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fioredeciliego · 24 days ago

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Mommy Issues - Karina x Fem!Reader

11.2k words

Moving to another country wasn’t supposed to be easy. That was the mantra Y/N repeated to herself as she dragged her luggage through the crowded halls of Schiphol Airport. The Netherlands—a world away from the life she had known, filled with unfamiliar faces, a foreign language, and customs she barely understood. Yet, this was what she wanted. This was freedom.

It had taken months to plan, years to gather the courage. Back home, there was no peace. Privacy was a luxury she could never afford in a house that was always full: her mother, her three younger siblings, the constant noise. And then there was her mother herself—a complicated, volatile presence that dominated Y/N’s life. For years, Y/N had felt more like a caretaker than a daughter, shouldering responsibilities that weren’t hers to bear. It wasn’t all bad; she loved her siblings dearly and had moments with her mother that reminded her of the love buried under the chaos. But it was never enough to outweigh the suffocating sense of inadequacy and anxiety.

She rolled her suitcase to the curb and hailed a taxi, her heart hammering in her chest as she gave the driver her new address. The cityscape of Amsterdam blurred past the window as she tried to breathe deeply, grounding herself in the present. She’d rented a small studio apartment on the outskirts of the city—a modest space, but it was hers. No one would barge in uninvited. No one would demand things of her. No one would criticize her every move.

When the taxi stopped, she lugged her suitcase up the narrow staircase to her apartment. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The silence felt foreign, almost eerie, after years of constant noise. She stood in the center of the room, taking in the plain white walls, the tiny kitchenette, the single window overlooking the street below. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

As she unpacked, her phone buzzed on the counter. Her stomach twisted when she saw the caller ID: Mom.

She hesitated, staring at the screen until it went dark. The phone buzzed again, and this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was small, almost drowned out by the static of the poor connection.

“Y/N, where are you?” her mother’s voice demanded, sharp and accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me you landed?”

“I just got in,” Y/N said, already bracing herself for the onslaught. “I was going to call you once I settled.”

“You should have called me right away. Do you know how worried I’ve been? You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

Y/N closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, the words automatic, devoid of feeling.

Her mother launched into a familiar tirade about how selfish Y/N was, how ungrateful. She didn’t ask about the flight, the new apartment, or how Y/N was feeling. It was all about her mother’s own anxiety, her fears, her sacrifices. Y/N listened in silence, letting the words wash over her. She’d heard it all before.

When the call finally ended, Y/N sank onto the couch, tears prickling her eyes. She’d left the country to escape this, yet her mother’s voice still echoed in her head, a constant reminder of her failures. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but instead, she sat there, staring at the bare walls of her new home.

The next few days passed in a blur of monotony. Wake up. Go to work. Eat alone. Come home. Watch TV. Sleep. Repeat. The job was unremarkable, a desk position at a small marketing firm. Her coworkers were polite but distant, their conversations flowing effortlessly in Dutch while Y/N fumbled with basic phrases. She spent her lunch breaks alone, scrolling through her phone and pretending not to notice the sidelong glances from her colleagues.

The weekends offered a slight reprieve. Y/N explored the city, wandering through parks, visiting museums, and losing herself in the maze of canals. She loved the quiet moments, the freedom to go wherever she wanted without answering to anyone. But even in the midst of Amsterdam’s beauty, she couldn’t shake the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow.

Her mother called almost every day, and every call left Y/N feeling more drained than the last. Her siblings would sometimes grab the phone, their voices bright and eager as they told her about school and their friends. Those moments were the only ones that brought a genuine smile to her face. She missed them terribly, but the thought of going back—of returning to that stifling environment—was unthinkable.

One evening, as she sat on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice flat.

“Y/N, have you thought about what I said?” her mother’s voice was softer this time, almost pleading. “You don’t have to stay there. You can come home. We need you here.”

“I can’t,” Y/N said, her throat tightening. “I need to do this for myself.”

“Your siblings miss you. I miss you.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. “I miss you too. But I can’t come back. Not now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Fine,” her mother said, her tone laced with disappointment. “Do what you want.”

The call ended, leaving Y/N feeling hollow. She set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She’d thought putting distance between them would help, but the weight of her mother’s expectations still bore down on her, even from thousands of miles away.

The following week, Y/N found herself walking aimlessly through Vondelpark, the crisp autumn air a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in her head. She’d taken to spending her lunch breaks there, finding solace in the rustling leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby.

She sat on a bench, pulling out a small notebook she’d started carrying with her. Writing had always been a form of escape for her, a way to process the chaos in her mind. She scribbled down a few lines, her thoughts tumbling onto the page:

I just want to feel loved. Truly loved. Not out of obligation or guilt. Loved for who I am, not for what I can do for others.

She stared at the words, her chest tightening. It felt selfish to admit, but it was the truth. For once in her life, she wanted someone to take care of her, to make her feel safe. She wanted what she’d never had—unconditional love.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning sunlight poured through the window of the cozy townhouse nestled in a quiet neighborhood of Amsterdam. Jimin stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the edge of her soft duvet. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling the start of another peaceful day.

Her family was always an anchor of stability in her life. Her mother, a warm and nurturing presence, was undoubtedly the heart of their home. She had a knack for making anyone feel welcome, whether it was through her perfectly brewed tea or her way of listening that made you feel truly heard. Jimin’s father balanced her mother’s kindness with his grounded practicality, always ready with a steady hand or a piece of advice. Her older sister, Hana, was her confidante and occasional partner-in-crime, always there to lend an ear or offer her unabashed honesty. Together, they formed a bubble of unconditional love that Jimin knew she was lucky to have.

Yet, even with this steadfast support system, a void lingered in her heart—an unspoken yearning for someone to share her life with.

Jimin rose from her bed, padding over to the window to look out at the serene street below. “Another day,” she murmured to herself. She glanced at her phone to see a string of messages from her best friends lighting up the screen.

Aeri: “Morning! Don’t forget, you’re walking Cooper today.”

Minjeong: “Bet she forgets and we have to chase the dog again.”

Yizhuo: “Minjeong’s just mad because Cooper likes Jimin better.”

Jimin chuckled, her heart lightening. Her friends were like family. They had been inseparable since childhood, navigating the ups and downs of life together. If her family provided her foundation, her friends were the walls and roof that sheltered her from life’s storms. But even with them, Jimin felt that persistent ache for something… or someone… she couldn’t quite name.

After a quick breakfast, Jimin arrived at Aeri’s house to pick up Cooper, Aeri’s spirited greyhound. Cooper bounded up to her as soon as she stepped through the door, his tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Jimin crouched down to ruffle his fur, earning a happy bark. “Ready for a walk?”

Aeri leaned against the doorway, smirking. “You’re spoiling him, you know. He’ll never want to come back to me at this rate.”

“Can you blame him? I’m way more fun,” Jimin teased, clipping on Cooper's leash.

“Just don’t lose him,” Aeri called as Jimin and Cooper headed out.

The park was a short walk from Aeri’s place, a lush expanse of greenery dotted with families, joggers, and couples enjoying the crisp morning air. Cooper tugged at the leash, eager to explore. Jimin let him lead the way, her thoughts drifting.

As much as she loved her life, it often felt… predictable. Her days were filled with love and laughter, but there was a part of her that craved something more. She wanted to be the kind of person who could offer someone the same sense of warmth and security her family had always given her. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to share her quiet moments with, someone who would trust her to take care of them.

“Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic,” she mused aloud, earning a curious tilt of Cooper’s head.

Later that afternoon, Jimin met up with her friends at their favorite café. The cozy space buzzed with chatter, the scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the rich aroma of coffee. Minjeong was already seated, scrolling through her phone, while Yizhuo animatedly recounted a story to Aeri.

“You’re late,” Minjeong said without looking up as Jimin slid into the booth.

“Cooper wanted to inspect every single tree in the park,” Jimin replied, grinning.

“Sure he did,” Minjeong said dryly, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“Speaking of dogs,” Aeri began, “have you guys noticed how much Jimin’s been sighing lately? Like a lovesick puppy?”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed. “I have not!”

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes. Spill. Is there someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“No,” Jimin said firmly, but her friends weren’t convinced.

“You know,” Aeri said thoughtfully, “it’s okay to admit you’re looking for someone. We all know you’ve got that whole ‘caretaker’ thing going on. You’d be a great girlfriend.”

Jimin groaned. “Why do I even hang out with you guys?”

“Because you love us,” Yizhuo quipped.

Despite their teasing, Jimin knew they were right. She was looking for someone, even if she didn’t know who yet.

That night, Jimin sat on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She paused on a photo from the park earlier that day—Cooper sniffing a patch of flowers, his grey fur glowing in the sunlight. It was such a simple moment, yet it had brought her so much joy.

“Maybe that’s all I’m missing,” she thought. “Someone to share the little moments with.”

She set her phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her life was full of love and laughter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone out there who needed her just as much as she needed them.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find them.

With that thought, Jimin drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with fleeting images of laughter, warmth, and a pair of eyes she hadn’t yet met but somehow already knew.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers blooming across the park. Jimin tugged at the leash in her hand, glancing down at the sleek Greyhound trotting alongside her. Cooper’s thin frame and long legs made him look almost regal, but his excitement for sniffing every patch of grass made Jimin chuckle.

"Cooper, can we stick to the path for once?" Jimin muttered, gently tugging the leash as the Greyhound veered toward another tree.

She’d agreed to take Aeri’s dog out for a walk, something she didn’t mind doing since it gave her an excuse to enjoy the peaceful weekend morning. The park was alive with activity—families on picnic blankets, joggers weaving through the paths, and couples strolling hand in hand.

Jimin barely noticed the lone figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, head bowed as if lost in thought. You had come to the park seeking a bit of calm amidst the chaos of adjusting to your new life. The sound of the fountain’s gentle splashes mixed with the distant chatter of park-goers, providing a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

Suddenly, a blur of movement snapped you out of your reverie. Before you could react, a Greyhound barreled toward you, its leash trailing behind it.

"Whoa!" you yelped as the dog jumped up, placing his paws on your lap and eagerly licking your face.

"Cooper!" a voice rang out, frantic and apologetic.

Despite the surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay! I get it, you’re excited!" you said, gently scratching the dog behind his ears.

Jimin sprinted toward you, her heart pounding from both exertion and embarrassment. She grabbed Cooper’s leash and tugged gently. "Cooper, af! Kom eraf!"

At her command, Cooper obediently stepped back, though his tail wagged with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I am so, so sorry!" Jimin blurted, her words spilling out in Dutch. "Hij doet dit normaal gesproken niet—uh, sorry! I mean... uh..."

She froze as soon as you looked up, her breath catching. Your laughter had already left her stunned, but now, meeting your gaze for the first time, Jimin felt her heart lurch. You were looking at her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, your eyes sparkling in a way that made her brain short-circuit.

Realizing she’d spoken Dutch, you blinked, scrambling to piece together the few words you recognized. "Sorry... I don’t speak Dutch," you said, your voice hesitant but kind.

Jimin’s face turned crimson. "Oh! Oh, right! English, sorry," she stammered, switching languages. "He doesn’t usually do this—I mean, he’s usually... better behaved?"

She winced at how clunky her words sounded, her usual confidence completely abandoning her under your gaze.

"It’s okay," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. You brushed some dog hair off your clothes. "He’s sweet. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, but sweet."

Jimin exhaled a laugh, relief washing over her. "Yeah, that’s Cooper for you. Always ready to make an impression."

You crouched slightly, giving the Greyhound one last pat. "Well, he succeeded. Is he yours?"

Jimin shook her head quickly, glad to have a straightforward question to answer. "No, he’s not mine. I’m just watching him for a friend. I’m Jimin, by the way."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should introduce yourself. But there was something disarming about her—the way she seemed both nervous and sincere.

"Y/N," you said, standing and offering your hand.

Jimin hesitated before taking it, her touch warm and a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. And I really am sorry about Cooper."

"Really, it’s fine," you replied, waving off her concern. "Honestly, I needed a distraction today. He’s adorable."

Jimin glanced at Cooper, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging lazily. "Adorable is one way to put it. He’s also a bit of a menace."

You laughed softly, and Jimin felt her chest tighten. The sound was so genuine, like a spark of light cutting through her nerves.

"So," Jimin began, shifting her weight awkwardly, "are you touring here?"

You tilted your head, the cliché making you grin. "Not really. I actually just moved a couple weeks ago, so I’m still figuring things out."

"Wow," Jimin said, genuinely impressed. "That’s a big change. How are you finding it so far?"

You shrugged, your gaze drifting toward the fountain. "It’s... an adjustment. Some days are harder than others."

Something in your tone made Jimin pause. She wanted to ask more, to know why your smile seemed tinged with something wistful. But instead, she nodded, her voice gentle. "I can imagine. If you ever need tips or recommendations, I’m kind of an expert. Born and raised here."

Your smile softened, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little less like an outsider. "I might take you up on that."

“Well, I really feel like I owe you something for all this,” Jimin said, gesturing to Cooper, who wagged his tail innocently as if he weren’t the culprit of the chaos.

Y/N waved it off, awkwardly chuckling. “Really, it’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Jimin shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “How about I buy you a coffee? My treat. I insist. That way we can start the tour”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at her phone as if she could escape the situation. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Jimin interrupted gently, “but I want to. Please?”

Faced with Jimin’s earnest smile, Y/N found herself nodding despite her reservations. “Okay, sure.”

They walked together to a small café nearby, Cooper trotting beside them, now behaving like a model citizen. The atmosphere was a little awkward at first; Y/N wasn’t used to spontaneous social interactions, especially with strangers.

