#jin x akin

[itsallaboutbl]

TOP FORM (2025), EP. 2

[divineandmajesticinone]

TOP FORM (2025) I EP. 1 & 2 "Is there any way for me to stand beside Akin?"

[pharawee]

—TOP FORM · กอดกันมั้ย นายตัวท็อป · Official Teaser · 20 March 2025

[prapaiwife]

AND JUST LIKE THAT HE MADE HIM CRY AND HE GOT HIMSELF TOO OKAY AKIN😗😌

[gunsatthaphan]

hello yes I'd like to pitch them 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[lordtocco]

Wow! Ok, the adaptation is not faithful, but the necessary points of the story seem to be there.

Sometimes the camera is not fixed and I did not like that.

I like Akin as a character.

I wish Jin had his hair cut so I could see his expressions...

There are good premises and they chose to tell the story in chronological order.

I saw the first two episodes and I am thrilled.

I can't wait to see the third.

I have seen Thai dramas with more budgets so I feel a bit sorry for the production of the media that could not exploit important resources.

I really like how Boom Raveewit Jirapongkanon acts.

Hashigo Sakurabi wrote a beautiful story and also the stories of the dramas that the actors played were beautiful, I miss them... anyway, I understand the choices, after all it was born as a slightly racy manga so it's fine that it is "freely" inspired.

P.S. Boom Raveewit Jirapongkanon instagram post whit Takato Saijo 🐈‍⬛

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I should be going to bed, but I can't stop. Episode 2!

Akin is definitely having A Moment.

Which I think most of us would, if a wet Jin sprinted on top of us.

Not Akin having flashbacks, lol. And look at Jin being all confident.

Good to see we're keeping up with tradition of "actor playing younger means weird hair".

I knew that was gonna be Jin's special mint box.

Ok, do we think Akin is panicking because attraction to man in general, or because he's feeling things he hasn't felt before for this particular man?

I can't decide how to read it yet.

Can't have a BL without a fever and fainting!

Oh, I have definitely heard this music before too.

Wow, proper medical care! I'm impressed. Oh, but noooo, not bringing him on a bike! Jin, baby, no.

I know some people will fuss about the kiss, but this is a story of obsession. Jin is devoting his life to Akin already.

But yes, please get a car Jin, for all of our sakes.

Love the little reminders that Akin is kind to the crew.

Well this is a hot look.

Nice of the kidnappers in the series to be so fancy with their color choice!

Oh, interesting that Jin is signing with an agency that Akin does not like... Akin sticking to his principles, but Jin doing what he's doing out of love. The conflict fuse is being lit!

You can restyle him, but don't you dare cut his hair!

Oooh, not the slutty crop top. *fans self*

Rawr.

Lolol, Jin all "do not know how to touch woman".

Wow, time going fast, but I kinda love it.

Of course, here come the shippers.

I like that Akin may be fighting it, but the obsession is two-sided.

Oh, these visuals!

I love when shows get artsy.

Fuck, he is pretty.

And that hair is so good.

Omg, dying at Akin following back because he couldn't help himself!!! That was perfect.

I saw that comment about how Jin only did the poll for Akin, and I 100% believe that's true.

Lol, I love how Smart is playing the text conversation here.

Also bonus points for subtitler.

Love the show just blatantly saying this is a cat x dog romance.

Agggh, this is so good!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Hiraeth II

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: you know what, Kim Seokjin just hits different to me. I miss him and I’m taking u all down with me in my I-miss-u-jin-era.

Masterlist Hiraeth I

After you got over your initial shock in which you thoughtlessly swung your fist to his handsome face, you found yourself sheepishly walking to the kitchen where you could hear him moving. He looked up as soon as you entered the room, one side of his bruised lips tilted up. He watched you moved with a secretive smile on his face that you so badly wanted to erase. Jin looked like he was thoroughly enjoying this. You couldn’t help but notice how much he changed. He matured, no longer the young man who had soft cheeks and undefined body. Instead, your eyes roamed over his sharp features and his muscular back that couldn’t be hidden by his shirt. In front of you was a man who was confident. And you didn’t know how to handle him.

