#augustbutwinter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raplinesmoon · 1 year ago

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Thank you so much August! I can't wait for you to read 💜💜💜

원샷! (One-shot!) - MYG x F!Reader

pairing: Doctor!Yoongi x Doctor!Reader genre(s): crack, fluff, brief smut au(s): medical AU, idiots-to-lovers (not quite yet) word count: 3.1k warnings: cynical Yoongi, hospital talk, mentions artificial insemination and pregnancy, Yoongi has no filter, 20,000 different ways to say sperm, unhinged behaviour from OC and Yoongi, probably HIPAA non-compliance, intoxication, marijuana use, an almost-kiss (they're idiots (affectionate)), mentions divorce (OC's parents), bi-panic from Yoongi, implied masturbation (m) rating: 18+

summary: Yoongi's friendship with you is the one bright spot in his life. So when you tell him you're ready to have a baby, he thinks this will finally be his shot to take your friendship to the next level. Cue a few shots of soju, and one insemination party, and Yoongi suddenly has a huge problem on his hands.

a/n: Old rom-coms (aka pre-2012) are the best. I was rewatching The Switch the other day and felt a burst of inspo to write this cute little au! This will probably be a oneshot for now, but never say never! I hope you enjoy!

In his somewhat short career of practicing medicine, Yoongi had become an expert people-watcher, you could say. For instance, he’d been privy to the same morning commute as hundreds of other strangers in the city for the past five or so years. In fact, he was so used to seeing their faces that they didn’t seem like strangers at all. There was the old man who rode in the same car he did, always clutching what seemed to be a bouquet of flowers or a baked good. Maybe it was for his wife. Or his mistress.

Yoongi puckers his lips sourly at the unsavory thought, shuddering at how cynical he’d become. Instead, he turns his attention to the girl sitting in the corner. She had to be in middle school, he thought. Only middle school could put that despondent look on the face of someone that young. Maybe she’d been jilted by a crush. Or more likely, she’d gotten a B on her math test and was about to walk into a lecture from her parents the moment she came home from school today. Yoongi knew the feeling all too well.

You see, it was Yoongi's job to be in the business of people. Being a doctor meant that he dealt with people all day long. They flitted in and out of his life like the flies that buzzed past his ears every time he entered the subway. And he always surprised himself with how much he could learn about them in a single meeting, or before they even walked into the room.

Which is why nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him when he walked into the hospital cafeteria that more. Sweat streamed down his back in rivulets from the summer heat, drenching his scrubs. And yet, he still insisted on grabbing a piping cup of black coffee from the drinks counter.

“It keeps me awake for longer,” he grumbled when the man at the checkout counter shot him a quizzical look.

His eyes scan the crowded array of chairs and tables outside the café, looking for the one person who could perk up the start to another grueling work day, even more than his cup of coffee was capable of.

You wave to him enthusiastically from the crowd, bouncing up and down like a child waiting for a lollipop. It was probably from all the kids you hung around with all day. Peds was no joke, and Yoongi admired your ability to keep a bright, starry-eyed attitude when his own stomach turned at the thought of sick children.

“Please don’t tell me you saw another man with flowers who might be cheating on his wife,” you raise an eyebrow at the scowl on his face as he approaches the table. “Either that or today’s the day you finally regret not getting an iced coffee.”

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs, annoyed yet also mildly amused by your teasing.

“I told you, it–”

“It keeps you awake for longer, I know, I know,” you beam at him.

“It’s actually neither of those things,” he groans. “Today it was the old lady in the elevator who asked me what year of high school I was in.”

“That’s what you get for having a stupidly perfect face,” you quip, waving your fork at him. “You know Seungkwan from Derm would freak if he knew you only washed your face with bar soap?!”

Although you chuckle at your own joke, Yoongi can’t help the way his heart twists at your words, resisting the heat that rises to his cheeks when you compliment his face. But before he can think about it too long, he falters, noticing that your attention is buried deep within your pile of scrambled eggs, and you’re unable to look him in the eyes.

“You know, Seungkwan from Derm would also tell you that frowning causes premature wrinkles, ___,” Yoongi responds, and you lift your head up, eyebrows furrowed in worry. His hand twitches, and he fights the urge to reach out and squeeze your hand to reassure you everything will be alright.

You finally reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper.

“Look at these labs,” you push the paper towards him. “What do they say to you?”

Yoongi stares intently at the paper, trying to piece together this patient’s story, despite you failing to provide any helpful demographic information.

“Iron count, a full blood panel, HcG, any infectious diseases, genetic markers—” Yoongi pauses when he realizes. “You’ve got a pregnant kid on your hands?”

The paper is snatched from his hands before he can finish, your face redder than a tomato.

“No silly, it’s not a kid. I-it’s me. Those are my levels. Do you think they look okay?”

Yoongi can’t prevent his jaw from dropping wide open. He’s sure he must look like an idiot, staring blankly while you blink your eyes, waiting for him to respond.

“You’re having a baby?” he chokes out. The sick, twisty feeling in his stomach has returned, only this time it's a thousand times worse.

“Not yet. But I’m trying,” you admit sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“So what, you want me to have sex with you?” Yoongi blurts out before he can stop himself, and he immediately sees you freeze. Sometimes he really hated that he had no filter when it came to his thoughts. That, combined with the fact that he’d had a crush on you since you nearly knocked him over with your Heelies during his first week of work, and Yoongi had found himself in a sticky situation more often than not.

“No!” you immediately blurt out, growing more flustered when Yoongi frowns. “Not that, I mean–, that’s totally beside the point, completely irrelevant to my clinical question, I, I– I’m using a sperm donor okay!”

For the second time in a matter of minutes, you’ve rendered Yoongi completely speechless.

“Is this about Kihyun?” he finally asks. “Or Doyoung? You know, I know you haven’t had the best track record with relationships in the past, but jumping into having a baby with a random guy is definitely not the solution!”

“It’s not about them!” you sputter, unable to stop your voice from rising. “It’s about me, okay! My choice to be an independent woman, raising a child, who doesn’t need a man to help her at all! I get paid well, I have all the resources I could dream of, a strong support system. My life is in session!”

Yoongi has to bite back at chuckle at you quoting one of the various hospital brochures that decorated every reception desk and spare table.

“So are you gonna help me find some jizz, or not?!” you finish, only to look around and realize nearly a dozen pairs of eyes are on you. Perhaps you’d said that last part a little too loudly.

“I-, I gotta go,” you whisper, slinging your bag over your shoulder and running as fast as you can out of the cafeteria, leaving a wistful Yoongi to ponder over the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to finish your breakfast.

You might have thought that breakfast was the end of your baby-making discussion, but judging by the way Yoongi cornered you immediately during the mid-afternoon patient lull, it seemed he hadn't.

“So you’re looking for, uh, semen,” he says, mortified when the charge nurse on your floor whips her head around to glare at him. He pulls you into an alcove by the windows, immediately realizing what a wrong move that was when he can smell the strawberry shampoo you’d used this morning, or count each one of your long eyelashes.

“What’s wrong with mine?” he asks innocently, before realizing he’d messed up yet again. The uncomfortable look on your face tells him as much.

“Listen, Yoongi, I’m sure you have great sperm, killer sperm even. Not in a murder-y way, you know, but like in a Darwinian kinda way. But we’re best friends, wouldn’t that be weird?”

“We don’t have to have sex, you know. I could just nut in a cup and hand it to you. I mean we’ve literally cleaned vomit off each other, how weird could this be?”

A strangled giggle erupts from your throat, and you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Yoongi knows you well enough to know your untapped anxiety is preventing you from saying what you really want.

“Okay, spit it out ___.”

“Well, no offense, Yoongi, but you’re kind of neurotic. And not to mention a little pessimistic, maybe even nihilistic…”

“Damn, ___. You could have just said you didn’t want my swimmers. No need to hit a man where it hurts.”

You smile, fondly recalling the time you two played for the hospital basketball team, only for Yoongi to suspend you when your pass had gone awry and smacked him straight in the balls.

“Oh please, you recovered just fine. And we still won the championship that year against the nurses.”

The smile Yoongi forces out of him is no match for the way his heart is breaking underneath. But he looks at you, eyes sparkling and so excited about the prospect of having a baby, and immediately sets his own feelings aside. He could do this. He was your best friend, and as your best friend, your happiness was his number one priority.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” you crush him in a too-tight hug, his arms wrapping around you stiffly, before melting into it. Normally he would have pushed anyone else off by now, but you’d always been his exception to every rule he’d ever set for himself.

“So, what do you think about Hoseok from Finance?”

Yoongi freezes at the mention of the happy-go-lucky man with the heart-shaped smile and how he could immediately charm the pants off of anyone within his vicinity.

“Absolutely not,” he grumbles, walking away.

“Oh come on, why not? He has great fashion sense, can pull off any hair color, the nurses say he can dance well… Yoongi, YOONGI!”

After a tumultuous few months, which involved a rather precarious incident in which Yoongi had nearly gotten fired after he locked Taehyung, a cardiology fellow, in the bathroom after he’d gotten a bit too handsy with you at a party, Yoongi opens his apartment door one Saturday morning to find a comically large pink envelope on the outside.

The dozens of sperm-shaped balloons that fall out of the card have him jolting in surprise, and he looks up to find his across-the-hall neighbours, a mom and her daughter, staring at him dumbfoundedly, before swiftly slamming their door shut in his face.

I’m Getting Pregnant… And You’re Invited, the garish pink letters on the invitation read, and Yoongi wants to tell the stupid card to go shove all the sperm-shaped balloons up its ass when he realizes in horror that you’d finally decided on someone. Without him.

Standing in the hallway with the huge mess around him, Yoongi wonders how despite changing people’s lives every day, he’d always managed to fall behind when it came to his own.

. . .

The obnoxious EDM bumping in your apartment is enough to make Yoongi’s ears bleed. Tugging at his hoodie, his eyes scan the crowd of people, recognizing more than a few people from the hospital. Frowning, he tries to run each one of them through his mind, wondering if you’d gone with Hoseok from Finance after all.

“Dr. Min!” Yoongi nearly chokes on his drink when Jimin from HR comes up to him, landing him a good-natured slap on the back! “You made it!”

“What the hell are you doing here, Jimin?” Yoongi deadpans. “Shouldn’t you like, be reporting this shit? I thought all this was supposed to be protected under HIPAA!”

“We’re all HIPAA-compliant here, Yoongi, except you,” Jimin chortles, before smirking at him. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re the only one in your department who hasn’t submitted their training modules yet.”

“I-, I’ve been busy! You know, actually taking care of patients and stuff.” Yoongi knows Jimin is joking, but somehow still feels the need to defend himself.

“I’m sensing some negative energy from you, Yoongi,” Jimin drawls, and Yoongi is sure he has to be drunk, waving what looks like a turkey baster in his face. “This is ___’s moment! We should all be happy for her!”

“Oh I’m sooo happy,” Yoongi grumbles, disappearing into the crowd to look for you.

“Dr. Min!” another voice calls out to him. “Wanna take a hit?”

Yoongi turns to see Jungkook, one of the medical students rotating in his unit, offering him a lit joint.

“Put that damn thing away, Jeon!” Yoongi scolds him, before backtracking. “On second thought, gimme that.”

All Jungkook can do is blink in surprise when Yoongi takes a drag of the joint, immediately feeling his irate energy subside just a tiny bit. Still, he was antsy. Where were you?

Yoongi takes another few hits, downs a few shots of soju and he’s overcome with the munchies. Reaching for the hummus and pita chips, he groans when the dip plops down, staining his pristine white hoodie.

“Here, let me help you with that,” another disembodied voice calls out to him. Yoongi looks up at the sound, and is imemdiatley taken aback.

Yoongi’s sure he’d never seen this dude at the hospital before. He was like, freakishly pretty. Tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders, and pink lips. He blinks, trying not to panic at the attractive man swiping the stain off his shirt.

“Yoongi!” you appear out of nowhere, wrapping him in another crushing hug. “I see you’ve met Seokjin.”

“I’m the donor,” the man called Seokjin reaches a hand out for him to shake, offering a blinding smile.

Fuck. Of course this stupidly attractive man was your sperm donor. Of course you’d want to have his baby. He was literally perfect. You probably had a crush on him. Hell, Yoongi kind of had a crush on him.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you drunkenly lean on Yoongi for support. “You two have fun talking though!”

“___’s great,” Seokjin grins. “Super nice. Pretty hot too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “I mean no offense, a guy like you, you could probably have anyone.”

“Ahh yeah,” Seokjin ruffles his hair, and Yoongi grits his teeth at how he still manages to look perfect doing that. “Money’s right these days. A PhD in astrophysics at Harvard doesn’t exactly come cheap.”

Before Yoongi can make another smart comment, Seokjin is whisked away by Jimin and Hoseok from finance, the men slapping him on the back, hollering that it’s time to do the deed. He sees you disappear into your own room nervously, and can’t help himself from following you.

“Everything okay, ___?”

“NO!” you’re nearly bouncing off the walls. And there’s no kids to entertain in sight. “I’m freaking out!”

Yoongi’s next to you in seconds, taking you in his arms and letting your head lean against his shoulder. He’d discovered how much it calmed you down after one drunken night out where you’d basically recalled your childhood trauma from your parents’ divorce.

“Do you think I’m crazy, Yoongi? I want this so bad, but maybe this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“I think you want a family, ___. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’ll be here every step of the way. Uncle Yoongi to the rescue.”

You giggle at his words, a dazed look in his eyes.

“You do act like a total dad.”

There’s a brief pause, silence falling in between you two. Your eyes peer into Yoongi’s and for a moment, he could swear you lean in, the shiny pink gloss on your lips sparkling in the dim light—-

Only to be interrupted by Jungkook bursting into the room, grabbing your hand and telling you its finally time.

One shot, Yoongi had promised himself. Only now he’s ten shots of soju deep and hiding in the fucking bathroom while the party rages on outside. The colors on the wall blend into each other, and Yoongi’s head throbs trying to figure out what he’s looking at. He smiles to himself when he sees its your meticulous pregnancy planning chart, filled with labs and calendars and lists of medications.

Lifting himself up off the floor, he stumbles, bracing himself against the toilet. He was about to hurl. In his stupor he hears something clatter, off to the side.

“Is someone in there?” the nervous voice of Kim Namjoon, one of the hospital’s talented surgeons, calls out from the other end. “I have to pee!”

Namjoon’s voice breaks Yoongi out of his daze, and he looks at the object lying on the floor.

Cum. A whole bucket’s worth of it, it looked like. The creamy white substance now lies swirling in your toilet bowl, and he feels his heart drop to his ass when he realizes it’s Seokjin’s. Oh fuck! It was Seokjin’s sample. Aka the sample you were supposed to shoot up in mere moments, to have the baby you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Yoongi tugs at his hair, wanting to scream at himself for ruining your plans, all because of his own stupidity. You’d be so mad at him. You’d probably yell at him in front of the entire hospital, hands on your hips, and your face would go all red.