Jimin, sensing the tension, started to ramble. “So, do you live around here? Or were you just visiting the park?”

“I live close by,” Y/N replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like to come here on weekends to unwind.”

“That’s nice. I come here pretty often too. Well, not usually with Cooper—that’s Aeri’s dog. She’s one of my best friends. She couldn’t walk him today, so here I am.”

Y/N nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile. “He’s sweet. A little intense, but sweet.”

Jimin grinned. “That’s a perfect description of him.”

By the time they reached the café, Jimin had managed to pull a few more details out of Y/N: she’s taking intensive dutch classes, worked a remote job, and didn’t know many people yet.

Inside the cozy café, they sat by a window with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Cooper lay sprawled under the table, finally tired out.

Jimin shared funny stories about Cooper and her friends, while Y/N talked about her favorite hobbies and places she’d discovered so far.

Jimin found herself captivated by Y/N’s laughter. It wasn’t loud or boisterous, but it was genuine, and Jimin decided she wanted to hear it as often as possible.

By the time their cups were empty, Jimin didn’t want the moment to end. As they stepped out of the café, she took a deep breath.

“Can I—uh—get your number?” Jimin asked, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “You know, so I can let you know when Cooper’s planning his next ambush.”

Y/N laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers, and Jimin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face.

As they parted ways, Jimin did a little jump of happiness. Hearing a giggle, she looked back to see that Y/N was still there, looking at her. Blushing, she clumsily waved goodbye and walked Cooper back to Aeri’s place, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

Y/N watched her retreating figure, a faint smile lingering on her lips. It had been a long time since she felt this kind of warmth.

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The weekend had been unusually lively for you, though not in the traditional sense. Your apartment remained your sanctuary, the world outside still too daunting to face for long. Yet, your phone buzzed more frequently than it had in months, each notification bringing a smile to your face.

Jimin: "Do you think Cooper knows he’s a Greyhound, or does he just think he’s a really fast human?" You snorted at the absurdity of her question, shaking your head as you replied.

You: "Fast human, 100%. With questionable manners."

Jimin: "Hey, Cooper has AMAZING manners! He only licked your face because he sensed you’re nice." Jimin: "…Or maybe he just thought you smelled good. Either way, he’s the goodest boy!"

Her messages were a mix of humor and sweetness, each one pulling you further out of the fog that had settled over your mind since you’d arrived in this new country. It was strange how quickly Jimin had become a presence in your life. Her texts were the highlight of your days, her playful energy a stark contrast to the loneliness you often felt.

You spent most of Saturday exchanging messages with her, laughing at her jokes and learning more about her life. She told you about Cooper’s quirks, her friends’ antics, and her favorite spots in the city. It was easy, effortless even, and you found yourself wishing you could hold onto this feeling a little longer.

Sunday morning was no different. Jimin sent you a picture of Cooper lounging on her couch, his long legs sprawled awkwardly.

Jimin: "Look at this absolute model. He’s posing for Vogue, clearly." You: "GQ, maybe. He’s got the ‘brooding male lead’ look down."

Your laughter filled the quiet apartment, a sound that had been absent for far too long. But just as you were settling into the comfort of this new routine, your phone buzzed again, and your heart sank.

Mom.

The name on the screen felt heavier than it should have, and for a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt crept in quickly, as it always did, and you sighed, swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“Y/N,” your mom’s voice came through, sharp and impatient. “Finally. Do you ever check your phone? I’ve been calling all weekend!”

You closed your eyes, already bracing yourself for the familiar cycle. “I’ve been busy, Mom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to get things done.”

“Busy?” she scoffed. “Too busy to call your own mother? You have time to move halfway across the world but not to pick up the phone?”

Her words stung, as they always did, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m not ignoring you,” you said carefully. “I just needed some time for myself.”

“Time for yourself,” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “And what about your family, Y/N? What about me? Do you ever think about how hard it is for me to keep everything together without you?”

Your chest tightened, the familiar guilt settling in like an old friend. “Mom, I didn’t leave to hurt you. I just needed space to figure things out.”

“Space,” she said bitterly. “From your own family? From the mother who’s done everything for you? Do you even care about us anymore?”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, but you bit your tongue, refusing to let the frustration spill out. “I do care,” you said softly. “I just—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, cutting you off. “You clearly don’t have time for me. I’ll let you get back to your oh-so-busy life.”

The line went dead before you could respond. You stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room now deafening. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the weight of her words pressed down on you all the same.

You tried to shake off the heaviness, but it clung to you like a shadow. Desperate for a distraction, you opened your chat with Jimin, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: "Are you free for a call?"

Her reply came almost instantly.

Jimin: "Always! Give me 5 mins to grab headphones."

You smiled faintly at her eagerness, even as your chest still felt tight. A few moments later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You hesitated for a second before answering.

“Hey,” Jimin’s voice was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to your mood.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost feel her concern. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You hesitated, not ready to unpack the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” you admitted.

Jimin didn’t press, her voice lightening instead. “That’s okay. Want me to tell you about how Cooper tried to steal my breakfast this morning?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Tell me everything.”

And just like that, Jimin launched into a dramatic retelling of her morning, complete with exaggerated impressions of Cooper’s antics. Her voice was animated, full of warmth and humor, and it didn’t take long for her stories to pull you out of your head.

“I swear, if he had opposable thumbs, he’d be unstoppable,” Jimin said, finishing her tale of how Cooper managed to knock her cereal bowl off the counter.

You laughed, the sound feeling almost foreign after the weight of the day. “Maybe you should hire him as a food critic. He’s clearly got opinions.”

Jimin gasped theatrically. “Brilliant idea. I’ll start his blog tomorrow: Cooper’s Culinary Adventures.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—your favorite foods, her favorite spots in the city, and a heated debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (Jimin was adamantly against it, to your amusement).

As the hours slipped by, you found yourself relaxing more and more, the tightness in your chest easing with each passing moment.

“Thanks for this,” you said quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“For what?” Jimin asked, her voice genuinely puzzled.

“For... just being here,” you admitted. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Her voice softened. “Hey, anytime. Really. I like talking to you.”

Your heart warmed at her sincerity, and for the first time that day, the weight of your mom’s words didn’t feel so crushing.

The call stretched late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up. Jimin’s laughter filled the empty corners of your apartment, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

By the time you finally said goodnight, the heaviness in your chest had lifted

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The scent of spices and sizzling food filled the air as you approached Jimin’s apartment. Your stomach churned—not from hunger, but from nerves. Meeting Jimin’s friends felt like stepping into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this yet, but Jimin had insisted.

“They’re going to love you,” she’d said, her voice warm and confident over the phone.

You adjusted your grip on the small bouquet of flowers you’d brought—a gesture you hoped would make a good first impression. Maybe this would be okay.

When the door swung open, Jimin stood there, dressed in a simple yet effortlessly stylish sweater and jeans. Her warm smile eased some of your tension immediately. “Hey, you made it!” she said, stepping aside to let you in.

Her apartment was cozy, with string lights lining the walls and the faint hum of music playing in the background. The voices of her friends carried from the kitchen, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“You didn’t have to bring flowers,” Jimin said, taking the bouquet from your hands. “But they’re so pretty. Thank you!”

“I just thought it’d be nice,” you replied, your voice quiet but steady.

Jimin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, they’re going to love you. Promise.”

You nodded, though the knot of anxiety in your stomach remained as you followed her deeper into the apartment.

As you entered the kitchen, three people were clustered around a counter piled high with food. Their laughter faded as Jimin announced your arrival.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” she said, her tone bright and cheerful.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward you. For a split second, you wanted to retreat, but their faces broke into warm smiles that made you feel a little less out of place.

“Finally!” said a tall girl with sharp features and an easy grin. “Jimin’s been talking about you nonstop. I’m Aeri, by the way.”

“Minjeong,” another introduced herself, shorter with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Nice to meet the person who’s been monopolizing Jimin’s attention lately.”

“Don’t mind them,” the last one said, her tone playful. She was bubbly and energetic, her bright smile instantly infectious. “I’m Yizhuo. And I promise we’re not that scary. Just a little.”

You smiled shyly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you all,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“Come on, sit down,” Aeri said, gesturing to the table. “Jimin’s been cooking all day. She refuses to let us help, so if it’s bad, we’re blaming her.”

“Excuse me!” Jimin interjected, hands on her hips. “You’re the one who burned the rice the last time we let you cook.”

The banter flew back and forth easily, the teasing and laughter filling the room with a warmth that started to chip away at your nerves.

The table was laden with dishes—steaming bowls of pasta, fresh salad, and crispy garlic bread. As you took a seat, you noticed the effort Jimin had put into making everything perfect.

“This looks amazing,” you said, glancing at her.

She grinned. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my thing.”

As everyone dug in, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They teased Jimin mercilessly, recounting stories that had you laughing despite yourself.

“Did she tell you about the time she fell into the canal trying to impress someone?” Minjeong asked, her grin wicked.

“Hey!” Jimin protested, her cheeks flushing. “That was years ago!”

“And yet, here we are,” Aeri said, smirking.

“She never learns,” Yizhuo added. “The other day, she tripped over Cooper’s leash and spilled coffee all over herself.”

“That wasn’t my fault! Cooper’s deceptively strong!” Jimin defended, throwing a napkin at Yizhuo.

“So, Y/N,” Aeri said, leaning forward with a curious grin, “what’s your deal? How’d you end up stuck with Jimin?”

You hesitated, but their faces were open and inviting. “We met at the park,” you said, glancing at Jimin. “Your dog kind of ambushed me.”

Classic Cooper,” Minjeong said, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

“Sounds about right,” Yizhuo agreed. “But hey, at least something good came out of it.”

You smiled, feeling a little more comfortable as the conversation turned to lighter topics—favorite movies, travel destinations, and the best local restaurants.

At one point, Yizhuo turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So, Jimin’s been on her best behavior, right? No embarrassing serenades or awkward pickup lines?”

“Yizhuo!” Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands.

You laughed softly. “She’s been great. No serenades yet.”

“Key word: yet,” Minjeong teased, earning another napkin thrown her way.

As the night went on, you felt the weight of your anxiety begin to lift. Jimin’s friends had a way of making you feel like you belonged, their easy camaraderie wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone settled into a more relaxed conversation, you found yourself leaning back in your chair, feeling a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So,” Aeri said, raising her glass with a teasing grin, “if Jimin ever messes this up, just know we’re all here to steal you for ourselves. No pressure, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned dramatically. “Can you guys not scare her away?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’ll stick around for now,” you said, glancing at Jimin with a soft smile.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the city as you and Jimin strolled through a quiet street, the rhythmic hum of bicycles filling the air. The two of you had spent the day wandering through local shops, sharing little anecdotes and indulging in pastries from a nearby bakery. With every moment, you felt a little lighter, your laughter coming more easily around her.

“You have powdered sugar on your face,” Jimin said, pointing at the corner of your mouth with a teasing smile.

“Where?” you asked, swiping at your cheek.

Jimin shook her head, chuckling. “No, not there. Here—” She reached out, her thumb brushing gently against your skin. The touch was brief but enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your flustered expression.

Jimin’s grin widened, but she didn’t tease you further. “I’m just saying, it’s a sign you enjoyed the pastry.”

“Maybe I did,” you replied, your voice softer now.

The two of you continued walking, the atmosphere comfortable and filled with the kind of quiet contentment that didn’t need words. But as you reached a small bench by the canal, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

You hesitated before pulling it out. The screen lit up with a name that made your heart sink: Mom. For a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt that always lingered when you ignored her calls was too heavy to bear.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you said, stepping away from Jimin.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Take your time.”

You walked a few paces away, answering the call with a tentative, “Hello?”

Your mom’s voice came through, sharp and insistent. “Y/N, finally. I’ve been calling all day. Why haven’t you answered?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

“Busy? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than answering your mother?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

You sighed, already feeling the familiar weight settle over your chest. “I’m just out right now. I can’t talk long.”

“Out? With who? Are you making bad decisions again?” she asked, the accusation in her tone cutting deep.

“No, Mom,” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just with a friend.”

Your mom’s tone softened slightly, but the edge remained. “You’re always so distant these days. I don’t understand why you can’t make more time for your family. Do you even care about us anymore?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Of course I care,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’m trying to build my own life here. I need space.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve had all the space in the world since you left. But do you even think about how hard this has been for us? For me?”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Mom, I—”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand. You’ve abandoned us, and now you’re too busy to even talk? What kind of daughter does that?”

Her words, laced with guilt and frustration, made your grip on the phone tighten. “I’m trying my best,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

“Clearly, your best isn’t enough,” she said sharply before the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, the screen dimming as the call ended. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the guilt clawed at you, even though you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You turned back toward Jimin, who was watching you with concern. She stood as you approached, her expression soft.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently.

You tried to nod, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, you sat on the bench, staring at the ground.

Jimin hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you. She didn’t press you for details, but her presence was steady and comforting.

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, her gaze searching. “You sure?”

You hesitated, then nodded quickly. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she said softly, her tone understanding. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, and you were grateful for it.

imin didn’t look away, though, her presence steady and grounding.

After a while, she broke the quiet. “You know, if Cooper were here, he’d probably be trying to sit on your lap right now. All 30 kilograms of him.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah? Sounds like a handful.”

Jimin grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “He is. But he’s also a giant baby. Last week, he tried to hide behind me because he saw a pigeon.”

“A pigeon?” you repeated, laughter bubbling up despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jimin’s smile faltered, her tone turning sheepish. “Okay, so... I might’ve been a little scared, too.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, are you telling me you’re afraid of pigeons?”

Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not a fear! It’s just... they’re unpredictable, okay? They move too fast, and they’re always staring at you like they know your secrets.”

