s grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jimin’s ears long after the man’s body hit the floor.

Jihoon’s voice cut through the haze. “Finally.”

But Jimin didn’t hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his father’s shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. “You deal with the other one.”

Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taemin’s shoulder. “Go on, son.”

Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.

Han-Jae’s smile faded. “Do you want to disappoint me?”

The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.

The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.

Jimin’s stomach churned violently. He couldn’t bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, “I’m going to the car.”

Jihoon turned his head slightly but didn’t object. “Fine. Go.”

The indifference in his father’s voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.

The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.

The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.

He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.

His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.

When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detective’s lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.

“This is your life now,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.

His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didn’t come. They couldn’t — not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.

Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.

Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.

As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Present day

It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that you’re dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isn’t yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.

But it doesn’t happen.

As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.

The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and you’ll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing you’re sure of, is that you’re safe.

Looking around the room you’re in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with — now the man who saved your life…

It hasn’t escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun would’ve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you.

You’ve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that you’ve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun.

There’s definitely something going on, because there must’ve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you.

Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whatever’s going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too.

There’s also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water — a small reminder that you’re safe here.

As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see it’s also been bandaged and you’re almost certain you’ll find stitches under there. You’re also wearing clothes that aren’t yours — a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You don’t remember anything since falling unconscious but you’re sure one of the housemaids must’ve dressed you.

Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which you’re sure must show the events that took place at your home – you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that.

Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongi’s name. Just before you can press call, there’s a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly.

A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit… Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Yoongi.”

He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.”Y/N.” Walking over to your bed, he doesn’t hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.

He’s been working for Jimin, of course he has – his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your father’s death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, you’ve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too – someone you once considered a best friend.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you ask finally.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by that…

You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return – for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew.

“I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifted his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated.

Meeting his gaze, you said his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something you’d been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what would’ve been your father’s fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and you’d known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasn’t a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and you’d noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadn’t seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence – that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.

“I want to know who killed my dad.”

The words felt strange on your tongue – though your dad’s murder wasn’t a secret to you, you didn’t often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi.

Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. “You know.”

He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. “And I think you already know.”

The anger and frustration you’d been holding on to for years began to surface.“It was them, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi looked up. “Y/N–”

“Lee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?”

Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap.

“Do you know why?”

“Y/N, please, don’t–”

“You promised, Yoongi.”

Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Everything.”

So he did…

Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Lee’s, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyun’s intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving.

The Lee’s had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,

“The one that closed down months ago?” you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongi’s from there on one of your errands for him..

“Yes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?”

“Lee’s son?”

“Yes.”

You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance.

“Closing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.”

“The Benitoite.”

Yoongi nodded. “A clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.” Looking up, Yoongi carried on. “Once that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.”

“They killed her?”

Another nod.

Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldn’t say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didn’t make any of this easier to hear.

Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. “You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“When that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasn’t opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae weren’t just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.”

Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.

“They knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out. Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didn’t care who it was.

“A mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.”

You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dad’s friends you thought of them as family while growing up. It’s true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you would’ve expected of them.

“So that’s why they killed my dad?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Not exactly.” Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. “There was a lot happening around that time, I don’t know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.”

Your stomach curled.

“They wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No. And truthfully I don’t think your dad ever believed them anyway.”

It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly.

Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “I can tell you the rest another time.”

You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like you’ve heard enough, but you need to know. “What more is there? They killed him after that, no?”

Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Not quite.” He paused, waiting.

Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue.

“Did you know Han-jae was married twice?”

Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasn’t always there. “Yeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?”

“Not exactly, Jiyoung wasn’t Han-jae’s daughter.”

Now, this was news to you.

“And her mom wasn’t a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.”

The arranged marriage wasn’t a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your father’s affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadn’t known that Han-jae’s first wife despised him.

“After she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didn’t like her just as much as she didn’t like him, so… he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.”

Eyes widening, you asked, “The nightclub?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down. “But your dad saved her.”

Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.

Yoongi continues. “He knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.”

And just like that, it all made sense. “So that’s why they killed him.”

Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. “It was a means to an end for them,” he murmured. “Han-jae and Jihoon had changed. They weren’t who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.”