You didn’t know how to handle him when in the first place, you thought you would never see him again, not after you ran from him. Not after he begged you to come back.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked after enough time had passed and he was still looking at you as though he was waiting for you to crack. And you did. You could’t take his heavy eyes, couldn’t take the silence as he watched you.

Was he this insufferable when you were younger?

Were you just too blind to see him for how he really was?

Additionally…was he this beautiful when you were younger? Or was time just unfairly favorable to him?

He gestured to the noodles he was stirring. “I’m cooking us breakfast, princess.”

His old name for you hindered you from reacting quickly. You blinked owlishly, memories of him calling you that playing in flashback.

“Yes….but why here?”

He turned off the stove leisurely as if his answer wouldn’t rattle your whole world before leaning his body on the counter, his eyes focused on yours. “Where else would I be? I live here.”

“What? B-but, your mother- she didn’t tell me…”

He shrugged, busying himself with plating the food and bringing it to the simple yet elegant dining table. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asked in a nonchalant voice, his movements precise and calm.

When you didn’t answer, he tilted his head to the side, his hand inside his pocket as he stalked slowly to where you were standing near the door. If he noticed how you seemed to be one push away from running, he didn’t comment. Instead, there he was, his tall form towering over you. “Do I make you nervous, princess?”

“J-Jin-“

“Tsk,” he shook his head, his dark, unfathomable eyes focused on yours. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, giving him that regal look you always thought he possessed. “What happened to ‘Oppa’?” He asked in what one would thought of as a sincere question, but the mocking glint in his eyes could not fool you.

“I-I don’t-“

“Hmm? You don’t what?” He whispered sweetly, his fingers stroking your hair. He was transfixed with the way time changed you. Yet, he hated how he wasn’t there to experience growing up with you because you took yourself away from his grasp. But no more. He took a deep breath to calm the demons in him, before flashing you his usual, carefree smile.

“Do I still affect you, princess?”

“N-no!”

Jin regarded you for a moment too long, his eyes sparkling with something akin to mischief and danger. “Perfect,” he beamed at you before pulling your wrist to the dining table. “There’s no reason for you not to stay here, then. Come on, let’s eat.”

Despite him acting as though no years passed between the two of you, you simply couldn’t. You could feel the weight of seeing him in person sitting heavily on your shoulders, could hear the unspoken words no one had the strength and courage to say, could feel the guilt and anguish in your heart.

“So,” you began, your eyes focused on the chopsticks in your hand. “H-how have you been, Seokjin?”

He scoffed, his dark eyes boring on yours. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“It’s just that…it’s been so long.”

“And whose fault is that,” he stated tonelessly, his large hand closing to a fist before calming himself down. He needed to remind himself that he had you now, that he wasn’t going to lose you this time.

He had to remind himself that he needed to forgive you if he wanted a clean start with you.

“Never mind,” you sighed, clearly discouraged with his response. What did you expect? You practically ghosted him the moment your turned eighteen, turning your back on your closest childhood friend, to your remaining family just because you were in pain.

Perhaps, you should acknowledge that you hurt him in the process of healing yourself. You didn’t know if you wanted to fix the ruined relationship between the two of you, didn’t know if you could redeem yourself. You had so much buried feelings that you didn’t know if this was worth it.

You quietly ate your food, already internally planning your living situation. You would sort out your living situation today. You could not live with Jin, not when he made you feel things you thought you had long killed. You could not-

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked owlishly as you looked up at the man sitting in front of you. Your astonished and lost expression softened his resolve, it melted his anger.