You burst out laughing, the sound startling even yourself. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering amuses you,” Jimin said with a mock pout, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her teasing.

“Seriously, though,” you said, your laughter subsiding into a grin, “a Greyhound and a grown woman scared of a pigeon? That’s a story for the ages.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve been on the receiving end of a pigeon’s wrath,” Jimin said, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

Her animated expressions and playful tone pulled you further away from the storm of emotions left by the call. The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it dulled under the warmth of Jimin’s company.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Jimin looked at you, her brows lifting in surprise. “For what?”

“For just... being here,” you said, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away.

A soft smile spread across her face. “Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of lighthearted conversation and quiet companionship. Jimin didn’t push you to share more, didn’t try to fix what she couldn’t understand. Instead, she simply stayed by your side, her presence a steady reassurance that you didn’t have to face everything alone.

And for now, that was enough.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The café was bustling with life, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of coffee cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You and Jimin had claimed a small table by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on her features.

As always, Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her laughter contagious and her stories brimming with energy. But today, your mind was elsewhere, pulled into a spiral you couldn’t seem to escape.

It started when a girl had walked up to your table—a tall, confident woman with a dazzling smile. She greeted Jimin with an ease that spoke of familiarity, her tone playful as they exchanged a few quick jokes. You tried to focus on your coffee, pretending the interaction didn’t bother you, but the way Jimin’s face lit up as they talked sent a pang of unease through your chest.

The woman left as quickly as she’d arrived, waving goodbye to Jimin with a wink. Jimin returned to your conversation seamlessly, completely unaware of the way your heart was now hammering in your chest.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Jimin wasn’t yours; you weren’t dating. She was just being her naturally kind and warm self. But the thought didn’t stop the flood of doubts that followed.

Why would someone like Jimin ever want someone like you?

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, startled to find her watching you with concern.

“Everything okay? You’ve been quiet.”

You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a story about her friend’s latest antics, her animated gestures drawing a small, genuine laugh from you.

But even as you smiled, the doubts lingered.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. Images of Jimin laughing with that woman played on a loop in your mind, each one twisting the knife of insecurity a little deeper.

You reminded yourself again that Jimin wasn’t yours. She had every right to talk to whoever she wanted. But no matter how much you reasoned with yourself, the feelings wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more insidious. A voice in your head whispered that you weren’t good enough for someone like Jimin. That she deserved someone brighter, someone more put together, someone who didn’t carry the baggage you did.

By the time morning came, the weight of those thoughts felt unbearable.

Jimin noticed immediately when you met up that afternoon. She always noticed.

“You’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head as the two of you walked along the canal. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Jimin stopped walking, her hand gently catching your arm to stop you too.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your first instinct to deflect. But the concern in her eyes made it impossible to lie.

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, your voice shaky. “I’m just... in my head, I guess.”

Jimin didn’t let go of your arm. “In your head about what?”

You looked away, your gaze fixed on the water. “I just... I feel like I don’t measure up sometimes. Like I’m not... enough.”

The words felt heavy as they left your mouth, and you braced yourself for her reaction.

But Jimin didn’t look at you with pity or disbelief. She looked at you with so much care it almost hurt.

“Why would you think that?” she asked gently.

You shrugged, still unable to meet her gaze. “Because it’s true. I mean, look at you—you’re amazing, Jimin. You’re kind and beautiful and confident. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you ever...”

You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jimin stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to your hand. Her touch was steady, grounding.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. You’re amazing too, Y/N.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You don’t understand. I’m a mess, Jimin. I’ve got so much baggage, and I’m not... I’m not like you.”

Jimin squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You’re right—you’re not like me. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want you to be like me, Y/N. I want you to be you.”

Her words made your chest tighten, the sincerity in her voice breaking through the wall you’d built around yourself.

“But what if me isn’t enough?” you whispered, the question breaking your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, her other hand coming up to gently rest on your shoulder. “Y/N, you are more than enough. You’re kind, and funny, and smart. You make people feel seen and heard. You make me feel... happy. Really happy.”

You blinked, her words sinking in slowly. “I do?”

Jimin nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. “You do. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I feel like my day gets brighter. You don’t have to be anyone else or do anything special—you just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

The lump in your throat grew, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth of Jimin’s words.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

Jimin smiled, her hands giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest began to lift. Jimin’s words didn’t erase your insecurities completely, but they made them feel smaller, more manageable.

“Can we... just keep walking for a bit?” you asked, needing a moment to process everything.

“Of course,” Jimin said, her smile gentle. She let go of your hand, but only to fall into step beside you, her presence steady and comforting.

As you walked together, the canal glinting in the afternoon sun, you realized something important: Jimin saw you—truly saw you—and she didn’t run away.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start seeing yourself the way she did.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Jimin had texted you the day after the call that had left you shaken. Her message was simple:

“I was thinking... maybe we could hang out this weekend? Just you and me? Nothing too fancy, just... a date?”

Your heart had skipped a beat at the word "date." It was the first time she’d said it outright, and though the thought filled you with nervous excitement, you agreed.

So now you stood in your apartment, nervously smoothing down your outfit, when a knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Jimin standing there, a shy smile on her face—and a small bouquet of tulips in her hands.

“These are for you,” she said, her voice a little sheepish as she held them out.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought me flowers?”

Jimin shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “I figured... I don’t know, I thought you might like them.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the bouquet, the vibrant petals a burst of color against the duller tones of your thoughts. “I do. Thank you, Jimin. They’re beautiful.”

Jimin’s smile grew, and she glanced down at her shoes. “I’m glad you like them.”

You invited her in, setting the flowers in a vase with water before grabbing your coat. “So, what’s the plan for this date?”

Jimin’s grin turned playful as she said, “You’ll see.”

The surprise didn’t last long, though. Instead of a bustling restaurant or a noisy café, Jimin led you to her apartment. The choice made your heart settle—it was thoughtful, quiet, and personal, exactly what you needed.

Her place was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a faint scent of vanilla. The living room was small but thoughtfully decorated, filled with plants and little knick-knacks that spoke to Jimin’s personality. A blanket was draped over the couch, and the coffee table was set with snacks, two glasses, and a bottle of wine.

“I figured we could keep it simple,” Jimin said as she slipped off her shoes. “Movies, snacks, maybe a little wine? No pressure, though—just whatever feels comfortable.”

“Perfect,” you said, meaning it. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, this kind of quiet, personal setting was exactly what you needed.

You settled on the couch, and Jimin joined you, a movie queued up but forgotten as the two of you started talking. Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her energy infectious and her laughter like a warm hug.

Hours passed without you even realizing it, the two of you sharing stories, teasing each other, and laughing until your sides hurt. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of the moment began to stir something deeper within you—a longing to share the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

Jimin must have sensed the shift because she turned to you, her smile softening. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

You hesitated, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “I’m okay... I think.”

Jimin didn’t push. She just waited, her presence steady and reassuring, giving you the space to find your words.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “I haven’t told you much about my past... about why I moved here.”

Jimin’s expression grew serious, her gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” she said gently.

“I want to,” you said, surprising yourself with how certain you felt. “I think... I need to.”

Jimin nodded, her body angled toward you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

“It’s my mom,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s... she’s always been hard on me. Critical, demanding, never satisfied. Nothing I ever did was enough for her. And when I told her I was leaving, that I needed space, she made me feel like I was the worst person in the world for even thinking about it.”

Your hands trembled as you spoke, and Jimin reached out, her hand warm and steady on yours.

“She’d call me selfish, ungrateful,” you continued, your voice breaking. “She’d guilt me, make me feel like I owed her everything. And even now, when I’m here, she still calls and texts constantly, like she can’t let me go. And I...” You paused, swallowing hard. “I know I did the right thing by leaving, but I can’t stop feeling guilty. Like I failed her.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, but they fell anyway. “And it’s not just her. It’s... it’s everything. She’s in my head, telling me I’m not good enough, that I’ll never be good enough. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, it’s always there.”

Jimin’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch grounding you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this. You didn’t deserve it—not then, not now.”

Her words broke something in you, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a torrent of emotion you couldn’t hold back. Jimin didn’t say anything more; she just pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried into her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

When the tears subsided, you pulled back, your face warm with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Jimin said, her voice firm. “Never apologize for feeling what you feel.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I just... I want to feel loved, Jimin. Really loved. Not judged or criticized or made to feel small. I want to feel... safe. And cared for. Is that too much to ask?”

Jimin’s hands cupped your face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/N, you deserve all of that and more. You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, to be cared for in every way. And I want to be the one to give that to you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jimin...”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I know it won’t be easy, and I know you’ve been hurt. But I promise you, I’ll be patient. I’ll prove to you every day that you’re worth loving, that you’re more than enough just as you are. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me—you just have to be you. That’s all I need.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. They were from the overwhelming warmth of her words, the kindness and love she poured into them.

“Why would you want to do that for me?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Jimin smiled, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because you’re worth it. Because you’ve already made my world brighter just by being in it. And because... I think I’m falling for you.”

Her confession took your breath away, the weight of it settling in your chest like a warm glow.

Jimin took a deep breath, her hands still holding your face. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of fear and joy swirling inside you. But as you looked into her eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and warmth.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Yes, I will.”

A radiant smile spread across Jimin’s face, and before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft and gentle, a promise in itself. It felt like the walls you’d built around yourself were finally crumbling, replaced by the warmth and safety of Jimin’s embrace.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her eyes closed as she whispered, “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Life with Jimin was a series of small, joyful steps forward.

In the weeks following your first official date, the two of you settled into a rhythm. Weekends became sacred—a time for just the two of you. One weekend, you introduced Jimin to your favorite books, curling up on her couch as you read aloud together. Another, she taught you to make her grandmother’s favorite dumpling recipe, both of you laughing as you fumbled with the dough.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” Jimin teased, nudging you with her elbow as you successfully folded another dumpling.

“Natural talent,” you joked, feeling lighter than you had in years.

It wasn’t just weekends, though. Jimin had a way of weaving herself into your daily life in the most unexpected ways—sending you silly selfies in the middle of her workday, texting you goodnight every evening without fail, and making you laugh with her ridiculous dad jokes.

And you found yourself wanting to do the same for her. You started surprising her with little things—a playlist of songs you thought she’d like, a sketch of her dog that made her beam with delight, or simply a thoughtful text to brighten her day.

It was new, unfamiliar, but also wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved, cared for, and seen.

But as you were beginning to build something beautiful with Jimin, the shadows of your past refused to stay quiet.

It was a quiet Tuesday evening when your phone rang, the name on the screen freezing the smile on your face.

Mom.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. But the part of you that still craved her approval won out, and you answered.

“Hi, Mom,” you said softly, your voice tinged with trepidation.

Her tone was sharp from the start. “So, you’re too busy to call your mother these days?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words settling on your chest. “I’ve been busy with work and... things. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she snapped. “Do you even care about how I feel? Or is this just about you, as always?”

The accusations came quickly, each one sharper than the last. No matter how much you tried to defend yourself, to explain, she wouldn’t hear it.

“I gave you everything,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “And this is how you repay me? By running away, by abandoning me? You’re worthless. Selfish and worthless.”

Her words sliced through you, reopening old wounds you thought were healing. You managed to stammer out a weak “I have to go,” before hanging up, your hands trembling as you dropped the phone onto the table.

You tried to breathe, but your chest felt tight, each inhale jagged and shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down until you couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

Your phone buzzed on the table, but you didn’t look at it. You couldn’t.

Jimin frowned as she stared at her phone, her latest message to you still unread. She’d been texting you for over an hour with no response, and something about it didn’t sit right.

Normally, you’d at least send a quick reply, even if you were busy. But tonight... nothing.

She grabbed her coat, worry gnawing at her as she headed to your apartment.

When she arrived, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her worry deepened.

“Y/N? It’s me,” she called out, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m coming in, okay?”

Using the spare key you’d given her just last week, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted her broke her heart.

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the couch, your knees drawn up to your chest. Your hands were clutching your head, and your breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears streaked your face, and your whole body trembled.

“Y/N,” Jimin said softly, dropping to her knees beside you.

Your eyes darted to her, wide and filled with panic, but you didn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She sat down beside you, close but not crowding, her presence steady and grounding. “Can you try to breathe with me?” she asked gently, demonstrating slow, deep breaths. “In for four, out for four. Just like that.”

You tried to match her breaths, but your chest felt too tight, the panic refusing to release its grip.

“It’s okay if it’s hard,” Jimin said, her voice unwavering. “Just keep trying. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were a lifeline, pulling you back, little by little, from the edge. After what felt like an eternity, your breaths began to slow, the tightness in your chest easing.

Jimin reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “You’re doing so well,” she said softly.

The warmth of her touch grounded you further, and the tears started again, but this time they weren’t from panic. They were from exhaustion, from relief, from the overwhelming mix of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Jimin didn’t speak; she just held you, her arms around you like a shield against the world.

When the tears subsided, you finally found your voice, though it was barely a whisper. “She called me worthless.”

Jimin stiffened slightly, but her embrace didn’t falter. “She’s wrong,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “You are not worthless, Y/N. Not even close.”

You shook your head, the weight of her words still pressing down on you. “It feels like I am. Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone steady and unyielding. “You are enough. More than enough. Your mom... she doesn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. You are kind, thoughtful, strong, and resilient. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have a say in how you see yourself.”

Her words pierced through the fog of doubt and pain, reaching a part of you that still believed in the possibility of hope.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Jimin said. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her unwavering support, her presence, it was more than you’d ever dared to hope for.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to lean into her, to let her hold you, to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

And as Jimin whispered words of comfort and love, you felt a glimmer of something you hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

For the first time in what felt like forever, you stood at the edge of your past, ready to confront it.