He’s horrified when his dick twitches to life at the image of you cursing him out. How was it his fault that you were so hot and he was idiotically attracted to you?

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Yoongi looks down again, caught in a face-off with Min. Jr. This was a very big problem with a very simple solution.

The pounding in his head continues as Yoongi drops his pants, getting right to work.

. . .

Thankfully, Yoongi doesn’t remember much about the night of your party. He thinks it’s a blessing, at least until you pounce on him in the hospital cafeteria a couple of weeks later.

Something about you is different, he thinks. You’d always been pretty but now you’re stunning, practically glowing from the inside out. He wonders if it has anything to do with stupidly handsome Seokjin when you tap him on the shoulder.

“It worked!” you blurt out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant!”

Suddenly, it all comes back to Yoongi. His jealousy over Seokjin, the two of you nearly kissing in your room, the cup spilling into the toilet, the way Yoongi came with your name on his lips. Shit.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#feedback that makes me cry #augustbutwinter

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hannarchive · 10 months ago

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✨ HANNArchive BTS Fic Recs ✨

A little collection of my favorite fics I’ve read over the past year. Please go support the writers. ❣

✰ Clingy by @bonny-kookoo (Series, ongoing) WolfHybrid!JK x OtterHybrid!Reader. Smut, angst, fluff? Strangers to ??

✰ A Sea of Indigo by foxymoxy(Ao3) / @foxymoxynoona (Series, 48 chapters, 240k words) PitbullHybrid!JK x HumanNurse!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

⋆ also check out this drabble(tumblr) (3k) and the sequel A Beautiful Beyond (AO3 / tumblr) (14.3k)

✰ Pi Gasu by @jungk0oksthighs (Series, ongoing) Vampire!JK x Donor!Reader. Angst, smut, romance. ⋆ Obsessed with this!! I’m down bad for this jungkook fr. Haven’t been this into a vampire fic in forever. (Not sure it’ll get finished tho, as the author don’t seem to be active anymore. I still enjoyed it tho)

✰ Long Way Home by @sparklingchim (Series, 49.5k (+ drabbles) ) Single Dad!JK x Best Friend!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Alpha Jeon by @pbandjk (Series, 87k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Luna!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Warlock!Tae x Witch!Reader. Enemies to lovers. Angst, smut, fluff.

✰ Evocation by @bonny-kookoo (Series) Dragon!JK x Dragon!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Fragile by @augustbutwinter (drabble, 681 words) Jimin x Reader, established relationship. Hurt/comfort.

✰ Of Bears and Bonds by @yoonia (One shot, 19k words) Bear!Jin x Witch!Reader. Angst, fluff, smut.

✰ Someone to Love by @lubdubsworld (One shot, 6k) Werewolf AU, Alpha!JK x Omega!OC. Angst, fluff, mild smut.

✰ Blackjack by @kpopfanfictrash (Series) Mafia AU, JK x Reader. Angst, smut, fluff.

#fic recs #HA fic recs #bts fic recs #bts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic rec list #hybrid bts #vampire bts #bts x reader #single parent #single dad!kook #best friend!reader #f2l

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thatlongspringnight · 1 year ago

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A Moment of Jealousy

Pairing: Jung Hoseok/female reader

Rating: M for mature

Genre: Historical au, Regency era

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, dirty talk, foul language, a ring goes in a place rings shouldn't go, outdoor sex, jealousy

Summary:

Seeing another woman even dare to touch him sets you ablaze, but luckily, Hoseok is always there to quench that fire.

Word Count: 1667

Tagging: @xjoonchildx @hobi-gif @miscelunaaa @vintageroses10 @wwilloww @vyduan @minisugakoobies @augustbutwinter @sahmfanficbts @hamsterclaw @starlostjimin

“You’re a lout!” It's almost shrill…actually, no, it is shrill - tearing from your lips as you walk down the hall, clutching tightly at the skirt of your riding habit as your feet carry you into the garden.

You’re making a scene, happily dragging the servants into this, even happier to drag your husband’s *noble* friends into it as well. “You’re a rake, I should have never let you have me!” and then he’s behind you, not even bothering to respond to you in kind - his cold fury only serving to make you boil, a teapot hissing in simmering rage.

He must think he’s better than you - he does think it, you know it, and that’s why Hoseok has always driven you mad.

Mad with fury, mad with lust.

Now you’re just mad -

“Nothing but a rake.”It's more of a grumble, and only for your own ears this time, as the stableman - expecting the both of you for an afternoon ride, seems surprised to see only you.

Yes of course, no doubt Hoseok had stayed behind, more inclined to calm his surprised sycophants than come after you, even if that is all you want.

All you want is for him to choose you, for his eyes to find your own…and only your own. Is that so much to ask? That the man who married you covet you and you alone?

“Ah - my lady where is - “ “My lord husband can surely ride his horse on his own time.” You snap. “Or perhaps his whores, I care not either way.” and then you are hoisting yourself up, cursing the side-saddle that would have been lovely on a leisurely stroll, gripping at the pommel with your thighs for some semblance of balance and control.

The comment is cruel, and truly, likely false. Hoseok - even if his eyes had shined today - at that simpering little fool who had the audacity to bat her eyes at him, to giggle, to place her hand on his arm -

“My lady, I really insist - “ “Truly, you can insist your way to the seventh hell, Taehyung.” And your horse, handsome gelding he is, is quick to respond to your cue to go, and then go faster at your insistence.

God in heaven, how you loathe the feelings swirling in your chest, the feeling of inadequacy that builds in your chest at the idea he’d dare to glance at someone else. How his eyes could ever darken in a way you recognize from when they fall onto you.

Fucker - Heartless bastard. The fast trot of your horse sets your fiery blood nearly to ash. How dare he -

The more you ride, the angrier you get, your heart set on the one place that can give you peace, that damned grove where he had first asked you.

“Dammit!” and there is a call in the air, just loud enough you can hear it, and it drives you forward. “If you don’t - !” You can’t hear the rest but you can imagine it - Hoseok - on his horse…yelling into the wind.

Yelling for you -

You stall your gelding, quick to murmur a soft stay as you toss his reins over a tree branch, letting your feet carry you.

Just because you want him to catch you doesn’t mean you have to make it easy. And…you do want him to catch you, of course, feeling giddy as you dash into the woods, uncaring of the way the tree branches catch you, or the way your too-fussy hairstyle begins to unravel.

All you care about is the heat under your skin, the burning excitement as you hear his curses, as he calls for you, the feeling of anger so akin to the feeling of longing you aren’t even sure what dominates you -

“Got you - !” and his arm shoots out, around your waist before you can even protest, and protest you do, a squeal on your lips as he all but shoves you into the trunk of a tree. “Don’t you dare even move.” And when you meet his eyes, they’re burning, as searing as his grip on your wrists, holding you more than still.

“Surprised you even noticed I left.” You answer, feeling the heat of his breath, watching the way his chest rises and falls as he pants from exertion. “You seemed content enough just to be petted and praised -” “My God woman, your jealousy will end us both.” Hoseok grits through his teeth, shifting a hand to your neck, then gripping at your bun, more than eager to tear it down, sending your hair cascading.

Well - as best it can with his grip on it, wound ‘round his palm, as he tugs roughly enough that you whine, head tilting up. “You made me look like a fool.” “You are a fool.” You answer, hoping to goad him into more, and you can see the way his eyes narrow, how his jaw tightens. Now, the anger has shifted, boiling turned to simmer, the heat warming you till you want to melt under his grip, sting turned to honey. “And a dandy.”

“And you are a parrot, all screech and no teeth.” He counters, and God does he paint a portrait - his grip so firm, his black riding coat cut to fit his form like a fine glove.

Everything about him screams power, the sinews of his lean form as obvious as the way he’s looking at you. Fond and furious. “You made a scene, you shamed us both.” And his face is close now, so close your noses almost touch as he presses you harder against the tree trunk. “People talk.” “Let them talk about how mad I am, then perhaps they’ll stop sending their daughters to pine over you, Hoseok.” You’re prim enough that he laughs, a darkened chuckle.

That laugh, so airy when in the company he liked to keep, is even better now, dripping from his lips like a threat. It's so rare that he shows himself as he truly is. Not the sun in the sky, but a raging forest fire - the type of brightness that could swallow you whole, incinerate your very being.

“That is what you want?” And it's the drop of his head against your skin, the graze of his teeth against your jaw. “You want me to show you your place? At the head of the line of pining women, first to throw yourself at me?” “I am your wife - “ but it's cut off, his mouth hot against yours, silencing you, finally.

“My wife, my ill behaved creature.” He hums. “My jealous, jealous girl.” and he is hiking up your skirts. “Where is your place? If not on my cock.” And that is enough, your hands meeting his as you snatch your skirts higher, legs already parting at his hand sliding up your thighs, meeting your cunt with those damned fingers of his.

HIs fingers slide into you like a sword to a sheath, and you gasp. There is a coldness, a fullness towards the end as you realize he is still wearing his signet ring. If you still your muddled thoughts, and your aching body, you imagine you can almost feel the outline of the crest emblazoned on it.

The ancient crane motif of his family, now your own.

“I won’t have to do much work.” He is sly, his tone almost teasing in its dryness. “You’re more than ready.” “Then don’t put in the work - spear me already.” You answer, far too heated to even care for his fingers inside of you- delicious though they are .

“You’re no better than a courtesan.” He answers, but his breeches are undone before you can even fathom it.

His cock, glistening, the darkened skin drawing a shudder of ache around the fingers he still has buried inside of you.

“Fuck.” He curses, and now you’re empty, his hand slick with you as he pulls your leg up, as he sinks into you.

No more pretense. Finally. “Fuck, you feel -” And he grunts, tilting your body till your feet are struggling to maintain their footing, till he’s the only thing keeping you up, the bark digging into your back every time he thrusts into you.

“Y-You’re going to rip my dress.” You are clutching at him, your fingers digging into the fine material of his riding jacket. “You - I will have to walk back half naked.” “Good - that is what you deserve for the scene you made, walking back half naked.” He means it too, and there is a piece of you that wishes he’d make due on that promise, and tear your dress down the seam.

Make it clear to everyone what he had done- how he had gladly taken you. How he’s fucking you, right now, each thrust of his strong hips making you whine and whimper.

You love it when he fucks you like this, when he is rough, like the tree behind you, making you beg for him, and beg for more. “Don’t you think they can hear you back at the manor?” He asks. “Don’t you feel even an ounce of shame for how loud you are?”

“None.” and you truly ARE shameless in how you call out for him, his name echoing loud enough to frighten even the birds into calling. “You did not marry me for my shame, husband.” And that seems to break the solid sort of scolding he’s been giving you, a sly grin breaking through as his mouth finds yours, almost like he’s trying to stop you from noticing it at all.

But you let him distract you, let him have you till you’re quaking, trembling in the aftermath of your want for him, till he’s filled you to bursting, a satisfied sound on his lips, satiated with you, with how you took him.

“Perhaps.” and it's said with no small measure of pleasure. “I should take you in the parlor next, in front of those women you despise so much, hm?”

#jung hoseok #hoseok fic #hobi fic #hobi x reader #historical fiction #historical au #regency fic #bts fic #bangtan seonyandan

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

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Fic Library: Namjoon

A list of incredible fics I've read and re-blogged on my (almost) 2 years on here. These stories all celebrate our fave big, brainy, clumsy, sometimes annoying, always sexy Joon, check them out and give these authors some love!

The Body Through Time by @yeoldontknow. KNJ x f! reader, sexy academia AU. Angsty fic with Namjoon as a smouldering brainiac.

Goodnight Nabi by @sahmfanficbts. Get used to seeing Sam's handle in my lists because she's one of my fave writers and a lovely person to boot. KNJ x f! reader, sexy DILF mechanic Namjoon. A sexy, beautiful fic with Sam's signature hope and heart.

Pronoia by @junghelioseok. KNJ x reader, college + zombie apocalypse AU. A cracky, funny, zingy story with guest appearances from other members - including JK and Yoongi.

Booty Jorts by @miscelunaaa, who also has a good showing in my fic recs for her top notch writing and just being a great human. KNJ x f! reader - this is a smuttily delicious gem.

Shell-ter by @miscelunaaa. Hermit crab! Namjoon x marine biologist reader. I genuinely think about this grumpy (crabby?!) Namjoon all the time.

Scent of a woman by @sahmfanficbts. Leopard hybrid parfumerie boss! Namjoon x employee f! reader. There's always so much humanity in Sam's stories, and this does not disappoint.

How I love you by @ahundredtimesover. KNJ x f! reader. A 28k beautiful musing on love and marriage that's thought-provoking and sensitively written.

Seoul Redemption by @sahmfanficbts. Forger! KNJ x single mom! reader. A gorgeously realised imagining with a noir vibe and very human characters.

Park and Ride (Explicit) by @here2bbtstrash. KNJ x reader, idolverse. The first story I read by M, and it made me want to read so much more of her work. Sexy, fast-paced, and this Namjoon is swoonworthy.

Holding on letting go by @augustbutwinter. KNJ x gn! reader. August is queen of the short impactful drabble but her longer pieces are just as incredible. A sad, angsty, truthful, beautifully realised gem.

Cuffing Szn by @miscelunaaa. FBI agent KNJ x soft-bodied/plus-sized reader. Joon's an FBI agent, he's big and sexy, do you really need to know any more?

Reckless by @vyduan. Part of the Her multiverse. KNJ x reader, also featuring JJK x reader, idolverse. I started reading vyduan's writing when I first got into BTS fanfic, and apart from being a fucking fantastic writer, she's also an all-round good egg with a razor sharp wit. Reckless is hot and sexy and reader is gritty, strong and kickass. Namjoon is the arrogant pompous asshole of my dreams in this.

Fall apart & redefine by @ugh-yoongi. Idol KNJ x f! reader. Namjoon's music and musings give off sadboi vibes to me, and this gorgeous, angsty story captures all of that. Stunning.

On the line 1 by @augustbutwinter. KNJ x reader. I was only speaking the truth when I said August writes drabbles like no other. Short, cute and impactful.

Hey, it's me by @yoongiphoria. Exes Namjoon x reader. I remember reading this for the first time around the time Indigo came out and thinking how perfectly it captured the vibe of the album. I still love it now.

Untitled by @ahundredtimesover. An idolverse AU ft KNJ and f! reader. Musings on loss and impermanence and legacies also inspired by Indigo.

If this is all we can do by @yoongiphoria. A follow up to Hey, it's me, linked above, that made me stop skim reading and pay attention. Angsty, full of longing and just a great read.

The package thief by @blog-name-idk. KNJ x f! reader, enemies to lovers. I'm a fan of Mango's cracky humour, and it comes through in this judgy, petty and somehow also endearing Namjoon.