Only you could silence the dark thoughts in his head. Ironically, you were the reason why the demons in his mind were born.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You were just trying your best to heal the way you know how. It’s okay,” Jin stated, his eyes trained on you, willing you to see his sincerity. Except that it wasn’t okay you left. Yet, he knew it was the best for you despite it destroying him so monumental it took him years to feel normal.

Should you leave him again, he knew the carefully reconstructed sanity of his will tumble down.

“I’m just sorry you had to do it all alone,” he whispered sadly.

Aside from your therapist, you had never spoken about this with anyone. To you, it was something so tragic that saying it would make you relive the pain, loneliness and desperation it caused you. This was the first time in almost a decade that someone acknowledged your pain, you strength, and the sacrifices made along the way.

“But princess,” he continued, his hand reaching across the table to clasp yours. And once he did, he felt peace the moment he was able to touch you. “You don’t have to be alone. Not anymore.”

It was an hour later when you emerge to the living room where Jin was drying his hair. His movements slowed down when he saw you after you ran once again from him. After he said that you didn’t have to be alone, you walked to the bedroom without a word. You didn’t know how to handle your emotions, and the only way you knew how was to run.

And so ran, you did.

He raised his dark eyebrows at you when you didn’t say anything. “Going somewhere?”

You nodded, looking anywhere but him. Was he always this handsome even when had just showered? Was this fair? You looked like a drenched cat when you finished showering, and yet he looked like he was shooting a commercial.

“D-do you know where the nearest bus stop is?”

He nodded, “It’s more than an hour away.”

“What about taxi?”

He blinked innocently, “This is an exclusive neighborhood, princess. Taxis are not allowed here,” he shared in a thoughtful manner.

You swore under your breath. You had grown up in Korea, but you lived your whole adult life in abroad that you were no longer confident with yourself here. You were so certain that you would get lost.

He watched you with a smirk in his face, “You can borrow one of my cars,” he offered with an innocent look on his face.

“I don’t know how to drive.”

He knew that.

“In that case,” he sighed as he stood up, stretching his hands upwards. You didn’t even have it in you to not look at his toned abs, didn’t have it in you to look away from his leaned, yet muscular arms. Jin smiled innocently at you when he noticed your wandering eyes.

“In that case, I need to drive you,” Jin shook his head slowly as though he was burdened by this when the truth was that this was his plan all along.

Jin sat patiently at the hotel lobby, his legs spread out. He was smiling indulgently as you walked near him with a defeated expression in your face. Jin was wearing a black cap to hide his identity, and besides that, an inconspicuous bodyguard was trailing after the two of you at Jin’s command. He wouldn’t risk his princess, after all.

He looked up at you as you stood in front of him, your expression confused and tired as you informed him that there was no available room. This was the seventh hotel you went to, and so far your plan hadn’t been successful.

“So?”

You shook your head, clearly apparent that you wouldn’t move out today. You were stuck. And you loathed depending on anyone, more so you hated depending on him again just like when you were younger. Just like when he would always take care of you, regardless if he was reluctant or not. You became overly independent when you moved away from everyone. It was a thing that your therapist was still trying to resolve. However, you just couldn’t let yourself depend on anyone on anything ever gain for the fear that one day, they might leave you alone too.

“I’ll just stay in a motel-“

Jin stood up, his proximity effectively cutting you off. He tilted your chin up, his eyes serious. “I’m not making you leave, princess. You can stay with me as long as you want,” he offered with a sincere smile in his face when all he wanted to say was that your place was beside him, and it should have been the case since the beginning if only he didn’t lose control. He could see the battle in your eyes, the weariness and the stubbornness to not to give in to him was apparent. You needed a nudge.

You entered the quaint restaurant, your eyes roaming around the area as you waited for Jin. He dropped you off in front before parking his car. The restaurant had a homey vibes to it. Sunlight was freely flowing to the room, and the windows were open which allowed the customers to feel the pleasant breeze. You could see customers enjoying their food and talking animatedly with the other- more so the one group on your right who had their heads bowed down, too engrossed with their food while talking and laughing among themselves. You felt a hand on the small of your back. You looked behind you to see Seokjin smiling at you with his cap still on. He was guiding you in when you heard the sound of utensils falling on the floor. You looked to your right where the group of men were eating and realization dawned upon you.