The past few weeks with Jimin had been a revelation. She had shown you love and care in ways you hadn’t thought possible. With her, you felt safe enough to begin unraveling the tangled mess of your emotions and experiences.

But there was one thing you hadn’t yet faced: your mother.

Every time she called, you felt the same pull—the ache of wanting her approval mixed with the dread of her inevitable criticism. But you couldn’t live like this anymore. You couldn’t move forward with the weight of her words dragging you down.

And so, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, you decided it was time.

Jimin was by your side as always, sitting with you on the couch. Her presence was steady and reassuring, her hand warm in yours.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to do this.”

Jimin squeezed your hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. I’m right here, okay?”

You nodded, drawing strength from her unwavering support. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed.

It didn’t take long for your mom to answer. “Finally,” she said, her tone sharp. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten you had a mother.”

You closed your eyes, steadying yourself. “Hi, Mom. I wanted to talk.”

The words came out calmer than you expected, but your heart was racing.

“Oh? You have time for me now?” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “How kind of you.”

You fought the urge to apologize, knowing it would only validate her behavior. “I need to say some things,” you said instead, your voice firmer now.

“Say what?” she demanded. “How ungrateful you’ve been? How you’ve abandoned me?”

Jimin’s hand tightened around yours, grounding you as you pressed on. “No, Mom. I want to talk about how I feel. About how your words have affected me.”

Your mom scoffed. “Oh, here we go. Playing the victim now, are we?”

You clenched your free hand into a fist, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not trying to play the victim. I just need you to understand that the way you’ve treated me—calling me worthless, criticizing everything I do—it’s hurt me. It’s made me feel like I’ll never be good enough.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you thought she might actually listen. But then she spoke, her voice trembling with indignation. “After everything I’ve done for you? I sacrificed so much, and this is the thanks I get? You’re so ungrateful.”

The guilt hit you like a wave, but Jimin’s gentle touch on your hand kept you steady. She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, her silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I know you’ve done a lot for me. And I love you, Mom. I always will. But I don’t like the way you treat me. I don’t like how I feel when we talk.”

“How you feel?” she snapped. “What about how I feel? Do you even care?”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to back down. “I do care, Mom. That’s why I’m saying this. But I can’t keep sacrificing my happiness just to make you feel better. I need space. I need time to heal.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’re abandoning me again. Just like you always do.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” you said firmly, though your hands trembled. “I’m asking for space. I’m asking you to respect my boundaries. I can’t keep living like this. It’s not fair to me.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll regret this.”

Maybe you would, but you also knew you couldn’t go back to how things were. “I’m sorry if this hurts you, Mom. But I have to put myself first for once.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke, her tone cold and distant. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

The call ended abruptly, and for a moment, you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence ringing louder than her words.

Tears blurred your vision, but Jimin’s arms were around you before you could fall apart completely.

“You did it,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of pride.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice trembling. “It feels like I’ve just lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost everything,” she said gently, pulling back to look at you. “You’ve just taken the first step toward finding yourself again. And I’m so proud of you.”

Her words broke the dam inside you, and you leaned into her, crying into her shoulder as she held you. She didn’t try to fix it, didn’t tell you to stop crying. She just held you, letting you feel everything you needed to feel.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat together in silence, Jimin’s fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“I feel so... empty,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes you have to let go of what’s hurting you to make room for something better. And I promise, Y/N, there’s so much better waiting for you.”

Her words stayed with you as the days passed. Slowly but surely, you began to feel lighter. The guilt and pain didn’t disappear overnight, but they began to fade, replaced by something new.

Hope.

One sunny afternoon, you and Jimin took Cooper for a walk in the park. The greyhound trotted happily ahead, his tail wagging as he sniffed every blade of grass.

The park was alive with the sounds of laughter and birdsong, the crisp autumn air filled with the scent of fallen leaves.

Jimin reached for your hand, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked. Her touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a quiet sense of peace settle over you.

As you rounded a bend in the path, you spotted three familiar faces waiting by a bench.

Minjeong waved excitedly, her grin as bright as the sun. Aeri and Yizhuo were beside her, both of them holding drinks from the nearby café.

“About time you showed up!” Yizhuo called out, her voice teasing.

“Cooper needed to inspect every tree,” Jimin said with a laugh, giving the leash a gentle tug.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached them, the warmth of their welcome washing over you.

As you sat down with them, Cooper flopped onto the grass, content and happy. Jimin’s hand never left yours, her thumb brushing softly against your knuckles.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Loved. Supported. Happy.

And as you laughed with your friends, Jimin’s hand in yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. a/n: this one was easier to write, probably because it hits a bit to close to home lol

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fioredeciliego · 2 months ago

Text

How to Kidnap a Mafia Boss: A Step by Step Guide - Karina x Fem!Reader

13K Words

Now, her night had taken a turn for the worse. Nina’s ex-boyfriend, who had the temperament of a rabid raccoon, had shown up uninvited, creating a scene that had them fleeing the club like fugitives.

“Nina, you owe me for this,” Y/N muttered under her breath, fumbling with her car keys as she fast-walked toward what she thought was her car. Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked the door. She was just grateful Nina had ditched the ex in time for her to make a clean getaway.

The parking garage was far too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every sound—like the echo of her own footsteps—seem amplified and sinister. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, her paranoia fueled by the faint scuff of shoes against concrete somewhere behind her.

"Just get to the car, Y/N," she whispered, clutching her phone in one hand and her tiny purse in the other.

She glanced over her shoulder and swore she saw movement in the shadows. Her heartbeat spiked. Nope, nope, nope, she thought, practically throwing herself into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door shut and locked it, her breath coming out in shallow gasps.

Fumbling, she jammed the key into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Without hesitation, she backed out of the space and sped toward the exit ramp, desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and the creepy parking garage.

As the cold night air seeped through a cracked window, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. "Okay, Y/N, you’re safe. It’s fine. Just head home and—"

A muffled groan cut through the air like a knife.

She froze, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but it was too dark to see much of anything.

Another groan, this time louder.

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her mouth went dry as she slowly turned her head, half-expecting to find a horror movie monster or a deranged hitchhiker. Instead, her eyes landed on a figure slumped in the back seat—a woman with sharp, striking features, her arms bound tightly behind her back and a gag over her mouth.

Y/N’s scream tore through the car, shrill and panicked.

The woman jolted slightly, her eyes narrowing in annoyance rather than fear. She let out a muffled sound through the gag, which only made Y/N scream again.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! What—who—why—WHAT?!” Y/N shrieked, scrambling for her phone and nearly dropping it in her lap.

The woman in the back seat tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, her bound hands twitching slightly as if to say, Calm down.

“Calm down?! You’re tied up in my back seat! What is happening?!” Y/N babbled, her voice pitching higher with every word.

The woman let out another muffled groan, this one decidedly annoyed, and jerked her head toward the gag as if to say, Take it off.

Y/N shook her head wildly. “Oh, no, no, no. You could be some kind of psycho! What if this is a trap? What if you’re a mob boss or something?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard Y/N swore she could hear it. She let out a string of muffled sounds that were probably curses, her gaze sharp and exasperated.

Y/N took a shaky breath, trying to process the surreal situation. She looked from the woman to the road ahead, realizing she was still idling at the bottom of the parking ramp. She reached for the gear shift, her hands trembling.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, “you’re going to pull over and figure this out. You’re not a criminal. You’re not involved in some weird mob thing. This is just... a misunderstanding.”

The city lights faded behind Y/N as she sped down a quiet back road, her mind a chaotic swirl of questions, expletives, and mounting panic.

“What the hell do I do? What do I do?” she muttered, glancing nervously at the woman in the back seat. The woman—still bound and gagged—looked more annoyed than terrified, her sharp eyes tracking Y/N like a hawk.

Y/N’s car sputtered to a stop on the shoulder of the road. She threw it into park and buried her face in her hands, trying to suppress the urge to scream again. She failed miserably.

“Okay, okay, let’s just... think this through,” she said aloud, more to herself than to her mysterious passenger. She turned in her seat, facing the woman.

“So,” she began, her voice wavering, “who... who are you? And why are you tied up? Blink once if you’re in danger. Blink twice if—”

The woman blinked. Once.

“Oh god.” Y/N clutched her chest, the reality of her situation sinking in. “Are you serious right now? Am I, like, an accessory to a crime? Did I just become an accomplice?!”

The woman’s exasperated groan brought Y/N back to the present. She motioned with her head toward the gag, her eyes practically screaming, Take it off, you idiot.

Y/N recoiled. “Oh no, you don’t! What if you’re, I don’t know, dangerous? You could be a ninja or... or an assassin!”

The woman’s expression darkened. She slumped against the seat and let out a muffled sigh that sounded suspiciously like Oh, for the love of...

Y/N’s guilt began to outweigh her paranoia. After all, the woman didn’t look like a ninja. And her sharp, tailored suit—now wrinkled and slightly torn—was more “CEO at a power brunch” than “trained killer.”

“Fine,” Y/N said with a reluctant sigh, reaching into the back seat. “But if you try anything funny, I’ll... I’ll—”

The woman’s raised eyebrow stopped her mid-sentence.

“Right, you’re tied up,” Y/N mumbled, her cheeks flushing.

She fumbled with the gag, finally pulling it free.

The woman coughed softly before licking her lips and fixing Y/N with a level stare. Then, with a voice that was calm, low, and laced with biting sarcasm, she said, “So, what’s your plan, kidnapper?”

Y/N froze. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the woman replied, her tone far too casual for someone in her predicament. “You abducted me. What’s your next move? Ransom? Interrogation? A dramatic villain monologue?”

“I didn’t abduct you!” Y/N protested, her voice climbing. “I-I didn’t even know you were in the car! This is all... this is just one big misunderstanding!”

The woman’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through her otherwise unimpressed expression. “Sure. A misunderstanding. Totally normal to flee a parking garage with a bound woman in your back seat. Happens all the time.”

Y/N groaned, slumping forward until her forehead hit the steering wheel. “This cannot be my life right now.”

An hour later, they were sitting in a dimly lit room in the sketchiest motel Y/N could find. The neon sign outside flickered ominously, casting the word “VACAN_” in garish red light across the peeling wallpaper.

Jimin—she had introduced herself with a sly smile and zero context—sat at the rickety table, sipping tea she had somehow brewed with the motel’s ancient coffee maker. She looked completely at ease, as if she weren’t a recently liberated captive but rather a guest at a particularly questionable Airbnb.

Meanwhile, Y/N paced the room, her phone clutched in one hand as she frantically Googled things like what to do when you accidentally kidnap someone and is returning a kidnapped person illegal?

“You’re going to wear a hole in that carpet,” Jimin remarked, her tone light.

“Not helping!” Y/N shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of her growing hysteria. “I don’t even know how I got into this mess! One minute I’m running from Nina’s psycho ex, and the next... you! In my car! What were you even doing there?!”

Jimin tilted her head, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. “Would you believe me if I said I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Y/N stopped pacing and leveled her with a look. “No. No, I would not.”

“Smart girl.” Jimin smirked, taking another sip of tea.

Y/N groaned and flopped onto the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. “I just want my normal, boring life back.”

“Boring, huh?” Jimin leaned back in her chair, studying Y/N like she was some fascinating puzzle. “Maybe this is fate. You needed a little excitement, and I needed... well, a ride, apparently.”

“Excitement?” Y/N sat up, incredulous. “This is not excitement. This is a nightmare! I’m pretty sure I’m committing multiple felonies right now.”

Jimin laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpectedly charming. “Relax, Y/N. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That’s not comforting!” Y/N buried her face in her hands.

Jimin’s smile widened, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of genuine softness in her expression. “You’re kind of funny, you know that?”

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers. “Funny? Seriously?”

Jimin shrugged. “A little. I mean, you’re clearly in over your head, but you’re trying. It’s... endearing.”

Y/N groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “Kill me now.”

“No need for dramatics,” Jimin said with a chuckle, standing and stretching. “You’ve already got a mafia boss in your motel room. Isn’t that enough excitement for one night?”

Y/N’s head snapped up. “Mafia boss?! Wait, you’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

But Jimin didn’t answer. She just smiled, enigmatic and infuriating, and turned back to her tea.

Y/N sank back against the pillows, her mind spinning. Whatever this was, it was far from over.

The motel room was as depressing as a B-movie horror set. The peeling wallpaper reeked of mildew, the flickering ceiling light buzzed ominously, and the lone bed looked like it had seen one too many questionable nights. Y/N, still in a full state of panic, paced back and forth while Jimin lounged on the creaky chair by the window.

“You’re hiding from people who work for me, by the way,” Jimin remarked, scrolling lazily through her phone. “In this dump. Bold strategy.”

Y/N froze mid-step, turning to glare at her unwelcome passenger. “Could you, like, not right now? I’m trying to figure out how to fix this!”

Jimin’s gaze flicked up from her phone, one elegant eyebrow arching. “Fix it? Sweetheart, you’ve kidnapped the wrong person. This is less ‘fixable’ and more... what’s the word? Oh, right—impossible.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Y/N snapped, clutching her phone in a death grip.

“Touchy,” Jimin mused, her lips curving into a small smirk. “But seriously, if you’re going to go on the run, maybe aim for somewhere a bit... nicer? This place screams ‘criminal on the lam.’” She gestured around the room, her expression faintly disgusted.

Y/N groaned, throwing herself onto the edge of the bed and burying her face in her hands. “Why is this happening to me? I didn’t even mean to kidnap anyone!” She peeked through her fingers, narrowing her eyes at Jimin. “And you seem weirdly okay with this.”

Jimin shrugged, tucking her phone into her pocket. “Not my first rodeo.”

