#again. so jungkook coded it makes me physically sick

[jjanguri]

final send off from our maknae~

[bang-to-the-tan]

Vessel Euphoria Chapter 9 (Final)

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Description of Corpses, Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel ��Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

Previous    Masterlist        

The base slides smoothly over the horizon like it’s being raised from the ground itself, pulled into existence past fields and fields of gently waving flowers. Your heart sinks when you quickly scan the surrounding area and spot no sign of Hoseok and Jimin still being here. On the one hand, that’s good. It means they haven’t broken down on the main path, nor have they been stranded at the primary base. 

On the other hand...it doesn’t answer for where they are now. 

You set your mouth in a straight line and soldier on, one hand tightening around the steering wheel and the other tapping out the controls on the dashboard to activate the garage door. As it slowly creaks open, you spare a glance at your compatriot. 

He’s stock still. Frozen to his seat, eyes wide and unseeing. Not for the first time, you wonder what exactly he’s thinking about.

“Jeon.” You say after a beat. “I need you here. With me.” 

He nods, stiff, but he doesn’t look at you. 

It’s good enough. Par for the course. At least he isn’t screaming anymore.

You steer the vehicle inside, noticing at the last second that there are decapitated flowers clinging to the front—ones that had been climbing the door while it was stationary, and then snapped out of place when Jimin and Hoseok opened it. The thought gives you some strange comfort. You can retrace their steps on the way back. Everything’s going to be okay. 

You pull the buggy into park, unbuckling and stepping out, followed shortly by Jungkook, whose every movement shakes. 

He looks up, forward to the side entrance, and the heavy metal doors shut behind you with a loud groan, closing you out of the natural light of the two suns, bathing you instead in the bright, white industrial lighting of the garage.

Jungkook is already heading towards the door, keying in the code, and you have to skip to keep up as the door hisses open. 

“Door 1C opening,” the overhead intones. 

“I need you to stay with me,” you reiterate as the two of you step inside the decontamination bay. 

“I am here,” he mumbles. 

“Door 1C closing.”

“I mean, I need you to not run off.” 

“Bay 1, beginning decontamination process.”

He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t flinch when the nozzles ahead start spraying the sanitizing fluid, casting the two of you in a momentary downpour. 

“Jungook,” you say again. It takes some effort to coax your next words out, but you have to ask. You have to, even if he’s going to lie. “Is Namjoon alive?”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath that ripples through his body. When he turns to look at you, his expression past the rapidly drying sanitization liquid is pained. 

“I don’t know.” He croaks. It sounds truthful. And you don’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Door 1B opening.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flit from yours to behind you, widening, his lips parting as if in shock. Your heart plummets into your stomach. You whip around, hand poised to hit the emergency lockdown button on your right, thinking of Namjoon and Jimin and Hoseok and those damned flowers, scanning the bay behind you for any trace of movement, the rush of your blood loud in your ears. The area is empty. Out the window? The garage looks the same as how you’d left it. Empty. 

Jungkook. 

You spin back around, adrenaline suddenly kicking your legs into gear, but you’re too late, he’s slipping out the door, turning, you’re almost there, breath caught in your throat. His fist jolts out to slam into the button to the side of the door. You’re three steps away. 

“Decontamination Process Manually Restarted”

Two steps away.

“Jungkook!” His name tears from your chest like a warcry. 

One step.

The door slides shut in front of your face, just as you reach forward, and instead of his suit, your outstretched hand lands on solid metal. You look to him through the window, fire rushing through your veins, and though in some corner of your mind, you know it won’t give, you’re already pounding on the door with your fists. The lights overhead flicker, casting a strange pallor across his drawn face.

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes through the speaker in your suit, tinny and choked.  

“Don’t—”

“I’m sorry.”

He turns, slow, keeping eye contact as long as he can. You surge forward, clawing at the window as if you could pry it open and clamber through it. Panic skitters through your fingers, up your arms, nesting at the base of your skull. 

“Jungkook, don’t—!” 

He finally spins on his heel, breaking first into a jog and then into a full sprint. 

“Don’t leave me here!” It hurts, it hurts to scream like this, but it doesn’t make any difference. You catch a last glimpse of his form running through the entrance foyer, down the hallway, disappearing past a corner. 

The nozzles above you turn back on, dosing you again with the sanitization, distorting your view of the room into rivulets and waves. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper at the door, slipping off it, searching for a button that would allow you to cancel the process. Anything to speed it up, anything to get you out of this room, give you time to catch up. You should have seen this coming. Why didn’t you see this coming? Hoseok was right. Jimin was right. Shit. 

There’s nothing here that you can use. The button to your left is for communication. The panic switch beneath it is for the door behind you. You’re trapped. You rail against the door again, expletives leaving your lips as a colorful string of damnation and curses, punching, kicking, an outlet for every misgiving and anxious thought you’ve had since you boarded the Epiphany so many months ago. It all wrenches from you in a flurry of emotion, leaving you empty and cold, skin crawling.

The lights above turn back to their usual glaring white. 

Your entire body stills, breath baited, listening for the overhead. 

“Manual Decontamination Complete”

You can taste your heartbeat. Feel every muscle tensing like a racehorse at the gate. Your gaze is fixed on the corner where Jungkook had fled. You have one objective in mind. You’re going to catch him and you’re going to kick the shit out of him. 

You should never have trusted him. 

“Door 1B Opening”

 You’re flying. 

You throw yourself out into the foyer without even so much as a stumble, narrowly avoiding clipping yourself on the door as it slides open. Feet pounding the metal beneath you, thoughts racing, you’re already skirting down the hall, turning left violently, dashing towards the archway at the end. Do you remember the layout? The Euphoria’s base schematics are a little different from the ones you’ve seen before, but from what you can recall, you should have a straight shot at the communications tower. 

Just hold on, Namjoon. You think as you clear the doorway, almost losing your footing on the smooth surface of the abandoned mess hall. The table you pass triggers a memory—the camera log. The birthday celebration. There are still dishes in the sink built into the cabinets lining the far wall. Your heart constricts but still you run like your life depends on it, already reaching the adjoining hall. 

 You pull up short, forced into a halt by the scene that grabs your attention out of the corner of your eye and knocks all remaining wind out of your lungs. Ahead is the pathway to the tower. To the left is the quarantine room. And from here, just past the window, you can see a figure slouched in front of the quarantine’s door. Your first thought is Jungkook, by the dark hair. 

But you know that isn’t right. 

Your feet move of their own accord, pulse deafening in your ears, skin prickling with cooled sweat. You can’t swallow past the lump forming in your throat as you inch closer to the body. Not for the first time, you’re grateful for the lack of smell inside the suit. It’s not Jungkook.

It’s Kim Seokjin. His rumpled jumpsuit partly unzipped at his collarbone. His lips parted, eyes glazed and unseeing. Bile rises in your throat and you have to look away.

There was a struggle. A desk and chairs, overturned, minor blood spatters dried onto the walls. A fight, ranging from the doorway, carried over to the quarantine door. 

The handle, you realize with a sick feeling; the apparent source for the pool he’s sitting in. 

His head must have been cracked against the handle with enough force to kill him. Was he...was he trying to get into quarantine? Was Jungkook trying to force him into quarantine? 

You get your answer when you drift unwittingly closer, pulled by intuition.

Another figure, hidden at first by the short walls of the quarantine room. Curled up, head down, back against the other side of the door. If not for the greened, sickly pallor of his skin, you might think he was only resting. It has to be Taehyung. 

“Everything’s fine, Taehyung! I need to talk to the captain!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

 “You didn’t give me a choice.”

 This time, you have to physically turn away. The world tilts. The ill feeling you’ve been harboring threatens to rise and take you with it, and for a moment, you consider undoing your helmet just to vomit. The only thing that stops you is the thought of smelling the corpses. Instead, you force yourself to stagger out of the room, feeling for the walls of the hallway with one free hand and clutching the other to your chest, challenging yourself to remember your breathing exercises. 

Inhale. 

One, two, three, four. 

You knew they were dead. Hoseok told you they were dead. 

Hold the breath. 

One, two, three—

It’s something else entirely to see it for yourself. 

—four, five, six—

There’s nothing to be done now. They are dead. They aren’t coming back.

—seven.

 Exhale.

Hot tears slink down your cheeks, blurring your vision, choking up your throat. It’s impossible to think straight. Impossible to concentrate. You try, anyway. 

One, two, three—

Jin’s playful, easy-going nature. Taehyung’s extravagant sense of wonder. You almost knew them. Six months you listened to them live their lives and tell their stories. Is this heartbreak? Is it justified?

—four, five, six—  

And what about your own crew? What happened? Hoseok and Jimin, missing. Jungkook, even, gone rogue. You’re alone. 

—seven—

You aren’t. You’re not alone. Yoongi at least, is safe, locked inside the med bay. 

—eight.

And Namjoon. 

Namjoon.  

You have to save Namjoon. 

There’s no reason you can think of for Jungkook to chase a dead man.

 Your feet are unsteady. The tilt of the world seems off, disallowing you your balance, making it all too easy to stumble, to miscalculate where next you’ll step. But you’re moving again. You push all thoughts of Jin and Taehyung to the side. You’ll mourn them later. Bury them later. You’ll do something sentimental, to honor their memory. You’ll tell Central Command. Let them notify the families. Maybe there will be rest for them in the end. Maybe you can rest, too. 

You think of Namjoon instead. It’s such a faint glimmer of hope, but you grasp it and cradle it, and pray that it won’t shatter in your hands. You move forward again, picking up speed down the hall, focused on the door. What if he’s dead? Then it’s all for nothing. All of it. 

 But what if he needs you? 

The thought kicks your body into gear before you have the chance to stop it and you’re running again, stumbling, tripping, reaching, scrambling for the handle and thrusting it down with all your might, unable to stop the buzzing in your temples, the shakiness of your limbs. The door gives too easily, swinging inwards with your force, and you almost fall flat on your face following it, swaying into the room drunkenly. 

 Somehow, you know that it’s empty before you even get a proper look at the place. 

You fucked up. 

In your mind, you can see the diagram. The layout of the base. You can see exactly how you got it wrong. How you reversed it in your head. This isn’t the communications tower. This is the med bay. Medical cots lay about the room, orderly in their lack of use. Surgical tools glinting in the faint light from the hallway. Shit. Shit. 

Your hope dwindles, but as you turn on your heel, you hear a crackle. A series of beeps overhead, signalling the start of an intercom announcement. You freeze. 

 “This is Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria.” Your heart leaps into your throat, and even though you know he can’t hear you, his name leaves you in a loud whoop. Adrenaline floods back into your body, urging you back out the door, ears peeled to listen, breath baited. 

Maybe it’s a trick, you think wildly, suddenly paranoid. Maybe Jungkook is playing an old message through the speakers to confuse you. Even so, after six months, you know every half second of those tapes better than the back of your hand. The hesitation, the pauses. The way he takes a breath before he says his name. This is either a new one you haven’t heard, or possibly…it’s possible he’s okay. It’s possible he’s still safe, locked away in the tower. Your pace quickens.

 “I am...making this announcement based on my best understanding. My best intuition. I—”

Something is wrong. He sounds...tired. He sounds...scared.  

“The best decision I could think to make for the sake of my crew.” 

You continue, steps slowing in your confusion and focus. You pass the quarantine room, refusing to look back through the window as you listen intently to every crackle and pop of the speakers. 

“I’m so sorry. We failed. I—as an officer, as a leader. I have failed. I’m sorry.

Using the officer’s recall, I held back the logs of my crew members for months. This was a deliberate action taken on my part. I...I have reason to believe at least one of my crew is unwell. Beyond unwell.”

You halt in your tracks. Your heart is live in every strand of your veins, in your ears, thudding, deafening.

“I have reason to believe he is...sick. To the point of endangering himself. Endangering the mission. The rest of the crew.” 

Namjoon takes a long, deep breath. When his voice comes back over the intercom, it’s shaky. You have never heard that in his tone before. 

“I have reason to believe it’s infectious.” 

 The floor threatens to slip out from under your feet, leaving you teetering on the edge of space. Ahead, the ceiling spins, whirling, blurring, and you have to squint your eyes against the vivid motion of the universe as it folds in on itself around you. Your shoulder thuds into the wall, desperate for some support, even as you slide downwards. 

“With that in mind, and considering the evidence I have collected over this time, I’ve made a decision.” 

The lights above sink into a red glow that bathes you and the hallway around you in an ominous rose. No. 

No, you know what that means. You’ve read all about the color codes for mission bases. Codes for emergency repair. Blue. Codes for emergency transmission from Central. Orange. 

And red.

“No, Namjoon.” Someone is choking, sobbing, coming in through loud and clear in your helmet. It’s you. You hardly recognize yourself. Your voice sounds raw, painful. “Namjoon, don’t do this.” 

You’re staggering back upright, peeling off the wall. Your body throws itself forward, past the mess hall again, lurching, careening for the hallway on the opposite. The red lights paint everything like some horror art film dousing the walls in blood. 

“Namjoon, you can’t.” 

You can’t let him send that code. You can’t let him finalize it. Your mind races. If you can reach him before the message is over, you can stop the relay. You can stop it from getting through to Central. There’s time. He’s making a mistake.

 “I’m calling for a Code Stigma.”

“No. No, Namjoon, I’m here.”

“This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But it’s for the best. It’s for the best I can do. I’m sorry I can’t do more. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re already here.” You turn the corner. You can see it. The door is open. Jungkook. He must have made it inside. You can’t breathe, but you’re still moving, still arguing with the intercom between shaking, shuddering inhales. “Namjoon, we’re already here, you can’t do this.” 