Yoongi’s words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger… your dad’s closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“Still could’ve told me,” you mumble, looking away from him.

“Would it have made a difference to anything?” he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile.

Realising he’s right, you frown indignantly. “Might’ve stopped this,” you say, knowing it’s a weak point.

Yoongi’s expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. “Nothing could’ve stopped this.”

Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil.

Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. “You need to tell me everything you know.”

Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. “I don’t actually know much,” you start, “Seojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He must’ve known who I was but I didn’t realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, he’d left and there was a note on the table.” Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi. “This is what it said.”

Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. “He must’ve known, but I don’t know how.” Looking up, he asks, “you never told him anything about your grandma?”

“No,” you shake your head. “He just knew.” Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun… he had a girlfriend. “Yoongi?” You meet his gaze with worried eyes. “He had a girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s expression softens, lips pursing. “Yeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.”

Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You don’t bother asking how she’s doing, that would be a pointless question – you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, you’re certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away… you’d never seen your mom in so much pain.

As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. “Did he not say anything at all about what he’d been doing?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.” Again, Yoongi’s expression looks pained.

“Why?”

“A few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and there’s since been a good few detectives on their case. Taemin’s uncle got some time in prison for it and even though he’s out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him… so they killed Seojun’s mom.”

The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. “So Seojun wanted to get back at them?”

Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. “Jimin warned him not to, he promised they’d work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, we’d join in on it.” Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. “We never got to find out what it was, and each week we’d see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish we’d taken more care.”

Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you don’t think you know how. “I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur.

He gives a small smile. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. “I left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.” Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.

Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. “Did he say what’s on it?”

“No,” you shake your head. “And it’s probably protected too since the Lee’s wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.” At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. “He kept saying he’d keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the end…” you trail off, looking down. “In the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.” You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in.

When you’re done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. “Minjun was a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, he seems like it,.” You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him.

“He has a brother, Kwan, he’s just as crazy, if not worse.”

The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you can’t imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasn’t really been on your side recently.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He smiles softly. “Your wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t use them though.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. “It’s not deep is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,” he looks up at you apologetically, “you’ll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.”

“Oh.” You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and you’re sure there’s more damage to the property that you’re not even aware of.

“Jimin is making all the arrangements,” Yoongi continues, “but he’s trying to keep things quiet so I don’t know exactly when things will be sorted.”

“He doesn’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“He wants to,” Yoongi responds. “He blames himself for what’s happened, so just let him please.” His words appear to carry more meaning, and you can’t imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.

“Why?”

“He blames himself for a lot of things,” Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. “This hasn’t helped.”

Even though it’s been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest – ever since you’ve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldn’t even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you don’t know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.

Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, “What happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?”

Yoongi looks up, grimacing. “It started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“And then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.”

“Taemin?!” you ask, surprised..

Yoongi nods. “He knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasn’t fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.” His expression darkens. “He watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. I’m so grateful we were with him that day…” He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to know what he means – Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too.

Your head lowers too. You don’t allow your thoughts to wonder what would’ve happened if Jimin had been alone, you’re just glad he got out. Though you can’t imagine what he must’ve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.

“Did he get to have a funeral for his dad?”

“Yeah,’ Yoongi answers. “Han-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasn’t having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and he’d lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.”

Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything he’s just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that they’ve fallen apart as well.

After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. “I was surprised when they brought you in.” You look up at him as he continues. “I thought he might’ve recognised you, but he said nothing.”

“Do you think he does?” you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. “But he’s just not saying it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Might be. If he does remember you though, he’ll say something.”

“Are you going to tell them?” you ask, looking at him.

“Only if you want me to.”

After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. “At least not yet.”

Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything that’s happened, and then it comes to you.

“Dani and Siho,” you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. “Did you get them out?”

Solemnly, Yoongi nods. “I sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Let me know what they say, I’ll sort it out for them..”

Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. “They knew the risks, Y/N, better than anyone else.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But it’s different, they were there because of me.”

“Yeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,” Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. “Sorry if this isn’t helping, you know I’m shit at comforting people.”

You smile. “I know.”