Shut up! by @daechwitatamic. KNJ x gn reader. I love it when a story alludes to Namjoon being annoying and I especially like how reader shuts him up. Smutty, sexy and so so good.

Envy by @whatifyoulivelikethat. KNJ x f! reader. Love this author's general DGAF vibes, and they've also written some of my favourite stories. Namjoon's gorgeously written and darkly sexy in this. So so hot.

The one with Namjoon and the u-haul by @eoieopda. KNJ x Jeon! reader. Jade's writing is sharply hilarious and this is a perfect example. A dreamy, sexy Namjoon and a lil shit JK.

Pheromones by @rmnamjoons. Spaceship captain Joon x spaceship botanist reader, sci-fi AU. The fic that introduced me to the concept of sex pollen and a sexy, sex-crazed yet somehow still chivalrous Namjoon.

Promise Me KNJ x f! reader, JJK x f! reader, military AU, by @sahmfanficbts. A beautifully written, tender love story that made me cry and reflect on my life. Sam writes emotions like no one else.

Additional notes: A few of my favourite Namjoon stories, are only on AO3, for which I've created a separate post.

#fic rec: namjoon #these authors are amazing

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years ago

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I do love his love for cats very much lolol. Thank you so much for your kind words 💕

jealousy, jealousy || Lee Know x Reader

Summary: "Sure, Minho missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes."

Or: You're working with a different partner for a group assignment, and Minho's totally chill about it.

Word count: 4.9k

Genres: college AU, coffee shop AU, strangers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, kissing, minor language, tooth-rotting fluff, seriously this is so fluffy, reader is implied to have social anxiety, Thunderstorm

series masterlist

A/N: This is the second story I've written where Lee Know's a barista and cats are involved. It probably says something deep about me, but what? I hope you'll enjoy the fic, please consider letting me know your thoughts and reblogging the fic if you do~

Minho doesn't know exactly when he noticed you, or when you started appearing in his life. It’s kind of annoying actually, because he knows he noticed you because he kept seeing you around, but he has no way of pinpointing it. What he does know is that you started showing up at the coffee shop where he worked, twice every week. That wasn’t that big a deal, you were far from being the only one the only one, but it was a shop that was pretty out of the way, near an old building that was only used for a few classes, as far as he knew, so it wasn’t that frequented.

In fact, you could almost say that the people who bothered to come here were the weirdos who wanted to avoid the other permanently full coffee shops on campus. Which was fine by Minho, who wasn’t paid enough to deal with that sort of crowd.

Anyway, at some point, Minho’s brain had to have put together he was seeing you around quite a bit, and finally he managed to figure out that it was because you were in one of the classes he was rudely forced to take outside of his major. In his defense, it took him so long because he didn’t really like people, as a rule, and he paid as little attention to them as possible. His friends were enough of a hassle to deal with already.

It makes it all the more frustrating that he can’t tell what it was about you that caught his attention. It has to have been something. Once he starts trying to understand it, more things come to light. Like the fact that your lips move but your voice doesn’t come out when you thank him for giving you your order, or the sigh of relief you always seem to heave out when you let yourself fall at your favorite table, the one in the corner, where you sit with your back to the window.

Actually, from what he can see, you appear to do your best to stay out of people’s way. It’s a multitude of little things, from how you always sit in the middle of rows in the amphitheater and wait until everyone’s cleared out to leave, to how you keep close to the walls in the hallways, eyes usually on the floor, to how, on the couple of occasions when your voice can be heard in class, it’s only after the professor’s been waiting for an answer for an increasingly embarrassing amount of time.

The first time it happens — the first time Minho notices it happening, anyway — he has to make you repeat yourself louder, and it seems almost painful for you to raise your voice.

Then there’s that time when someone accidentally backs into you and the books and papers you’re carrying spill onto the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” they say, and you reply immediately, like it’s a reflex, “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it”, but afterwards, as you kneel next to the papers, you let out a defeated sigh, just staring at the mess for a few seconds. And that’s when Minho can’t stay in place anymore.

“Oh, thanks, you don’t have to do that,” you say, again, with that cadence that makes him feel like these are sentences that pour out of you without you getting much of say, so deeply ingrained in you that you can’t control them.

Then you glance up at him, and your eyes widen, little mouse caught in the cat’s gaze. He feels his lips curving into a grin. You recognize him, and you’re being very obvious about it too.

Cute.

“Thank you,” you repeat, taking your stuff from his hands and dipping your head to stop looking at him once you get control of yourself again.

“Vanilla latte, right?” he asks, and he probably shouldn’t be this amused by the way your head snaps back up and you freeze, but it’s— It’s kind of adorable. Though you’re obviously trying to reign yourself in, there is something so sincere about it that he can’t help but be enticed by it.

“Um,” you say. “Yes.” And then you visibly search for something to say next, rolling your lips together as if they’ll figure something out of a list of socially acceptable answers. As fun as this is, Minho decides to put you out of your misery.

For now anyway.

“I’ll give you a discount on the next one,” he says, and then he’s gone before you can start saying “You don’t have to do that”.

He actually slides the next one to you over the counter and tells you that it’s ‘on the house’. You hesitate for a few seconds, and he thinks you’re going to refuse, before you bow your head politely and thank him for it. You don’t quite look up at him after that, but a bright smile has spread on your lips.

Cute, he thinks, again, and then he doesn't think of it much at all. A part of his brain was intrigued by the novelty that you represented, and that part has been satiated now.

At least, that’s what he assumes.

You get his attention again a few weeks later. It’s fairly early in the morning and, as Minho does whenever he gets a chance, he’s behind the half abandoned building near the café, setting up some food for the cats that have taken residence here. It’s something he’s not really allowed to do, but also he’s never asked permission, so no one's told him that yet, which means that he’s not not allowed to do it either.

Still, when he hears footsteps approaching as he’s surrounded by a chorus of meows, there’s a part of him that considers making a run for it.

But then he’d have to run.

Which he doesn’t like doing.

You appear at the corner of the building before he’s made his decision. When your eyes meet, he half expects you to turn around and pretend you haven’t seen him. He’s pretty sure you’ve done that after a class, recently. You swallow, but you keep walking towards him, kneeling by his side and petting the cats as the braver ones rub themselves against your legs.

Whoever said that the surest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach clearly wasn’t obsessed with cats, because liking cats is maybe the most important requirement for Minho.

“Hi,” you say, at a surprisingly normal volume, and then, cadence a little too fast, “I have some cat food.”

Is it weird that he finds that attractive? It’s probably weird.

“Have you been stalking me?” he says more than he asks, vaguely aware of the fact that there’s something ironic about him saying those words.

Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head.

“No! I— have classes in there,” you point at the building, “and I’ve— seen you come around here. We’ve been told we couldn’t feed the cats,” you add with a slight pout. “We still do it when we can get away with it, but it's good that someone is also taking care of them.”

And you break the law for the sake of cats. Isn’t this amazing.

“I can help you buy food,” you say. “If you’d like.”

He doesn't reply right away, and when the silence stretches a second too long, you start speaking again, faster and your voice lower now.

“Or not, you know, I don’t want to impose anything, I mean, I didn’t want to intrude—”

On the one hand, that seems more like you, based on the glimpses of you he’s been getting, and on the other, he’s not sure how to shut that down. The truth is, he can barely fit the expenses in his budget. He literally can't afford to refuse your help — but he doesn't think he’d do it if he could.

“You can help,” he says, interrupting you in the middle of a sentence where you’re basically apologizing for existing, and that seems to knock the breath out of you.

“Oh,” you say, “that’s good.”

He wonders if you walk into interactions with a prepared set of sentences and panic when anyone goes off script. That sounds kind of exhausting.

“I’ll bill you,” he adds, and the feeling he gets when you let out a light laugh is one he can’t quite explain. There’s a sense of pride in it, but also some much deeper satisfaction at the feeling of having gotten you to let that guard slip, even for just a few seconds.

“I have to go to class,” you say, getting up while you rummage through your tote bag to hand him a package of dry food. “But I’ll, uh, see you around?”

There’s an expectancy to your tone, a hope even. He wonders if you’re aware of it. Either way, that sincerity, which he’d noticed before, remains pleasantly refreshing.

“Sure,” he says.

The next time you show up at the coffee shop, Friday a few minutes after six, like always, he has your vanilla latte ready.

After that, Minho finds it fascinating to see how differently you react to him, depending on the situation. Every now and then, you meet him behind the building, usually early in the morning, before there are too many people around. They would probably recognize you, and then you’d get in trouble, you explain. Your voice is lighter then, your body more relaxed. You manage to chat with him, to make small talk.

‘Manage’ really is the word for it, because your behavior is worlds apart when he sees you in class. It’s clear by now that this just isn’t your element, so you stick to your script, and Minho just isn’t a part of it. He doesn’t take it too personally, considering that no one else seems to be either.

It’s obvious to him that you get there with the objective of being in and out of the building as efficiently as possible, and with as little interaction with others as you can get away with. He does approach you still on a couple of occasions, one of them being when the classes before yours ran late and everyone was waiting in the hallway. You're focused on your phone then, and you jump when he says your name.

“How are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the wall next to you.

“Oh,” you say, which he thinks is just your filler word to give yourself time to figure out what to say next. “Um. Good. How are you?”

“Good.”

Someone else would bristle at the awkwardness of the exchange, but Minho is mostly amused by it. After a few seconds of very visibly searching for something to say, you come up with “…and how are the cats?”, though your tone is hesitant, unsure.

“They’re good too,” he grins. “Went to visit them this morning. Also, I might have found an association that could them spayed.” He certainly can’t afford to pay for it.

“That’s great,” you say.

This time, he’s the one who takes it upon himself to save the conversation, casually pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Wanna see my cats?”

You light up at the question, and Minho feels the same sort of pride he does when Dori jumps into his lap to ask for pets — instead of ungratefully evading him like the little shit he is.

It doesn’t last long, the class before yours ends soon, and after that you get back to your ‘just getting in and out’ state. It’s almost physical when it happens. The smile disappears from your lips as you press them together, you straighten your back, but the most impressive change is the way your eyebrows tighten, a small line forming between them. Minho almost wants to reach out to wipe it from your forehead, but he doesn’t. Baby steps, that’s what you need, not him invading your personal space by that much.

He doesn’t ask himself, even for a second, why he’s willing to go through that much trouble to get closer to you. He just goes with the flow, as he always has, and that works fine for him.

He doesn’t sit next to you in class, thinks it would only stress you out more, make you too aware of his presence and of how you react to it. Instead, he takes a spot right in front of you, where he can’t see you but can easily check on you if he wants to — which he does. He refrains from doing it too much though, because on more than one occasion, he caught you looking at him, and you averted your eyes quickly, acting a little too invested in your note taking.

He still thinks it’s cute, but he doesn’t want to make you go in hiding, so he holds himself back.

Which comes back to bite him in the ass, rudely, when the teacher announces that he wants people to work in pair for an assignment.

He turns around to ask you to work with him, and sees, right in front of his eyes, as the guy sitting next to you asks you the same thing in a casual manner. You reply too fast, one of your knee-jerk answers, he can tell, but it’s still done before he even got the time to open his mouth. He also knows, instinctively, that you’ll feel embarrassed if he asks you now, so he doesn’t, turning to his own neighbor while holding back the strange urge to hiss at the guy.

…maybe he spends too much time with cats, actually.

Minho’s fine with the situation. He is. He still gets to be around you some mornings, and you now look him in the eye when you place your order at the coffee shop. You also don’t recoil as much as you used to when he leans over the counter, ostensibly to flirt with you — though he’s like, 98% sure you haven’t realized that’s what he’s doing. He’s making progress in getting you to feel more comfortable around him.

Sure, he missed an opportunity to spend more time around you in a relaxed setting, but is he upset about it? Does he get annoyed when he hears you talk with the guy behind him? Does hearing you chuckle at the guy’s stupid jokes, probably just to be polite, ‘cause he’s not that funny, make him want to claw the dude’s eyes out?

Well. Yes.

He’s been moody about it for days, to the point that Jisung pouted at him, asking him “what was wrong with him these days”, and Changbin looked him dead in the eyes to ask him if he needed help to get a girl, because he clearly needed to get laid.

A conversation he got out of by replying “do you want to die”, which is a card he’s maybe been playing a little too much these days.

He’s been in a good mood today, though. He’d seen you in the morning, and you’d helped him try to make a small shelter for the cats, because it had been announced that there would be heavy rain over the whole week-end. It had been a fun time, and maybe he’d used the opportunity to get closer to you than usual, enjoying how flustered it made you. Just brushing against you as he grabbed some planks you’d sneaked out of the building, totally accidentally touching your hand when you handed him something, that kind of things.

He had somewhat ruined the effect by accidentally dropping a plank on his foot, but that had made you laugh, so, it was— No, it still wasn’t worth it, he didn’t enjoy pain, but it made him slightly less annoyed about it.

So, as he waited for you in the coffee shop, as the skies outside darkened and fewer people than usual showed up, he wasn’t in as bad a mood as he’d been lately.

It started to rain at around half past five. He would have loved to run to get you with an umbrella, but he, unfortunately, needed his job. He did get a towel ready to hand to you, in case you didn’t have anything to protect yourself from the rain.

And then you came in.

Under an umbrella.

Which was in the hands of the one guy that was your partner in that one class.

Violent thoughts of murder flash before Minho’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say as you walk to the counter, giving him a bright smile, “this is Jooyeon, he’s in—”

“Class with us,” Minho completes with a smile that’s very much fake, “yes, I recognize him.”

Actually, technically, Jooyeon hasn’t done anything wrong, but it doesn’t help that he’s been looking at you and following you around like a damn puppy. What annoys Minho the most is probably the fact that you seem a lot chiller around him, a lot more natural than you are whenever Minho’s around. That’s— upsetting. He wants to see these sides of you, too, and not just from afar.

One vanilla latte and an americano later, you and Jooyeon sit by the window, in your usual spot, and Minho can’t stop himself from glaring. Jisung, or anyone, really, would call him out on it in a matter of seconds, because he’s not being subtle about it, but there’s no one around right now. The room, which is rarely full, is emptier than usual because most people rushed to get home to try to avoid the downpour.

That means that there is nothing to distract him from the intrusive thoughts that are trying to convince him to just throw something at Jooyeon. Anything would do.

When it starts becoming a little too tempting, and considering that he doubts anyone would brave the rain that’s falling at the moment, as thick as a curtain separating the coffee shop from the outside world, he decides to grab his computer and try to get some work done.

Of course, because some divinity out there must have decided to target him today, he’s just getting started and finding his rhythm when the lights flicker above him. He glances up. In the distance, the thunder rumbles.

There’s a flash outside.

And everything goes dark.

Fuck. His. Life.

With a sigh, he pulls out his phone to turn on his flashlight. At least, in this day and age, most people in the shop have the same idea, and soon enough he can see what’s happening.