“Code Stigma.” He’s choked up, now, audibly trying not to cry himself as he continues with protocol. 

“As marking a planet unfit and unsafe.”

“No, Namjoon!” You’re screaming, feet pounding the grates beneath.

“A mission given a Code Stigma will be discontinued.”

“We’re already here!” You reach the door. 

“And given the nature of the declaration, there will be no return journey.”

“Namjoon, please!”

“And given the nature of the declaration, there will be no retrieval unit.”

“You can’t do this to us!”

 Your knees buckle and you collapse into the communications room, tears flowing freely past your chin. The monitor ahead is filled with the bust of Kim Namjoon. Hair too long, pajamas too grubby. He’s been crying, too, eyes red and puffy, cheeks shining. In front of the screen, Jungkook stands, swaying, like he’s not far from falling to his own knees. His back is mostly to you, busy watching the video as tears stream silently down his own face, eyes flitting to and fro across his commander’s face.

“I’m so sorry.” Namjoon says again, sniffling. He tries to put on a brave face, but his expression crumples and he has to pause to drag his forearm under his nose. “I failed. I failed you. I failed....everyone. Things got out of hand. I still don’t know what happened. Something went wrong...”

 “We’re already here,” you whisper, hoarse. “Namjoon, we’re already here.”  

 “It’s too dangerous. We can’t go home. I don’t know what this thing is, but I know it’s spreading. I don’t even know if I have it.”

 Jungkook cranes to meet your eye, his face just as pained as yours. 

 “Don’t send anyone for us. For their sake. We’ll maintain logs, even decommissioned. We’ll keep researching, as long as we can.” 

 “I’m sorry,” Jungkook croaks. You stare at him, at how the light paints him blue across his face and red from the hallway in his hair. 

“...Code Stigma,” you reply, breathless, scratched. You try to make him understand, he has to understand, he has to press the button, end the signal. “He’s calling for a Code Stigma. Jungkook.” 

 “I will process a full report soon after this sends, detailing my decision.” 

 “He did.” 

“Jungkook. Jungkook, that’s a death sentence. That means we can’t go back. That means they won’t come for us. We—we—but we’re already here.” You can’t draw a proper breath through your throat. It comes out as a rasp. He can’t let it go through. All he has to do is press the button, just in front of him, to the right. He can fix this. “We’re already here.”

“You weren’t supposed to be. H-he never had the chance to send it.” 

Again, you break, already knowing the answer before you ask the question, chest constricting painfully. “Why not?” 

 “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better leader. Please learn from my mistakes.” 

 Jungkook’s gaze slides off you to a far corner of the room. You don’t want to follow it. But you do anyway. Another figure, hidden by the shadow of the door. Slouched against the wall, like the others. Another dried, congealed puddle beneath him. Something cylindrical rests in the pool next to him. It’s a fire extinguisher, you realize dimly. It’s covered in blood. In this light, it looks black. Empty, void. Like a hole in reality. 

 “And...please tell my mom...that I’ll be thinking of her. I’m sorry I couldn’t come home.” 

 A wail interrupts whatever it is that Namjoon says next, beginning as a high-pitched whistle and descending slowly into a bone-deep howl, driven from your chest and throat as it takes all of your hope with it, voicing every despair from the depths of your soul as you shriek, closing your eyes against the terrible sight, curling forward in your position on the floor, scrabbling at the grates beneath you like you could bury yourself under them. Dimly, you feel warmth appear at your shoulders. The feel of weight plopping onto the ground beside you. Body heat, encompassing your miserable form, another voice raised in anguish with yours. Your hands fight back, pushing, but it doesn’t move, and, still screaming, eventually, you give up.

 Your communicator crackles. You’re scrambling for it before you’re even cognizant of the world around you. You must have blacked out at some point, because Namjoon’s voice has gone from the background, the screen blank but for [MESSAGE ENDED] and the lights in the hallway have returned to a bright, industrial white. 

“Officer Jung, reporting. Specialist, do you copy?”

You thrash underneath Jungkook, scrambling for the device pinned to your side. He rolls off easily, hesitant, sinking back into a kneeling position beside you. 

“Hoseok, Hoseok,” you chant, desperately, your voice little more than a dried-out whisper. It takes three tries for your fingers to steady enough to push the button on the side for a reply. “Hoseok, I’m here.” Even though your chest is a vice and your breath is coming in sobs, you have no tears left and can only heave labored noises in their place. 

“Where are you?” 

A deep gulp, a smack of your lips to try and make speaking less painful. It does little to help. “Primary. I took Jungkook to primary. I was looking for you.” 

There’s a pause. 

“I told you not to go there.” he says, low. “I gave you a direct order—”

“Hoseok,” you interrupt with a painful swallow and another breath. “Hoseok, he—Namjoon made a Code Stigma. Vessel Euphoria’s mission is a Code Stigma. Jungkook sent it out.”

“A Code Stigma.”

“We—”

“What were you doing out there?”

“J-Jungkook said,” you throw him a glance, but he’s not looking at you. He’s back to staring emptily at a space yards away, body sagging. “He said there were fuel cells out here. For the ship. I thought I could come collect them and find you on the way. What happened to you? Why were you gone so long—” 

“We had an issue off the main road,” the answer is dismissive, more intent on grilling you, “He said there’s fuel cells out there?” 

You frown. “W-where, what do you mean? Is Jimin okay?”

“You need to get the fuel cells and head back. That’s an order, Specialist.” 

It takes a monumental effort, but you stagger up into a sitting position, beginning to breath hard, brows furrowed in confusion and an unsettling feeling of something not being right again coiling in your belly. “Hoseok, where’s Jimin?” 

“He’s fine. We’ve spent enough time on this planet, we need to get into orbit.” 

“But the code—” 

“For the Vessel Euphoria’s mission. Not ours,” he says quickly, professional and heavy. “We’re going home.” 

 Even despite your misgivings, your heart soars and you lean to press your forehead against your communicator. Home. Going home. Leaving this nightmare behind. Yes. You’d like to go home. With your crew. Out of here, away from this decay and death and misery. The in-office therapist is going to have a field day with all of you, you think with a half-crazed, wry chuckle. But it’ll be worth it. 

Home.

“You also need to let Specialist Min out of the med bay. What the fuck were you thinking, locking him up in there?” 

Another pause. 

“He...I left him the code,” you reply, hesitating. “Did he not see the note?”

“Specialist,” Officer Jung snaps. “I don’t want an answer. It was rhetorical. I’m giving you another direct order. Get those cells and come back. I am in no mood.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Signing off.” 

 “Jungkook,” you heave. You sniffle, blinking rapidly to clear your vision, straightening. “Jungkook, we’re gonna go home. Did you hear that? It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

He shakes his head. Your stomach contracts. 

“Wh—where, Jungkook,” you shuffle forward, catching his attention. His eyes flit to yours, and there’s regret there that you immediately don’t like. “Jungkook, where are the fuel cells? We need cells for the ship and fuel for the buggy.”

He shakes his head again, mute. Frustration mounts inside of you and its all you can do to stop yourself from attacking him. 

“Jungkook. Look,” you try a different approach, “Look, if you help me, if you help us, we can take you with us. We can take you with us, back home. You can get the help you need. We can leave this all behind us. Whatever happened here—we can get you help.” 

“No.” he interrupts. “No, we can’t.” 

“Yes, we can. We have to.” Panic is threatening to climb up your throat and throttle you. You reach for his hands, which he allows limply. You try again to be understanding, calm, but there is so little of you left. Your thumb rubs circles into his knuckles, more of a nervous twitch than a soothing motion. “Just tell me where—”

“Flamethrower.” 

“What?” your voice is a whisper. 

“The fuel. I took the scorcher and made a flamethrower. It’s gone.” 

The path. The path burnt up to secondary. That’s how he got up there through the flowers. 

You shake your head furiously. “No. No, Jungkook, no, it’s, you said—”

“I lied.” He drops his neck to look at you head on now, expression contorting in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I lied. I had to.”

“No. No.” He’s wrong. He’s wrong. 

“I had to come back out here. I had to. Once I realized you didn’t know. He—he didn’t get to send the message. We can’t leave. We have to stay.”

“No, no, no, no.” You’re pushing his hands away, suddenly incapable of being around him, touching him, looking at him, but he follows your movements even as you scoot and try to stand, his hand still outstretched, now pleading. 

“We can’t. We can’t, listen to me.” 

“No, no, no, Jungkook, no,” you wail, staggering to your feet, throwing yourself against the communication dashboard for support, clutching the keys beneath your fingers for any grip you can get, even as reality slips from under you. 

“Listen, of course it wants to go home. Of course it wants to go home,” he continues, standing with you, stumbling too close, too close, trying to placate, make you understand. You understand. You understand perfectly. 

“I’m not sick, Jungkook,” you spit, hiccuping. “I want—I want to go home!”

“I know you do! I do too. And so does it. And that’s why we can’t go. What happens if it gets on Earth? Please.” He’s sobbing again, reaching for your hand again. Your world spins, tilting sickeningly beneath your feet. The fuel cells are gone. It was a lie. You listened, he tricked you, and now, now….

“Nobody’s coming for us, Jungkook.” You don’t know if you’re even speaking aloud at this point. “We can’t...we have to go home…”

He’s pulling you into an embrace again, and you go limp in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries openly into your shoulder. You don’t even have the strength to push him away. 

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[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (7)

Word Count: 11,126 // angst (mention of physical abuse, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of physical harm, weapons), smut (unsafe sex practice, blowjob, rimjob, fingering, cumplay), a hint of fluff

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: Thank you so so so so much for waiting so long omg the universe was set on sabotaging my fanfiction career but I prevailed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I’m looking forward to the responses - 🐰

Playlist: The Very Gentle Lovers

‘I don’t love you anymore, Jungkook’

‘What?’ He looks up from his camera.

‘I said I don’t love you,’ you repeated, brushing your locks away with the back of your hand while you turn towards Seokjin, standing next to the television. ‘I’ve…I’ve been with Jin all along. He makes me feel complete, he makes me feel like a woman.’

He stands, the pencil falling from his fingers, looking between you and the man that didn’t belong in your apartment he called his safe haven.

‘N-noona what do you…mean? I-I’ve been good, haven’t I? I did everything you told me to. I-I,’ He panics, his breath catching in his throat as his hands begin to shake, sweat pooling in his palms.

You shake your head. ‘I’m sorry, Kookie.’ You lean forward and cup him softly on the cheek with one hand. He melts into your touch like butter, but before he can ask if you’ll change your mind, you’re moving away.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re just too immature for me-’

‘I’ll do anything!’

‘-and I just think it’s best that I move in with Jin. He takes care of me,’ you smile at the broken hearted boy.

‘Noona please,’ he begs but his feet are glued to the ground.

He watches helplessly as you slide your hands in the crook of Jin’s arms with intimate familiarity. You roll your eyes at the tears streaking down his eyes as he begins to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he’s about the same height as your knees.

His cries turn into wails, the pitch of his voice rising and rising. There’s an iron man figurine in his hand and his other little fist flies up to his face to wipe his tears away.

‘Mama, don’t leave me!’ Jungkook wails. ‘Mama I’ll be good! I won’t be bad a-anymore! I won’t ask to play anymore!’

The door slams shut.

‘Mama!’

Jungkook startles awake, his fists taught on the bedsheets beneath him.

Pupils dilated. Hands shaking. Heavy breaths. Heavy heartbeats.

It’s been a while since he’s had a dream as painfully vivid as this one. Ever since he’d moved in with you and found the pleasure of holding you close every night, his nightmares lessened. It was a rather strange phenomenon but one thing he was sure about: you are his only remedy. He knows for sure now that calling Taehyung was the right decision. The man had told him to sleep on the idea first before confirming because this plan he’d brewed up over a single car ride could change your life – his life – forever. There’s no going back afterwards. The thought makes him queasy but ignites a flame deep in his core as well, because he knows no matter what Seokjin might pull, he’ll be four steps ahead. The prick must’ve thought he wouldn’t act so quick but no, oh no no no, he doesn’t wait around for things to get worse when it comes to you. You’re a woman after all. Your heart is fragile and innocent; it must be protected away from the claws of men that won’t love you the way he does.

It was distressful to bear witness to the filth you’ve been interacting with at your office behind his back. It was his woman that willingly went to Kim Seokjin for coffee. Jungkook couldn’t deny that you’re just as guilty as that prick, but he’s willing to forgive you as your doe eyes told him all he needed to know about your obliviousness.

Seokjin must’ve been nudging his way through your heart every morning you arrive at that suffocating building, preying upon your kindness, your willingness to stimulate a conversation with just about anyone out of curiosity. This eagerness of yours had scared him ever he’d first laid eyes on you. You really have no idea that men melt at any attention you give them.

Jungkook also notices well enough that the rest of the employees walked into the office right on the clock, apathetic about punctuality in contrast. They’re not as responsible as you are, as pure, as lovely. He knows for sure that your useless need to arrive to your job at least ten minutes early gave Seokjin the extra ten minutes to fantasize about you.  

His fists shook just thinking about you sharing a cup of coffee with a man that obviously wanted to pull you away from your precious boyfriend who was waiting so diligently at home, alone, frightened.

“Stupid fucking homewreckers…” he mutters underneath his breath, like a mantra.

He runs his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp as he leans into your side of the bed, inhaling the scent of your perfume and swallowing his pain down to let it settle in his stomach like disease. He curls into a ball, repeating the three words over and over again, head hurting, another voice mingling with his: his mother’s.