Jungkook’s eyes were the first ones you met. His doe eyes were even bigger from shock, his mouth agape with his chopstick suspended in the air. Beside him was Taehyung who looked at you and Jin with knowing eyes before smiling that rectangular smile of his. Jimin and Hoseok both looked at you in surprised.

“H-hyung?” Jungkook called Jin with confusion in his face as he looked down at Jin’s hand on you. He had never seen his hyung touched someone from another gender willingly. To be honest, Seokjin didn’t care much about anyone outside the members and his own family. Seeing him looking at you with too much emotion in his otherwise emotionless eyes made all of them curious about who you were.

Jin sighed before looking at his members. “You’re all here. Again.”

“We were starving…” the man you recognized as the leader explained sheepishly. He turned to look at you before smiling, “Hi. I’m Namjoon. And you are?”

—

You found yourself sat beside Seokjin who was busy putting food on your plate. If he noticed his members looking at him as though an imposter took his place, he didn’t comment. It was as if the six men looking at the two of you with mixture of bewilderment from Jungkook and Jimin, curiosity from Namjoon and Hoseok, amusement from Taehyung and strangely, indifference from Yoongi, didn’t bother him.

But it bothered you.

You broke eye contact with Taehyung who was sitting beside you with his chin resting on his hand as he examined you with twinkle in his eyes to look at the other man beside you.

“Are you sure it’s fine for me to sit with you? What if someone sees?” You leaned to whisper at Jin.

He merely shrugged. It didn’t matter. In fact, he wanted the world to know you were his. “Eat, princess.”

“I can’t,” you whispered once again, hyperaware of the six pair of eyes on you and him.

“Why?”

“Why are they looking at me?”

Seokjin craned his neck up, frustration evident on his face before looking at his younger members with a terrifying glare. “Why are you always here?”

“We were hungry-“

“And you ate. Now leave.”

“Is that how you treat your customers, hyung?” Jimin teased with a pout before looking at you innocently.

Wait, this was his?

“You’re not my customers because you all rarely pay!”

Chaos ensued as the men bickered and teased each other. You could see the familiarity and the love between them that came with years and years of companionship. You were unknowingly smiling before eating your late lunch. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you actually ate. They were all still arguing, albeit without any claws to their words, when you felt a finger poking your arm.

“I’m Taehyung,” he introduced himself before offering you his hand. You shook his hand warily. “I’m Y/N.”

“So, Y/N, how did you know my hyung?” He asked, uncaring of the bickering of the men in front of him. He was more interested with who you were. His hyung never did once look at any woman, never once did he touch them. In fact, he was irritated whenever some woman would sauntered to him and flirted. Behind his hyung’s pleasant personality and contagious laugh lied his cold persona reserved for people who didn’t matter to him.

Which was exactly why you were a puzzle to the group. For the first time since they met him, they saw their hyung smiled so genuinely at a woman. For the first time, they saw the darkness that somehow terrified them in Jin’s eyes vanished.

“Oh uhm. We’re childhood friends. His parents and my dad were the best of friends.”

Were?

Yoongi, who hadn’t said a thing yet, tilted his head when he heard you. He looked at you with indifferent eyes before slyly shifting his bored gaze to his only hyung who visibly stiffened from your words.

Interesting.

You watched him as he took his pillow and RJ in his arms. Seokjin really looked comfy and yet, so beautiful despite wearing only his pajamas. “You know I can take the sofa. I don’t mind. I really don’t want to be an imposition on-“

“Nonsense, princess. I want you to be comfortable here. You’re my guest after all,” he turned to look at you before smiling. He walked towards the bed where you were sitting. He leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night, my princess,” he whispered, and before you could even react, he was out of the room.