“It’s probably just a power cut because of the storm,” he announces loudly, because it’s his responsibility to reassure the clients — if that had been something they’d tested for when he was interviewed, he would never have gotten the job. “Lights might come back on soon.” Or not, how would he know. “No reason to panic.”

He scans the faces of students, though he’s not sure what he’s looking for. Some people look worried, others, no doubt those who know that this happens semi-regularly on campus when there’s a storm, because why would your tuition pay to ensure that you have reliable electricity in here, just seem prepared to wait it out. Someone’s already gone back to tapping on their keyboard, though the sound of it is swallowed by that of the rain.

But then, he does a double-take, just to check on an impression that he had, and that confirms what he thought.

You’re not in the room. Most likely explanation is that you’re in the bathroom, but he has to imagine that it’s a pretty freaky experience, when all the lights turn off without warning and you’re all alone.

So, without thinking much about it, he makes his way in that direction. He’s hesitating in front of the door when it pushes open, and he’s suddenly blinded by cellphone light.

“Sorry!” he hears you apologize before he can make out your face. “I, uh, is the power out?”

“It looks like it,” he answers, and then his tone softens. “Are you okay?”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and he can’t quite discern your expression, because you’ve both lowered your lights. He resists the urge to reach for you, to inspect you to see for himself that everything is fine.

“I’m fine,” you answer. “I just—”

Then there’s the crack of thunder, and you jump, gasping, before closing your eyes in obvious annoyance.

“Fuck,” you say, and he wonders if it’s the first time that he’s ever heard you swear. And if it’s weird that he’s kinda into it.

“You scared of storms?” he asks, trying his best to contain the amusement in his voice.

“No,” you protest, a little defensively. “I don’t like being surprised— Fuck!”

Minho knows he shouldn’t laugh, that making fun of you could ruin the trust he’s been trying to build this past month, but at your annoyance for letting yourself be taken by surprise, and considering your obvious lack of fear, he can’t help it. It comes out higher than his usual pitch, a little airy. You roll your eyes at it, but you don’t seem to miss the humor in the situation, because a smile forms on your lips as well.

At that point, because he isn’t one to let an opportunity slip, he reaches out to take your hand in his. Your palm is soft, if somewhat calloused on the spot under your fingers, and after the first moment of surprise, you squeeze his hand in response.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It should be over soon.” Then a pause. “Or maybe we’ll be stuck here until we have to decide who we’re going to eat.”

You laugh at that, brief and light, and as cliché as it is, Minho thinks that is quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds in the world. Especially when he’s the one making you laugh, and not that jackass Joo— Ah, the kid hasn’t technically done anything, and it feels silly to blame him when you’re here with your hand in his.

So he’ll let it go. For now.

As much as he would like to stay here with you, in the dark, away from everyone else, Minho unfortunately has stuff he needs to take care of right now.

“Wanna go back with the others? I think I have to keep an eye on them.”

“Sure,” you say. You don’t attempt to take your hand from his, and so he pulls you along with him. He’s not going to let go if you won’t.

Things in the café are still quiet, and people don’t pay a lot of attention when the two of you come back, except for Jooyeon, who gets up from his seat.

“That must have taken you by surprise,” he says with empathy. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” you reply warmly, and there’s a pinch in Minho’s chest again. “I think we’ll have to postpone the session though. I’ll let you know when I’m free, if that’s okay with you?”

Ugh. Minho tunes Jooyeon’s response out, only waiting for an opportunity to whisk you away. He probably shouldn’t feel this strongly about it, is aware that you’re entirely within your own rights if you want to pick Jooyeon over him, but from his perspective, that doesn’t mean he has to let it be an easy decision to make. He’s not the type to lie down and just watch as that happens.

So the second Jooyeon’s eyes flick back to his computer, Minho’s taking you towards the counter with him. He checks the register once he’s there — which he definitely shouldn’t have let unattended without verifying that it couldn’t be accessed without electricity, oops, his bad — and after having confirmed that everything’s fine, his eyes go back to you.

The spike in his heart rate when he finds you already staring at him surprises him a little. He supposes that he can’t be that jealous without also having that sort of reaction to you. It’s not… unpleasant, actually, though the strength of it surprises him. It’s not the kind of emotion he usually welcomes, he’s used to them feeling less sharp, duller. But he doesn’t reject that one.

Gently, he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his.

“Is there an issue between him and Jooyeon?” you ask, voice soft.

Ah. For someone who’s so completely oblivious about his interest in you, you were sure quick to notice that.

“You could say that,” he replies, and you frown.

“I didn’t know that,” you say, words coming out slow, like you’re figuring out what to say as you go, instead of defaulting to your usual pre-built answers. “Can I ask why?”

Minho raises an eyebrow. Then, wordlessly, he shifts himself so that you’re against the counter, with him standing in front of you. It’s interesting, because he’s almost exactly in the spot where he is every day, and every time he steals glances at you to make his day marginally better. He puts his hands on either side of you, hears you take a sharp breath.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

His voice comes out soft and muted, and as he asks, he feels something squeeze at his heart. Maybe because he’s not sure of what you'll answer. Maybe because he could have misread you, thought that you were oblivious when the truth was that you weren't interested. He could be keeping you away from your one true love, Jooyeon, who you’re going to go on to marry and have three k—

“Yes,” you squeak.

Ok, never mind.

Technically you’re in public, but it’s not like anyone’s looking your way, or like they'd see something other than silhouettes when he leans towards you.

It feels so natural when he kisses you. You lift your arms to wrap them around his neck, his hands find their place on your hips. Much to his surprise, you’re the one who presses yourself into him, lips moving softly against his, and it sends a jolt of electricity through his body. Suddenly there’s urgency running through his veins, desire, and his fingers dig harder into you. He kisses you with more intensity, like he’s trying to get rid of any space left between the two of you, and the soft sigh you let out only spurs him on further.

He’s seconds — fractions of seconds — away from doing something stupid when laughter and claps fill the room.

He parts from you, feeling his ears and cheeks turning red already, and discovers that the lights treacherously turned back on, and everyone is looking at the two of you. Protectiveness rushes through him, and he’s about to say something snappy, thinking that you’d be uncomfortable with it, when he realizes that you’re doubled over in laughter. Yes, you look a little embarrassed, but mostly, you seem fine with it.

Which is good, because otherwise he thinks he might have lost the shop a number of customers.

Everyone looks amused and happy for the two of you. Even Jooyeon’s grinning, though the look he gives Minho says, essentially, “Oh that was your problem”. It doesn’t capture people’s attention very long, but there’s something very sweet and human about the moment and how happy it seems to make everyone. Some regulars even exchange glances that seem to mean ‘I told you so’. Ha, he didn’t think he’d ever become campus gossip.

Once there are fewer eyes on the two of you, Minho leans towards you.

“I’ll take you on a date anywhere, as long as it’s not to get coffee.”

Your face lights up.

“I’d love that.”

Working at a coffee shop is not something that Minho finds very fun. Someone who enjoys human interactions more than him might, but it just feels very repetitive to him. Doing the same movements, asking the same questions, having to deal with the same issues from asshole customers who are different but also fundamentally the same person. The ding of cash register, the one of no contact credit cards, the buzzing of the coffee machine. It’s repetitive, but in a way that fills and numbs the mind.

There’s just one sound that he minds a little less now, and it’s the one the door makes when it opens.

Because, every now and again, it means that you’ve just come in.

“Hey,” you say as you reach the counter. You’re smiling so bright, and he loves it because he knows that it’s another one of those things that you can’t help. You’re smiling because he makes you happy, and isn’t that the best thing in the world?

“Dating the barista doesn’t entitle you to free coffee,” he says as he slides your vanilla latte over to you, though he has used his employee discount on everything you’ve ordered lately and he would very much give it to you for free if you didn’t insist on paying for your own stuff.

“We’re still on for tonight?” you ask, taking the coffee from the table.

“You think I’d let you get out of it?” he replies, and you laugh, before taking off to go to your usual table.

After that, he keeps going, keeps doing the same movements, asking the same questions, hearing the same noises. But sometimes, he glances in your direction and finds you focused on your computer, biting your lower lip as you’re deep in thought, or looking at him with a smile, and it makes it all more bearable.

Because you give him something to look forward to.

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

#also thank you for your comment on ao3!!#i don't reply much over there but all comments are very much appreciated 🥰#augustbutwinter #reblog

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nanamismoonchild · 1 year ago

Text

deceiving the moon

->chapter 11- the pan handler

->pairing: namjoon x oc (persephone)

->genre: greek god, fantasy

->wc: ~1.5k

->warnings: choking, name-calling, rough fingering, power dynamics on both sides, unhinged namjoon and oc (both of them are crazy), Persephone being mean

credits: this fic was beta read by the lovely @augustbutwinter and the header was made by the lovely @birbdae

a/n: somehow i found enough time to write a few words.it's been *checks notes* a whillllleeeeeeeeeeeee since i wrote namjoon and our girlboss persephone. please comment or send an ask my way if you enjoyed it. Or better yet, send an owl with a lovely letter. :D OH OH I hope you all get the reference too!

prev next

also posted on ao3

Persephone had hoped Namjoon would let her explore more of her new kingdom. However, he explained that they had an appointment with a familiar god by the name of Park Jimin.

To humans, he was Pan. To Persephone, he was a nuisance much like the rest of the gods that she had met so far. The only difference is she had interacted with Jimin more times than she would have liked to admit.

Her mother enjoyed his company and invited him to help with harvests. He also lurked around the lake surrounding her old home, flirting with the nymphs. And with her. She couldn’t count on her fingers how many times she rebuffed him, only for him to come back the next day.

In fact, she had a feeling, she already knew what he would say the moment she was in his proximity.

“You picked him? Over me?” Jimin screeched, damn near tossing himself into her personal space. He managed to sound both accusatory and hurt at the same time.

“And why on Gaea’s green earth would I ever choose you?”

Sulkily, he replied, “Because obviously I’m the better choice. I’m your mother’s favorite.”

“My mother didn’t have favorites,” Persephone said plainly, hoping to hurt the man’s feelings. “And if she did, she’d be foolish to choose you.”

“You can be such a bi-”

Namjoon huffed and stood up from his chair, swiftly, trying to save his friend from getting slapped into the next century. “If you’re done flirting with my wife, Jimin, I’d like to begin this meeting. I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”

The new goddess of the underworld and the young god of the wild both turned their heads to Namjoon at the same time, and eerily, both said, “You’re organizing?”

Namjoon’s heart broke a little.

“Yes, but that’s neither here nor there with you, Jimin.”

Persephone sat next to Namjoon, easily sliding into her business persona. A persona she didn’t even realize she had until now. Being Queen was changing her, and she loved every single moment of it.

Jimin scoffed, “Right. You want to hold a ball in this silly dirty-”

“Do not insult my new home, shepherd.”

Jimin braved the intentional insult and kept going. He was used to Persephone despising every man that walked into her life. From what he’d heard, she had already knocked Yoongi down a couple of pedestals, made Jungkook bleed, and put Namjoon into his place. He wasn’t (yes, he was) afraid of what she’d do to him.

“I’m sorry. Your lovely castle. You want to turn this place into the finest place ever. With my help. Why not just call Apollo?” “Tried. No answer, “ Namjoon said plainly.

“Of course. He must be off doing some trials or something. I heard he got into some really bad stuff.”

“Before you two turn into gossiping nymphs, what is this about a ball?” Persephone questioned, turning to look at Namjoon. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing and we’ve both spent the night taking care of…errands.”

Jimin didn’t bother asking what errands the two of them took; he felt if he asked his feelings would get more than hurt.

“Ah, it was a last minute thing. And it’s not really a ball. It’s more of a ceremony for the both of us.”

He side-eyed Jimin.

“I wanted to create a song for you. And I thought that Jimin would be the perfect candidate to help me. After Apollo of course.”

Namjoon thought he heard a small “whatever” come from Jimin.

The look of complete disgust was painted onto Persephone’s beautiful face as she realized what Namjoon had suggested.

“I’d rather listen to the cries of the dead as they cross the Styx and realize they’re being rowed away on a boat driven by that idiot you trust so much.”

Damn. The woman managed to insult all three men and one of them wasn’t even in the room.

“Persephone, my music is not that bad. The Pan Girls say that-”

“Pan Girls,” Persephone rolled her eyes. “They are nothing more than women who have laid in bed with you on more than one occasion. That is the name that common men, such as yourself, give them. It’s close to being called a whore. Please do not ever call the women who idol you that despicable name.”

Jimin felt as if an arrow had been shot and lodged in his chest. His cheeks became warm and red as shame rose up his body. He had thought it was one of those adorable fan names.

“And please, no music made by a man has ever made me happy,” Persephone added to complete the reading she had just given the poor man. “Now, if you had asked Euterpe, I would have taken any song by her.”

“Well, she was unavailable, considering she’s one of the nine.” Namjoon gritted out, wanting to add a demand that Persephone stop insulting his friends or he wouldn’t have anyone except Cerberus.

“Hm, too bad. I guess I’ll take the half goat then.”

Jimin was ready to cry. There were only so many insults he could take, and the Queen may have just found his limit.

“Namjoon, I don’t think I feel comfortable singing a song for the bitch who clearly does not like me.”

Namjoon sucked in his teeth. Enough was enough. If she was going to be a queen, petty insults needed to stop. “Persephone.”

“Yes?” Persephone asked innocently, instantly hearing the low tone Namjoon used with nuisances. “Please apologize to our guest.”

The grin that spread across his queen’s face was absolutely terrifying. It was the smile of a woman who knew she had all the power. And no one could take it from her.

“Now, “ she started, tracing circles along Namjoon’s arm, “if I do that, it wouldn’t be sincere. And Jimin deserves a sincere apology. Don’t you, Jiminie? ”The tone she used was sultry and, obviously, fake, but that didn’t deter Jimin.

He loved being called Jiminie, and finally hearing it from Persephone, someone he had been infatuated with for years called him tha,made every insult she had made towards him disappear.

He was sucked into her charms immediately.

“I do deserve one. Listen, I’ll make up calling my admirers, Pan Girls, by writing and singing the best song you’ve ever heard.”

“You will?” Persephone gushed, still putting on a false performance.

She knew Namjoon wasn’t pleased but to hell with him.

The god of flutes nodded giddily and took off before Persephone or Namjoon could say anything else.

The throne room was empty besides the two of them. Normally, a swarm of servants would come over. Persephone still couldn’t register the days or nights in the Underworld very well; however, she knew from her the sleepiness that suddenly overwhelmed her, it was late in the night, which meant the servants were also in bed.

She yawned and stood, aiming to stretch her legs. She became aware of Namjoon sliding next to her; she made the mistake of presuming he was going to offer to carry her as he normally did.

Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his front. His other hand made its way to her throat. And pressed. Not enough to completely cut her off, but enough for her to feel lightheaded but excited all the same.

Namjoon leaned in close to Persephone’s ear, so that he knew she was listening.

“Whenever we have guests, my queen, you will respect them,” he moved the hand that was on her waist to her middle, bunching up the night dress she wore. Almost exposing her.

“No more of these petty jabs. Business only.”

She decided to mess with Namjoon, “Or what?”

Mistake. A big one.

Namjoon whipped her around and pushed her into her throne. The Egyptian cotton stuffed velvet pillow felt like heaven underneath her, but Namjoon didn’t give her time to enjoy the feeling. He lifted her dress, and slid two fingers inside of her warmth.

Persephone moaned and began rocking on his fingers before the arm he wasn’t using pinned her thighs down. She pouted, but the onslaught of Namjoon’s fingers didn’t allow her to chastise him. She quickly felt a coil begin to emerge, and couldn’t believe it was so soon.

Unfortunately, just as soon it began, it ended.

Namjoon slid his fingers out, her pussy making a shameful wet noise as he removed them. The sound warmed Persephone’s cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.

“You keep doing what you’re doing–you won’t get what you want,” Namjoon said, his voice still dripping with the dark vibe. He licked both fingers clean, relishing Persephone’s taste.

Persephone opened her mouth to complain, but it was promptly shut with Namjoon stuffing both of his fingers into her mouth. She tasted a little of herself, and Namjoon’s own saliva on her tongue.

“We’re going to go to our room and sleep. You’re not getting that orgasm tonight. We’ll see how you behave in the morning.”

Persephone nodded, reluctantly.

Namjoon smiled, no, he beamed. It was the same terrifying grin that Persephone had earlier. No one could take away the power Persephone had as the Underworld’s Queen. Except the King, her king.

#namjoon #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #namjoon x oc #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon x black reader #jimin #bts #bangtan #bts smut #run bts

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luaspersona · 2 years ago

Note

Who are your favourite Bangtan writers on Tumblr? I’m fairly new here but based on your reviews, I trust your opinion implicitly 😅

first of all, welcome! here, have some flowers 💐

second of all, thank you! i love reviewing, so it means a lot when people trust my opinions lol

ok, so. before we get into the blogs, since you’re new, i thought of giving some unsolicited advice that might help improve your overall experience as a reader here! i'll put them under the cut, and the blogs at the bottom ♡

⇢ follow bts networks (you can start through mine)! they reblog authors from their communities and you’ll get to know blogs that you wouldn’t come across otherwise;

⇢ in order to actually see what the blogs you follow post, and to not be done dirty by dumblr’s algorithm, go to your blog settings > dashboard > preferences and switch off the “best stuff first” option, because its point is to give visibility to posts that already have more notes and stuff, and you lose a lot of good works in the process:

⇢ if you’re +18 (which i’m assuming you are, since you’re interacting with me), tumblr has been hiding some smutty content as of default and limiting the reach of the posts, so to not miss any good works, go to blog settings > account > contents you see and mark “show” in the community labels you feel comfortable seeing:

⇢ last tip: if you enjoy these authors and you’re comfortable here, please consider reblogging! maybe reaching out through anon like you did now to tell them how much their work meant to you. tumblr’s not really a good platform for writers and the engagement is what keeps us going, so — if you’re ok to do so — please, share some thots ♡

ok, now onto the blogs 👏🏽 i’m sorry i can’t shut up

although it’s long, this is by no means an exhaustive list, but i tried to include all the authors i’ve read and loved (without exceeding tumblr's tagging limit), so i just know that you’ll enjoy anything from them!

@kithtaehyung, @suga-kookiemonster, @eoieopda, @here2bbtstrash, @uarmymoonlight, @taegularities, @vsualitae, @the-boy-meets-evil, @pjmparadise, @persphonesorchid, @noteguk, @yeoldontknow, @kpopfanfictrash, @vyduan, @yoongiphoria, @moccahobi, @sailoryooons, @xjoonchildx, @jjkeverlast, @minisugakoobies, @bangtanintotheroom, @jimilter, @ugh-yoongi, @chryblossomjjk, @chateautae, @magicshopaholic, @hot-soop, @yoon-kooks, @nabiolive, @casuallyimagining, @euphoricfilter, @jeonqkooks, @rkivian, @m-yg93, @daechwitatamic, @gimmethatagustd, @bratkook, @augustbutwinter, @matchy6812, @kookdiaries, @kth1fics, @here4btsfics, @yoongimingyu, @aquagustd, @snackhobi, @ppersonna, @sugalaritae, @jeonjcngkook, @sugakookitty, @baljinciaga, and i wanna shamelessly recommend myself too 👉🏽👈🏽

(if you’re tagged here and i haven’t reviewed any of your works yet, worry not, for i’m coming 🏃🏽‍♀️)

you can also check my reviews tag or my recs lists for more recs, but anyway *sighs* that's a lot more than you asked for, but i hope you enjoy your time here and have fun with these amazing authors 🫶🏽

#asks #anon #luareads #luarecs

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

Text

August, I am so so happy to hear you enjoyed this! Thank you very much, glad you enjoyed lil seal pup JK 💜

Legend

The man you help one day insists that he owes you everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Selkie! JK, smut, angst

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, knotting

It’s early, but you prefer walking along the beach when there are less people. The sun’s up, barely, there’s a light salty breeze blowing your hair in your face and there’s movement out of the corner of your eye.

Three men fighting over what seems to be – a fur coat?

You don’t want to get involved but two of the men are fully dressed and the other one is naked so it seems unfair that the pair are trying to take the fur coat off him.

‘Hey!’ you shout, before you can talk yourself out of it. ‘Back off!’

You wave your phone. ‘I’m calling the police!’

The two men exchange a look and shove the naked man into the sand. Then they’re off.

You approach the naked man warily. ‘Are you ok?’

He looks up at you, dark hair in his face, almost covering his eyes. He’s slim but there’s bulk to his shoulders and arms, a ridge of muscle along his abs.

He gets up suddenly, overbalances, and you take a step back so he doesn’t fall into you.

The fur coat’s back on his shoulders, you’re glad for him given, judging by his bare legs under the hem of the coat, he’s stark naked otherwise.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘For helping me.’

‘Don’t worry,’ you say. You smile and move past him to continue your walk.

He says, ‘I owe you everything.’

His words make you turn back, slightly nervous at the seriousness of his tone.

‘You’ve very welcome,’ you say, ‘I didn’t really do anything.’

You’re a few metres down the beach when you realise he’s trailing behind you.

‘I have to return your kindness,’ he says, when you stop dead and turn around to look him fully in the face.

Shit. What is this guy on?

‘You can return it by living your life,’ you say, nodding encouragingly. ‘Away from me.’

He considers this carefully. ‘Do you feel threatened by me?’ he asks, keeping his distance.

You eyeball him from the top of his mussed hair, to the ridiculous fur coat he’s got on in the middle of summer, to his bare feet, and can honestly say that you don’t.

‘You don’t owe me anything,’ you insist.

‘Can I try to repay you?’ he asks. He pushes his hair away from his face, like seeing more of him will change your mind.

He’s got an interesting face, wide eyes, beautiful skin, a mole under his bottom lip that draws your gaze.

You sigh. ‘Can you do yard work?’

***

Half an hour later your new acquaintance is standing beside you, regarding the mess that was your grandmother’s yard quizzically.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ you say. ‘This isn’t worth it. You’re free to go, you don’t have to help me with this.’

‘That’s not what I was thinking,’ he says. He looks at you worriedly. ‘How would you have done this alone?’

‘It would have taken me longer without your help,’ you allow.

‘Your hands are small,’ he says, critically, brows furrowed. ‘And your arms —’

‘And you’re wearing a fur coat in summer, there’s no judgement here,’ you interrupt, raising an eyebrow at him.

‘It’s a pelt,’ he tells you, huffy.

‘There’s probably something up in the loft that’ll fit you,’ you say. ‘Stay here. I’ll go up.’

When you get back down to the yard, you’re greeted by the twin mounds of his very firm buttocks.

‘Holy shit. Get some clothes on,’ you say, turning your eyes up hurriedly as he approaches you.

‘I see people on the beach wearing tiny clothes that don’t cover much more than this,’ he tells you.

‘Well you’re not on the beach, you’re in my yard. And in this house we wear clothes,’ you retort.

You shove the bundle of clothes you’ve found into his chest, and turn your back as he gets dressed.

When you look around again, thankfully, he’s decent.

Your grandfather’s clothes are a size too large but it’s probably just as well given your new friend’s penchant for getting naked at the slightest opportunity.

‘Just to be clear,’ you clarify. ‘This isn’t indentured servitude just because I helped you this morning. You can go whenever you want, ok? You don’t owe me a thing.’

‘I owe you everything,’ he says solemnly.

‘Are you even listening,’ you grumble.

You decide you’ve spent enough time arguing with him. He looks strong, and willing, and the yard isn’t going to clear itself.

He works hard, genuinely like he believes he owes you something for scaring those guys off, carrying the weeds you clear out to the bins, seemingly tireless.

By lunchtime you’ve made decent headway. You get up, ignoring the way your knees protest after kneeling in the dirt for so long, and say, ‘come in, let’s take a break.’

‘I don’t need a break,’ he tells you earnestly. ‘I’ll help you finish this.’

You furrow your brow at him. ‘We’re not carrying on unless you eat something —‘

You realise you don’t know his name.

‘Jungkook,’ he supplies helpfully, ‘of the Jeon clan.’

You stare at him. ‘I’m Y/N L/N.’

‘Clanless,’ he murmurs to himself, nodding like that explains things.

You frown. ‘We don’t have clans where I come from,’ you start, and then you close your mouth. Why are you arguing with this dude?

‘Fine, Jungkook, let’s have lunch.’

***

For someone who didn’t want to take a break, Jungkook sure seems hungry.

You watch, bemused, as he wolfs down his sandwich and salad.

‘More?’ you ask, holding out half of your own sandwich.

He accepts, and the sandwich disappears in three quick bites.

When he’s finally satiated, you go back outside and get back to work.

The sun is starting to drop when you turn to him a little awkwardly.

‘Hey, Jungkook. Thanks so much for your help today. It would have taken me ages to do this myself.’

He looks at you seriously. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this yourself.’

‘Yeah well, I’m clanless remember?’ you say, jokingly.

He shakes his head. ‘You need help.’

‘You’re not the first person to tell me that,’ you offer.

Jungkook’s unamused.

‘I’ll help you,’ he says, like that decides it.

You want to keep arguing but you’re tired, and it’s late, and he does good work.

‘I’ll be back in the morning,’ Jungkook says. He’s got redressed in his pelt, placed the folded clothes you loaned him neatly on the porch.

You open your mouth and shut it again, and Jungkook takes this as assent.

‘Wait,’ you say, as he walks away.

He turns back to you, and there’s something about the way his profile looks in the fading light that makes your heart beat a little faster.

He’s beautiful.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ you ask.

He turns fully to face you, eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘You don’t have to feed me. I’m the one who owes you, remember?’

‘You honestly don’t—‘

You stop talking when you realise he’s too far away to hear you anyway.

***

The next morning, you’re awakened by noises coming from the back garden. You stumble to the window and are greeted by your new friend Jungkook’s shirtless back.

His muscles ripple in the sunlight, and he’s already worked up a sweat somehow.

You lift up the sash window, and he turns at the sound.

His face lights up at the sight of you, and you’d be lying if you said the sight doesn’t make you feel a little giddy.

‘What –’

Your voice comes out as a croak, so you clear your throat and start again.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’

‘Surprise me,’ he says cheerfully.

He turns back to the thatch of brambles he’s hacking through.

‘Hey,’ you call again.

You swipe a hand over your dressing table, grab the sunscreen you apply religiously.

You toss it out the window, at his feet.

‘Put sunscreen on.’

Jungkook picks it up like he’s unaware of the concept of sun protection.

‘Can you show me how to use this?’ he asks.

He’s looking at you quizzically, all bare chest and gleaming skin, and you back away from the window before you say something you’ll live to regret.

You’ve got breakfast in the pan on your grandmother’s old Aga when Jungkook pops his head in the back door.

‘It’s hot today,’ he says.

‘You look hot,’ you agree.

Then you realise what you’ve said.

Thankfully, Jungkook seems to have missed it completely, walking into your kitchen, looking around curiously.

He stops in front of a painting on the wall of a lighthouse by the sea.

‘This looks like it was painted around here,’ he says. ‘I’ve been past this lighthouse.’

‘Would you like the painting?’ you offer.

At his surprised look, you hasten to explain.

‘I live in the city. I came here because I inherited this house from my grandmother after she died.’

You wave a hand. ‘I’ve got to pack up her things, get rid of what I can, and then sell this place.’

‘If you like the painting then please take it,’ you say. ‘It’s got no sentimental value to it.’’

‘I don’t have a lot of things,’ Jungkook replies.

He watches as you serve up two plates, lay the table.

He takes a seat opposite you.

There’s silence for a bit as you both eat, then Jungkook asks, ‘Isn’t there someone who can help you? It seems a big job.’

‘My parents live abroad,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t have any siblings. Just me.’

‘Your mate?’ Jungkook suggests, around a mouthful of eggs.

You nearly choke on your coffee. ‘I don’t have a – mate, at least not in the sense you mean. I have friends, and they’re stopping by in a few weeks.’

You shrug. ‘It’s quite a personal job. I want to make sure my grandmother’s things are handled properly.’

You look out the window. Sitting, like this, you can’t see the sea, but if you were to stand, you could see the ocean from every window of this cottage.

‘I used to spend my summers here, with her,’ you tell Jungkook.

‘I’ve lived here my whole life,’ Jungkook says.

You exchange a smile.

‘I can help you, with anything you want,’ Jungkook tells you earnestly.

You look at him for a long moment. ‘I can pay you.’

Jungkook almost looks offended. ‘I told you I owe you for helping me,’ he insists.

‘You don’t owe me a thing.’

‘I owe you everything,’ he says again, so firmly you don’t have the heart to argue it.

You get up. ‘I need to stop by the store and get more supplies this morning.’

Jungkook says, ‘I can get the brambles cleared today.’

You hesitate, then decide to ask. ‘Do you want anything from the store? Is there anything you like to eat?’

Jungkook’s smile is shy, a contrast from the fact that he’s parading around shirtless.

‘I eat anything,’ he tells you, but you get the sense he appreciates that you asked.

He’s turning to go back into your garden when you stop him.

‘You should put sun protection on,’ you tell him.

You squeeze sunscreen onto your palm, show him how to rub it in.

‘On my back, too?’ Jungkook asks, once he’s covered his face.

You look at him carefully, trying to gauge how serious he is.

‘Yes, on your chest too.’

Your voice comes out unusually high-pitched, and Jungkook gives you a funny look as he rubs suncreen into his chest.