Liar!

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

He presses an elbow onto the mattress and propped himself up, looking around the bedroom once more. Birds chirped gingerly outside the window and the freshly laundered curtains swayed gently with the salty wind. How come the room seems so peaceful and silent while he was rotting away on the inside, losing every bet he casted, finding no water in the midst of a desert? You are what made this bedroom feel like home. Your smiles, your touches, your eyes on him and him only. He longed for your warmth to come in this time when he needed you the most.

Jungkook slides his hand towards his neck and pops the first button before tugging the cotton over his head. He relishes in the warmth the golden sunlight offered on his firm skin; a cheap substitute compared to your touch. He looked around the room once more in daze, then softly tossed the shirt on top of the vanity where your perfume collection lay. His eyes caught your dresser and he was immediately stomping over to the heavy cherrywood furniture, his arms pulling the very bottom drawer towards him.

Your underwear lay neatly layered across the interior, color-coded from the lightest shade to the deepest. Jungkook knew your intimates very well for he took upon the responsibility of handwashing the delicates and removing any blood stains during your menstrual cycles. He organized the collection as well and familiarized himself with each color and design, noting which fabric you preferred and which kind of strap dug into your back.

His fingers grazed over the cups; one pearl set, two vanilla sets, one lilac, two beige, two peachy, one pale pink (his favorite), and three black. Off to the side of the well-made sets were the plain white cotton underwear and sport bras you wore on a near daily basis. He counted the pairs, totaling exactly twelve. One of the designer sets is missing and it dawned on him that you wore the subdued golden set he’d seen in Namjoon’s villa when he’d risked sneaking into your room. He couldn’t recount the amount of times he’d traced the gentle embroidery with the tips of his fingers, admired it on your body as the cups hugged your breasts just right.

His spine prickles with sweat when it dawns on him that you wore it to office today. Underneath those modest clothes you wore something extremely special – expensive too – for work. But it simply didn’t make sense to him. You walk around your office all day, scrambling for this and that, on the phone with a client, in a meeting, organizing files after checking basic calculations. It’s not the type of place you’d wear lingerie to unless …

Unless you wanted attention, you wanted someone to notice, someone that’s not your boyfriend, someone new, someone handsome.

Kim Seokjin

Shit, shit, shit!

The evidence was damning. Jungkook couldn’t deny it any longer; you slipped through his fingers just like that. Just some time ago you were feeding him sugared words with how you’ll only love him, want him, take him. Now that the routine is back, you’re looking for someone new!

It was rich of you to avoid his advances in your office when you were strutting for Seokjin. He knows that look on your face when you’re needy; your lips pouty, pupils dilated, cheeks pink, hair slightly tousled like you slipped out of bed. He reveled in the fact that after your little promiscuous phase, he was the only man that had the pleasure of seeing that face. It didn’t sit well that Jin has probably witnessed it at some point these past few days and he felt like an idiot for slacking off his grip on you. He can tell that you haven’t slept with Jin as you couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag when he interrogates, but it could easily become reality any day.

Jungkook knew one hundred percent for sure that he must follow through the plan he made with Taehyung. He must!

Tears brim in his eyes and he quickly blink it away, but to no avail, they start flooding. Like a child, Jungkook sits in front of the drawer, rubbing his wet eyes with his fists, small whimpers and sobs shaking his nail-marked back. Just when he thought he can be happy with you something always goes wrong. Even when you hurt him, make him sick, turn his insides sour, he doesn’t have the heart to blame you for wanting another man.

It’s alright, Jungkook tells himself, because he’ll be better for you.

It can be anything. Maybe you hated the breakfast he made two mornings ago (because he noticed the way you grimaced at the dried cranberries). Maybe you hated the detergent he used (because it accidentally left a small gray stain in the lining of your favorite blazer). Maybe you hated that he forgot to water the plants regularly and the leaves became limp. He’ll have to set a few alarms to make sure he can avoid making any mistakes. It wasn’t that long since he’d broken Kim Namjoon’s nose (which was well-deserved, in his opinion) so he’s treading on thin ice.

Jungkook slides the drawer back into its rightful compartment and clears his throat, rubbing his face with the heel of his palm before moving into your closet. It was one of his pride and joys; the ability to touch what you will be wearing for the day. The closet had two walls with built-in stainless-steel poles on both walls. The left, yours, the right, his. Compared to his side – consisting mostly of white shirts and various types of jeans – your side was much more colorful and a bit of a mess too. He shook his head, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. No matter how much he cleans it ends in a mess; such a clumsy girlfriend you are.

Jungkook pushes the coats to one side to reveal the wooden box behind. He scrapes the wood along the matte cabinet below, pushing the black lacquered lid aside with the flick of his thumb along the metal lip. It was a poor organization system but he assumes the box holds enough sentimental value for its beauty to outweigh the inconvenience. After all, he’s seen photographs of your grandmother with the same box in her wrinkled hands – no doubt a precious family heirloom.

Thankfully, he found the papers he needed in the third plastic file (thank goodness you at least portioned the stack) and flipped through the white sheets.

Your recent blood test is perfect, although your iron levels could be a little higher, and the ear infection from last year seems to be the only stumble you’ve had in a while. You had a regular check up with Dr. Kwon two months ago and you are as fit as an average woman can be. You aren’t due for another check up at the gynecologist until December, which gives him a great time to go ahead with his plan. It was a miracle that birth control pills worked better for you than an IUD because Taehyung had explained that there’s no getting around an inserted copper. Who knew that those lovely tablets you take on the daily would be the gateway to heaven?

Taehyung had clarified he’ll need two weeks at most to replicate the pills down to its exact color, taste, and size. Placebo pills aren’t exactly difficult to make but making a batch of fifty would take considerable time and patience amidst a busy schedule. Surpassing security was another issue but Jungkook wasn’t too worried about it when Jimin can pull a few strings with the guys at the dock. If everything goes well, you’ll never be able to leave his side again.

There was only a twenty percent chance of a woman conceiving after an intercourse and Jungkook was running out of time. He’s got competition and Jungkook doesn’t take any challenges lightly, especially one that concerns his place in your life.

If he wants to get you pregnant, he’ll need to be on his best behavior, and most importantly, get the timing right.

He folds the paper at its seams before sliding it into the plastic file. He then places it back into the box before clasping the lid shut. He’s got a considerable amount of research to do to make sure you have the greatest chance of falling pregnant; he can vaguely remember the article of a study finding that women who eat yams during unprotected sex can increase the chance of giving birth to twins but-

A click yanks Jungkook away from his thoughts to the box in his hands. The bottom inch of the box slides to the left in the complete opposite direction of the lid, and it is with great wonder that he discovers there’s a small switch underneath the box hidden from view that had unlatched when he dragged the box towards him.

The first detail that caught his eye was the luxurious red velvet lining that coated all sides of the hidden compartment. He can tell it’s been well-loved by its lack of stains or rips despite having survived an entire generation. The second shocker? The pearl and diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings that lay on top of the fabric. He can immediately tell this was something you couldn’t afford on your own. It was impossible that you purchased this with your father’s inheritance money as you had told him before you were saving the money for emergencies or when you want to settle down somewhere for good.

It must be your grandmother’s jewelry.

He bit his trembling bottom lip and uncoiled the heavy diamond necklace from the collection, watching the diamonds glimmer under the bright closet light. God how he wished his bank account didn’t stay so barren every month. Each gem was at least two carats and there was about eighty lining the length of the necklace from one end to the next. He could sink to the bottom of the ocean from its pure weight.

Before he can entertain himself with the thought of seeing you in this necklace with nothing else, like in Titanic, his absolute favorite romantic movie, he caught the initials on the small clasp where the two ends meet.

KNJ

Jungkook squeezed the necklace in his fist so hard the world’s strongest material would have surrendered had he not given into his broken heart. He holds his shaking shoulders, digging the diamonds into his naked biceps, and cried, and cried, and cried.

Your feet ached in your loafers. Having to deal with Jungkook’s jealousy so early in the morning, then getting your head chewed off by your boss in front of your coworkers, and then suffering through the embarrassment of having Seokjin buy you lunch because you lost your debit card had steam blowing out both ears by the time you pulled in the driveway of your apartment complex. The bite mark on your shoulder still hasn’t healed and you are trying your hardest to not let the day’s bitterness get to you by complaining to your boyfriend about it. The mark was oddly romantic but after he threw a nasty glare at your best friend of two decades, you finally understand Jungkook does a lot of unnecessary things out of jealousy under the pretense of romance.

Is he really as kind as you think he is or is he kind because he wants you to be docile and forgiving after every slip up?

You shake your head. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and most of all, you want to cuddle with your cozy boyfriend after a long day. The day is just getting to your head, that’s all.

Just as you lock your car and make your way to the elevator, rain begins to pour, small droplets thundering on the lunchbox in your hand, and then falling all at once. Your feet stomped against the concrete as you break into a job towards the elevator, watching the old man that lived down the hall drying himself inside.

“Please hold!” You call out but the old man only turns to look at you, making no attempt to keep the doors open and so you watch pathetically as the silver doors close and the elevator makes its way up to the same floor you live in.

As if your day couldn’t get worse, the lift is transparent enough for the old prick to watch you get more and more soaked as he makes his way up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You mutter under your breath as you curse not only at the old man but the way the elevator was built to be out in the open. They really couldn’t afford to put a little roof in front of the doors? The security guard in the booth next to the elevator didn’t even stir when lighting flashes, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. The building owner had the money to hire a useless guard but not enough to buy a twenty-dollar picnic umbrella from a thrift shop.

Amazing.

By the time you reach the front door of your apartment, you’re completely soaked from head to toe. You place the lunch box on top of the shoe cabinet and slip out of your loafers, wiping your feet on the door mat. Then you remove your cashmere top and skirt, shivering at the coolness of your apartment. You wring your hair on the door mat – a disgusting habit – in hopes of not bringing any moisture into the house more than you need to.

Grabbing Jungkook’s dry coat from the rack drilled next to the doorsteps, you wrap the warm material around you and make your way into the kitchen, throwing the wet clothes onto the kitchen counter.

“Jungkookie?” You look into the kitchen, expecting him to pop out from behind the polished cabinets with two glasses of wine.

You turn your head from side to side, brows furrowed in confusion as you noticed him crouching near the balcony doors.

“Kookie?” You asked again and only upon stepping closer did you notice the familiar box on the floor next to his feet, your necklaces wrapped around his fingers like snakes.

Faster than lighting you dive for his hand, the rush of madness fueling your veins to the point that you thought about shoving him towards the balcony where rain continued to pour just to hurt him. Jungkook watches you with bloodshot eyes, teeth gritted and fists tight as he pulls the jewelry out of reach.

“Those are mine!” You shouted, reaching for the diamonds as he keeps one free hand on your shoulder, pushing you away.

“You lied to me,” he snarls, his voice quiet yet you can feel his raw anger vibrate in your bones. His voice was unusually low and heavy, a complete one-eighty from the whiny boyfriend you’re used to.

“You had no right going through my stuff, Jungkook,” you glare, angry tears falling onto his lap, “this is my privacy!”

“You fucking lied to me,” he sobs, his voice rising. “I wanted to surprise you and clean your closet so you didn’t have to be stressed in the morning, noona,” he squeezes your shoulder as you reach for the jewelry again. “And I-I dropped your box by accident, I swear it was an accident. I was so afraid you were going to be mad at me-”

You growl, your eyes fixated on the jewelry.

“-but then I see that you’ve been LYING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” He roars and stands, dragging you up by the shoulders with him. “You’ve been hiding EVERYTHING!”

“I didn’t lie,” you seethed, the day’s exhaustion melting off of you, “these are my jewelry, my gifts.”

He scoffs, lips pulling in a sneer. “You’re really keep pretending, noona?”

You’re not sure what aspect of his question peeled your eyes away from his jewel clad fist. It could’ve been the hurt in his voice or the fact that you were both soaked and angry. It could also have been the height difference, the way you notice you’re never going to be able to reach for his fist as he is taller, stronger, bigger.

It wasn’t until you feel the sting on your palm that you realized you’d slapped him across the face, silencing the room until all you can hear is his soft little hiccups. You’ve never laid your hands on another person until Jungkook came along. Hell, you threw an entire tantrum in grade school when riding a horse because you didn’t want to spank its behind to make it run. You’re not sure where this cruelty come from or how it manifested into a disease that grew in your hands. The last time you hit Jungkook, he was doing everything he can to protect you.

You only realize now that he was trying to do the same. In his own way, through his own insecurities, he was trying to rid Kim Namjoon’s fingerprints from your history. It wasn’t his fault that he’s blinded by rage because at the end of the day, it’s because he cares.

He loves you, and you take advantage of it.

No wonder Namjoon left you.

You’re selfish.

You’re blind.

You’re poison.

You dare to raise your eyes back up to his face from your hands and immediately sink into the blackness of his eyes. Regret immediately claims you like an eager death.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m-” you can’t speak, can’t think, can’t respond.

Jungkook’s tears steadily fall while his lips are pulled taught. If you can touch his heart, you’re sure it’s pounding against his ribcage.

“…It’s never enough for you is it?” He asks in a voice that you’ve never heard before. “No matter how long I wait for you to come around, no matter how I’ll kill for you, how I’ll give you anything – anything – you ask for…you’re never going to love me as much as you love him, huh? You’d rather love a cheater than someone who will do any-fucking-thing you ask like a servant.” He grits his teeth. “Then go. Go back to that prick and don’t come looking when want my company but not me.”