You opened your eyes, and you were back to that nightmare. You saw your father walking away from you to that damned lake. You felt your heart skipped a beat, your legs moving faster and faster to stop him.

You knew what would happened.

You had seen this before.

You had lived this before.

“Dad! Please. Stop!” You shouted on top of your lungs, but it was as though he didn’t hear you. He kept on walking and walking, until he was in the middle of the frozen lake. He paused his movement to look at you. He never aged. His looks frozen in time.

“Run, my daughter,” he said with a serious note in his voice. This was different. He never said this in all your nightmares. “Run far. And don’t come back.”

“What? Dad, please! Just come here!” You shouted, and now you felt tears falling freely on your face. You knew what would happened.

You knew his destiny.

And you could never do anything about it but to see him fall to the icy water.

“Y/N! Wake up.”

“Princess, please. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

“Wake up.”

And then you woke up. Your breath were ragged as though you were running for your life. You could feel his fingers wiping away your tears. You were full-on sobbing in front of him. And before you knew it, his arms were around you as he maneuvered your body to rest on top of his chest. Your hand fisted his shirt, wanting anything to ground you. Your heart was beating faster despite escaping the nightmare, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why you still felt unsafe.

Soothingly, he was running his hand on your back. Seokjin was patient as he waited for you to calm down. You felt his lips on top of your head. You heard him whisper how you were safe with him and that he would never let anything bad happen to you ever again.

And that night, he didn’t let you go.

—

“My baby looks so handsome!” His mother cooed at the four-year old Seokjin. She fixed his hair gently before holding his tiny hand in hers. She followed her husband inside their closest friend’s home. His wife had just given birth a month ago and this was the first time they would see the little bundle of joy. She was so ecstatic when she learned that the baby was a girl, much to her son’s disgust.

‘Girls are yucky, mommy!’

“Do you wanna see her?”

Did he? He looked thoughtful for a moment, his adorable pout ever so present in his lips. Perhaps, he should see what the fuss was about. He was almost certain- no, he was 100% sure that he was more endearing than that little elf who did nothing but cried.

But fine, he supposed he should look at her one time, then never again.

With a reluctant nod, his mother patted the seat beside her. Once he was fully sat down, his mother lowered the baby to his level which allowed him to peak at the crying Y/N.

Seokjin’s eyes widened at how could someone as little as you cried so loud?

Additionally, how could someone as little as you looked so…wonderful?

As though he was in a trance, Jin moved his face closer to you. His little hand was on its way to caress your hair when he heard his mother gently warn him to be careful. And so, he did. His little hand touched the sparse hair on your small head. He caressed it once, twice, and to the adults’ surprised, you stopped wailing your heart out as thought you were finally at peace.

“She likes you,” your father observed, his eyebags made it apparent that you weren’t letting your parents sleep.

“I think we should keep him with her so she would stop crying, right Jinnie?” He teased the little child.

Jin, on other hand, didn’t say anything. His focus was solely on you. Little Seokjin deemed it okay to stay with you.

It was a sweet moment, really it was. Until Jin dove down to peck your lips, and then chaos ensued.

Hiraeth III

[vumming]

all of us are dead — jang woo-jin “barriers”

contents : cringe, cliché(?)

a/n: requested by, anon [ hello can i req a jealous jang woojin x reader 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 ty ] HAH THIS HAS BEEN IN THE DRAFTS I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG LOL

“Hey. Who was that?”

He tries to act cool, walking beside you as he looks at the direction of the guy who tried to act familiar with you—his words, not mine. Eyeing the boy like a predator despite him already walking away.

You scoffed, brushing off his arms that lays on your shoulder with a teasing tone, “and why do you care?”

“I asked first.”

“And I asked second.”

“I'm still first.” There is a cheeky grin on his face but it didn't reached his eyes, a hurtful look then flickered for a minute before they disappear like a flicker of a light. Woo-jin took a step forward with a smug grin present on his face that makes you have the drive to somehow—crush that smirk off.