“What does that even mean?” Y/N asked, her voice pitching higher in disbelief.

Before Jimin could answer, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and tapped out a quick reply.

“Are you seriously texting right now?” Y/N asked, incredulous. “Who are you even talking to?”

“Oh, just a couple of people who are probably freaking out because I’ve been kidnapped.” Jimin’s voice was laced with amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Y/N shot up, panic written all over her face. “You’re telling people where we are? Are you trying to get me arrested—or worse?!”

Jimin laughed, a sound so carefree it felt wildly out of place in their current situation. “Relax, I’m not giving them our location. I’m just telling them I’m alive. Gotta keep my people loyal, you know?”

Y/N flopped back onto the bed, muttering to herself. “I’m so dead. This is how I die. In a disgusting motel with a mafia boss who probably thinks this is all a joke.”

Jimin grinned. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N shot back, her voice cracking. “This is serious! I have no idea how to deal with... with this!” She gestured wildly in Jimin’s direction.

Jimin leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up on the rickety table. “Here’s an idea: stop panicking. Order some food. Maybe a drink. It’s not like you can do much else tonight.”

Y/N stared at her, aghast. “Food? You want to order food? You’re a hostage!”

Jimin gave her a pitying look. “Honey, you’re the one who took me. You’re not exactly following the hostage manual either. Might as well make the best of it.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Jimin picked up the room phone and dialed.

“Wait, are you seriously calling room service?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with both disbelief and awe.

Jimin winked. “Yep. Can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Y/N jumped to her feet, her heart pounding. “What if it’s the police? Or... or your mafia people?!”

Jimin rolled her eyes. “It’s room service. Chill.”

Y/N crept toward the door and peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was just a bored-looking teenager in a rumpled motel uniform holding a tray of food.

She opened the door just enough to grab the tray, then slammed it shut and turned to Jimin. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, setting the tray down.

“Thank you,” Jimin said with a grin, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite.

Y/N watched her, torn between frustration and begrudging admiration for how unfazed Jimin was by... well, everything.

“Do you, like, care that you’ve been kidnapped?” Y/N finally asked, sitting back down on the bed.

Jimin considered this as she chewed, then swallowed. “Not really. You seem harmless, and this is more entertaining than most of my meetings.”

Y/N gaped at her. “Meetings?”

Jimin smirked. “What, you think mafia bosses just sit around counting money and making threats all day? We have schedules, sweetheart. Agendas. Conference calls.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” Jimin teased, her tone maddeningly vague.

Y/N groaned, flopping onto the bed again. “I give up. You’re insane.”

“And you,” Jimin said, pointing at her with the remains of her sandwich, “are in way over your head. But hey, at least the food’s decent.”

Y/N didn’t reply, opting instead to stare at the ceiling and wonder, for the hundredth time, how her life had spiraled so wildly out of control.

In the corner, Jimin leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the grimy motel blinds, but Y/N hadn’t slept a wink. She sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring at Jimin, who was peacefully sprawled out in the lone chair, arms crossed and head tilted back as she napped.

“How is she this calm?” Y/N muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched her phone, debating what to do. Call the cops? Would they even believe her? “Hi, yes, I accidentally kidnapped a mafia boss, can you come pick her up?” Yeah, no.

Jimin stirred, a faint smile playing on her lips as she stretched. “You’re a loud thinker, you know that?” she murmured without opening her eyes.

Y/N jumped. “How are you so chill right now? Aren’t you supposed to be mad? Or scared? Or... I don’t know, plotting your revenge?”

Jimin opened one eye lazily. “Mad? No. Scared? Not really. Revenge?” She chuckled, sitting up and fixing Y/N with a playful smirk. “Too much effort. Besides, this whole thing is kind of hilarious.”

Y/N gawked at her. “Hilarious? I could go to prison for this!”

“Only if you get caught,” Jimin replied, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve.

Before Y/N could respond, a low rumble caught her attention. She froze, her ears straining.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Jimin’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes flicked toward the window. “Oh, that? Probably my people.”

Y/N shot to her feet, her heart pounding. “Your people?!” She darted to the window and peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, three black SUVs were pulling into the parking lot, their dark-tinted windows making them look even more menacing.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Y/N chanted, pacing in a tight circle. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me, and it’s all your fault!”

Jimin stood, stretching leisurely. “My fault? You’re the one who kidnapped me, remember?”

Y/N whirled on her, panic in her eyes. “What do we do? What do I do? Do I hide? Do I run? Do I—”

“You do nothing,” Jimin interrupted smoothly. She walked to the door, cracking her neck like she was preparing for a morning jog.

“What do you mean, nothing? They’re probably armed! They’re going to drag me out of here and—and—”

“Relax.” Jimin turned the lock on the door and opened it wide, stepping out onto the small concrete stoop.

“Relax?! You want me to relax?!” Y/N hissed, peeking out from behind her.

The SUVs parked in a neat row, and the doors swung open in unison. Out stepped several sharply dressed men and women, their expressions grim as they approached.

“Boss,” one of them said, inclining his head respectfully. “Are you okay? We’ve been looking for you all night.”

Jimin crossed her arms and gave them a lazy smile. “I’m fine. Just a minor detour.”

The man’s eyes flicked to Y/N, who was still half-hiding behind the doorframe. His expression darkened. “Is this the... person responsible for your detour?”

Y/N let out a strangled squeak, shrinking back. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

The man took a step toward her, but Jimin held up a hand. “Stand down,” she said, her voice calm but commanding.

“But, boss—”

“Stand. Down.”

The man hesitated before nodding and stepping back, though his glare toward Y/N didn’t soften.

Y/N blinked, peeking out fully now. “Wait, you’re not going to...?” She mimed a vague slicing motion across her neck.

Jimin turned to her, her grin wicked. “Not today.”

“Why not?!” Y/N blurted before she could stop herself.

Jimin stepped closer, leaning in until her face was just inches from Y/N’s. Her dark eyes sparkled with mischief as she said softly, “Because this is way too entertaining.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Entertaining?! That’s why you’re not letting them... them—”

“Whack you?” Jimin supplied helpfully.

“Yes!”

Jimin laughed, turning back to her people. “We’ll be leaving soon. Go make yourselves useful.”

The group nodded and retreated back to the SUVs, though not without a few lingering glances at Y/N, who was still frozen in place.

Jimin turned back to her, hands on her hips. “See? All under control.”

Y/N gaped at her. “You’re insane.”

Jimin grinned. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

The silence in the car was thick, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional squeak of the windshield wipers. Y/N kept her focus glued to the winding road ahead, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The events of the last 24 hours were a chaotic blur, but somehow, her current predicament felt even more surreal.

Beside her, Jimin reclined in the passenger seat with an air of complete relaxation. She’d kicked off her expensive heels and propped one foot on the dashboard, her other leg crossed lazily over her knee. She looked more like a co-pilot on a carefree road trip than a mafia boss who’d just been accidentally kidnapped.

"So, this is your grand escape plan?" Jimin’s voice broke the silence, smooth and laced with amusement.

Y/N shot her a side-eye glance. "What are you talking about?"

Jimin gestured vaguely at the car’s interior. "This—this charming rust bucket of yours. Bold choice for a getaway vehicle. Very… inconspicuous."

Y/N bristled, her grip on the wheel tightening. "It’s my car. Not all of us can afford bulletproof limousines and private jets, okay?"

Jimin tilted her head, smirking. "I wasn’t judging. It has character. Kind of like you."

"Gee, thanks," Y/N deadpanned, focusing on the road.

After a beat of silence, Jimin began tapping her fingers against the passenger window. "What’s with all the fast-food wrappers on the floor? Is this a mobile trash can or a car?"

Y/N gritted her teeth. "Excuse me for not having time to detail it before my accidental kidnapping."

"Touché," Jimin quipped, nodding with mock solemnity.

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin, but before she could snap, Jimin leaned forward and began fiddling with the ancient radio dials. Static crackled through the speakers.

"Don’t touch that!" Y/N swatted Jimin’s hand away, nearly swerving off the road in the process.

"Relax!" Jimin raised her hands in surrender, laughing. "You act like I was going to break it."

"It barely works as it is!" Y/N hissed, steadying the car.

Jimin leaned back in her seat, unbothered, and gave a long, exaggerated sigh. "Do you even have decent music in this thing, or is it just sad pop songs and static?"

"That’s it." Y/N glared at her. "New rule: no touching the radio. In fact, don’t touch anything."

Jimin smirked. "Kidnapper rules? That’s adorable."

"Adorable?" Y/N sputtered. "What about this is adorable?!"

Jimin shrugged, feigning innocence. "I’m just saying, you’re kind of terrible at this whole kidnapping thing. It’s almost endearing."

"Endearing?" Y/N echoed, incredulous. She yanked the wheel to make a turn, the car lurching slightly.

Jimin casually braced herself with one hand on the dashboard, the picture of calm. "Well, yeah. You’re panicking, floundering, and driving like you’re in a driver’s ed class. But you’re trying your best. It’s cute."

Y/N slapped a hand over her face. "This can’t be happening," she muttered to herself.

Jimin reached down and grabbed an open bag of chips from the console, inspecting the label. "Gas station snacks? Really? Do you ever eat anything that wasn’t fried in questionable oil?"

"Excuse me for not catering this little adventure!" Y/N snapped, snatching the chips away. "I’m a regular person, okay? Do mafia bosses usually have Yelp reviews for kidnappings?"

At that, Jimin burst into laughter—a real, genuine laugh that filled the small car. It caught Y/N off guard, and for a split second, she almost smiled. Almost.

"You’re funny," Jimin said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"No, I’m panicking," Y/N corrected, glaring at the road.

Jimin waved her hand dismissively. "Same thing, really. But seriously, you’ve got to loosen up. It’s not like you’re in danger."

Y/N whipped her head around, eyes wide. "Not in danger?! You’re a mafia boss! There are probably a hundred people looking for you right now, and when they find me—"

"They’re not going to hurt you," Jimin interrupted calmly. "You’re with me. And besides…" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "This is way too entertaining."

Y/N stared at her, speechless, before letting out a frustrated groan. "Unbelievable."

Jimin settled back into her seat, a satisfied smirk on her face.

For a while, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine. Y/N’s irritation simmered as she focused on the road, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Sure enough, when she glanced over, Jimin was staring at her, her chin resting in her hand.

"What now?" Y/N demanded.

"Just wondering," Jimin mused, her tone playful, "what’s your next move, kidnapper?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily thrown off. She had no idea. She was completely out of her depth, and it must have shown on her face because Jimin’s smirk widened.

"Thought so," Jimin said with a chuckle.

"Can you stop talking for five minutes?" Y/N snapped.

"Depends," Jimin replied smoothly. "Do you have snacks that aren’t chips?"

Y/N groaned, gripping the wheel tighter. "I swear, you’re going to drive me insane before this is over."

"Challenge accepted," Jimin said brightly, popping a chip into her mouth with a grin that was equal parts infuriating and charming.

The neon sign of "Dottie’s Diner" flickered against the darkening sky, its hum faintly audible as Y/N begrudgingly parked the car.

“Happy now?” she muttered, turning to Jimin, who was already fixing her hair in the passenger-side mirror.

“Famished, actually,” Jimin replied with a grin, stepping out of the car as if she owned the place.

Y/N followed reluctantly, her nerves on edge as she scanned the small, homey diner. Booths lined the walls, filled with truckers and locals enjoying their meals under dim yellow lights. The smell of frying bacon and freshly baked pie lingered in the air, momentarily soothing Y/N's frazzled mind.

Jimin, however, walked in with the confidence of someone who had never been thrown into a dumpster fire of chaos. She slid into a booth by the window, gesturing for Y/N to join her.

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N grumbled, sitting down anyway.

“That’s cute,” Jimin said, waving a waitress over. “Two menus, please.”

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, handed them menus. Jimin’s demeanor shifted instantly as she flashed the woman a dazzling smile.

“Hi, Dottie?” Jimin asked, glancing at the nametag.

“Yep, that’s me!” the waitress replied, beaming.

“Lovely diner you’ve got here,” Jimin said smoothly. “Feels like home. The kind of place where the food isn’t just cooked—it’s made with love.”

Dottie blushed, clearly charmed. “Well, you’re too sweet! What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, medium rare, with extra pickles, and… a slice of your famous apple pie for dessert,” Jimin said. She leaned in slightly, her voice conspiratorial. “I can tell it’s famous. Bet you make it yourself.”

Dottie laughed, waving a hand. “Oh, stop. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin murmured with a wink, handing the menu back.

Y/N gawked at the scene, her mouth slightly ajar, as Dottie turned to her.

“And for you, hon?”

“Uh… grilled cheese and fries, I guess,” Y/N said, shooting Jimin a pointed look.

“Coming right up!”

The meal arrived quickly, and Y/N had to admit it was better than the gas station chips. Jimin seemed genuinely relaxed, savoring her burger with almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Okay, I’ll give you this,” Y/N admitted, stabbing a fry with her fork. “This is good.”

“See?” Jimin said around a mouthful of food. “I know how to pick ‘em.”

But the peace didn’t last long.

The bell over the door jingled, and Y/N glanced up to see a group of men entering the diner. They were dressed in dark jackets, their sharp gazes scanning the room until they landed on Jimin.

Y/N froze, her stomach plummeting. “Uh… friends of yours?”

Jimin’s face didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Rivals,” she muttered under her breath.

“What do we do?” Y/N hissed.

Jimin casually wiped her hands on a napkin, leaning back in her seat. “We eat.”

“What—are you serious?!”

“Relax,” Jimin said, her tone calm but firm. “They’re not going to make a scene. Not here.”