Jungkook throws the necklace into the box laying haphazardly next to the open balcony door and turns, walking towards the shared bedroom to, you assume, fetch his clothes.

You shake your head desperately, your mouth unable to move on its own. “Kookie I’m-”

Before you can wrap your head around his words you’re running to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You were exhausted beyond belief, angry beyond belief, desperate beyond belief to keep the only light in your life that you keep dimming and dimming over again like you’re determined to sabotage your happiness. You don’t deserve him yet you’re selfish enough to reel him back him, choosing every weapon of choice: begging, kissing, touching, crying.

“Jungkook I’m sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry,” you cry, tightening your arms around his naked chest as you shake, cheek pressed up against his cold skin. “I’m sorry I h-hit you I’m sor-ry th-that I was upset, I didn’t mean to I swear Kookie please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I’m sorry,” you whimper, holding still even when he attempts to shrug you off of him. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough you are more than enough, you’re everything I can ever ask for, I love you, god I love you and I’m sorry Kookie please, I’m sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’ll survive if he leaves. Everyone in your life leaves eventually; Namjoon, Yori, your parents, your friends, everyone. Jungkook is your pillar and your giver; a giver of dreams and affection. Your boyfriend with a heart of gold that is as fragile as glass yet it beats everyday for you. You’re a fucking fool to break someone so kind just because you’re having a bad day.

Jungkook has had his own share of bad days yet he comes home with a smile just for you. His meals were cooked full of love, his caresses on your scalp full of care and concern. How could you think about hitting someone as precious as him over a few diamonds and pearls? Are you really so vain that you’re willing to step over the person who loves you the most just to hold onto expensive memories? He’s worth more than everything in that little box of yours.

“Baby,” you sniffle, “I love you…I don’t care what you want to do with it…throw it away, toss it over the balcony…I don’t care.” You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of rain dripping down his broad back. “I just want you.” You worship his skin through a kiss.

Jungkook keeps his lips pulled taught, eyes narrowed on the doorknob to the master bedroom. He’s going to end it once it for all, this maddening habit of yours of hanging onto other men. Seokjin is a fucking prick that wants to get into your pants. Namjoon is a filthy rich brat that bought your heart years before. He’s had enough of it.

He’ll make sure today will be the last day you’ll hit him over a man. Today will be the last day you’ll think of him as more than just a lovesick puppy that wags his tail for your entertainment.

He’ll show you that he’s a man.

“You better keep your word this time,” he turns and you take a small step back, knees trembling when he cocks his head to one side and glares are you through his inky wet bangs. “Because you don’t want to know what will happen if I find anything, and I mean anything, noona, that belongs to him in our apartment. Do you hear me?” He demands, making you nod shakily as you back away after every step he takes towards you until the bottom of your shoulder blades brush against the kitchen counter. “I’ll drain that pig over a bucket if you put him over me ever again, do you know that?”

You nod again, hanging onto every word.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes or no?”

“Y-yes!” You put your hands on his chest. “There’s really nothing left, Kookie-ah, I promise, I-”

He hushes you with his lips, tilting your head to one side to deepen the kiss. His tongue, slippery and wet, snakes over yours with the intent to harm, the muscle pulling your mouth painfully close to his that your lips would surely bruise the next morning. It doesn’t matter. You’re willing to take what you can get because you’ve come so close to losing everything tonight.

All because of one bad workday.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he scoops you up in his arms, helping you wrap your legs around his waist so your pulsing heat can rest against his taught stomach. He undoes the small knot you secured the coat with and push the heavy fabric away from your shoulders, watching you shimmy your way out.

Cute.

He used to pepper your face with kisses, giggling when you brush your nose over his jaw and tongue his ear to tickle him as he laughs. Not tonight; tonight, he’ll make you work for it, let you walk around in his shoes.

You cup his chiseled face in your hands, admiring how angelic he looks even when his furrowed brows remain as a residue of his rage. Your cookie, your heart, your bunny. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks, admiring the very small scar on his left cheekbone that told the public that no, he’s not a walking sculpture but a human being who might as well be Rodin’s ideal muse. He’s ethereal from afar and alien up close. The way his eyes held so much power, like the edges of a supernova black hole distorting your reality until all you can focus on is the darkness that lulls you inside its abyss.

“I waited for you my whole life,” he whispers and you almost didn’t hear over the rain rattling the open balcony doors. He leans his inflamed cheek into your palm. “I don’t want to be punished for it.”

Jungkook closes his eyes when you lean into him to rest your forehead against his. He heaves a sigh, exhausted too you imagine, and nudges his face closer until his lips brush yours. Even when he wants you to work for his affection, he couldn’t help it but steal a kiss. Your rejection from this morning still damaged his pride.

“I’m the one who deserves to be hurt, not you.” You snake your hands down his chest to his belt and then back up towards his heart. “I’m n-not,” you swallow, “I’m not usually like this, I’ve just had a bad day.” You cast your eyes away. “I’m sorry I l-lied to you about throwing everything that belonged to him away. The necklaces were given to me after I was engaged and I just…I don’t know why I kept it still even though I’ll never wear it but I just…”

You sigh, your watery eyes holding his steel gaze. “I love you. I-I don’t want to lose you Jungkookie,” your lips tremble and you tighten your hold around his neck. “Please don’t leave me…I know I’ve hurt you but please don’t leave, I don’t know what I’ll do,” you tuck your face under his jaw, “if you leave me.”

Jungkook presses his cheek against your wet hair and inhales softly through his nose. He knows you don’t realize how easy it is for him to play on your fears. Your fear of people – of men you love – leaving you, your fear of losing control, doing something you don’t mean. Your perfectionist nature was so easy to work with that he almost wants to toy with you a little more. For a brief moment he enjoys having the upper hand in the relationship. Sometimes it’s exhausting to always be the one that feared for an ugly fight that can lead to the end. It feels healthier to show this side of him a little more so you understand your privilege; after all, it’s not everyday that you’ll find a man who’ll give you a baby just to keep you close.

“There’s nothing I won’t do for you,” you snivel softly in his ear, “I love you so much.”

Jungkook tightens his hold around your waist and drags his feet towards the bedroom door. You hold still, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair.

“Can you please say it back?” You begged pathetically, unable to take his silence any longer. You missed your sweet whiny, clingy, giggly boyfriend, the boyfriend that couldn’t go a single day without telling you how much he loves you.  

Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize he’s still upset.

His strong hands unravel around your hips and he pulls you away, setting your body on the soft, messy mattress. You wipe the moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand and watch him straddle your thighs between his knees, placing the lightest amount of pressure to keep you down. You were still waiting to hear the three magical words but they don’t come.

You messed up this time.

Jungkook pulls the straps of your brassiere down your shoulders, letting you bend at the elbows to bring the embroidered material down to your navel. He reaches behind the curve of your waist and unlatches the bra, throwing it to the side with one hand while the other reaches behind him and tug your panties down your bottom with a harsh tug. You lift your hips against him and let him roll your panties down your thighs, over your knees, and down your ankles. You’ve been in this position many times, but you’ve never felt as naked as you do now.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask with wide, oblivious eyes, wanting to do just about anything to please him. Jungkook merely shakes his head.

“This isn’t for you.”

It hurt more than you thought hearing those words fall from his sweet, pink lips.

He presses his nose against your jugular and nibble on the skin, teeth sharp and painful against the epidermis. You suck in a breath and bite your tongue as he moves to do the same to the opposite side of the neck, meanwhile peeling your legs open to settle his core against your wet center. Your hands stay still on his hard shoulders, moving along with his ministrations to keep yourself grounded to his touch.

A breathy moan brushes past his ears when he latches his teeth onto your left nipple, tonguing the bud into the swollen tissue before wrapping his mouth around the areola. You squirm underneath his body, body warming, ears rushing with blood. His wet jeans rub against your inner thighs to remind you that he’s been near the balcony for god knows how long. He must’ve been so cold, so heartbroken, so betrayed, while you were at work rolling your eyes to Jin poking fun at his jealousy.

Jungkook pulls back to eye the bite mark on your shoulder and the nudge his way towards the opposite breast, practicing the same caresses with the tip of his tongue. You can tell he’s purposely making every flick of tongue as painful as possible for you. You don’t argue because you know you’ll never learn from this mistake if he doesn’t drill it into you.

“You belong to me, noona.”

You exhale and look down at his hands moving towards his belt, tugging the leather apart and pulling the silver button open along with the zipper beneath. It was with great relief that you realize your baby boy is back, even if it’s for the briefest moment, his voice desperate and whiny, just the way you liked it.

You watch the veins on his forearm protrude as he grasps his hardness at the base and smears his dripping precum over the surface. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow as he jacks off to the image of you spread so shamelessly for him, bent knees pulled apart while you pet your swollen nipples with one hand, the other laying limp next to your head in surrender.

“Every part of you is mine,” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, his wet bangs rocking back and forth with every tug of his cock. “You only get to wear what I buy you.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes…”

The loveliest groan escapes his lips when he pushes his weeping tip against your clit, rocking his hips slowly to watch his slick drip onto your thick and curly pubic hair. His eyes follow along your taught stomach up to your navel where, once the time is right, he’ll see it stretch slowly when his child grows inside you. He can already imagine how needy you will be as an expecting mother, how he’ll have the pleasure to palm your aching breasts filled with milk. He thought it was impossible to be as hard as he is already, but the pulsing in his cock hammers blood through the tip and a small spurt of cum falls onto your clit.

He doesn’t give enough time for you to prepare for his length as he rams the head of his cock into your slit, and fucks your body up to the edge of the bed where he holds the side of the mattress and crashes his soaked hips down to your center. You choke on a moan and a scream, fingers grasping his fists as you lift your hips in a bow to accommodate all of him.

“Yes, baby,” you cry, “use me all you want. I’m yours!”

Sweat sticks to his temples and you struggle to wipe away the perspiration when he’s ramming into you so hard your vision blackens. From the tips of your fingers to the ends of the toes, your body vibrates with uncontrollable fire. The head of his cock strikes into your silken walls with the intent to rip you apart from the inside. He’s dripping steadily in you, lacquering your walls with white opalescent cum that feels as scorching hot as his skin.

“Fuck…fuck,” he grips the edge of the mattress harder, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock rests in your cavern, and then slamming himself inside all over again. Your fluids squelch as he enters, dripping over the zipper of his jeans. “It feels so good, noona, you make me feel so good,” he rests his forehead against your bitten shoulder, his hips moving on its own like a piston. Not even a line of coke will feel as good as your pussy does clamping down on his throbbing erection. He swears he can feel your cervix trembling against him.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” you promise, cupping his face while he continues to pout at how little threshold he has for pleasure. You can tell when he’s about to lose control by the way he clenches his eyes shut and the veins on his neck stands for attention. He empties inside with a growl, grinding his hips completely down onto your sex to keep his cum from dripping out. He stays still only for a few seconds to catch his breath.

You couldn’t capture his lips when he pulls away to sit back on his heels and watch the base of his cock pulse slowly until he softens. He pins your knees up to your chest and pulls out before clamping his mouth over your pussy gleaming with his fluids. He gathers the cum between your folds, across your labia and underneath your clit onto the tip of his tongue. Then, spreading your folds apart with his thumb and index finger, he spits onto your hole, his tongue pushing the fluids in further while you squirm and curl your toes into the sheets.

“Jungkook,” you moan in embarrassment, your hand darting up to your face to cover your red cheeks.

As if you couldn’t feel more naked, he chuckles. “You taste the best when you’re shy, noona.”

You catch your breath while watching him tug his soaked jeans down his thighs, the stubborn material slipping off only when he rips the material an inch down its center. Scared that he might still be upset, you pull your body onto your elbows, then onto your knees. It was only when you can sense his forgiveness in the air that you trail your fingers up his arms and towards his shoulders.

“Can you make me cum too?” You tempt him, arching your back while you place his palm onto your heavy breast.

He nods gingerly, captivated by your pink nose and cheeks. You’re so beautiful when you cry; Jungkook has to fight back asking you to call him a good boy. He has the woman of his dreams wanting him to touch her, he couldn’t ask for any other luxury.

“Only if you say please.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile when he sticks his tongue through his cheek at the rejection. Riling him up when he’s pissed is not the best thing to do, but the temptation was hard to resist. Taking back your status as his lover, caretaker, and owner, you push him gently back onto the mattress and throw one leg over his chest, wiggling your bottom while you palm his inner thighs and dig your nails into his hard muscle.

“Please, baby?”

Jungkook traces his thumb down your ass and circles your clit ever so slowly. You wiggle your hips again and sink your mouth down onto his semi-hard cock without warning, making him jump out of his skin and snap his back away as you chase after him. You use your own slick leftover on his solid length to lube your middle finger and rim his tight hole.

“G-god, noona!” He throws his head back into the mattress with a thump, sweat prickling its way down his abdomen, down his happy trail, and into the crook of his thighs.

There’s my baby boy.

You roll your tongue over the tip and keep your teeth tucked as you swallow him. With his curved erection, it was difficult to swallow without triggering your gag reflex but damn it you just wanted to please your boyfriend. Clamping down on the inside of his thighs with your nails to keep him spread, you pull back and spit down his length, regaining a sense of clarity when his tongue curves into your folds once more. If it wasn’t for Jungkook hooking his thick arms around your thighs to keep you locked in place, you would’ve fallen onto his face.

When your knees buckle he pull away, prolonging your orgasm with just the right amount of pressure in your womb to keep you aching.