Raising a brow at his somewhat interest, you answered with a huff. “It was just someone from the other class.”

“Why did he approached you then?” Woo-jin bites back the words that should've followed, watching as you blinked at him owlishly, what does he want with you? surely he didn't confessed, right? He sees you cross your arms over your chest, cocking your head to the side with a slight grin.

Oh no-

“He just asked for my helped for the upcoming class collaboration.”

Oh.

Woo-jin blinked.

He felt so stupid assuming things but how can he help it? You're likeable—especially in his eyes so how can he not like you? Woo-jin blinks, staring at the place that the boy went out before glancing back at you. There's something soft with how his smile turned softer.

It is unlike the ones he would shoot you, that boyish grin of his that looks stupid.

Now he looks more stupid.

And yet, that made your heart skip a beat at the sight only for you to internally beat yourself up for thinking such things.

"Why.. why the hell do you look relieved?" Came out of your mouth, straightforward and blunt, a tone of confusion seeping in as you can't help but think. Why?

Woo-jin spluttered a cough at your words, hitting his chest in repeat as he choked in his own spit. "M-me?! Relieved?" His eyes were blown wide akin to saucers.

"It's not that..!" He defended himself, "I was just wondering if you're really that reliable for him to pick you to help him." And like a child, he took out his tongue while pulling his eyelid which is a kid's universal sign of disrespect.

"Why you!" You gasped at his childish behavior, reaching to pinch him only for his swift lithe hands to capture your own.

"Nuh-uh!" "Oi, let go! You stupid—"

"Who are you calling stupid?" He retorts, taking both of your wrists as he dodges your pinches. "You! You son of a—!" When you couldn't hit him, you settled for hitting him by the shin with your feet, raising it to kick him playfully.

There's laughter all around as the two of you pick on each other, a usual occurrence in your friendship that the both of you had come and learnt to love and do. The playful quarrel and mischievous shenanigans that the both of you act.

It's pleasant.

But why does his eyes twinkle so much with affection as he looks at you, despite those boyish grin of his, the crinkles on his eyes softens every now and then.

Your foot hits his knee as he hissed, letting out a small pained cry as he crumbles to the ground like a kid deprived of cookies from the jar. "Gah!"

"Damn you hit me too hard.." He murmured, head bowed as he clutched his knee. You follow, frantic and panicking, his hold on one of your wrists still firm but tender. It's like he doesn't want to hurt you.

Hands not knowing what to do as you watch him, "It- Wait I didn't mean to do it that harsh!" You try to defend yourself, kneeling before him as you reach for his knee delicately, afraid that you'll hurt him further.

"Kidding!" Woo-jin exclaimed, craning his neck to look at you only to freeze.

The proximity is too close.

One move could make the two of you..

One.

His eyes that's trained on yours, unblinking, briefly glanced at your lips. You could see how his adam apple bob, like there is something stuck inside his throat. But you aren't fairing any better with how your whole body freeze.

Two.

"You.." his lips move, the voice barely audible if not for the closeness that you both share.

"Why won't you pull away..?" He whispers, still watching you.

The two of you were stuck in the moment, time seemingly freezing in place like how the two of you are focused towards each other. "Well, why aren't you..?" You turned his question back on him.

For there is no way that you'll be able to answer that. Not without spilling the thoughts you've always had inside your head. One that can ruin what the both of you share, this friendship that both of you are content with.

But is he truly?

Three.

He sighs through his nose, eyes still on you as his fingers that's holding you, twitch. "Because.."

Without warning, he gathers his thoughts and faces reality, taking the opportunity he was blessed with. Hand pulling you down to press your lips against his.

Soft.

Woo-jin's lips are chapped, yet the softness of it overwhelms you.

The way his other arm snakes to pull you by the back of your neck, the desperate feelings he has for you leaks from his actions.