But as the men approached their booth, Y/N could feel the tension crackling in the air. One of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, stopped just short of their table.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “Yu Jimin. Didn’t expect to see you slumming it in a place like this.”

“Han,” Jimin said coolly, leaning back in her seat. “What a surprise. I’d offer you a fry, but I don’t like sharing.”

Han’s gaze shifted to Y/N, his smirk widening. “And who’s this? A new recruit? She doesn’t look like your type.”

“I’m not—” Y/N began, but Han cut her off.

“She’s cute,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Bit out of your league, though.”

Y/N’s face flushed, though whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t tell. She shot Jimin a nervous glance, but the mafia boss’s expression remained impassive, her fingers drumming lightly on the table.

“Leave her out of this, Han,” Jimin said, her voice low and edged with warning.

Han chuckled. “Touchy, aren’t we? You’re usually better at keeping your cool.”

“Don’t push me,” Jimin replied, her tone deadly calm.

Y/N, feeling cornered and frustrated, grabbed her plate of fries and, without thinking, flung it at Han’s chest.

The diner fell silent as everyone processed what had just happened. A fry slid down Han’s jacket, leaving a greasy trail in its wake.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jimin muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oops,” Y/N said weakly.

Han’s expression darkened, and he reached for Y/N, but Jimin was faster. She grabbed her burger and hurled it at his face.

“GO!” Jimin shouted, dragging Y/N out of the booth as chaos erupted around them.

Plates flew, ketchup bottles exploded, and the entire diner descended into a cacophony of shouting and clattering dishes. Y/N ducked as a slice of pie soared past her head, hitting the wall with a wet splat.

“This is all your fault!” Y/N yelled as she crouched behind the counter.

“You started it!” Jimin shot back, grabbing a chair and using it as a shield.

“You could’ve done something diplomatic!”

“Diplomacy doesn’t work on people like Han!”

Han’s men weren’t faring much better, slipping on spilled drinks and dodging flying condiments. Dottie, armed with a rolling pin, chased one of them out the back door.

When the distant wail of sirens became audible, Han growled in frustration. “This isn’t over, Jimin,” he snarled, retreating with his men.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin called after him. “Go cry about your dry-cleaning bill!”

Back in the car, Y/N slammed the door shut and turned to Jimin. “What the hell was that?!”

Jimin smirked, brushing a smear of ketchup off her sleeve. “A bonding experience.”

“That was not bonding!”

“Come on,” Jimin teased. “Admit it—you had fun.”

Y/N glared at her, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” Jimin replied, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Y/N groaned, starting the engine. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jimin said, her tone smug.

And as much as Y/N wanted to argue, she didn’t.

The abandoned warehouse was dimly lit, its broken windows casting scattered rays of moonlight across the dusty floor. Y/N glanced around nervously, her sneakers crunching against shattered glass.

“This place screams ‘horror movie,’” she muttered, tugging her jacket closer.

“It’s functional,” Jimin replied nonchalantly, already pacing as she dialed her phone. “And nobody will find us here, so stop complaining.”

Y/N huffed, leaning against a rusted metal beam. “I’m not complaining. I’m stating facts. This is where people go to get murdered in every crime show ever.”

Jimin gave her a smirk, holding up a finger as the line connected. She began speaking in rapid Korean, her tone calm yet authoritative.

Y/N squinted, trying to make sense of the conversation. She couldn’t understand the words, but Jimin’s voice carried the kind of confidence that only made her more suspicious.

“What are you saying?” Y/N whispered. “You’re not calling someone to kill me, right?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, continuing her conversation.

Panic bubbled up in Y/N’s chest. Her eyes darted around the room for a place to hide. Spotting an old crate stacked behind a few barrels, she crouched behind it, clutching a broom she found leaning against the wall.

Jimin glanced over her shoulder mid-conversation, her lips twitching as she noticed Y/N’s not-so-stealthy retreat.

“Yeah,” Jimin said into the phone, her voice deliberately louder. “She’s a bit of a handful. Might have to deal with her sooner rather than later. You know how liabilities can be.”

Y/N’s grip on the broom tightened.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jimin continued, her tone now dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll take care of it personally. Quiet and clean.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded in her chest. She bit her lip to keep from gasping audibly.

Jimin ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Guess I should get started,” she said to no one in particular, her voice carrying a playful lilt.

That was enough for Y/N. She shot up from behind the crate, wielding the broom like a makeshift sword. “Stay back!” she yelled, brandishing it wildly.

Jimin froze, her eyes darting to the broom and then to Y/N. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before her lips curled into a grin.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked, barely holding back laughter.

“Don’t act innocent!” Y/N yelled, lunging forward. “I heard you! You were talking about disposing of me!”

Jimin stepped back gracefully, dodging the wild broom swings with infuriating ease. “Disposing of you? Really?”

“Don’t play dumb!”

Y/N swung again, but the broom’s bristles hit a low-hanging pipe with a clang. The momentum sent her off balance, and she stumbled forward, landing unceremoniously on the floor with a thud.

Jimin doubled over, laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Oh my god,” she gasped between breaths. “You’re— you’re the least threatening kidnapper in history!”

Y/N groaned, her face burning as she scrambled to her feet. “You’re the least grateful kidnappee in history!”

Jimin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. “You really thought I was going to ‘dispose’ of you? That’s adorable.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at her. “Excuse me for being cautious! You’re a mafia boss!”

“And you’re a terrible judge of tone,” Jimin shot back, smirking.

Realizing how ridiculous the situation was, Y/N’s glare softened into a reluctant smile. “Okay, maybe I overreacted.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, I overreacted. But you shouldn’t mess with me like that!”

Jimin shrugged, still grinning. “It was too easy. And worth every second.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you haven’t abandoned me,” Jimin quipped, offering Y/N a hand to steady herself.

For a brief moment, their hands lingered. Y/N quickly pulled away, clearing her throat. “Let’s just focus on not dying tonight, okay?”

“Deal,” Jimin said, the teasing glint in her eyes not fading one bit.

The warehouse was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the distant city and the occasional rustle of a rat in the shadows. Y/N sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor, staring blankly at the wrapper of a granola bar she’d just eaten, her mind still trying to process the last 48 hours. Across the room, Jimin leaned against a tall crate, her face half-illuminated by the flickering overhead light.

The silence stretched between them, awkward and strange. Usually, Jimin would be firing off sarcastic quips or finding creative ways to tease Y/N about her bumbling attempts at “kidnapping.” But tonight, she was uncharacteristically quiet, her expression distant.

Y/N glanced at her, curiosity gnawing at her like a persistent itch. “Hey,” she said hesitantly.

Jimin didn’t respond.

Y/N cleared her throat, louder this time. “Earth to mafia boss. You okay?”

Jimin blinked as though coming out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah. Fine.”

Y/N frowned, unconvinced. “You don’t look fine. You’re not even making fun of me right now. Should I be worried?”

That earned a faint chuckle, but it was hollow, lacking its usual bite. Jimin slid down the crate, sitting with her knees pulled up slightly and her arms draped over them. She stared at the floor, tracing invisible patterns with her finger.

“It’s nothing,” Jimin said, her voice quieter than Y/N had ever heard it.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Y/N pressed, tilting her head. “I mean, it’s weird seeing you not... smug.”

Jimin glanced at her, a flicker of her usual sass returning. “Careful, you almost sound concerned.”

Y/N shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Hey, you’re my hostage. If something’s wrong with you, it’s my responsibility to deal with it.”

Jimin smirked faintly but didn’t say anything. The silence settled again, heavier this time.

After a long pause, Jimin finally spoke. “You ever feel like your whole life is mapped out for you? Like, no matter what you want, it doesn’t matter because everyone else has already decided who you’re supposed to be?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “That’s... oddly specific.”

Jimin let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.” She rested her head against the crate, her gaze fixed on the flickering lightbulb above. “Everyone thinks being a mafia boss is all power trips and fancy dinners. But it’s not. It’s exhausting.”

Y/N frowned, shifting her position to sit closer. “Exhausting how?”

Jimin’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You think I wanted this? That I woke up one day and said, ‘You know what? I’d love to be surrounded by violence and deceit for the rest of my life’? No. This... position was handed to me. Expected of me.”

Y/N’s curiosity deepened. “Why? Family?”

Jimin nodded, her expression darkening. “My dad was the head before me. And when he was... gone, everyone looked to me to take over. Not because I wanted it, but because I had to. No one else could keep things together.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. The vulnerability in Jimin’s voice was startling. For the first time since their chaotic “meeting,” she saw the cracks in Jimin’s carefully constructed persona.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Y/N said softly.

“You have no idea.” Jimin’s laugh was sharp, almost self-deprecating. “It’s not just about running things. It’s about living up to expectations. Keeping people loyal. Pretending you’re invincible even when you’re falling apart inside.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Y/N didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

They sat in silence for a while, the distant city noise filling the void. Finally, Y/N spoke again.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it better than I would,” she said, her tone lighter. “I’d probably have a nervous breakdown on day one.”

Jimin looked at her, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh, trust me, I’ve come close.”

Y/N smiled back, and for a brief moment, the tension between them eased.

Then Jimin, ever the master of ruining heartfelt moments, leaned forward, her smirk returning. “Look at you, caring about your hostage. How cute.”

Y/N groaned, her face heating. “Oh my god, don’t ruin this.”

“Too late,” Jimin quipped, her tone playful again.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped her. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Jimin teased, tilting her head.

“Not by choice!” Y/N shot back, but the humor in her voice betrayed her.

The car rattled as Y/N gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled determination, her eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. Behind them, two black SUVs tore through the deserted outskirts of the city, their headlights slicing through the early evening gloom.

“This is fine. Everything’s fine,” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice tight with panic.

Jimin, sitting in the passenger seat, leaned back with a bemused expression. Her seatbelt was off, one hand braced casually against the dashboard. “You know, I was starting to think today would be boring.”

“Boring?!” Y/N shrieked, swerving to avoid a pothole that could have swallowed the car whole. “We’re being chased by people who probably want to kill us, and you’re calling this boring?”

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it’s not like this is new for me. But you—” She glanced at Y/N’s trembling hands on the wheel. “—you’re doing... okay, I guess.”

“Okay?!” Y/N shouted, her voice pitching higher as she narrowly avoided a wooden crate that had inexplicably fallen in the middle of the road.

“Relax, kidnapper. You’re alive, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, but even she flinched as the pursuing SUVs sped up, now close enough for Y/N to see the shadowy figures inside.

“What do they even want?” Y/N hissed, her heart pounding.

“To kill me, mostly,” Jimin replied casually, leaning over to adjust the air conditioning as though they weren’t in a life-or-death situation.

Y/N shot her an incredulous look. “And you’re this calm about it?”

Jimin grinned. “What can I say? Occupational hazard.”

One of the SUVs pulled up alongside them, and the passenger leaned out of the window with something metallic glinting in his hand.

“Is that—oh my god, he’s got a gun!” Y/N yelped, jerking the wheel so hard the car veered onto the shoulder.

“Yeah, they tend to carry those,” Jimin said dryly, her hand gripping the edge of her seat as the car bounced over uneven terrain.

The SUV swerved to follow them, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust. Jimin’s grin widened as she glanced at the driver. “You know, for someone who claimed they couldn’t drive under pressure, you’re doing pretty well.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Y/N snapped, her eyes wild.

Ahead, the road split into two uneven paths: one wide and flat, the other narrow and riddled with sharp turns.

“Which way?!” Y/N screamed.

Jimin tilted her head, as if considering. “The fun one.”

Y/N groaned but swerved onto the narrower path, the car nearly tipping as it rounded the first bend. The pursuing SUVs hesitated, their bulkier frames struggling to keep up.

“See?” Jimin said smugly. “Told you this was better.”

“Better?!” Y/N shrieked as the car clipped a low-hanging branch, the windshield cracking slightly.

Behind them, one of the SUVs tried to make the same sharp turn but skidded off the road, crashing into a ditch.

“One down,” Jimin said, her voice tinged with amusement.

The remaining SUV was relentless, its engine roaring as it closed the gap between them. Y/N’s knuckles were turning an alarming shade of white as she gripped the wheel, her teeth gritted in concentration.

“I’m going to die,” she muttered under her breath. “This is it. I’m going to die in a car chase with a mafia boss.”

“You’re not going to die,” Jimin said, rolling her eyes. “But if you don’t stop panicking, you might get us killed.”

“Wow, great pep talk!”

“Just keep driving,” Jimin said, her voice suddenly sharper.

Up ahead, the narrow road gave way to an old wooden bridge that looked like it had seen better centuries.

“Uh, Jimin? That bridge doesn’t look—”

“Drive faster,” Jimin cut her off, her tone firm.

“What?!”

“Just trust me. Floor it.”

Y/N hesitated for a split second before slamming her foot on the gas. The car surged forward, the engine protesting loudly. The bridge groaned ominously as they sped across it, wooden planks splintering beneath the tires.

The SUV behind them wasn’t so lucky. As it barreled onto the bridge, the structure gave way with a deafening crack, sending the vehicle plummeting into the ravine below.

Y/N barely managed to stop the car on the other side, her heart hammering in her chest. She sat frozen, her hands still gripping the wheel like a lifeline.

Jimin, on the other hand, looked utterly unbothered. “See? Told you it would work.”

Y/N turned to her, her face a mixture of disbelief and fury. “That was your plan? To trust a hundred-year-old bridge not to kill us?!”

Jimin shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Y/N let out a strangled scream and buried her face in her hands. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”

Jimin reached over and patted her shoulder, her tone almost soothing. “Cheer up, kidnapper. You just survived your first car chase. I’d say that’s cause for celebration.”