You grip him hard in a fist and move up and down, pulling his foreskin taught. Your tongue dips between the gap of his balls and circles his tight, blushing hole. His choked whimper tells you all you need to know about where your tongue needed to press. Just when Jungkook tilts his head to the side to see your hair fall over your shoulders, he feels your nail curl slowly into his weeping slit. You look behind when you feel his gaze.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You inquire with the most innocent expression you can muster. He would have came immediately if he wasn’t so enamored with your perfect pussy so close to his tongue.

“D-Don’t, uh, tease me.”

You giggle, watching his eyes glaze over when you pump him harder, the small squelches from his cum making your insides clench with glee.

“Let me watch you cum first,” you whisper and keep pumping whilst grinding your hips down onto his fingers.

Jungkook gathers as much strength as he can and slips his middle and ring finger inside you, unraveling only when he feels his fluids resting on your milky walls. His breath hitches in his throat and every muscle in his body tenses, spurts of his milk catching in your hair, on your lips, and jaw.

You could look at his face forever; his rosy lips parted, the same shade as his cheeks, overwhelmed tears panting his thick lashes, his eyebrows furrowed, his bangs glossy and wavy around his face. Jungkook was an addiction.

Just the sight of him alone makes your wet sleeve tighten around his fingers. You follow his high, reaching down to circle your clit slowly as you grind down on his fingers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen upon realization and he curls his fingers inside, helping you reach that place between reality and an illusion. The warmth, the lightness, the nirvana that an orgasm from a lover brings you – irreplaceable.

“Kookie…” you sigh, your bones melting on the spot under his loving stare.

You lay your cheek on his thigh, catching your breath first, before crawling towards him to nestle your face in his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he tells you at last, bringing you back to earth.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and brings him down to your chest. He pulls your body close with one hand on your waist and wraps his mouth around your breasts, suckling softly, moaning his forgiveness into your skin.

Your breathing steadies as you listen to the rain and the soft nibbling of his teeth around your bud. You’re not sure when you succumbed to the exhaustion that nestled deep in your psyche, but by the time Jungkook finish showering your breasts with the love and attention they deserve, you lay limp in his arms.

It would be so easy, Jungkook thought, watching your naked chest rise and fall as he thumbs the faint trail of veins on your neck, to dig his knife into your throat and drain you. It was captivating to watch as he dragged his fingertips across the stretch of muscles underneath, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you struggle to keep yourself awake. If you opened your eyes, you can still see your glistening juices painted on his bottom lip, his pink tongue darting out to take the remaining sweetness back into his mouth as if he couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a drop of your honey. Your skin was smooth to the touch, only scars from hormonal acne during your youth remaining on the back of your arms and back. A musky scent of sex and cologne drifts around you like the humid summer air of Seoul.

Jungkook snakes his hand up your chest and feels your heart beating under his palm. He then slumps down on the cotton pillow next to you, heaving a sigh of satisfaction, lifting the sheets up to cover your weakened body.

Jungkook lifted his hand up to your pink cheeks and swiped the stray tears that stained down your temples. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your lips, groaning when your lips move sluggishly against him in an attempt to please him, even in your sleep. It made him feel powerful, wanted, needed.

Once again, you’re his to keep.

As long as you’re a prisoner to his heart, he’ll be your servant and your loving boyfriend who will always serve you like a goddess. He’ll remain pious, as long as you remain his woman only. Through fights, through sex, through tears, through laughter, he’ll etch away every memory you held of other men until the only thing you’ll see is his rabbit smile.

“Welcome home, noona.”

“I really don’t understand why we couldn’t do this later.” The plump woman groaned, walking down the carpeted hallway next to a man that was at least half a foot taller. She wore a black wrap dress with a matching black coat, her hands deep in her pockets. Her cheeks were soft and round, the lovebird blush on the cheekbones giving her a youthful color that had her lover soppy on the inside. She looked rather normal and plain compared to her modelesque partner who stood out like a sore thumb with his lab coat and turtleneck. It would have been a sweet date if they weren’t on the way to blackmail two men.

Her eyes dart from one side to another, beady pupils following the sound of the air conditioner. Now where was room again? Hong Kong really is a maze.

“Meerkat Manor will come again next Tuesday.”

“Oh that’s rich, Tae” she roll her eyes, “as if you’re not working six days a week, every week of the year. This was the only time we could watch it together without you passing out every other episode.”

He stays quiet, absorbing every detail of the hallway from the tacky mock-chandelier light fixtures to the royal purple doorknobs. The building reeked of cheap prostitutes and boxed wine.

Jungkook really has him flying to such an unsavory place just to stop a man in South Korea from developing a crush on this precious ‘noona’ of his. God, the things he does for his little brother. First, the pregnancy, and now Kim Seokjin’s men. He’ll dream of retirement when he’s dead.

“Keep your tone light and remember to use these if you need to.” He tapped the side of her thigh where his scalpels are strapped. “Play it safe.”

Taehyung has always had a sharp sense of direction, which always irked his lover for reasons unknown. In a job like this, no one can risk not knowing. It’s the survival of the fittest.

The door to Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi’s apartment was two doors down from where they were standing. There’s very little room for failure.

Taehyung unstrapped the pistol from the back of his dress pants and loaded the gun, keeping it pointed down and away from his lover. He stood a foot away, back glued to the wall as she knocked once, and then twice, on the wood.

“Excuse me,” she yelped in Cantonese, giving another hard knock. “Is there a Jung and Min here?”

The lock unlatches after a few seconds and a man whose voice can only be described as tired and smoky, responded.

“We don’t have any money,” he said in broken Cantonese. “Um…uh, room service…uh…no need, okay?”

The woman tilted her head at him and smiled, noticing that he is, in fact, armed by the way his cheap blazer couldn’t hide the bulky leather gun-strap underneath. She shrugged off her coat and hiked one side of her dress upwards, inquiring if there are…other services, he might need.

Yoongi, looking back and forth from his boyfriend making eggs in the kitchen to the woman standing with one side of her dress hiked, scratches his ears in frustration.

“Um…the service,” he started in Cantonese and groaned, reminding himself to scour for a new apartment in a better town. He was already late to a meeting with the district police.

It was only when he took a step forward to kick the woman out for good that he saw a figure in the corner of his eyes. He was only able to take one glimpse at the man – the aristocratic nose, the blank expression, the black neatly-combed hair – to realize something didn’t feel right.

That was when the woman grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face onto her bare knee, a resounding crack giving her the confidence she needed to slip her scalpel out and hold it against his jugular.

“Move, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Taehyung quickly tugged the sides of Yoongi’s blazer upwards and stuffed both pistols in his back pocket, keeping his lover in charge as he walks into the apartment with an ease of a husband coming back from work.

“Hello, officer Jung.”

Yoongi can vaguely hear the sound of a pan dropping from in the kitchen, and it was with great relief that the woman holding him at knife-point kicked him back into the apartment. He held his broken nose with both hands and rolled inside, kneeling at the doorstep as he stayed glued to the floor. The carpet was doing a great job of sucking up his fluids. His eyes, however, remains on the gun pointed towards his boyfriend, dressed in a simple pair of pajamas and an apron, who began to walk towards the armed man.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asked, keeping his hands in the air. “Did Li send you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “I have no ties with your associates.”

“T-Then what’s this-?” Hoseok asked again, eyes widening when he realized Yoongi’s nose is crushed. His partner splutters blood over the house slippers he kept next to the entrance to the bathroom.

“I need you to stop working with Kim Seokjin.”

Yoongi feels the scalpel press against his skin harder, a bead of blood falling onto his shaky hands.

“Jin?”

Taehyung nodded. “Yes.”

Hoseok focused on the man’s face, then Yoongi, then the knife pressed against Yoongi’s neck.

He nods eagerly, agreeing on the spot. “I-I will, just let Yoongi go, I promise I will.”            

Taehyung pulls back the hammer with his thumb, causing Yoongi to struggle as he trembles on the floor. Hoseok’s eyes begin to water but he keeps his gaze focused on Taehyung’s uneven eyelids. This wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

“This means there will be no contact with you and Kim Seokjin whatsoever. No emails, phone calls, or letters. You will not send him information about anyone, dead or alive.”

“You’ll have my word.” Hoseok nods.

“And one more thing,” Taehyung walks over to the laptop settled next to the bed on the nightstand, tapping it once before moving the gun back to position. “I want you to email Seokjin with my exact words before you cut all ties.”

Taehyung pushes the barrel against Hoseok’s shoulder and rests his index finger on the trigger.

“Tell him…if he minds his own business,” the barrel pushes harder, “he’ll have two working arms.”

Bang

“Did you hear something?”

He glances nervously at the open bedroom door. You sit up on the bed, shivering when the air conditioning rattles awake and rain continues to pound against the bedroom windows. Jungkook groans while he shuts off the storm alert on his cellphone.

“It’s just the wind, Kookie, come back to bed.”

He rolls towards you and places his head on your lap, his lips pushed against the small pouch of fat on your lower belly. It was obvious neither of you are getting a full night sleep. Sex didn’t nearly solve as many problems as they wish it had. Not to mention, guilt hung around your neck like a stone every time you catch a glimpse of his slightly swollen cheek.

Jungkook had been awake for most of the night, his heart refusing to calm because he’s utterly, completely, absolutely happy. He notices that you couldn’t sleep much tonight either, a sign that he’s gotten under your skin, but he continues to worship your body every time your breathing evens and you curl against his side. He kisses every inch – from the space between your fingers to the crook of your legs. He palms your shapely body with the heel of his hand, massaging his way down your waist and stretchmarked hips.

He prays that when the time comes, you’ll bless him with a child that would hammer the last nail to this cage he built for you to stay in. He can just imagine your belly stretching farther and farther as the months pass. He wonders if you’ll taste just as sweet on his tongue, or maybe, you’ll be even sweeter? It was thrilling to prepare for this new future. He’s not sure what to expect as you are his first and only love. You might be scared at first, you might even break his heart a little when you panic, but it’s nothing the relationship can’t withstand. You are a responsible woman and he’s the love of your life; isn’t that all you need in a relationship? Just love?

A child will be a proof of that. The baby will be just as intelligent and educated as you but also as caring and protective like him; a perfect split between two loving parents. It would be a little difficult for a few years to take care of a baby and he would have to deal with receiving only half your attention. However, he knows it’ll be worth the exhaustion in the long run.

He’ll finally have the family of his dreams.

But first, he needs to settle the foundation to begin your journey towards motherhood. A little dose of empathy here and there, a little bit of his story sprinkled in between, a little bit more terror, more vulnerability on his part. He’ll have to expose a few unpleasant things so you’ll understand that he does have a justifiable reason for the pouty, clingy mess that he is.

“I just-” Jungkook hesitates, sitting up on the edge of the bed, but you sense his nervousness immediately and pull him closer.

“What is it?” You swallow. Please don’t be mad at me, Jungkook. Please.

“Storms scare me,” he confesses. “I hate loud noises…but you always make me feel safe here though. You’re going to protect me, aren’t you?” His attempt to lighten the mood was pathetic to say the least, but you don’t mind. You couldn’t take the silence when you startle awake every hour, finding Jungkook awake every time, staring at the mirror cabinet in the bathroom. Each time you succumb to subconscious, you couldn’t help but worry that maybe he’s thinking about leaving you in the morning. Maybe he thinks keeping you isn’t worth it.

Your lips pull into an uncertain smile and the corner of his sleepy eyes crinkle at the sight. “I’d do anything for my baby.”

“Tch,” he lightly slaps your arm away.

You sensed that he was shy about his fears and drops the subject in hopes of not embarrassing him any further. However, you needed to address the elephant in the room and Jungkook couldn’t meet your eyes knowing that you’re on the verge of tears yet again.

While you were bathing in fear, he was so happy inside he could die.

“Kookie…” you turn to him again, your eyes roaming over his long, thick lashes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

He catches his bottom lip under his rabbit teeth and cast his eyes towards the floor. Taking the sheets with him, he covers your bare body and takes your fingers in his hands, bringing it up to his lips. You watch him linger on your ring finger – where Namjoon’s ring once adorned – and flash you a knowing smile, swallowing the pain down.

“I…” he sighs, not sure how to approach the subject. It was rare to see such vulnerability on your part that he couldn’t help but take advantage of your kindness. Just a little though, just enough for you to keep that guilt alive no matter where you go and who you talk to.

“I wish you didn’t have to hit me, noona.” He swallows once more, knowing this is the only chance he’ll have to tell you the truth. He wants to sew that guilt deep inside your heart so you’ll never dare to hurt him again. “I know you were angry…and I know I’m just as unreasonable when I’m angry…but I don’t want to end up like my parents.”

You place a comforting hand on his back despite the heavy pressure weighing your heart down to your stomach. Jungkook throws a cautious glance at your face and continues when he sees he has your full support.

He focuses his eyes first on the alarm clock flashing four with bold red numbers, then gathers the courage to meet your eyes.

“My mom…um….my mom used to hit dad and I for most of my childhood,” he confesses, voice small and shaky yet you can sense the strength it took for him to say it out loud. It doesn’t make it any less easier for you to swallow the guilt. You’ve been physical with someone who’d suffered unimaginable trauma at a young age and in both times that you’ve hit him, his thoughts were all about you. If someone offered to break every bone in your body at the moment, you’d take the deal.

“He wasn’t the best either b-but um…” he takes your free hand in his, shakily brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. He squirms in discomfort, licking his lips every now and then while he tries to find his words. “I-I promised myself I won’t end up like him.”