“Hey, you’re not any better though,” he says defensively, “you didn’t even hug me properly when my mom passed away.”

“What?” you chuckle. “I tried to, but I know you don’t like hugs.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not normally, but then I would've liked it.”

“Oh…” Now you feel bad. “Really?”

He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. “It’s okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.”

Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. “Yeah, you’re telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?” It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.

“Yes, actually,” Yoongi answers simply.

Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You don’t know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself.

As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. “Surprised?”

“Kind of.”

“You knew him though,” he says, as though that makes it so obvious.

“Knew,” you repeat. “I didn’t expect him to still be the same.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t say he’s changed, but I wouldn't exactly say he’s the same either…” looking up, he smiles again. “I guess you’ll get to see for yourself now.”

“I guess so,” you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you can’t ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, you’ll get to see for yourself if he’s anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you don’t think he would’ve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.

“D’you want something a bit more filling than that?” Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple you’ve just bitten into. “Dinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?”

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. “I am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckles, “you must be hungry, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Three days?!” When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. “I need to call Moni, she’s probably wo–”

“I already have,” Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.

Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. “What?”

“I already called her.”

A frown settles on your face. “What did you say?”

Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. “Everything, but Y/N, she needed to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “Sorry.”

For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasn’t related to any of the stuff you’ve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and what’s happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.

“Sorry,” you say. “You’re right, I just didn’t…” you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and you’re everything to her, just as she has been yours.

“I know,” Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.

“What did she say?”

“First, she just wanted to know if you were safe,” Yoongi answers. “After that, she didn’t say much except that she’ll come as soon as she can.”

You nod. Knowing she’s coming brings a smile to your face, you’ve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again.

“Come on,” Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, “let’s get you some food.”

“You still remember it?” Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.

Taking another step, you shrug. “I wasn’t that little when I was last here, I must’ve been, what, eleven? Twelve?”

“Hm, Yoongi hums. “Still impressive.” He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but you’re doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.

The Park Estate isn’t much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jimin’s. It’s flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the family’s quarter’s on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge.

Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg.

As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You can’t see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on.

“Jimin’s room is down there,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.

The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.

Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase you’re approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is.

As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you don’t respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.

“Lightning… is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel.

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint.

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky. In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia.

“My dad painted this,” you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas.

He doesn’t say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though he’s never seen it before. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an ‘old friend’, you know your father must’ve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldn’t trust Han-jae and Jihoon.

Just then, Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. “Come down if you can, or I’ll ask someone to come up,” he calls out as he’s already walking off towards the stairwell.

“Okay,” you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.

It’s not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but it’s also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. There’s a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and it’s a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldn’t return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your father’s own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.

You don’t realise you’re standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Admiring the art?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching his face – you didn’t realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you can’t stop staring.

He chuckles, glancing at the painting. “You know I was talking about the painting, not me?”

Shaking out of your daze, you smile. “Yes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,” he nods, still smiling. “I’m Seokjin, but call me Jin.” He extends his hand which you shake.

“Y/N, and it’s okay, not your fault.”

“How’s the wrist?” he asks, pointing to your wrist.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts.

“Good. And the leg?”

“It’s mostly fine,” you nod.

He smiles again. “That’s good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but it’s looking good so far. I didn’t expect you to be up so soon though,” he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.

You shrug.

“I take it this isn’t your first time getting hurt like this?” Seokjin says casually.

“What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gun…” he shakes his head, smiling. “It definitely wasn’t your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.”

Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again. “I guess I like getting shot at.”

“Just like everyone else here,” he laughs. “Well, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.”

“Sure,” you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. “So what about you?” you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell.

He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. “What about me?”

“This definitely isn’t your first time stitching someone up,” you remark.

“Ah,” he nods. “Definitely not.”

You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. “So you’re a doctor?”

He snorts, stepping along beside you. “No, but I should be. I’ve done this kind of stuff enough times.”

Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin.

“Jin hyung!” A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night – the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They can’t see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you.

They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads.

“Oh, miss L/N,” the first one comes forward, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” He has an adorable bunny smile and you can’t help but return it with one of your own.