You’re trying not to stare at him, acting like it’s the first time you’ve noticed the glorious sea view outside.

‘Can you help me with my back?’ Jungkook asks.

‘Sure,’ you say, gulping a little.

You dot sunscreen on your palm, start rubbing it into his shoulders. His defined back muscles flex under your hands as you rub more cream in.

Jungkook looks down at the waistband of your grandfather’s shorts thoughtfully, and you toss the sunscreen on the table, grab the keys hurriedly.

‘I’ll get you a hat, too,’ you call as you practically run out the front door.

‘See you later Jungkook!’

***

The line at the store’s longer than you expected, you’re looking around for the shortest queue when you spot him.

‘Y/N!’

‘Namjoon!’

You step into Namjoon’s hug. He’s always been taller than you but in recent years his build has filled out. You can barely get your arms around him now.

‘I heard you were back,’ he says, smiling at you, friendly. Just for a moment, a shadow crosses his face.

‘I’m sorry about your grandma,’ he says.

‘Thank you,’ you reply. You pull your arms down, clasp your hands awkwardly together.

‘I’m clearing out her old things,’ you tell him.

‘Need a hand?’

‘I’ve got someone helping me,’ you say.

Seeing the change in Namjoon’s expression, you hasten to explain.

‘I met him yesterday,’ you say. ‘Some guys were hassling him on the beach. He was grateful so he’s helping me clear out the yard.’

Namjoon frowns. He’s one of your childhood friends, you used to look forward to seeing him in the summer.

‘Is he an ok guy?’

‘He seems perfectly nice,’ you say. ‘He doesnt seem like a creep or anything.’

‘Well, you can always call me if you need anything, ok? Maybe we can grab dinner one of these days.’

‘I’d like that,’ you say.

Namjoon dimples at you. ‘Maybe this weekend?’

‘Sure,’ you agree.

You pay for your things, load up your car and, on impulse, pick up ice cream for you and Jungkook on the way back.

You’re holding your cups of ice-cream carefully, walking around the side of the house to the back, when you hear voices.

You feel a twinge of alarm as you round the corner to see Jungkook and another man you don’t know having what seems to be a heated conversation.

‘Jungkook?’ you call.

The man you don’t know turns and gives you a long look.

It doesn’t seem friendly.

You’re suddenly aware that you don’t know Jungkook well, you don’t know this man at all, and your nearest neighbour is over a mile away.

Jungkook steps forward, like he senses your apprehension. ‘This is Jimin,’ he tells you. ‘He’s part of my clan.’

Jimin gives you another searching look, but he eventually says, ‘Hi.’

Alarm bells are going off in your head.

You take a step back.

‘My friend Namjoon’s coming over,’ you tell Jungkook and Jimin.

It’s a complete lie, but it’s all you have.

Jungkook says, very gently, ‘Jimin’s leaving. He just came to see where I was.’

You take another step back, ice-cream forgotten.

‘Sure,’ you say. You’re trying your best to sound normal, past the rising panic.

You turn and head back to your car.

It’s only after the car door is closed behind you that you finally feel like you can draw a breath.

The rapping on the window makes you scream.

It takes you a moment to realise it’s Jungkook, another moment to notice that he’s chosen the passenger seat window to knock on even though you’re in the driver’s seat.

Like he wanted to give you distance.

You lower the window.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he starts, and he sounds so genuinely upset about it that it goes a long way towards assuaging your fears.

‘No, I —‘

You sigh and give up on protesting when you realise it was pretty obvious you were uneasy.

‘It’s ok, Jungkook.’

He says, hesitantly, ‘I want to stay and help you, but if me being here is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go.’

You don’t know how to make this decision now that the ball’s in your court.

So you postpone it, like you’ve done with so many other decisions in your life.

You unlock the car doors.

‘Do you want ice cream?’

***

Jungkook, it turns out, likes ice cream quite a lot. Somehow, you’re not surprised.

He’s scraping the sides of the cup like he wants to get every single lump, so you pass him your half-eaten ice cream.

He accepts immediately, wide-eyed and so thrilled that it amuses you.

It’s hard to imagine him ever hurting anyone.

‘What’s your favourite flavour?’ you ask.

‘All of them,’ he replies, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh.

‘I’m sorry about Jimin,’ Jungkook says.

He’s not looking at you now, swirling his tiny neon spoon in his cup.

‘He’s scary when he’s angry, even though he’s so small.’

He hadn’t seemed small to you, although you guess Jungkook’s bigger.

‘What’s he mad about?’ you ask.

‘He doesn’t trust people,’ Jungkook answers. He glances at you. ‘He thought maybe you were forcing me to help you.’

You snort. ‘How?’

Jungkook doesn’t answer for a moment.

‘Your grandfather,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘There aren’t many photos of him.’

‘He left my grandmother,’ you say.

In all honesty, you don’t know much more than that. It had all happened when you were very young, your mother hadn’t told you anything about it, and your grandmother had always refused to discuss it.

Jungkook reaches out, fiddles with the dial on the car radio.

‘We should bring the groceries in,’ you say, remembering.

‘I’ll carry them,’ Jungkook insists.

He looks affronted when you try to take a bag off him.

‘I’m much stronger than you,’ he says, huffy.

‘Fine. Carry it all then. Can you make lunch too?’

***

You end up fixing lunch for you and Jungkook with leftovers and deli meat. You sit on the swing on your grandmother’s porch as you eat.

It’s a hot day, you’re grateful for the light breeze even though it’s barely making the leaves rustle.

Jungkook glances at you as he takes a swig of water, and you hold his gaze.

‘I’ve got some guys coming to collect the clippings and yard trash next week,’ you say. ‘Think we’ll be done by then?’

Jungkook nods, earnestly. ‘We should be.’

‘Do you have another job or something? Don’t feel obliged to stay, like I said you’ve helped me so much already.’

Jungkook says, firmly, ‘I owe you a debt, please let me pay it.’

You search his face. ‘How will I know when the debt is paid?’

‘I’ll know,’ Jungkook says. He seems unconcerned, sure of himself. ‘I’ll know, and I’ll take my leave then.’

‘What if I get sick of you before then?’ you ask, teasing.

‘Unlikely,’ Jungkook says, confident. ‘I’m well-liked.’

You frown a little as you mull this over, only to catch him watching you, a spark of mischief in his eye.

‘Are you fucking with me?’

Jungkook blinks. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He’s all round-eyed innocence as you look at him suspiciously.

Finally you get up. ‘Come on, we’d better carry on, then.’

***

You’re up in the loft, trying not to feel overwhelmed at the sheer amount of things around you.

The trappings of a lifetime.

You pick up the item closest to you, a small wooden box with a mother of pearl inlay on the lid.

Inside, there’s a pretty champagne pearl set on a thin gold chain.

You smooth the pad of your thumb over the pearl, admiring the way it gleams even in the gloom of the loft. You put the necklace around your neck, set the box aside, and reach for the next thing.

In the next few hours, you sort old clothes, separate items into charity and junk piles and start bringing things down.

You’re three steps from the bottom of the folding ladder when you lose your balance.

You don’t have time to make any sound when you’re steadied by strong arms.

‘Easy, I’ve got you,’ says Jungkook.

He helps you down the last few steps, takes the armful of clothes off you.

‘Thanks,’ you say, gratefully.

‘I’ll bring things down,’ Jungkook says. ‘Is there a lot up there?’

‘We can take turns,’ you say. ‘There’s a lot.’

Jungkook mutters something about human materialism which you don’t quite understand but you’re distracted by the way he looks.

His neck is stretched, the line of his jaw sharp as he peers up the steps. His profile is beautiful.

He looks back at you, catches you staring at him.

‘I did tell you, didn’t I, that I was well-liked?’ he says, a twinkle in his eye.

He’s definitely fucking with you.

You say, casual, ‘you did mention that.’

Your eyes meet.

Then his gaze drops to the pearl necklace you have on.

‘Was that your grandmother’s?’ he asks.

He reaches out, hesitates, then, when you nod, lifts the pendant gently.

‘It’s a natural pearl,’ he says, something like awe in his voice. ‘These are very rare.’

‘My grandmother loved the sea,’ you say, your voice dropped to a whisper, you’re not sure why.

Jungkook looks down at you. Like this, he’s so close you can see a tiny beauty mark on his lower lip, a small scar on his cheek.

Imperfections that only make him seem more perfect.

He’s not touching you at all, but you can feel the warmth he radiates.

For the first time, you notice he smells faintly like the sea.

You like it.

Jungkook’s gaze is so intense you have to look away.

He lets go of your necklace, and takes a step back.

You try not to feel disappointed.

‘I need to go,’ Jungkook says. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Sure,’ you say, too quickly, with a nervousness you can’t explain.

He turns, descends the stairs.

You push the fold up ladder to the loft up, re-fasten the catch, trying to calm your fluttering heart.

‘Hey,’ Jungkook says.

He’s climbed back up, is holding out his pelt to you.

‘Can you keep this for me until tomorrow?’

‘Sure,’ you say, lifting your arms out for it.

It’s heavier than you expected.

‘I’ll keep it somewhere safe,’ you reassure him.

Jungkook says, ‘I know you will.’

He smiles at you, and jogs back downstairs. He stops at the foot of the stairs, waves, and then he’s off.

***

You’re not sure what to do with Jungkook’s pelt when you go to bed but you know it’s important to him, so you end up laying it at the foot of your bed.

It’s hot and sticky tonight, the air ruffling the thin gauzy curtains isn’t providing any respite.

There’s a knot, low down in your groin, a neediness between your legs.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face floats into your head.

His pretty eyes. The way his jaw clenches whenever he catches you doing something that he thinks should be his job.

The feel of his arms caging you in when he stopped you from falling down the steps earlier.

You look down at your body. Your nipples are hard, pressing against the gossamer thin cotton of your sleep tank. You run a hand over your breasts, pinch restlessly at a nipple.

Your moan sounds obscene in the quiet of your room.

Your cunt tightens, and you slide a hand between your legs for relief.

The pads of your fingers press against your swollen bud, and you moan again.

Jungkook’s naked back, muscles glistening with sweat.

The feel of his bare, sun-warmed skin under your fingers.

You’re breathing faster now, bucking your hips into your own hand as you press two fingers into your warmth.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands inside you instead of your own.

His smirk when he told you he was ‘well-liked’.

You don’t doubt it.

Your need builds as you touch yourself, legs splayed, toes pointed.

Your foot touches Jungkook’s pelt, and you sit up, breasts heaving, nipples pointed, hard.

You reach down for Jungkook’s pelt, bring it up to your face, and inhale.

It smells like him.

You pull it to your chest as you finger yourself, and the friction of it on your sensitive nipples tips you over the edge.

You come with a whine, a gasp, gushing stickiness between your thighs, thinking of Jungkook.

***

You wake up late the next morning, the sun’s high in the sky by the time you get out of bed.

You look out the window and see Jungkook’s now familiar back in a corner of the garden.

‘Morning!’ you call before you remember exactly what you did with Jungkook’s pelt last night.

You don’t wait for a reply, leaning back from the window quickly.

Thankfully you hadn’t got any cum on his pelt.

Shit. What got into you?

You groan inwardly as you traipse to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

You run lightly down the stairs, only to skid to a stop when you see Jungkook lifting his pelt from where you put it on the couch before you went to sleep.

He’s been sniffing it.

You blink, straighten your back, and say, brightly, ‘What do you want for breakfast, Jungkook?’

You do, after all, come from a long line of women who’ve made a lifetime about not talking about things they don’t wish to talk about.

Jungkook looks at you, a little sweaty, dazed. His pupils are huge, his eyes dark.

‘Anything,’ he says. His voice has dropped to a timbre you haven’t heard before from him, low, almost a rasp.

‘Sure,’ you say, turning smartly to the kitchen.

It’s a good twenty minutes before Jungkook joins you in the kitchen.

He looks flushed, damp like he’s been splashing water on his face, but he looks more like his usual self.

You put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Your hand brushes his accidentally, and he moves his hand back like he’s been scalded.

‘Shit, sorry,’ you say, flustered by his reaction.

Unsure what else to do, you take a seat opposite him, and start eating.

After a moment, he starts eating too.

You give yourself a moment so that your voice won’t betray you and then say, ‘I’m going to be clearing out the loft again today.’

Jungkook takes a moment to reply.

‘I can help bring things down.’

‘Great. Thank you.’

You push the remaining pancakes towards him.

Jungkook clears his throat.

‘Have you, uh, done something to your hair? You look pretty.’

‘Nothing special,’ you answer.

You flick your gaze his way.

‘I’m well-liked too.’

Jungkook nearly chokes on the mouthful of pancakes he’s chewing.

He gulps down water, eyes watering.

You smile at him as you clear away your plate.

***

Jungkook grunts as he sets a box down next to you.

You’re trying hard not to notice exactly how he’s worked up a light sweat, just enough to make his skin glow and his t-shirt stick to his torso.

Jungkook lifts his arms over his head, stretches. The hem of his t-shirt lifts two inches above the waist of his jeans.

You fight the sudden urge to bite his taut skin.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his damp hair. It’s wavier today, curling around his face prettily.

You’re struck by the duality of his pretty face and his distinctly masculine body.

To hide the warmth in your cheeks, you look down into the box he’s just brought down.

There’s a stack of letters, shoved haphazardly into torn envelopes.

You pick one up and begin to read.

Dearest,

I thought of you today. When Ara gets mad, she furrows her brows and tilts her head, and she looks exactly like you.

I know we chose this life, but it doesn’t make it any less hard.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You wonder why the letter’s with your grandmother and not your grandfather, if he ever got to see it.

You pick up the next.

Dearest heart,

Your uncle stopped by today, and as you can probably guess, he didn’t have any pleasantries to share.

One day I’ll be kinder, but today is not that day.

I shooed him off with the driftwood you salvaged from the cove.

You would have been proud of me.

Look after yourself, my love, I cannot wait for when you come back to me.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You smile to yourself, amused. Your grandmother was dainty, with the petite stature of many women of her generation, and yet somehow it isn’t a stretch to imagine her shooing off a man twice her size.

Beneath the letter is a photograph, a faded black and white, of your grandparents. You smile fondly at it, at the way your grandmother’s smiling brightly at your stoic-looking grandfather.

You notice something just in the frame that gives you a jolt of recognition. At their feet, what you thought initially was a rug looks on closer inspection to be a fur skin of sorts.

It reminds you, oddly, of Jungkook’s pelt.

A shadow falls over you.

‘Are those your grandparents?’

You look up, startled, and the photograph slips from your hand.

Jungkook leans down to pick it up, looks at the photo. He blinks, frowns a little.

‘They’re my grandparents,’ you tell him.

Jungkook asks, with a new note in his voice, ‘Why is there a pelt in this photograph?’

You have no idea.

‘Was one of your grandparents a selkie?’

You blink, totally confused.

‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook’s examining the photo closely. ‘It looks like the pelt’s your grandfather’s size.’

‘Rewind,’ you demand. ‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook looks at you like he’s debating something in his head.

Finally, he says, ‘I can show you. We’ll have to walk down to the sea.’

***

It’s a glorious late summer day, you can feel your confusion and curiosity lifting as you and Jungkook walk down your grandmother’s path to the beach.

He’s got his pelt with him, slung carelessly over his shoulder.

His steps are lighter the closer you get to the sea, it’s like he feels as unburdened as you.

When you get to the water’s edge he stops, turns to you.

‘Will you wait for me?’ he asks. ‘I’m about to show you a lot, I’m worried about how you might react, so will you wait here until I come back to you?’

He’s so serious about it, you can’t protest.

‘Where are you going?’ you ask.

‘I won’t be far,’ Jungkook says. ‘But I promise, I’ll come back to you.’

He’s already slipping off his clothes, barenaked in the sun, and you avert your eyes hastily.

‘When you said you had a lot to show me—-‘ you start.

Jungkook turns his head. He smiles, more than a hint of mischief in his gaze.

‘Wait for me.’

He slips his pelt over his shoulders, and dives into the water.

He’s a strong swimmer, a few hundred yards out already.

There’s a strange tingling in your stomach, a fizzing in your veins.

You wonder if you’re about to be profoundly changed.

You can barely see him now.

Hold it.

You can’t see him at all.

Shit!

Is he caught in the current?

You take a few frantic steps out into the surf, panicked, unmindful that your entire bottom half is wet.

‘Jungkook?’

Your first shout is weak, barely carrying, lost in the crash of the surf.

You try again.

‘Jungkook?’

You take another few steps out, you’re deep enough to swim but you can’t see anything in the sea.

Your eyes sting with salt and the sun as you surface.

‘Jungkook!’

There’s a dark shape in the water, a ripple through the waves, and you scream as the shape brushes past you.

It turns, heads straight to you, and you dive into the water to swim away from it.

It follows, and every shark story you’ve ever been told jumps into your head.

You’re not as good a swimmer as Jungkook, but you did spend a lot of summers at the seaside growing up.

You head back to shore, kicking strongly, and by the time you’re knee deep you’re exhausted from the adrenaline.

You realise the creature’s followed you to the shore.

It’s not a shark at all.

It’s a seal.

It stays half submerged.

It looks like it’s looking straight at you.

Like it’s waiting for you.

Jungkook’s parting words pop into your head.

Wait for me.

You take a step closer. The seal stays where it is, facing you.

There’s something familiar about the tilt of its head.

The world rocks on its axis, and you?

You slip down into the sand in a dead faint.

***

You wake to sunlight that’s too bright, and Jungkook leaning over you.

His expression’s panicked, his eyes wide and worried.

You wince a little, raise your hand over your head to block out the light.

Jungkook’s saying your name, so you squint up at him.

‘Jungkook?’

‘Are you ok?’ His words come out rushed, urgent.

‘What happened?’

It comes back to you in a flash.

You groan and try to sit up.

Jungkook helps support you, hand flat against the small of your back.

‘Where did you go?’ you ask, a dumb question because you’re not sure if you’re ready to ask the question you really want to ask.

Jungkook says, ‘I went into the ocean, then I—-‘

He breaks off, then says, ‘Then I came back to you.’

‘There was a seal,’ you say carefully.

Jungkook just waits.

‘Jungkook, what’s a selkie?’

Jungkook smiles at you, gentle.

‘I just showed you.’

***

You’re looking out of the window of your house as Jungkook makes you tea. He’s been hovering around you like a worried mother hen since the beach, no matter how much you reassure him you’re ok.

His pelt lies beside you on the couch, thrown carelessly next to you as he rushed to fix you a drink when you got back.

You reach out gingerly and run a hand over it.

It’s warm, sleek, the short fibres bristling under your palm when you brush the wrong way.

How had you not recognised it as sealskin before?

Jungkook comes back, carefully holding a mug. He sees you touching his pelt, and you pull your hand away.

‘I don’t mind, if you touch it,’ he assures you.

You say, ‘I like how it feels.’

You sip the tea Jungkook’s just given you.

‘Tell me about selkies,’ you say.

Jungkook sits next to you on the couch. ‘I have a clan. Jimin, whom you met the other day, is part of it.’

‘We mostly live close to the sea. We can take either form—‘

At your expression, he clarifies, ‘I can be seal, or human.’

‘And the pelt?’

‘It’s part of my seal form,’ Jungkook tells you.

You have more to ask about his pelt, but Jungkook changes the subject.

‘Your grandfather was selkie,’ he says.

‘Is that common?’ you ask. ‘That selkies marry humans?’

‘It’s not unheard of,’ Jungkook says. ‘Some clans frown upon it.’

‘My grandfather left my grandmother,’ you tell him.

‘I’m sorry.’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know much. My grandmother didn’t talk about it.’

You turn to him.

‘I found all these letters she wrote him, I don’t know if he ever got to see them.’

Jungkook’s thoughtful. ‘I can ask around, if you want.’

He gets up. ‘I should go. Jimin wanted my help tonight.’

He gives you a careful look. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘No wonder Jimin’s a selkie,’ you say. ‘I bet his bark is worse than his bite.’

Jungkook gives you an exasperated look.

You’re on a roll. ‘Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.’

Jungkook tosses his pelt at you. ‘Shut up.’

You struggle to extricate yourself from under his pelt. ‘Don’t you need this?’

‘Nah,’ Jungkook says, casual. ‘Besides —’

His voice drops low as he tilts his chin at you.

‘I like the way it smells when you look after it for me.’

Now you’re the one stammering and heating up.

Jungkook smirks at you and lets himself out.

***

Jungkook loads the last of the boxes into the back of your car and shuts the trunk.

He’s stepping back from the car when you ask, ‘Hey, you want to come with?’

Jungkook considers this.

‘We can get ice cream,’ you offer. ‘You’ll have to put a shirt on, though.’

Jungkook’s already pulling his t-shirt over his head and sliding into the passenger seat.

‘You’ll need someone to help you unload this stuff at the charity shop,’ he reasons.

‘Chocolate or vanilla?’ you ask.

‘Both?’ suggests Jungkook hopefully.

You smile affectionately at him. ‘Anything you want, doll.’

Jungkook pouts. ‘It sounds like you’re making fun of me,’ he complains.

‘Don’t be seal-y,’ you say.

Jungkook groans. ‘I don’t know if ice-cream is worth this.’

You chuckle softly to yourself as you pull out of your drive onto the road into town.

***

Jungkook waits patiently on the kerb outside as you speak to the owner of the charity shop.

When you’re done you smile up at him.

‘Ice-cream?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees amiably.

He doesn’t say much until you’re back in the car, ice-creams in hand.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You glance at him but he’s not looking at you, licking up the rivulet of cream that’s trickled down the side of his cone.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

‘Your grandmother was more than what she left behind,’ Jungkook says.

He’s still not looking at you.

‘She was.’

Unexpectedly, your voice cracks, you clear your throat abruptly in an attempt to hide it.

He’s looking at you now, when you’re trying to look away, to discreetly wipe the tears pricking your eyelids.

Jungkook reaches out, and, without comment, thumbs the tears off your cheeks.

You finish your ice creams in silence.

When you pull onto your drive and kill the engine, Jungkook turns to you.

‘Tell me another seal joke.’

‘What type of music do you like?’ you ask. ‘Club hits?’

Jungkook laughs.

He looks so pretty like this, dark hair wavy and tousled, golden skin gleaming, that you lean forward and kiss him.

His laughter stops, and you aren’t given time to fret about whether that’s a bad thing because he’s nudging closer, seeking your lips as you pull away.

There’s a sigh, and you couldn’t say if it’s from you or him, don’t care anyway, because he’s kissing you back, and it’s good.

He tastes like chocolate, and salt, his lips firm, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you part them for him.

He licks into your mouth with a sweet urgency that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

His hand’s stroking the exposed skin of your back where your t-shirt’s ridden up, and his skin warms you more than the sun.

‘Jungkook,’ you murmur, as he presses kisses down the column of your throat, ‘wanna go upstairs?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He pulls away, eyes dark, lips pink. ‘Yeah.’

***

You’re on your bed, half-undressed because Jungkook’s taking his time kissing along your breasts.

He’s shirtless, his beautiful chest toned and golden, flat nipples pebbling under your hand.

You brush a hand over the front of his jeans, thrilled by his hardness.

He groans, tugs at your shorts, lifts your hips up like you weren’t going to do it for him anyway.

He stares at the scrap of pink lace between your legs, so rapt you’re shy until he presses an open mouthed kiss to your folds.

The whine that falls involuntarily from your lips surprises you with its neediness.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind.

He tugs your panties half down your thighs, spreads you apart, and kisses you again.

His tongue slides between your folds, wet, insistent.

You’re throbbing, sensitive, as he licks you again and again.

He moans as you get wetter, slicker.

‘Swollen,’ he pants against your cunt. ‘Need me to lick you.’

You’re beyond words, bucking your hips so you can get more of the delicious pressure of his tongue where you need it.

‘Inside,’ you moan. ‘Need you.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees.

He shoves his jeans down, draws out his cock.

Your mouth waters. He’s pretty. Thick, precum glistening on his head.

Jungkook strokes his cock between your folds, making himself even wetter, and you cry out at the feel of his cock head against your clit.

‘Shit. Do that again.’

He nudges himself against your clit, rubbing precum against you. ‘Like that?’

‘Yeah,’ you gasp.

Jungkook swears softly. ‘I need to be inside.’

You still as he pushes in, the hard blunt head of him stretching you as he slides in. He thrusts shallow, slow, and you’re wound so tight you could scream when he groans, deep in his chest, and fills you all the way.

He rocks his hips against yours, the head of him nudging at your front wall. You’re wrapped around him somehow, you don’t remember doing it but you thighs are around his hips, ankles crossed, holding him tight to you as he thrusts.

Jungkook groans, reaches out to grab your breasts as he makes them bounce with every lunge of his hips.

He’s so fucking strong. You knew that, you’ve seen him carry things, but you’d never put it together that he would be strong like this too, his body moving against yours like he was made to fuck you.

He slows, panting, canting his hips, changing his angle, grabbing at your thigh when your ankles unlock.

‘That’s it,’ he grunts. ‘That’s it, fuck me back.’

He throws his head back as you lift your hips to meet his, sweat gleaming on his throat.

‘Jungkook!’

‘Take it,’ he moans.

You cry his name repeatedly as you come, a pulse of pleasure so intense you lose track of everything that isn’t Jungkook and his cock inside you.

Jungkook’s grinding against you, filling you up, mouthing at your neck, when he cries out and pulls out abruptly.

You moan in protest, and he kisses you, deep, long. You can feel his heart pounding against you.

‘Tried to knot,’ he mumbles. ‘Sorry.’

You have no idea what he’s talking about but you’re enjoying the feel of him holding you too much to care.

You’ll ask later.

***

Jungkook, it turns out, is beautiful when he sleeps.

He’s splayed beside you, face down in your bed, the sheet loose over his hips.

His face is slack with sleep, brow unfurrowed, lips parted in an ‘o’ that makes him look surprised.

He’s adorable, and the warmth in your chest as you watch him sleep surprises you.

You turn over, face the open window.

A moment later, Jungkook’s moving, curling himself around you, his chest pressed to your back.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he murmurs, his husky voice against your ear making you shiver.

‘I’m trying,’ you tell him.

You can feel him, hard, as he curls his body around yours.

‘Let me help,’ he says.

He reaches round to touch your naked breasts, arches your back, slides his cock between the cleft of your ass, entering you shallowly until you’re gasping and moaning.

Then he fucks you again, and it’s even better than the first time.

***

You’re trying not to stare at Jungkook as you have breakfast together, but it’s hard when you can still feel the imprints of his hands on your body.

Your only consolation is that Jungkook seems to be struggling as much as you are.

His eyes flit between your neck, where he left a hickey close to your ear, skim over your breasts, and eventually his gaze lands on your face.

When he sees your smile he returns it, endearingly shy.

‘I had a good time last night,’ you say.

‘Me too,’ he replies.

You’re still smiling at each other like idiots.

There’s a knock on the door, and you look up, surprised.

You open the door to an unfriendly expression on a fiercely pretty face.

Jimin lifts a brow at you. ‘Is Jungkook here?’

Jungkook’s up. ‘Jimin?’

‘We have to go. Taehyung’s hurt.’ Jimin throws you a look that makes you step back.

He’s furious, and his next words hit you like a slap. ‘Fucking humans.’

You’re not given a chance to react, as Jimin’s already turning away. Jungkook throws you an apologetic look, but he doesn’t say anything.

Then they’re gone.

***

You’re nervous, waiting by your front door like it’s the first date you’ve ever had, and it’s not even a date.

Namjoon’s picking you up and you’re going into town for dinner.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since he left with Jimin. Granted, it’s only been a couple of days, but you’ve got used to having him around.

For the thousandth time, you wonder what he’s doing. You hope he’s ok.

There’s the flash of headlights in your front window, you’re opening the door before you realise you’re moving.

Namjoon pulls to a stop, gets out, and you have a flash of realisation.

He’s dressed up for this - shoulders and chest broad and strong against a crisp blue shirt, slacks that hug his ass and make his legs look even thicker.

‘Hey,’ you say, feeling suddenly shy.

This feels different from the Namjoon who used to collect shells and catch crabs with you when you were kids. You know he’s different now, but you’re still getting used to it.

He walks over to open your door for you.

‘Hey,’ he says. He smiles, and the flash of dimples makes you feel more at ease.

‘Hey,’ you say again.

‘Hey,’ he replies. ‘You look really pretty.’

You put your hand over your grandmother’s pearl, hanging in your decolletage.

‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘You look good too.’

You slide into the passenger seat, look up just in time to catch the way Namjoon’s gaze drops to how your skirt’s ridden up your thighs.

There’s a beat of nothing, then you hastily pull your skirt down, and Namjoon straightens up to close your door.

At the restaurant, Namjoon leans back in his chair across from you. His arm’s slung casually over the back of the chair next to him – you’ve never seen his shoulders look so broad.

‘How are you getting on with clearing out your grandmother’s house?’ he asks.

‘We’re doing well,’ you tell him. You take a sip of your wine. ‘The loft’s almost empty, that was the biggest task, and the garden looks pretty good now.’

You see the way his brow rises slightly at the ‘we’.

‘Remember that guy I told you about in the store? Jungkook? He’s been helping me.’

‘I’m glad you have help,’ Namjoon says. ‘If you need any extra hands, I’ve got time next week.’

‘I think we’ll be ok, but thanks,’ you tell him.

‘Are you staying?’ Namjoon asks. ‘After you finish clearing out the house?’

He shifts a little, and his thigh brushes yours under the table.