Y/N groaned loudly, but despite herself, she couldn’t help the small, shaky laugh that escaped her.

“You’re either incredibly lucky or the worst driver alive,” Jimin added with a grin.

Y/N glared at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Barely.”

Jimin leaned back in her seat, her smirk never fading. “You should. You’re still alive, after all.”

For the first time that night, Y/N allowed herself to breathe, the adrenaline slowly draining from her system. But as she glanced at Jimin, lounging like she hadn’t just risked both their lives, she couldn’t help but think one thing:

How is this my life now?

The safe house was little more than a wooden cabin nestled in a dense thicket of trees. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground with patches of gold. Y/N stood on the porch, arms crossed, glaring at Jimin, who was meticulously inspecting a handgun like she was choosing a new accessory.

“This,” Jimin said, holding up the gun, “is what’s going to keep you alive if we run into trouble again.”

Y/N snorted. “Or, hear me out, I could just avoid trouble altogether.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Sure, because that’s worked out so well for you so far.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort but couldn’t argue with that point. She sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Fine. Teach me. But I’m telling you right now, I’m not exactly action-hero material.”

Jimin smirked. “Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed.” She handed the gun to Y/N, who held it like it might explode in her hands.

“Why is it so heavy?” Y/N complained, staring at it like it was an alien artifact.

“It’s a gun, not a plastic toy,” Jimin said, her tone dry. She stepped behind Y/N, adjusting her grip on the weapon. “Okay, first rule: keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.”

Y/N nodded, her finger twitching dangerously close to the trigger.

“Off. The. Trigger,” Jimin repeated, her voice sharp.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Y/N muttered, quickly removing her finger.

Jimin sighed, stepping even closer. She reached around Y/N, her hands guiding Y/N’s to the proper stance. Y/N froze, hyper-aware of Jimin’s proximity.

“Relax,” Jimin murmured, her breath warm against Y/N’s ear. “You’re holding the gun like it’s a bouquet of flowers. Be firm.”

Y/N gulped, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Jimin’s hands were practically wrapped around hers. “Firm. Got it.”

“Now,” Jimin continued, “aim down the sights. See that tree over there?” She nodded toward a thick oak about twenty yards away.

“Yeah,” Y/N said hesitantly.

“Shoot it.”

“Wait, what?”

“Shoot the tree.”

Y/N hesitated, squinting down the sights. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked back with surprising force, and Y/N yelped, stumbling backward into Jimin. The bullet went wide, missing the tree entirely and hitting the dirt several feet away.

“Holy—” Y/N exclaimed, her ears ringing. “Why didn’t you warn me it would do that?!”

Jimin was laughing so hard she had to lean against the porch railing for support. “You—your face! I can’t—”

“This isn’t funny!” Y/N snapped, her cheeks burning.

“It’s hilarious,” Jimin said between fits of laughter. “You almost shot your own foot!”

Y/N glared at her. “Maybe I should shoot your foot.”

Jimin smirked, straightening up. “If you could aim, maybe I’d be worried.”

Y/N groaned, thrusting the gun back at her. “This is pointless. I’m clearly not cut out for this.”

Jimin shook her head, her expression softening slightly. “You’re not bad for a beginner. You just need practice.”

“Beginner? I kidnapped you by accident!” Y/N retorted.

“And yet here we are,” Jimin said with a smirk. “You’re not as hopeless as you think, Y/N.”

The unexpected sincerity in her tone caught Y/N off guard. She glanced at Jimin, who was casually inspecting the gun again, as if she hadn’t just paid her a compliment.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N said reluctantly. “One more try.”

Jimin handed the gun back with a grin. “Atta girl. Let’s see if you can hit something this time.”

Y/N took her stance again, this time determined not to make a fool of herself. She focused, aimed, and fired.

The bullet nicked the edge of the tree, sending a small spray of bark flying. Y/N turned to Jimin, her face lighting up with excitement. “Did you see that? I hit it!”

“Barely,” Jimin teased, but there was a glint of approval in her eyes.

“Progress is progress,” Y/N said smugly, puffing out her chest.

Jimin chuckled, shaking her head. “At this rate, you might actually survive the week.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, she felt a flicker of confidence—and maybe, just maybe, a flicker of something else whenever Jimin looked at her like that.

The small-town grocery store was quaint, with neatly arranged shelves and soft music playing overhead. Y/N trailed behind Jimin, clutching a shopping basket filled with instant ramen and an assortment of snacks she had hastily grabbed. She felt out of place amidst the mundanity of the store, especially with Jimin confidently striding ahead like she owned the place.

“Why are we even shopping?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of the refrigerators.

“Because,” Jimin replied without looking back, “a mafia boss can’t survive on gas station chips alone. I have standards.”

Y/N huffed but kept following. It wasn’t like she had a choice.

As they reached the frozen foods section, Y/N’s gaze wandered, and she froze mid-step. Near the entrance, two men in dark suits were browsing the produce aisle. Their stiff postures and sharp looks screamed “mob enforcers” to her. Her heart rate spiked.

“Uh, Jimin,” she hissed, grabbing her arm.

Jimin turned, holding a pint of pistachio ice cream. “What?”

“Those guys,” Y/N whispered, tilting her head toward the men. “They’re definitely here for us.”

Jimin followed her gaze, her expression unchanging. “Relax,” she said, turning back to the ice cream freezer. “They’re not here for you.”

Y/N blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because they’re not mine,” Jimin replied casually, tossing the ice cream into the basket.

“That doesn’t make me feel better!” Y/N said, her voice rising slightly.

“Shh,” Jimin chided, gesturing for her to lower her voice. “If they were here for you, trust me, you wouldn’t even know they were here.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” Y/N demanded, but Jimin was already walking toward the checkout line, completely unbothered.

Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, Y/N kept her head down as she hurried to catch up. She stuck close to Jimin, clutching the basket like a lifeline.

Outside the store, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. Y/N took a deep breath, relieved to be out of the store and away from the men in suits.

“See?” Jimin said, unlocking the car with a click. “No one cares about you, Y/N.”

Y/N glared at her. “You have the worst way of comforting people.”

Jimin smirked, opening the trunk to place their groceries inside. “You’re welcome.”

Before Y/N could retort, a commotion erupted near the corner of the parking lot. A group of men, shouting angrily, had gathered near a beat-up sedan. One of them shoved another, and it quickly escalated into a full-blown argument.

Y/N instinctively took a step back. “Uh, what’s happening?”

Jimin glanced over, her expression darkening. “Rival gang,” she said, her tone clipped.

“Are you serious?” Y/N whispered, her panic rising again.

“Stay here,” Jimin ordered, already stepping toward the scene.

“Wait, what? No! Don’t—” Y/N started, but Jimin was already halfway there.

Y/N watched as Jimin approached the group with the kind of confidence only someone with her background could muster. The shouting died down as the men noticed her. She said something Y/N couldn’t hear, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Y/N’s nerves were shot. She ducked behind the car, peeking over the hood to keep an eye on Jimin.

Suddenly, one of the men gestured aggressively toward Jimin, and before Y/N knew it, he pulled out a weapon.

Her stomach dropped. Without thinking, Y/N darted out from behind the car. “Jimin, look out!”

The man’s focus shifted to Y/N for a split second—a mistake that gave Jimin’s men, who had been shadowing them unnoticed, the opening they needed. In a matter of seconds, the situation was under control.

Jimin turned to Y/N, her expression unreadable. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, striding toward her.

Y/N stumbled back, her adrenaline wearing off. “I—I thought you needed help.”

Jimin sighed, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you?” Y/N said weakly.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Jimin said, though there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As they walked back to the car, Jimin’s men cleaned up the mess behind them. Y/N glanced at Jimin, who seemed completely unfazed by what had just happened.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Y/N muttered, climbing into the car.

Jimin chuckled, sliding into the driver’s seat. “And you’re fragile. But,” she added, glancing at Y/N with a small smirk, “thanks for caring.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity beneath the teasing. She looked away, her cheeks warming.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, but the hint of a smile on her face didn’t go unnoticed.

The rundown cabin creaked with every slight breeze, its weathered wooden panels making it feel more like a relic than a refuge. Y/N paced the small living area, muttering to herself as Jimin lounged on the rickety couch, legs crossed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’s being hunted by another mafia

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Y/N said, running a hand through her hair. “Why are you so... so calm about all this? Why are you still acting as if you couldn’t leave at any moment?”

Jimin smirked, tilting her head as if Y/N had just asked the most obvious question in the world. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment to take over.”

Y/N froze mid-step, turning to glare at Jimin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin shrugged, the smirk widening. “Maybe I’m just letting you tire yourself out, running around like a headless chicken. When the time comes, I’ll strike.”

“You’re bluffing,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered slightly.

“Am I?” Jimin leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. The glint in her eyes was both playful and mischievous.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Well, we’ll see about that,” she muttered, marching toward the cabin door.

The next hour turned into a chaotic game of cat-and-mouse. Y/N, determined to keep Jimin from pulling any tricks, began “fortifying” the cabin. She locked every door and window, stacking random furniture against entryways and fashioning makeshift traps out of whatever she could find.

“Are you seriously barricading me in?” Jimin called from the couch, watching Y/N pile chairs against the front door.

“You’re not taking over anything on my watch,” Y/N retorted, dragging a heavy cabinet toward the back door.

Jimin chuckled, standing up and effortlessly unlocking the window Y/N had just secured. “You know, for someone who kidnapped me, you’re really bad at containment.”

Y/N spun around. “Hey! I just locked that!”

“Oops.” Jimin gave her an innocent look, slowly closing the now-unlocked window.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re frustrated,” Jimin quipped, dodging a throw pillow Y/N hurled at her.

After the so-called fortification, Y/N decided chores were a safer distraction. She swept the dusty floors while Jimin, much to her own amusement, insisted on helping.

“Fine,” Y/N sighed, handing Jimin a dish towel. “You can dry the dishes. Think you can handle that without breaking anything?”

Jimin gave an exaggerated gasp. “Wow. Such faith in me, Y/N. I’m touched.”

It took less than two minutes for her to shatter a glass plate.

“Are you serious?” Y/N asked, staring at the shards on the floor.

“It slipped,” Jimin said, looking entirely unbothered as she picked up the larger pieces. “I’ll deduct it from your kidnapping ransom.”

“Ransom?” Y/N’s voice rose an octave. “There is no ransom! That’s not how this works!”

Jimin smiled sweetly. “Oh, I know. But it’s fun to watch you freak out.”

Y/N groaned, returning to sweeping.

Later, Jimin volunteered to make toast for a snack. Y/N hesitantly agreed, keeping a watchful eye as Jimin fiddled with the toaster.

“Jimin, it’s not that complicated,” Y/N said when Jimin kept inspecting the buttons like she was defusing a bomb.

“Let me work my magic,” Jimin replied confidently.

Moments later, smoke began billowing from the toaster.

“Magic, huh?” Y/N coughed, fanning the air with her hand. “What did you do?”

Jimin pulled out two charred slices of bread, holding them up like trophies. “I call it ‘Mafia Blackened Toast.’ It’s a delicacy.”

Y/N snorted despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jimin grinned. “You’re laughing. That’s progress.”

The final straw came when Jimin somehow managed to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Y/N!” she called through the door, her voice a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“What now?” Y/N shouted back, approaching the bathroom.

“I think the lock’s broken.”

Y/N stared at the door. “How did you even manage that? It’s a basic latch!”

“Talent,” Jimin said, deadpan.

Y/N sighed, grabbing a bobby pin and working the lock open. When the door finally swung ajar, Jimin stood there, looking sheepish.

“Thanks, kidnapper,” she said with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help it—she laughed.

Jimin leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “See? I told you I’d grow on you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”

Jimin grinned. “And lucky I’m charming.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N said, brushing past her.

But as Jimin followed, humming a little tune, Y/N couldn’t shake the warmth blooming in her chest. Maybe this whole accidental kidnapping wasn’t entirely terrible.

The lake near the cabin shimmered under the fading sunlight, its surface reflecting hues of gold and amber. Y/N leaned against a tree, staring out at the water as Jimin skipped stones effortlessly, each one gliding across the surface with perfect precision.

“Of course, you’re good at this too,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

Jimin glanced back at her, smirking. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, kidnapper. Want me to teach you?”

Y/N snorted. “No, thanks. I’ll leave the stone-skipping expertise to you, your majesty.”

Jimin chuckled and threw another stone, watching it bounce five times before sinking. “Suit yourself.”

The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—just the kind of calm that sneaks in when two people have been through too much together to need constant conversation. Y/N fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt, glancing at Jimin when she thought she wouldn’t notice.

It was annoying, really. The way Jimin’s hair caught the light. The way her smirk softened when she thought no one was looking. The way she made Y/N’s heart race for absolutely no good reason.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence. She turned around, raising an eyebrow at Y/N. “Plotting your next terrible kidnapping strategy?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.” Jimin grinned, brushing her hands on her jeans before walking over. “Come on. You’re not sulking, are you?”

“I’m not sulking!” Y/N snapped, a bit too quickly.

Jimin leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. “You sure about that?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” Jimin teased, sitting down beside her.

“Do you always have to be such a pain?” Y/N muttered, though her tone lacked any real bite.

“It’s one of my many charms.” Jimin flashed her a dazzling smile before leaning back on her hands, looking at Y/N out of the corner of her eye. “So, what’s got you so deep in thought?”

Y/N hesitated, debating whether to play it off with sarcasm or just say what was on her mind. Against her better judgment, the words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I... I kind of enjoy this. Being around you, I mean.”

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N immediately regretted it. Her cheeks burned, and she avoided Jimin’s gaze, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the dirt at her feet.