“Nice to meet you Jungkook,” you reply, shaking his hand. “And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, got it,” he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly.

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Hoseok, Hobi for short,” he grins, shaking your hand.

“Hey.” You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg.

“Um, it’s okay,” you smile. “I can still walk at least.”

He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge.

Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table you’re sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly.

Before any of the guys notice you’re not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what they’re saying. It hasn’t escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasn’t recognised you – if he did, surely he would’ve told these guys since they were there too. You’re not sure if they know anything at all about you – perhaps you should’ve asked Yoongi about that before you came down.

Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, there’s some missing.

“Are there more of you?”

Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums.

Hoseok answers for him. “There’s Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.”

“They were there the other day,” Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly.

“Namjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,” Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. “We always eat together whenever we can and they’re about somewhere.”

It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t mention Jimin’s name though.

“Taehyung is probably in the wine cellar,” Hoseok says.

“Ah, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.”

Jungkook snorts. “He thinks he’s a sommelier.”

You smile. “Well, does he make a good choice?”

“I can never tell,” Jungkook shrugs.

Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. “He’s not matured enough.”

“Hey!” Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.

“Ah, speak of the devil!”

You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.

“Yoongi said you’d come down,” the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. “I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. He’s undeniably striking, and there’s something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.

The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. “I’m Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.” His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. “Finances, logistics, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.

Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. “How are you? I imagine this isn’t how you thought your day would go.”

You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. “Not exactly, no.”

Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. “Yeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people would’ve frozen in your position.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to defend myself,” you reply simply, not offering much else.

There’s a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.

“So,” Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. “Yoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.”

“Spicy works for me,” you say, grateful for the change in subject.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Great! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing – you’ll love it.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind – running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.

You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, “So, Y/N, what’s your impression of the estate so far?”

“It’s... different,” you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. “Bigger than I remember.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “You’ve been here before?”

You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. “Not this one exactly. Just a similar setup.”

Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and you’re thankful for the reprieve.

The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her – Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. You’re certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.

“Thanks, Ara,” Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.

When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.

Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. “She’s been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.”

You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.

On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.”

Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.

"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.

"Of course. It’s spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."

"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.

"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.

"More for us then."

As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. “You’ll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,” he says softly. “It’s easy to get lost, but it has its charms.”

You glance at him, wondering if there’s a deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll try not to get lost, then.”

He smiles faintly. “If you do, just call out. Someone will find you.”

Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. It’s clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why they’ve been by his side for so long – they feel like a family in their own right.

Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.

“Jin-hyung, don’t hog all the drumsticks,” Jungkook whines as he watches Jin’s plate pile up.

“Then grab faster,” Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.

Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. “I’m telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.”

“Should I?” Jungkook huffs dramatically. “Maybe next time I’ll just take the whole plate first.”

“Do it, and I’ll poison your portion,” Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. “Don’t worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.”

You smile faintly, watching them banter. It’s strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

“Maybe I’m just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,” you reply lightly.

Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. “Yeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.”

“I heard that,” Jin retorts, mock-offended. “I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re ensuring there’s nothing left for the rest of us,” Hoseok counters, sipping his water.

As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. It’s a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate.

“By the way, hyung,” Namjoon says, turning to Jin. “Have you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.”

“Oh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?” Jin sighs dramatically. “Can’t a guy just eat in peace?”

“It’s your own fault for procrastinating,” Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t drag me into your world of schedules,” Jin retorts. “I’m a free spirit.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.

“Enough guys,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseok’s. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Don’t eat all the dessert without us,” Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.

“Like we’d wait for you,” Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.

“Do they always leave like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. It’s a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.”

“Or they just like to be mysterious,” Jin adds, rolling his eyes. “Half the time, it’s probably nothing.”

You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but there’s no denying the underlying layers to their lives.

After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You nod, brushing it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Jin says, rising from his seat. “You should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.”

The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you can’t shake the feeling of what’s happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come.

Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. “It’s bringing back memories, huh?” He asks, seeing right through you.

“Yep.” You look around. “Loads. I don’t know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.” You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.

“I think it’s normal. You were young when you came here and I don’t think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?”