You pull his head in your chest, letting him rest his weight. He sniffles then, shuddering when you wipe away the stray tears that glistened in the glow that the streetlights outside offered. He can feel that warmth again – your love – that’s created all for him. This is where he belongs, this is where he’s meant to be.

“I’m so sorry, baby, oh my god…I’m sorry.” You coo, wrapping your arms around him at last. His shoulders are too wide for your arms, but you take what you can get. You need to learn that you’re not the only person with boundaries, with a history of trauma, in this relationship. Your sweet boyfriend had been suffering silently behind your back too.

“I’ll never, ever, lay my hands on you like that, Kookie. I mean it. I-” you blink back yours tears, knowing the texts from his mom in your memory never settled comfortably, “I’ll never hurt you again. God J-Jungkook, I can’t imagine-”

He nods, nuzzling his cheeks closer to your heart. “It’s okay, noona, you didn’t know-”

“No!” You shake your head. “It’s not okay. It’s n-not okay for me to do that. I’m supposed to take care of you yet I…I’ve done nothing but hurt you. Oh baby,” you brush his bangs back and place a tender kiss on his hairline. He wraps his arms around you in return, rubbing his cheeks into your naked breast.

“I’m not lying when I said I’ve waited my whole life for you.” He exhales, letting you comb his hair gently through your fingers. “You’ve given me everything I’ve always dreamed of. It still feels like…like a prank sometimes. When are you going to disappear…when are you going to fall for someone else…I get scared when I think of things like that.”

“Why would I leave you, Kookie?” You hold him tighter.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know…I think I’m just scared it’ll eventually happen because I-I know I have issues and I’m not that educated and I’m-“

“Stop!” You grab his face, holding both his cheeks in your hands. “Don’t say things like that about yourself! Understand?”

He holds your wrists. “Noona-”

“I mean it. I don’t care about your job or your past. I. Don’t. Care! I love you and only you. No matter how blind I am to it sometimes,” You peck him softly on his chin, “you’re mine to take care of and mine to love. There’s no other man that has my heart.”

Jungkook’s fists shakes. Endure it a little longer, don’t let her see how happy you are. Endure it!

He nods eagerly. “Do you promise?”

“Of course, baby, of course I promise.”

His eyes glow. “Truly? You won’t hit me, won’t leave me, won’t look at another man?”

You roll his earlobes in between your fingers and capture his lips, sealing the promise. “Never…I’m all yours. I want to care for you and be yours, always.”

Like music to his ears.

He sighs in relief. “Oh, noona…”

He wanted to relive this moment forever and hear those words repeat over and over again in his head. He wanted to call Taehyung and tell him that he finally found his family. After all those years of walking home from school with bruises, starving on the streets, sleeping in a bedroom that smelled of urine, he reaches paradise. If he thought he’d reached heaven on the day he swore to kill for you, he doesn’t know how to describe his frame of mind now.

“Can I…can I ask you for a favor?”

You straddle his lap, wanting every inch of your body to be encased in his heat. “Anything, baby.”

“Can I call you mommy?” He pouts, encircling his arms around your waist. “It helps, you know? W-with, um…with some of these thoughts I have…”

The small bout of silence instantly turns his stomach sour. Did he go too far? Was this not the time to play out the fantasies he had in his head? Before he had the chance to curse himself for ruining the moment, you squirm into his lap. An invitation.

“It’s okay baby,” you reassure him, seeing the stars in his eyes glow even more. He’s ecstatic, in awe even, and if his rapid heartbeat didn’t tell you his adorable expression sure did. “You’re my baby boy.”

He crashes his lips onto your swollen ones and press you down onto the bed. His fingers tangle in your hair first then with your fingers before he pushes your arms above your head, his eagerness resulting in a clumsy effort to find his place between your legs. You giggle and play your part, whispering sweet praises while he tells you how much he loves you, how you’re meant for him, how you’re his soulmate, a lover, a friend, a confidant, a mother.

“Mom-my,” he whimpers, voice cracking. He chants, over and over again, unable to get enough of your caresses and praises. “You make me feel so good, mommy, you’re so beautiful, all mine…mommy…mommy…mommy…”

You feel the sting of his penetration when he impatiently enters, just needing to be inside you and feel your pulse. He’s never looked so surreal above you, face coated with sweat and tears, cheeks as rosy as the first plum blossom in spring. He’s a walking sculpture carved from the loveliest marble. Your needy baby boy, your Jungkookie, your boyfriend with a heart made of glass.

It wasn’t until much later in the morning, when the sun has risen and the rain ceased, that you spend your own time worshipping him. Your heart aches at the thought of someone, especially the parents that were supposed to love and support him, laying their hands on someone so pure and sweet. You think back to the times you asked for his baby pictures or his past and finding him uncomfortably shifting his gaze away or avoiding the subject altogether. It must have been painful for him to endure your interrogations and your passive aggressive behavior; you finally realize now that he wasn’t annoyed with you but was afraid of your judgement. It must’ve been a habit for him to think of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t grow up in a safe place.

Actually, he didn’t grow up with a home at all.

A shack somewhere in Busan with no running water or electricity or a school that was close enough for a child to walk safely to. Just by watching the polite way he spoke to people at his gallery and admiring his ethereally handsome appearance, no one could guess he was a victim of neglect and abuse.

It wasn’t until he brings you to the balcony, where the morning wind blows through his deep chocolate hair and the smell of orange blossoms whisk around your body, that he settles you onto his lap and brings your fingers over the small scar on his cheekbones.

“I think you should know where this came from, noona…”

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine Series: Safety First, Pt 1

Yoongi x You (Part 2)

The others get to their feet, and you duck out of Taehyung’s reach as he tries to ruffle your hair. “I’m going home,” he says with a grin, catching your hand and squeezing it.    “Me, too.” Jin stretches his arms above his head. “Do you want to go with us?”    “No, thanks.” You get to your feet, accepting his bear-hug tolerantly. “I’m going to go check on Yoongi, see if he’s about ready.”    Hoseok laughs, glancing at his watch. “He’s still got at least 2 hours before he’s done.”    “I know,” you sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder momentarily. “But a girl can hope, right?”    Jin turns to Namjoon, who’s still sitting in his chair, eyes locked on the monitor. “Hey Namjoon---are you ready?”    He shakes his head distractedly.   Jimin gives you an exasperated look; you just grin, and push him towards the door. “Goodnight, guys,” you say pointedly. “We’re still doing movie night tomorrow, right?” They nod, and you cross to Namjoon’s seat. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. “You go home soon, ok? The work will still be there tomorrow.”    “Mmhmm,” he agrees, but then turns to look up at you. “Have a good night. See you guys tomorrow.”    You nod, squeeze his shoulder again, and then hurry to where Taehyung is holding the door for you. He gives you a final hug, and you part ways with the other four in the hallway. As you wander down the hall towards Yoongi’s studio, you cross your arms over your chest: even from here you could hear the rain pounding against the roof, and you felt cold just thinking about the walk home. Luckily, you reach the Genius Lab door before you can dwell on it too long. As you input the code, you try not to think about how cold your fingers feel. The door swings open, and you see your boyfriend right where you left him: you can’t help the smile that crosses your face at the sight of him. “Hi baby,” you say softly, closing the door behind you.    “Hey.” He doesn’t look away from his monitor, but his tone is soft and happy. “Everything okay?”    “Yep.” You stand behind him and wrap your arms around his shoulders in a back-hug. “I was just talking with some of the others for a bit. Jimin’s verse on your song sounds great, by the way.”    He rests his head back against you. “I thought his voice would suit it well.”    “It does...but it’s also because you wrote a great song,” you say, leaning down to kiss his cheek.    A smile crosses his face at this and a few minutes tick by in relative quiet; the click of his mouse mingles perfectly with the faint sound of rain pounding against the roof, and your thoughts wander back to how miserable the walk home was going to be. You accidentally let out a soft sigh at the thought, and he goes still at the sound.    “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He moves one hand up to hold yours, his warm fingers covering yours completely.    “Nothing. I think I’m just tired.” You squeeze his neck and straighten. “Speaking of, are you ready to go?”    He hesitates, his eyes going back to the work in front of him. “I...”    “It’s okay,” you reassure him, heading to collect your coat from the couch. “Do you mind if I head out?”    At this he turns to look at you. “Of course not. You need to get some sleep. You’re just going to go with the others?”    You pull your coat on. “No, they just left. I mean, Namjoon’s still here....and,” you frown as you realize, “I haven’t seen Jungkook for a while. But the others have already left.”    “....So you’re going to go by yourself?”    You smile distractedly. “Well, yeah.”    He’s not smiling anymore. “No. Let me see if I can find Jungkook---I’m sure he’s ready to go by now.” He reaches for his phone.    You give him a look. “That’s okay, we don’t need to bother him. It’s just a short walk, and I’ve done it before.”    “I know,” he says tersely, holding the phone to his ear. “And I hated it then, too. It’s not safe.”    “Um, it’s perfectly safe,” you correct, pausing while zipping-up your coat. He doesn’t seem to hear you, still waiting for the maknae to answer his call, and this ignites a flame of irritation in you. “Hello? I’m telling you, it’s going to be fine.”    He glances at you. “It’s pouring outside right now and it’s late, too late to be going out on your own.” He finally gives up, putting his phone down. “I can be done for the night.” He turns back to his computer, preparing to shut it down.    “Stop.” You take a step towards him, your frustration increasing. “You still have a couple of hours’ work left, I don’t want you to walk away from it just because I want to go home.”   “It’s fine,” he says slowly. “And I want to go with you.”   Your tone goes icy. “I am an adult, you know, and I’ve lived a life before. I can make a short walk home on my own without needing to be babysat!”   He hesitates in his shut-down process. “It’s not safe,” he repeats, slowly turning his chair towards you. “It’s really not a big deal. I should take a break anyway.”    “I’m not helpless.”    He raises one eyebrow. “I never said you were helpless.” You can tell he’s starting to get agitated, too. “And I know you’re an adult, obviously.”    “Then stop acting like I’m a baby! I lived on my own for years before I met you, I walked home, alone---at night---all the time.” He doesn’t answer, but you can see his right hand clench at your words. “Why do you always do this?? It’s like you think I’m pathetic, I can’t walk home by myself---”    “I’m just worried about you!” He cuts across you irritably, though he doesn’t raise his voice. “I just want you to be safe, and I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to be walking home on your own late at night, because it’s not safe.”    “That’s not the point!” You feel your face flushing with your emotions and you resist the urge to cry: this was wrong. The two of you never argued, never usually even had any disagreements, so everything about this felt wrong. You shove your hands deep into the pockets of your coat, your stomach feeling sick at the unnatural conflict. “It’s just like last week when you made security escort me all the way out to my car after the concert and had them follow me home.”    His face shuts down. “You know about that. There were threats made---”    “Not against me!”    “It doesn’t matter,” he insists; now both of his hands are curled into fists of frustration. “People know who you are, it wasn’t safe.”    You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Or when you followed me around that day in Busan, when I was just meeting some friends for lunch.”    “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” he scoffs, turning back to his computer and shutting down his composing program. “I didn’t follow you around, I went with you---you told me I could come with you.”    “Only because you insisted!”    He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “You know how vulnerable that whole trip was. Jimin and Jungkook were actually followed around by a bunch of sasaengs when they went out shopping.”    “I could have handled it,” you say, tasting something bitter in the back of your mouth. “I can handle a lot of things, actually, but you wouldn’t know because you insist on treating me like I’m weak. It’s like this all the time, and I’m just sick of---”    He sits forward in his chair, his mouth agape. “Oh, it’s like this all the time?” he repeats. “So, what, you think all I do is smother you??”    It’s not exactly the truth, but you’re so upset and freaked out by this conversation that the words tumble out anyway: “Most of the time, yeah.”    “Oh really?” He looks genuinely hurt now, and this only makes you feel more upset.    Reaching up to nervously tuck a wild strand of your hair back behind your ear, you feel a sharp cramp in your stomach and realize that the stress of the situation was physically affecting you now: although neither of you had raised your voice, the atmosphere is so uncomfortable you almost can’t bear it. “Yeah,” you say childishly, taking a step back. The tears press at the corners of your eyes but you fight them down.    He stares up at you for a long moment, trying to find the words in a rare moment of speechlessness. Finally he swallows and turns away from you. “Well if I’m so overbearing all the time, maybe we better just break up.”    It hurts like a kick to the stomach. The tears sneak past your walls and you feel a few run down your face---that was the first thing he jumped to? Your stomach lurches and you take another step back, the anger boiling your tears before they escape. “Okay,” you gasp, “Maybe--m-maybe we should.” He flinches at your words, but before he can say anything else, you turn on your heel. You can’t help making one last bitter comment: “I’m walking home: now even if you think I’m useless, it’s not your concern anymore,” you choke through tears, and then you’re gone. Before the door closes behind you, you hear him say your name, but you don’t turn back.    Instead, you stumble down the hallway, running right into Jungkook: with your eyes full of tears, you didn’t even see him.   “Hey!” he laughs, catching hold of your elbows to keep you upright. “What are you still doing here? It’s late!” He suddenly sees your expression. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?”    You shake your head, still feeling too nauseous to explain. “Are you headed home right now?”   He’s still trying to catch your eye, his face concerned. “Yeah.”   “Can I--Can I walk out with you?” However angry Yoongi’s comments had made you, deep-down you trusted him more than anyone else in the world, and suddenly walking home by yourself in the dark and cold didn’t seem like such a great idea. You look away from the maknae’s face, wiping at your tears fiercely. “If you’re not done or don’t want to, it’s fine, I just---”    “No, no, it’s totally fine. I drove, actually, so do you mind if I drop you off?”    You take a small, hitched breath. “That would be great. Th-thanks, Jungkook.”     He gently takes your arm, guiding you towards the parking garage exit. “Of course. Hey...” He looks back down the hall towards the Genius Lab. “Where’s---where’s Yoongi-hyung? Is he---”    “He’s not ready to leave yet.”    “O--oh.” To his credit, he doesn’t ask any more questions, though he’s obviously troubled by your sharp answer. Instead, he just guides you carefully to his car, helps you into the passenger seat, and drives in the direction of your apartment.     You cry silently the whole way, the tears streaming down your face faster than you can take care of them. You’re embarrassed to be this distraught, but you can’t stop.    Halfway there, Jungkook looks over at you nervously. “...Did you guys have a fight?”    You take a small, gasping breath, and nod.    “Really?” he’s stunned. “You guys never fight.”    “I know,” you manage to get out between the hiccoughing crying. Your stomach still feels sick at the thought, and your mind is racing so fast it’s hard to think straight. A large part of you feels uncomfortable talking about this already, but then again, Jungkook was one of your best friends, and if you didn’t at least try to explain why you were reacting like such a pathetic crazy-person, you felt like you’d shrivel up from the shame. “It’s so w-wrong,” you say, wrapping your arms over your stomach. “It was about something so stupid, but then he said--he said.....”    Jungkook pulls into a curb spot outside your apartment. Turning to you, he puts one comforting hand on your arm. “Take a deep breath, kyepichui.” The use of the silly, familiar nickname helps center you a little.    “We broke up.” The words drop from your lips woodenly, and you clench your teeth to bite back a sob. “He...he said we should breakup, so...So then I left.”    He inhales sharply. “No. That can’t be true. The two of you, you’re---” he seems at a loss for words. “No. I don’t believe it. It’s just a bad day, the two of you will get over it.”    I don’t think so. But instead, you squeeze his hand and open the car door. “Th-thanks for the ride. I’m so sorry for the...for the breakdown. Please don’t--don’t mention this to anyone, especially not Yoongi, ok? I’m.....I’m sorry.”    “Call me,” he insists, trying to lock eyes with you, “if you need anything, all right? It’ll all be better in the morning, I promise.”    You nod bravely, and close the door behind you before the sob breaks through, hurrying into the building with your head ducked against the rain and wind. You make it all the way up to your apartment before it bursts from you. You turn and sit back against the door, letting the tears fall uninterrupted. Through blurry vision, you reach for your phone, intending to send an “I’m here, everything’s fine” text to Yoongi before you remember. Maybe we should break up. Gasping through your tears, you change the message’s intended recipient and send a message to Jungkook instead: “I’m okay. Thanks again.”    You open your messages back to the conversation with Yoongi and feel your stomach clench. The tears overwhelm you and you sob audibly into your hands.    Every time you try to make yourself stop, you remember the pit in your stomach and the hurt on his face, and you cry a little harder. You cry until you make yourself sick, until your stomach hurts and you know you’re about to throw-up. You cry until your eyes are swollen, until it feels like there aren’t any tears left, until you can’t breathe.    You cry until someone knocks on the door behind you.