There was a beat of silence, then: “Wait, what?”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, no way.” Jimin’s voice was laced with amusement as she scooted closer. “Did you just admit you like my company?”

“No!” Y/N shot back, face still hidden. “I mean—maybe. I don’t know! Forget it!”

Jimin laughed, the sound warm and uncharacteristically soft. “This is gold. Are you falling for your hostage, Y/N?”

Y/N finally looked up, glaring at her. “Could you not?”

But the glare didn’t land, not with the way her face was flushed and her expression was more flustered than intimidating.

Jimin’s teasing smirk faltered for a moment as she saw the genuine embarrassment in Y/N’s eyes. Her voice softened. “Hey, relax. I’m just messing with you.”

Y/N huffed, looking away. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” Jimin said, nudging her shoulder. “But for what it’s worth... I like you too.”

Y/N froze, whipping her head around to stare at her. “You—you do?”

“Obviously,” Jimin said, the smirk returning. “Why else would I stick around with the world’s most incompetent kidnapper?”

Y/N blinked, processing the words before shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably charming, you mean.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, leaning back against the tree with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I could say the same about you,” Jimin replied, her voice softer now. She glanced at Y/N, a flicker of something more serious in her gaze. “Thanks for... being you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat but managed to play it off with a laugh. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

Jimin grinned, picking up a stone and tossing it into the water. “Wouldn’t dream of it, kidnapper.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the lake in hues of orange and pink, the two sat in comfortable silence. For once, neither was running, hiding, or panicking. It was just them, and that was enough.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the creaky floor of the rundown cabin, her phone balanced precariously on her knee. The screen was filled with a YouTube tutorial titled “How to Build a Fire Without Burning Down the House.”

“Step one,” Y/N muttered to herself, “gather dry wood.” She glanced out the window where Jimin had wandered off into the woods, promising to find firewood. Y/N still wasn’t sure why Jimin insisted on making this place “cozy,” but it was a rare moment of normalcy. Well, as normal as things could get with your accidentally kidnapped mafia boss.

She glanced at the clock on her phone. Jimin had been gone longer than expected.

Before she could worry too much, the cabin door burst open with a deafening crack.

Y/N froze, her phone clattering to the floor as several men in dark suits stormed inside. Their cold glares swept over the room before locking onto her.

“Where’s Jimin?” one of them demanded, his voice sharp and dangerous.

Y/N’s mind raced, heart pounding in her chest. What the hell?

“Uh…” She looked around frantically, as if Jimin might magically appear. “She’s, um, not here?”

The man stepped closer, clearly unimpressed with her answer. “We know she’s been hiding out with you. Where is she?”

“Out getting firewood?” Y/N blurted, immediately regretting her honesty.

The men exchanged glances before one of them grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, hold on! I can’t leave—I was about to start a fire!” Y/N protested, struggling as they dragged her toward the door. “This is illegal, you know! Kidnapping is illegal!”

One of the men smirked. “You’d be surprised what we get away with.”

The room was dimly lit, with bare concrete walls and a single flickering bulb overhead. Y/N sat tied to a chair in the center, her wrists bound tightly with scratchy rope. Around her loomed several intimidating figures, their eyes cold and unrelenting. Leading the pack was Han, the rival boss—tall, sharply dressed, and annoyingly smug.

Han leaned casually against the table in front of her, studying her with a faint smile that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. Not because he was intimidating, but because of the unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement in his gaze.

“So,” Han began, his voice smooth and almost friendly, “we meet again, Y/N.”

Y/N glared at him, trying to suppress her nerves. “Yeah, hi. Nice to see you too. Could you maybe not tie me up next time?”

Han chuckled, brushing an invisible speck of lint off his sleeve. “That depends. Will you stop harboring my rival?”

“I’m not harboring her!” Y/N snapped. “This whole thing is a misunderstanding!”

“Sure it is.” Han leaned in slightly, his smile widening. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you since our little diner encounter. You’re quite... captivating.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Captivating?”

Han nodded. “It’s not every day someone manages to kidnap Yu Jimin and live to tell the tale. I find that intriguing.”

“Great. Maybe write a book about it and let me go?”

Han laughed softly, ignoring her sarcasm. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” He gestured to one of his men. “Let’s try this again. Where is Jimin?”

Y/N’s heart pounded as the burly man approached, his expression menacing. “I don’t know!” she blurted. “She doesn’t tell me anything! I’m just—” She hesitated, realizing the truth wouldn’t exactly help her case. “—an innocent bystander!”

Han raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. “Innocent? You were practically glued to her side at that diner. Don’t play coy, Y/N. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Y/N shot back. “Second, if I knew where she was, do you think I’d be here?”

Han tilted his head thoughtfully. “Fair point. But you must know something.”

Y/N hesitated, wracking her brain for anything that might satisfy him without throwing Jimin under the bus. “Uh... she likes espresso?”

Han’s smile twitched.

“She hates bad Wi-Fi?” Y/N continued weakly.

One of Han’s men snorted before quickly disguising it as a cough.

“Enough games.” Han’s voice dropped, and his eyes darkened. He stepped closer, his proximity making Y/N’s stomach churn with unease. “Tell me where she is, or things will get... unpleasant.”

Y/N stared back at him, her heart hammering. She didn’t have a plan, and she definitely didn’t have the information he wanted. “I don’t know where she is!” she insisted. “She left me at the cabin to get firewood, and then you showed up!”

Han’s smile returned, softer this time but no less unsettling. “You know, you’re quite charming when you’re flustered.”

Y/N gaped at him. “What?”

“Relax,” Han said, straightening up. “We’re not going to hurt you. Yet.” He turned to his men. “Keep her comfortable. I need to make some calls.”

“Comfortable?” Y/N echoed as Han began to walk away. “I’m tied to a chair in a dungeon!”

Han glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. “Some people pay good money for that experience.”

Y/N groaned, slumping against her restraints. “Jimin, if you don’t show up soon, I swear I’ll haunt you if I die.”

Jimin trudged through the woods, her arms full of firewood. She’d been taking her time, enjoying the peace and quiet, when she noticed the cabin door wide open.

Her brow furrowed as she stepped inside, instantly taking in the signs of a struggle—the overturned chair, the broken lamp, and the distinct lack of one panicked kidnapper.

“Y/N?” she called, dropping the firewood. Silence greeted her.

Jimin’s jaw tightened, her calm demeanor slipping as worry took hold. She pulled out her phone, dialing a number. “Get everyone together,” she barked when the line connected. “We’ve got a problem.”

Han came back to the room, regarding Y/N with that maddening smirk, as though the entire ordeal was just a game to him. “You’re quite the enigma, you know,” he said, his tone almost conversational.

Y/N glared at him, hiding her fear behind a wall of sarcasm. “And you’re quite the creep. Can we skip to the part where you untie me and let me go?”

Han chuckled, pushing off the table and stepping closer. “You’ve got spirit. I like that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. Add it to my Yelp review after this is over.”

His smile widened as he crouched in front of her, his gaze piercing. “You’re bold. But I wonder... is that bravery, or are you just pretending not to be terrified?”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much his words unsettled her. “Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

Han’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Tempting.” He stood, turning to his men. “I’ll as you one last time. Where is Jimin?”

Y/N pressed her lips together, weighing her options. She didn’t know where Jimin was right now, but she couldn’t exactly say that without giving away too much. “She’s... she’s not coming for me,” she blurted.

Han arched an eyebrow. “Oh? That’s interesting, considering how quickly she showed up the last time you were in danger.”

“I’m just some random nobody,” Y/N said, trying to sound convincing. “Why would she risk herself for me?”

Han studied her for a moment, then leaned back against the table. “You know, Y/N, I almost believe you. Almost.”

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a sleek, black pistol. The sight of it made Y/N’s stomach drop.

Han twirled the gun lazily in his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Here’s the thing. Jimin has a soft spot for lost causes. It’s one of her flaws. So, either you’re lying to protect her, or she’s already on her way.” He pointed the gun at her, his voice dropping to a chilling calm. “Let’s find out which.”

Y/N froze, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her bravado cracked under the weight of the cold barrel aimed at her chest. “W-wait!” she stammered. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Relax,” Han said, smiling faintly. “I’m just testing a theory.”

Before he could say another word, the door to the hideout slammed open. The loud crack echoed through the room, and everyone turned to see Jimin standing in the doorway, flanked by her men. Her sharp suit was pristine, her expression cold as ice.

“Drop it, Han,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Han’s smirk returned as he turned toward her. “Right on time, as always, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes flicked to Y/N, tied up and terrified, and her jaw tightened. “Let her go.”

Han tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Why so serious? We were just having a friendly chat.”

“Funny,” Jimin said, taking a step forward. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re holding a gun to her chest.”

Han’s smile turned predatory as he shifted his aim, pressing the barrel to Y/N’s temple. Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

“Careful, Jimin,” Han warned. “One wrong move, and this could get messy.”

Jimin’s expression didn’t waver, but her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You’re making a mistake, Han.”

“And you’re predictable,” Han countered. “Always so quick to play the hero. Tell me, Jimin, what’s this girl to you? A pawn? A distraction?”

Jimin’s gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “She’s mine.”

Han chuckled, amused by her response. “Yours, huh? Well, then, I suppose this is personal.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the standoff stretched. Then, in a flash, Jimin moved. She lunged forward with a speed that left Han’s men scrambling. Her hand struck the gun, knocking it away just as it fired, the deafening crack echoing through the space.

Y/N screamed, flinching as the bullet lodged harmlessly into the wall behind her.

Jimin didn’t stop. She delivered a swift, brutal punch to Han’s jaw, sending him reeling. The room erupted into chaos as her men stormed in, engaging Han’s goons in a flurry of fists and shouts.

Y/N struggled against her bonds, panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins. Jimin, mid-fight, caught sight of her and called out, “Hold on! I’m coming!”

In one fluid motion, Jimin grabbed a discarded knife and sliced through the ropes binding Y/N. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

Y/N nodded shakily. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Jimin grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the exit as the fight continued to rage behind them.

Outside, the cool night air hit them like a slap. Y/N leaned against the side of a car, trying to catch her breath.

“That was... intense,” she managed, her voice trembling.

Jimin placed a hand on her shoulder, her expression softening for the first time. “You’re safe now.”

Y/N looked up at her, her heart still racing. “You came for me.”

“Of course I did,” Jimin said, her tone almost offended. “Nobody touches my kidnapper but me.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, tears prickling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re reckless,” Jimin countered, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “But... I’m glad you’re okay.”

The moment hung between them, charged with unspoken tension, until Jimin finally pulled away, her cool facade slipping back into place.

“Come on,” she said, helping Y/N into the car. “Let’s get out of here before Han decides to get back up.”

As they sped away, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Jimin, her heart tugging in a way she wasn’t ready to admit.

The apartment was a mess, as always. Y/N’s shoes were haphazardly kicked off by the door, her jacket draped over the back of a chair, and the lingering smell of half-eaten takeout filled the space. Jimin, however, didn’t seem to mind. She leaned casually against the wall, her suit slightly disheveled from the evening’s chaos but still managing to look effortlessly put together.

Y/N paced back and forth in the small living room, her nerves still frayed. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, pointing a finger at Jimin. “You could’ve been killed back there!”

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “I wasn’t the one tied to a chair, sweetie.”

“That’s not the point!” Y/N snapped, spinning to face her. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that. You should’ve just—just let me handle it!”

Jimin’s smirk deepened, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Handle it? You mean when you were about to get shot? Great plan, Y/N. Truly inspiring.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I mean it, Jimin. You don’t get to just... swoop in and play hero like that. I’m not—” She faltered, her voice softening. “I’m not worth losing yourself over.”

Jimin pushed off the wall, her expression shifting to something softer, more serious. “Don’t say that.”

Y/N looked away, her arms wrapping around herself. “Why not? It’s true. I’m just some random nobody who accidentally kidnapped you. You could’ve walked away at any time, but instead, you’re... you’re doing all this. Why?”

Jimin stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the worn floorboards. “You’re not nobody,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a rare sincerity.

Y/N’s breath caught as Jimin reached out, gently tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “I don’t care how we started. What matters is where we are now,” Jimin continued, her gaze intense. “And right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Jimin leaned in and kissed her.

It was tender at first, a soft brush of lips that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. But it quickly deepened, Jimin’s hands sliding to Y/N’s waist as she pulled her closer. Y/N’s heart raced, her hands tentatively finding their way to Jimin’s shoulders.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Jimin smirked down at her. “So,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “still think you’re the one in charge here?”

Y/N blinked up at her, dazed. “I—what?”

Jimin chuckled, stepping back just enough to lean against the edge of the table. “You kidnapped me, remember? Isn’t the kidnapper supposed to be in charge?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” Jimin quipped, her smirk softening into a genuine smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Fine. You win.”

Jimin tilted her head, feigning surprise. “Oh, was there ever any doubt?”

Y/N groaned, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her frustration. She shook her head and sighed. “Alright, Mafia Boss. What now?”

Jimin straightened, her smile taking on a mischievous edge. “Now? We figure out how to make this work.”

Y/N blinked. “This?”

“This,” Jimin repeated, gesturing between them. “You. Me. Us.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the casual confidence in her words. “You’re serious?”

Jimin leaned in again, her smirk returning. “Do I look like someone who does things halfway?”

Y/N swallowed hard, a mix of excitement and terror bubbling in her chest. “You’re insane,” she muttered.

Jimin chuckled, her voice warm. “You’re not wrong.”

With that, she grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her toward the couch. “Come on, kidnapper. Let’s order takeout and figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

Y/N let herself be pulled along, a smile creeping onto her face despite herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could handle a little insanity if it meant keeping Jimin around.

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