He’s right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoung’s occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, it’s like walking through a memory you can’t decide if you’re grateful for or aching to forget.

You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesn’t press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.

Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life you’re now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the house’s front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.

Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly.

Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driver’s seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.

Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you can’t see the estate’s gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind – a familiar marker from years ago.

“Where are they going?” you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.

“Something’s wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. They’ve been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons they’re now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.”

You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jimin’s mother’s garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.

As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isn’t much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.

Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. “I think you’re due for your meds again.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You wanna stay here or go back up?”

You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. “Mm, I know I slept for days, but I’m actually still exhausted.”

Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. “That’s to be expected. Don’t worry.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “We’ll go up, but this time we’re taking the lift.”

You can’t help but smile faintly at his consideration. “Appreciate that,” you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.

The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.

Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine – after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.

“Moni?” you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmother’s face appeared.

The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice warm. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. “Really.”

She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. “Good. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."

You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. “Tell me about Jimin.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“About recognizing you?” she asks, her brow lifting slightly.

You nod. “Nothing.”

She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. “I don’t imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You haven’t changed much. He, however... he’s different.”

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.

“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. “When I last saw him, I didn’t see the same little boy I knew.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. “Life hasn’t been kind to any of us.”

Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. “Do you remember his father?”

“Of course I do,” you say without hesitation. “It’s hard to forget a man as cold as him.”

“And Mr. Lee?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. “I know, Moni,” you say quietly, cutting her off.

She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."

“I know it was them,” you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They did it. They killed Dad.”

She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. “They were his best friends,” she says softly. “And then, all of a sudden…” She trails off.

You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. “You’re there now, though… so, do you trust Jimin?”

You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.

“I didn’t, at first,” you admit. “But I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."

She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. “You’re safe there, Y/N.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You trust Jimin?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation. “I trust him with you, and you’re my everything.”

The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.

“You need to rest,” she instructs, her tone turning firm again. “I’ll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.”

Your lips quirk up at the thought. “That would be nice.”

"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.

As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.

Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You can’t see the part of the grounds where Jimin’s mother’s garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.

As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.

As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadn’t thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.

Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.

“Can’t you sleep, little bear?”

The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.

Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier. There’s a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.

You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.

Realising what he just said, his words stop you short – it’s the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.

Jimin steps closer, the lamp’s dim light casting soft shadows on his features. As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you – a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence. Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there’s a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.

“Y/N,” he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you admit, your voice soft. “I’m surprised you remember the book.”

Jimin’s smile grows, faint but genuine. “How could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.”

“Thank me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. “It was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasn’t allowed picture books of my own, so… thank you.”

You remember then how he once told you about his father’s strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books – if they didn’t teach something useful, they weren’t worth having.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly.

Jimin’s gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your father’s work.

“He was talented,” Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.

You smile faintly. “He was.”

After a moment, he adds, “I can have it moved to your room, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. This is where it belongs.”

Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. “It’s actually covering up a stain we couldn’t remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.”

“Me?” you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.

He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didn’t want to sleep, so you ran away from her – with all the paints.”

As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. “Oh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.”

Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. “We tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.”

You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s still here.”

Jimin’s smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. “It’s been a long time since then,” he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.

You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. “Yes,” you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. “Though being here again… it almost feels like no time at all.”

Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “I imagine it feels different,” he says, “without your father?”

“Exactly,” you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. “It felt safe wherever he was.”

“And now?” His question is soft, careful, as though he’s weighing each word before speaking.

You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. “I want to say yes,” you admit honestly, “but experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.”

Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. “You’ve learned not to trust anyone,” he say, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming. “You’re right to think that,” he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls you’ve built all too well.

The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, “Can I trust you?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “But you’ll make that decision on your own.”

You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. There’s no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. It’s not a promise – it’s an invitation.

“Until then,” he continues, his voice softening, “please, make yourself at home. You’re safe here.”

The sincerity in his words lingers, and while they aren’t a guarantee, they feel real.

Jimin doesn’t say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too – after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.

His presence feels closer now and you let out a faint smile, glancing back at the painting.

It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jimin’s presence stirs in you – a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.

note. thank you all so much for reading! please share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333