[jeonjagia]

To Save a Life- Chapter 6

Luna:

I mindlessly trace the scratches in the wood, 'I hope Yoongi is ok,' I think to myself. This explains all the times he came home clothes all blood stained. What was I thinking joining the Mafia?! I ask myself over and over. This life isn't for you! More thoughts of what I would have to do in order to stay in. shuddering I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Suddenly, the door bursts open to show Jimin and Jungkook carrying an unconscious, pale and limp Suga in their arms. "Clear the table!" Jugnkook grunts as he lifts Suga up. I stare down in shock as I see he is bleeding from a stab wound. "Yoongi," I whisper holding the side of his face. "Move," Jungkook says pushing me aside as he lifts Suga's shirt exposing the wound. "Get me some supplies," he orders. Jimin hurries to complete his command. Returning with a first aid kit, he hands it to Jungkook who starts to work on Suga's stab wound.          I soon find myself waking up on a bed in a small room. I must have fallen asleep, I think to myself. Then, I remember before, Suga. I get up out of bed and find the meeting room. I stand in the shadows watching as the men pace around, waiting for Yoongi to wake up.

RM:

I stand leaning against the wall, arms crossed watching the ground. Waiting is a horrible game to play. Jungkook toiled over Suga's wound almost all night. Now both of them are resting. Suga still hasn't woken up yet. I can see that his wife, Luna, is worried that he won't.          I come off the wall and walk over to her. She looks up at me. "You have training to do," I say looking her in the eyes. She nods and slowly stands up from the box. "Where do we train?" she asks quietly. "Right here," I reply watching her expression.

"The first thing to know is observe your surroundings, this can teach you much," I state. She looks around at the walls and boxes scattered around the room. Taking advantage of her distracted state, I trip her, holding her so she doesn't fall. She looks confused. "Second lesson, never take your eyes off of the enemy," I says lowering my voice. "If you do this, it could cost you your life." I help her up and we continue fighting. She's a fast learner.          Taking breaks we get water and some snacks, and then continue working, making much of the time at hand. I can tell she wants to do well and prove herself.

Suga:

I wake up slowly, noticing the pain that is throbbing in my side. Opening my eyes I see RM fighting with Luna. He's training her for the job. I sit up, grimacing as my side is on fire. The leader, Jungkook, walks over, noticing I am awake. "How do you feel?" he asks looking me over. "Like crap," I reply gently touching my side. Then I remember her. "She's back Jungkook, she stabbed me," I say watching Jungkook's reaction. "She must know that you married Luna," Jungkook mutters looking at the table. I watch Luna as she ducks under RM's punch and jabs him in the ribs. They then circle each other, looking for an attack. "She looks like she's learning well," I mutter as we watch them. "Surprisingly, she's catching on very quickly," Jungkook replies. Luna looks in Jungkook's direction and sees that I'm awake. Her eyes widen. RM, seeing this advantage attacks: tripping her. She yelps and grunts as he sits on her, holding a knife to her throat. "Dead," he says. Getting off, he helps her up, and she walks over to us. "You're awake," she whispers hugging me gently. I can hear the relief in her voice. "Hello Jagi," I reply smiling at her. "What happened?" she asks looking from Jungkook to me and back again. "Suga's target was armed and had skills we didn't know of," Jungkook states before I can speak. He looks at me knowing I can't tell her the truth, not yet. How many times do I have to lie to her?

Andromeda:

I look into Suga's eyes as I stab him: they're full of pain. Physical pain. Mental pain. Pain is good. I want him to feel pain, my pain of being left for dead. Anger swells up inside as I remember that night. And worst of all is he married my sister. I should be the one in her place! He loved me!          Standing up, I walk away from Suga's limp body, as he did to me three years ago. Half of me wants him dead, the other half wants him to feel my pain. My pain of falling from a building for goodness sake! I have healed so much since then. I'm not so pathetic and deformed as I once was. I'm strong now.          Walking back to my apartment, I open the door and see "my friend" is still here. He is sitting on the couch watching a movie...again. "Angel, really?" I ask closing the door "is this what you do all day while I'm out?" I question him. He looks over at me confused. "You eat my food, use my home, and don't clean up after yourself!" I yell kicking his clothes and litter towards the couch he sits on. He looks hurt. "I'm sorry," I reply, those words tasting bitter on my tongue, "I'm...irritated," I finish. He turns the TV off and walks over to me. Holding my shoulders he says, "don't worry Andromeda, we will find this person you are looking for." I look at him as he smiles widely. God, I hate it. He's smiling, always smiling. So happy, so sick. Well, I already found him...and killed him. I think to myself. I can't let Angel know what I really am doing.

Luna:

Over the next few weeks things change. The organization Suga works for and now me, is not the "mafia". They're more like incognito vigilantes. Fixing wrongs to others and not leaving a trace. They focus more on robberies of higher up people, hushed up murders, and drug deals. On the other hand, I have been training, mostly with RM, then sometimes with Jungkook and Jimin. I have learned how to fight, and fight well. Today, I will shadow someone on my first mission. I am excited, and terrified at the same time. Tonight, I will shadow Jimin. As the others have code names, Jungkook said that tonight I will have my own code name. I have now become one of them, as my clothing has changed and I have become more used to the life style here. I have my own weapons now: throwing knives. Many hours were spent practicing with them so I can now throw precisely where I need them to go. Gathering them together, the night has come and I'm nervous. Hopefully I won't need them. I place them in a pack that I got from Jungkook, "if you're good at them, and might as well have a place to hold them." he said as he handed it to me. I have become used to this kind of life. Not having a comfortable bed, always something to do day to day, could be killed on a mission. However, I don't miss the work in a "normal" life, or school, or having to talk to people and get along with them. I have been taught many things that "normal" life doesn't teach: how to sew wounds, use plants to heal, shoot multiple guns and use other forms of weapons. These skills are useful in my job now. Drifting back to reality, I prepare my eight knives and wait for Jimin's order to leave. Because I have been training with Jimin for four months now, I know how he fights, when he backs off, and when he is planning an attack. I watch as Jungkook hand Jimin a paper with the target description and reasons why they are going after him. jimin stares at it for a while, then hands it to me. taking the paper, I look at the picture of the target. 32 year old Peter Calahue- targeted for reasons of could be ally. "so we arnt taking this guy out?" I ask abruptly, cutting into their conversation. "No," Jungkook says staring down at me, "he could be a very good ally to have if we are going after Andromeda." Nodding I hand the paper back to Jungkook and stand up. "Ready?" Jimin asks. I nod heading toward the door.          We exit our headquarters and peruse the address that was printed on the paper of where he could be. "You nervous?" Jimin asks eyeing a passing car down the street. "Not really," I respond watching him as he is alert at everything. "It's okay to be a tiny bit nervous, Luna," he continues turning into an alley suddenly. "Down this way," he states. Sighing, I follow, trying to catch up with him. Once we find the building, we enter through one of the back entrances, the front obviously to open. Anyone can see, and run if need be to inform authorities. Entering a large empty room, I see a man already standing there, back toward us. Jimin motions for me to circle the other way around as he goes the opposite direction. He motions for me to stay, observance only. "Peter Calahue, do you know why I am here?" Jimin says to the man, his sudden voice causing the man, peter, flinch. "Y-yes," he stutters in response. He puts his hands up as in a peace motion. "I-I didn't do anything wrong, m-my boss made me," He says . "Information for your life if you keep quiet," Jimin says harshly. "O-ok," peter stutters. "My bosses name, is A-," he doesn't finish his sentence as a knife plunges into his throat, and he falls to the ground dead. A figure drops from the ceiling beams, landing in a crouch. As it stands up, it says, "peter never had a life, his life was mine." The voice sounds like a girl, also judging from the body and height. The face is shadowed though. "I've had many slaves who work for me," it says pulling down the hood. I gape when I see her. She Vick's her head staring at Jimin. She doesn't know I'm here. Jimin hands rest on his knives, ready to throw at a moments notice. Suddenly, Jimin throws one at her, causing her to dodge out of the way. Using her distracted state, Jimin lunges toward her attempting to slice her with another knife. She jumps back to safety. "Tsk, tsk, Jimin. I though Kookie taught you better," she coos. "That's Jungkook to you," Jimin growls standing straighter. He lounges again, this time slicing her. Screaming in anger, she dodges another attack and cuts Jimins arm with her knife. He growls and attacks again, trying to trip her. She nimbly dodges his attempts and throws a knife at jimins head, which he thankfully dodges. "Ooh Jimin, your skills have deteriorated since we last met," she says mockingly. Jimin flares at her as they circle each other. "What have you done to yourself?" He asks genuinely shocked. "I survived," she hisses back at him. "None of you tried to look for me, or see if I was still alive," "I'm sorry andromeda, but we thought-," "Thought? That's the first mistake you made. You didn't plan it through, you rushed in regardless if the situation. You killed me Jimin," she snarls. Suddenly, they both lunge blocking and stabbing. Jimin then trips and andromeda takes advantage, holding a knife to his throat. "You deserve to die," she says looking down at him. Deciding its time to take action, I enter the room behind Andromeda and throw one of my knives at her. "You deserve to die, you traitor," I whisper loud enough for her to hear. The knife hits her in the thigh and she falls. "Your lust for revenge is too great Andromeda," Jimin says pinching a nerve in her neck causing her to fall unconscious. Jimin slowly turns toward me, "nice shot," he says examining his arm. We exit the building and head back to HQ. "Jimin?" "Yeah?" "Your arm, it's still bleeding," I point out. "I know," he says opening the door to our building. We enter and see rap mon is there, the others, on missions I assume. "So, how did it go?" Rap mon asks not looking up from sharpening the knives. "As well as can be expected," Jimin says not mentioning andromeda. He heads over to the small table and cleans himself up. I on the other hand, sit and watch him, wondering why he didn't mention Andromeda, or if I should. Why is her lust for revenge so great? Did she really love yoongi that much? I question myself. Soon, Suga is the next to return, then Jungkook. "Ok everyone, gather," Jungkook says motioning for us to come. "Ok," he starts, "We all have a new mission that has been in the making for a while now. A few months ago, we had an encounter with a group called the Shadows. This group wa responsible for killing Andromeda, and we have been trying to deal with them. But now, they seem to be a greater threat than before and we will have to eliminate them. We have found out from yoongies mission, that andromeda is alive," murmurs spread around the room. "Did anybody see anything new today?" Jungkook asks looking around at the faces. "We encountered her today," Jimin says looking up. "She killed Calahue," he adds. Jungkook sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "He could have been an important ally," he whispers. "Sir, I think she's with the Shadows," Jimin states. "Yeah, that's what I thought too," Jungkook sighs looking at the map in front of us. He stares a few minutes before looking up and saying, "well need more people, we need Jin," He looks at Suga when he says this. Suga sighs deeply while rubbing his face. "Okay, Jagia, with me," he says heading for the door. I follow wondering how this will end.