You try to ignore the rush of heat through you at the unexpected touch.

‘I might stay for a bit,’ you say.

You’d love to say you’re going back to where you were living, but the honest truth is, you feel untethered.

Your friends in the city were great, your little apartment is your sanctuary, and your job was ok, but since being back you’ve felt a distance between you and your old life.

You’ve never felt so strongly that there’s more out here for you.

Namjoon tilts his head. ‘It’d be great to see more of you. My mum’s always asking after you.’

You laugh. ‘I miss her a lot too.’

‘She thinks you and I would be perfect together, she was more excited than me about our date.’

You roll your eyes. ‘Surely she knows, Namjoon, that you don’t really date.’

Namjoon pretends to be hurt, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. ‘We’re in a nice restaurant, I wore a nice shirt, how can you say this isn’t a date?’

You pretend to be thinking.

‘Is this table too small, do you think? Because your thigh keeps brushing against mine, and —’

Namjoon laughs, sips his wine. ‘I also like that pearl you’ve got on that’s hanging between your tits. Like I needed more reasons to look there.’

You laugh. ‘It’s my grandmother’s!’

‘That ivory colour suits your skin tone,’ Namjoon says. He dimples at you.

‘Shut up,’ you grumble. ‘Eat your food.’

‘Load up on carbs, baby,’ Namjoon suggests. ‘We’re going to burn them off later.’

You ignore him.

***

Namjoon pulls up outside your house, gets out to open your door for you.

He looks at you hopefully. ‘Are you gonna invite me in?’

You laugh. ‘No. I’m fine with being the only woman in town you haven’t fucked.’

Namjoon laughs, cups your arm as he walks you back up to your front door.

There’s movement in the shadows, and you realise Jungkook’s been waiting on your front porch.

He steps forward, eyes you and Namjoon.

Beside you, Namjoon stiffens, turns towards you.

‘Hey, Jungkook,’ you say. ‘This is Namjoon. Namjoon, Jungkook.’

Jungkook nods at Namjoon.

Namjoon turns more, putting himself between you and Jungkook.

‘I can probably take him,’ Namjoon tells you, in a stage whisper. ‘If you want me to get rid of him.’

You roll your eyes. ‘No one’s getting rid of anyone. Thanks for dinner, Namjoon.’

Namjoon gives Jungkook a long look, then leans down deliberately to kiss you on the cheek.

‘Call me later,’ he says.

You wait until he’s got back in his car and driven off before turning to Jungkook.

‘Hey,’ you say. ‘How’s your friend?’

‘Taehyung? He’s ok. He was hurt but the clan’s looking after him. He’ll be fine,’ Jungkook tells you.

‘What happened?’

‘Some guys out in a fishing boat thought it’d be funny to try to catch him,’ Jungkook says. His eyes are serious. ‘There are some pretty cruel people out there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him.

You reach out to touch his arm, and he pulls back like he doesn’t want you to touch him.

You drop your hand, stung.

‘Is there much left to do? Have you made progress since I Ieft?’ Jungkook asks.

There’s a distance to his voice now, a coolness you’ve never felt from him before.

‘Yeah,’ you lie. ‘I’m almost done, actually.’

‘That’s great,’ Jungkook says. He’s barely looking at you.

‘Yeah.’

‘You probably don’t need my help anymore,’ Jungkook says.

You’re too upset to hide it, so you’re glad for the darkness around you.

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘Thanks for helping me.’

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

You fumble through your bag, looking for your keys, trying hard to see through the sheen of tears suddenly in your eyes.

‘Here,’ Jungkook says finally. He reaches into your bag, plucks out the keys, unlocks your front door.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say.

You risk a glance up at his face.

‘Are you — are you going?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. There’s something like regret in his eyes, but maybe you’re over-reading his expression.

‘Ok. Thank you.’

You step into your house, and very slowly, close the door behind you.

You tell yourself it’s probably for the best.

***

You have no idea why you keep coming back to this spot on the beach, apart from it was the spot Jungkook picked to profoundly change your world view.

It’s usually deserted, but today the usual serenity of the vista is marred by shouting.

You approach, and to your horror, there’s a seal on the shore, and a couple of guys standing over it.

You rush forward. ‘Hey!’

You have the oddest feeling of deja vu. It’s not the same, not the same at all, but this reminds you of the first time you met Jungkook.

You see the swing of a piece of driftwood, and you jump forward.

At the last moment, the guy who had been about to hit the seal manages to swing away so he doesn’t hit you.

You ignore him.

‘Get back in the water,’ you say.

The seal looks at you, watching, waiting.

‘Fucking go,’ you plead. ‘Please, just go.’

You think it’s Jungkook but you really have no idea, you’ve only seen him in seal form once.

You wait until he moves, before turning back to the guys.

‘Why would you even do that?’ you ask, angrily. ‘It’s a seal!’

The guy scoffs. ‘What’s it to you, bitch?’

You clench your jaw. ‘You’d better walk away, asshole.’

The two guys stare at you, but you’re too angry to care.

‘Hey!’ comes another voice.

You all turn to see Jimin approaching.

Fuck. Just what you need. Another angry man who hates you.

You turn back and realise the seal’s gone.

‘Come on,’ Jimin says. To your astonishment, he steps between you and the men. ‘Come on, Y/N, let’s go back home.’

You’re so surprised that you allow him to lead you away from the men.

Eventually you look at him. ‘We don’t even have the same home.’

‘Yeah, I’m aware of that,’ Jimin says, dry.

‘Guess you saw those assholes.’

‘Jungkook should know better.’

You try to ignore the flare of hope in your chest at the acknowledgement that it was Jungkook on the beach.

‘I guess you think he should know better about a lot of things,’ you say, spiky.

Jimin hums. ‘You didn’t hurt him but there are a lot of cruel humans out there.’

You’ve reached your door. ‘Yeah.’

You turn to Jimin. ‘I hope he’s ok,’ you say. ‘Look after yourself, Jimin.’

You don’t think there’s anything left to say.

***

You fall into a routine of sorts as the days click into place.

Jungkook had been right, the garden didn’t need any more work after he left.

The loft’s empty now, apart from a box of letters, some of which you’re waiting to have the emotional headspace to read.

After the loft, emptying the rooms is easy. The house still has its memories, but you no longer feel laden with the past.

It’s a week after you saw Jungkook on the beach that you wake to find his pelt on the step up to your kitchen door.

You pick it up carefully, look around like Jungkook might still be around even though your instincts tell you that you’re alone.

You place it on the couch, wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do with it, why he would even leave it with you considering he doesn’t want to see you.

You remember the picture of your grandparents and your grandfather’s pelt, and re-open the last box from the loft.

Letter after letter, tiny fine trinkets, a lock of your mother’s hair tied with a ribbon.

Another picture, this time of you, on your grandfather’s lap.

You don’t remember much about him apart from that he’d been kind, and that he’d seemed to love your grandmother. They’d seemed to have loved each other.

You unfold another letter. The paper’s crisper than the others, like it’s been wet and dried.

Dearest,

I don’t have any regrets about the life we chose. I’ll always cherish our time together, short though it was.

Today is hard. I’m angry, and I’m upset, and I miss you so very much.

I wish you’d chosen me instead of your clan.

I wish I’d told you what I wanted before you left.

I hate that we are apart, and today, I almost hate you.

I don’t mean that. Maybe I do.

Most of all, I wish I could tell you, my love, that even on days like this, it was worth all our while.

It was worth it.

All my love, always

Dasom

Tear prick your eyelids, and you blink them back hurriedly, but not quickly enough. A fat teardrop lands in the middle of the letter, and you realise now why the paper is crisper than the others, why the ink in some spots is smeared.

Your grandmother was crying when she wrote it.

You’re re-folding the letter, about to close the box, when you spot another letter at the very bottom.

It’s written on different paper, and when you unfold it, in different handwriting.

Dasom,

You know I’m not one for writing, you always wrote so much more beautifully than I did. Did you get the pearl? I found it last year, and it’s always reminded me of you.

I want to ask how Ara is but I see her sometimes by the shore, with Y/N, and they’re perfect.

Loving you was the best thing I ever did, and I think that every day.

All my love, always

Dal

You’re crying so hard you can barely breathe.

The knock on your kitchen door startles you. You wipe your tears away hastily, and open the door.

It’s Jungkook.

He’s wet, and it takes you longer than it should to notice that it’s raining.

Jungkook leans down so his face is closer to yours. His eyes are worried. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him. ‘I was reading old letters.’

‘Thank you for helping me,’ he starts, ‘that day on the beach.’

‘Which one?’ you joke, tearily.

Jungkook smiles. ‘You’re always saving me,’ he agrees.

He steps closer, and you realise he’s trying to stop the rain from reaching you by shielding you with his own body.

You step back, into your kitchen.

‘I can’t sleep,’ Jungkook tells you.

‘Want a hot chocolate?’ you offer.

‘Always,’ Jungkook admits. ‘But I don’t think that’s why.’

You look up at him.

‘I belong to you,’ Jungkook tells you.

Your heart begins to pound.

‘I always have,’ he says, eyes intent on you.

You turn to give yourself some space. ‘I’ve told you, Jungkook, you don’t owe me anything.’

Your voice comes out firm, confident.

‘I owe you everything,’ Jungkook says.

‘You don’t owe me a damn thing —’

You’re cut off by Jungkook stepping forward and leaning down to kiss you. He’s gentle as always, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist to hold you as your lips meet.

Jungkook says, ‘Have you packed your bed?’

He’s backing you gently out of the kitchen, heading to the stairs.

‘Jungkook we can’t —’

He stops. ‘Don’t you want to?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, fuck, ok. We can.’

***

You’re loose, still boneless from your orgasm, when Jungkook goes to fetch you water from the kitchen.

He comes back with a glass of water, and his pelt.

‘Kinky,’ you say, teasing.

‘I didn’t tell you about pelts before,’ he says. He scoots in next to you, brushes your hair away from your face.

‘I have something to tell you about your pelt too,’ you confess.

At his expression, you say, quickly, ‘You go first.’

‘The reason I was so grateful to you when you helped me that day at the beach is that you stopped those men from taking my pelt,’ Jungkook tells you.

He looks at you. ‘For a selkie, a pelt is the source of our ability to change form.’

‘If those men had taken my pelt, I’d have been stuck in human form permanently.’

‘You should take better care of it,’ you scold.

Jungkook’s still looking at you. ‘I did. I left it with you.’

The realisation makes you sit up. ‘You should have told me how important it was!’

Jungkook says, simply, ‘I trusted you to look after it.’

You groan. ‘Why would you trust me like that, Jungkook?’

Jungkook rolls over, on top of you.

He’s heavy, but that’s not the main reason your breathing’s quickening.

‘I have more to tell you,’ he murmurs, voice husky now.

‘Yeah?’ you ask.

Jungkook leans his head down, tugs the sheet off you with his teeth.

His eyes darken as your breasts are bared to him.

‘I almost knotted you,’ he tells you.

You’re distracted, because he’s grinding against you, and you can feel exactly how hard he is.

‘Hmm?’ you ask.

Jungkook nudges his cock between your legs, pushing himself in an inch. Two.

You close your eyes. ‘Fuck, Jungkook.’

‘Knotting’s an important thing for selkies,’ Jungkook explains.

You have no idea how he even has the presence of mind to still be making full sentences.

Shit, you can’t think! Not when he’s inside you like this.

Jungkook moves, a shallow thrust that makes you moan.

‘When a selkie meets his mate, his biological response is to knot.’

‘Shit, Jungkook,’ you gasp as he moves again. ‘Can we talk about this later?’

Jungkook’s breathing hard as he moves again, and you’re pleased you’re not the only one hot and bothered by what he’s doing.

‘No,’ he says. ‘We need to talk about it. I’m worried I might —’

Your eyes snap to his.

‘What’s knotting?’

Jungkook stills, but you can still feel him, hard and throbbing inside you.

‘I’ve never knotted anyone before,’ he tells you. ‘But the other day, I nearly knotted you.’

Now he has your full attention.

‘After I come, the base of my cock swells inside you.’ He looks shy, which is a lot considering he’s inside you still.

‘It’s biological. To keep my sperm inside you.’

‘I’m on birth control —’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘But selkies haven’t evolved to get past that yet.’

You laugh. ‘Are you saying your cock gets even bigger after you’ve come?’

Jungkook buries his face between your breasts, but he’s still so hard.

‘Fuck. Ok, show me.’

‘It might hurt you,’ Jungkook says, touching your cheek.

‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’

‘I will,’ he promises. ‘Fuck, I will.’

He starts moving again, grunting as he thrusts. You curl your hand around the nape of his neck, holding him close as he grinds against you.

‘Jungkook I —’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He presses kisses to your cheeks, to your neck, as you tighten around him.

You cry his name again as you come, hear his answering moan.

Jungkook’s thrusting slower now, movements getting more erratic as he reaches his peak.

He seals his lips to yours as he comes, groans deep in his chest. You can feel him twitching inside you as he fills you.

There’s so much come you can feel it leaking out of you.

Jungkook strokes your face, kisses you. ‘I’m going to knot,’ he tells you, voice strained. ‘Can I?’

‘Yeah,’ you say.

You turn your face into his hand, press a kiss into his palm as he swells inside you.

You shift a little, and Jungkook says, hoarse, ‘You’re doing so well, shit, it feels so good.’

He moves, once, and you moan at the pleasure of it.

‘Does it feel good for you?’ Jungkook asks. He makes the same movement again, and you moan again.

‘Yeah,’ you tell him. ‘I like it —’

Jungkook groans. ‘I like it too, baby.’

He reaches between your bodies, strokes your clit as he moves, and between the fullness inside you and the way he’s touching you, you come again.

Jungkook swears, pupils so blown his eyes look black. ‘I can feel you,’ he tells you. ‘Fuck, I can feel you.’

You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him as he holds you tightly. You have no idea how long the pleasure goes on for, if it even stops. All you know is the feel of Jungkook all around you, inside you, and it all makes sense to you.

***

Your grandmother’s grave is a simple one with a small flat polished headstone. The inscription reads, Dasom, loving mother to Ara and grandmother to Y/N, and loving wife to Dal.

Yours are the only flowers in front of it, but as you set them down you notice the square laid carefully on the ground.

It’s part of your grandfather’s pelt, you’d know it anywhere.

You look up at Jungkook, hesitant. ‘Does this mean –’

‘When a selkie dies, his pelt is given to his loved ones,’ Jungkook says.

You don’t put much stock in physical things, especially not now when you’ve seen firsthand how none of it matters, really, but you like that your grandfather’s pelt is with your grandmother.

You hope it means they’ve found each other again.

Jungkook holds out his hand to help you up, and you walk down the path together.

Author note: For Memes @madbutgloriouspond , because your friendship and kindness means the world to me.

#augustbutwinter #i’ve missed you on here!!

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