[xiajin]

bet on it  sugakookie; doctor/nurse au; 

jungkook barely puts down the current case file he has when jimin hurries up to him, taking the blue folder for himself and setting it down in some nondescript corner containing a pile of other folders. jungkook slumps against the edge of the countertop, his eyelids literally aching from the amount of weight he’s put on them.

“do you need an espresso shot?” jimin asks, not bothering to look away from his computer screen, tap tap tap-ing away at the keys. “taehyung punched the coffee machine and it’s working again.”

“either that or a cup of sugar,” jungkook admits. “i literally feel like i might have an aneurysm and die.”

“don’t forget to bleed internally,” jimin smiles at him, “just to be a complete go-getter.”

jungkook snorts. his legs almost seem like they might buckle. “i didn’t think getting a promotion would make my life harder,” he starts, voice hanging on a whine. “i thought i would be sitting behind the desk and doing filing. i was looking forward to it.”

“that’s such a lie,” jimin cuts in cheerfully.

“let me have it,” jungkook mutters. “i’d do anything to just sit down for a moment. i swear, it’s all because of dr. min. he won’t get me a fucking break?”

jimin’s eyes lazily move up to meet his, and he raises an eyebrow. “oh?”

“ever since i got the head nurse promotion,” jungkook leans in, whispering, “he’s been driving me crazy. he won’t let any of the other nurses do anything to his patients, like putting in a goddamn iv or taking vitals. every nurse learns how to put in an iv in their first year. he won’t let me live.”

jimin coughs to hide the laugh that’s bubbling out of his throat. jungkook, looking half crazed with those dark circles and hair slightly sticking up in the back, is probably in no state of mind to hear what jimin thinks dr. min - uh - really feels about jungkook. namely, how much he tries to keep him around physically.

“what’s going on,” taehyung pops in with a cup of espresso, looking for all intents and purposes like he’s just walked out of a magazine. jimin and jungkook have both agreed that they hate him, just a little bit. he’s like seokjin, who has long since left the er and has gone to cushier, better paid positions up in what they call the vip lounge.

“jungkook was telling me about how dr. min,” jimin waggles his eyebrows, “puts him to work.”

“ooh.”

jungkook takes taehyung’s cup of espresso and downs it in one go, balefully going, “that’s what you get for saying it in that voice. don’t act like he’s doing anything else but torturing me.”

“i’m sure dr. min would love to torture you. in bed.”

jungkook throws the empty espresso cup at taehyung’s head, who deftly dodges. damn him, he must have taken a power nap before coming to the front.

“i just want to sleep,” jungkook starts. “i want to eat a burger and maybe have a green tea chocolate ice cream from the stupid convenience store and then i want to sleep. is that so much to ask. why are so many people sick.”

“hey, if people weren’t sick, we’d be out of jobs,” jimin points at him. “was that old man pyo?”

“yeah,” jungkook sighs, rubbing at his eyes. jimin feels bad for a split second; despite all of their teasing, dr. min really is working jungkook down to the bone. jungkook believes that he’s doing it out of spite; ever since dr. min had gotten the verbal beating of his life by an irate, sleep deprived jungkook (back when seokjin was still head nurse) jungkook believes that dr. min is out to get him. jimin and taehyung think that min yoongi, md, has a raging heart boner for their friend and can’t emote properly because of it. instead of saying hi, jungkook, want to get a shitty coffee with me in the cafeteria so i can stare at you and talk to you more? he asks for jungkook specifically for every single patient he gets and stares at him while he’s hooking up a catheter to a 92 year old man. it’s kind of romantic and pitiful at the same time.

the beep of a pager goes off, and jungkook looks down at his pocket with a groan. he pulls it out and reads off, sarcastic, “oh, wonderful. dr. min wants me to go to room 412 again.”

“want me to take it?” taehyung offers, and jungkook nods tiredly. he turns off his pager and tells jimin that he’s clocking out for a break - which he was due about an hour and a half ago anyways - and starts to walk, zombie-like, to the back room.

taehyung whistles watching him go. “seriously, yoongi-hyung has got to get his act together. his method of wooing is terrible.”

“he’s not allowed to bring flowers, some people are allergic,” jimin says cheerfully, forcing the sunshine out of him on sheer willpower. if he doesn’t put up a happy front, someone is going to die. most likely himself.

“it’s just like watching a dog trying to follow after a cat to desperately get their attention,” taehyung continues, “which is weird, because i always thought of yoongi-hyung as more of a cat and jungkookie like a cute labrador.”

“taehyung, he needs you in room 412. go already.”

“is someone dying?”

“there’s no code?”

taehyung waves it away. “let him sweat a little.”

jimin snorts. “he already sweats enough trying to find his big boy pants when jungkook is around. cut him some slack.” he pauses thoughtfully. “seriously, is namjoon really allowing this to happen?”

at hearing the name of their resident supervisor, taehyung laughs. “please, if he lets this continue, yoongi-hyung is going to trip over himself sooner or later and make this whole thing get drawn out even further. then he’ll win the bet pool.”

frowning, jimin goes, “i thought we were in the lead, though? last week jungkook almost looked like he was going to hug yoongi and cry on his shoulder because of the printer incident, do you not remember the printer incident? what?”

“yeah, but then this shit happened,” taehyung points to jungkook, who can be seen sleeping on his stomach on the sofa. he hasn’t even taken his shoes off. “now namjoon-hyung is winning again. i feel like i bet half my salary on that pool, i’m winning it unless it kills me.” he starts walking backward, taking room 412’s file.

“don’t kill anybody,” jimin yells after him. he turns to the female nurse beside him and goes, “is namjoon seriously winning the betting pool?”

the dark haired nurse named eunha nods sympathetically. she’s looking at an excel spreadsheet on her screen. “yeah, he’s currently in the lead. damn, i really thought i was going to win this one.”

“don’t lose hope,” jimin says, picking up the phone as it rings his ear off in the shrill tone he’s come to hate intensely. smile, jimin. cheerful. “we might get them together before that.”

she holds up a weak fighting sign and jimin casually adds another case to yoongi’s patient list, answering the call pleasantly about a man who has an unidentified object stuck up his - ahem, eta 15 minutes. jungkook doesn’t have to know.

[kandadiff]

Missing (8) - Jack’s Trick

-

Three trucks with trained men holding weapons headed toward Flatwick. I was squeezed next to Jin and Seungri. Everyone was silent on the way there, just waiting out their leaders instructions. Building C was a seemingly abandoned building probably once used to hold old shipping containers that came in from ships on the nearby dock. No light was on but there was a red hankerchief tied to the door, it was a signal there were bodies inside. I sucked in a breath as we parked and GD got out.

Jin and I were the last to get out, told to stay close to Woojin and Chan in case of anything, Everyone had there guns out and there guard up. GD was the first in the building and whistled when everything was all clear, when I stepped in I noticed there were red marks on the floor leading the way. I cocked an eyebrow and stayed closer to chan, knowing that if anything I could probably take the gun from him.

The smell of mold got worse as we went in deeper into the dirty building and by the time we went down the stairs we heard voices. I couldn't contain the smile that spread across my face and I couldn’t wait to see the look on Jacks. GD kicked open the old door and quickly walked into the room we all followed. “What the fuck is this?” He said as I walked in and my smile faded

“No, no no” I whispered to myself, there was no one in the room, no jack, none of his trained killers- only us.. In the no windowed room, a TV sat playing a video were people were at a party laughing and drinking. “Hyung” Seungri said to his boss “Isn't that your engagement party?” GD’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the screen, it was. He recognized the red suit he had on complimenting the red dress that hugged your body so well. He saw his friends and colleagues drinking and laughing and her turned to me furiously.  

“What the fuck is this? some kind of sick fucking joke to you?”

“I don’t know!” I shouted back to him backing up as he stomped over to me shoving his gun into Jungkook’s hands and bringing out his knife. I turned to try and run by he was quick and fastened a hand quickly around my throat shoving me back toward the wall. TOP rushed to his friend as he squeezed tighter on my throat, just enough to scare me but not to cut out my breath however the blade pressed just under my chin.

“HOW DARE YOU BRING MY MEN OUT HERE TO PLAY SOME FUCKING PRANK ON ME!”

“I didn’t!” I shout back at him, Namjoon rushed over to us as well trying to calm down his boss. “I truly didn’t-“ Everyone was trying to convince him of my innocence but I was just focused on the hand around my neck and he was focused on my face.

“Fucking liar!”

“Hey!” I froze hearing the distictive voice of jack and someone called for GD’s attention. He turned back and I saw Jacks smirking face on the screen. “If you hurt my little kitten to badly I wont tell you where my bunny is.”

“Who the hell is that?!” Gd shouted angrily pulling me forward and but I was frozen in my place.

“Let her go” Jack said looking directly at me and Gd’s gripped his knife hard and turned to me again.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Jack Candie” I choked out shaking and GD threw me into Namjoon. 

“The one and only.” Jack smiled. “And you’re Jiyong Kwon right? The man who got engaged to my Bunny? You didn’t ask her fathers permission, that’s not polite.”

“You aren’t her father.” GD said there was still edge in his voice but he put his knife down and took his gun back. “Where is she? You hiding her somewhere in here? Working with her?” He pointed his gun at me then started to order his men to search the building but Jack’s chuckle stopped him.

“I miss my kitten but she is stubborn and feisty and she hasn’t been working with me, at least not yet.”

“I wont” I shot back and he glanced at me then back at GD.

“Don’t bother to send your men around the building. It’s empty, I figured it would take some time for her to crack the code, it was a complicated one, but it gave me enough time to set this up.”

“Where is she?” GD snapped impatiently. “I want to see Arianna, I want proof that shes okay?”

He laughed and I saw a few of the members get physically uncomfortable by his laugh. “You want proof? No, I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

“YOU FUCK! I SWEAR IF YOU HURT HER IN ANY WAY I WILL MAKE YOUR DEATH LONG AND PAINFUL-“

Jack put up his hand to silence the boy “I don’t have proof.” I breath caught in my throat and I buried myself deeper into Namjoon. Carefully placing my hand on the small metal pipe leaning against the wall. “If you want proof your going to have to ask Kitten.” He smile grew as he looked at me and I gripped the pole harder, I felt a few eyes go from me to Jack, GD’s was particularly burning with rage. “That why shes my favorite pet, she knew this whole time where the bunny was and brought all of you here to try and kill me but you didn’t anticipate that my men saw your little quarrel in the van after the club did you kitty-cat. I knew you’d never go after me yourself, youd have to have some poor fools that could help you.” He looked around the room “No offense.”

Gd raced over to me but this time I was prepared, I pushed namjoon hard to the ground and lifted the pipe. Hitting GD hard in the stomach making him double over and Taeyang who came at me when he saw the pipe in my hand. Jungkook swung at me but I grabbed his hand and slammed him into the wall spotting my exit just a few feet away. I wasn’t foolish I knew I could never fight all of them. I was running on two days of no sleep and I was easily outnumbered. I barreled threw both Jimin and Jin and nearly reached the door when a hand tangled itself in my hair and I was thrown onto the ground. An angry TOP grabbed both my wrists in one of his hands throwing the pipe and his foot on my chest applying pressure, I could barely breathe but I heard Jack cheering. GD stood up and leaned closer to my face, he raised his fist to hit me and I closed my eyes in waiting for the painful blow .

“NO.” It was Jack’s voice that rang out loud and powerful over the room GD glanced back at him before laughing.

“and why the fuck not? She betrayed us. That is punishable by death in this gang.”

“If you want my bunny given to you, you won’t kill my kitten.”

“You said you don’t know where she is-“

“No I didn’t I said I don’t have proof but I don’t need it to know where she is. I know where all my pets are.”

“She’s not your pet, none of them are.” Jungkook shot back at him but Jack ignored his outburst.

“You have my kitten and you have my wolf. I like to think I am flexible if anything and I am willing to make a trade, two for the price of one. You give me my pets and I let you have the bunny and ill even give you a few hundred for them. But they cannot be dead or missing any fucking limbs or I’ll kill Arianna in front of you… understand?”

GD looked at his best friend for a moment before standing up and nodding. “It’s a deal.”

“Wait” RM said quickly “(in Korean)_ You heard the stories from Kay, Katya and Adi about how evil this man is and your just going to sell them back to her. They don’t deserve that-“

“(in Korean)_She betrayed us” He said looking down at me “(in Korean)_And Katya can learn her place as well. Taehyung will find another girl.” Namjoon shook his head in disgust.

“It’s a deal?” Jack asked and GD nodded “Splendid. I’ll get the money ready.”

“Wait how do we know where to meet you?” Taeyang asked and Jack chuckled.

“You’re smart boys, Youll find a way.” He looked at me and I just wanted to melt into the ground and cry at the same time. “I missed you kitten, you’ll be home soon okay? So no crying.” He shrugged and the screen faded to black and I was left alone with GD’s glare burning into me.

-