Was this how kiss always felt? You don't know, but the chemistry doesn't fail.

And before you knew it, it was over.

"I don't want you being with him. Even if it's helping him." He murmurs, not pulling away completely. His forehead pressed against yours oh so sweetly. Beneath those eyes were intensity, the genuine and raw emotion came spilling out as soon as he built up his confidence.

"I don't like it."

Woo-jin.. just ruined the barriers that bounds you two as friends.

[itsallaboutbl]

I'll catch up to you and be by your side, no matter what.

[whimsimille]

VENDETTA

Jeong Jin-Man x Fem! Reader

Chapter 2: VENDETTA.ZIP

“Momma?”

You're roused from your slumber by a peculiar sound that gushes—the way rapids dash against jumbled rocks. Your ear still nuzzles against the pillow plastered with black cat motifs. Unruly strands of your obsidian hair sprawl over the sable felines printed on your comfort.

This might be your final summer snuggling in this kitty patterned pillowcase—a relic better suited for preschoolers. You’ve been contemplating a more sophisticated change—not so much “grown-up” because that phrase seems oddly outmoded to you now. These days, it’s either 'mature’ or 'adult’. A plush silk case endorsing maturity may be owned soon enough, akin to those Jin boasts of from Sonyeo—an opulent Korean label— nonetheless! But till you bring home that plush treasure, it's the humble black-cat print for you—especially given its ability to maintain a coolish touch even when midsummer night's force is nothing besides sticky humidity and trills of katydids.

Yes, the string of sounds filling up your room are those made by katydids. Momma was sure those chirping notes were not lent by cicadas, as they preferred daylight hours over nocturnal ones for their concerts. She referred to these symphonies rather derogatively as 'that racket’ and rarely allowed her own window to be tampered with lest 'that racket' invade her serene sleep haven.

“Momma… Are you close?”

From deep down the hallway comes an array of sounds far louder than mere bugs tapping on exterior walls—they seem uncomfortably domestic. Bugs couldn't pass through barriers, but these incoming clips could—they undeniably belonged within these four walls.

Peering into silhouettes strewn around your bedroom, eyes accustomed to nightpicking details shimmering in monochromatic shades—black stands stark against muted greys in ambient darkness. Occasionally, a faint wave of moonlight filters through the open window, supplemented by the luminescence radiating from your trusty nightlight purchased at some local convenience store—a tiny LED bunny that stood guard near your bedroom entrance. At night, your heavily populated room transformed into a monster land, with forsaken clothes heaped around on the floor, resembling predatory creatures lurking in shadows. Now your token light was placed too far—a seeming hundred miles away—just so you could avoid tumbling over these innocent-looking beasts camouflaged in gloom while scurrying to the door. Not fear—you were far above such childish frights—but maturity guided you, or so you reassured yourself.

Still, it’s quiet enough now that you can hear your own breathing. You frown at that silence. It’s an unfamiliar quiet—the quiet that fills up the bedroom at night when you can’t sleep, the quiet that surrounds you when there have been bad dreams or when you’ve been sent to bed early for some infraction. This kind of quiet is the reason you sleep with your windows open, so you can hear something other than yourself alone.

It wasn’t too dark to see, not with the thin wash of light from outside that made it into the entryway. But it was dimmer than you would have thought for so early in the evening this close to summer. You wondered if a thunderstorm was gathering outside, and you just hadn’t noticed. You strained your ears for the telltale rumble of thunder or the flash of lightning but heard nothing. Just the whooshing sound and the quiet.

“Momma, please answer me.”

No. The silence stretches out, almost becoming a presence in itself. You sit up, the whooshing sound seeming to grow louder as you become more awake. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and hesitate for a moment, your bare feet hovering above the floor.

The hallway doesn't look any different from before—plain white walls, family photos hanging askew on their hooks, old throw rugs scattered here and there for comfort underfoot—but right now it's a dark tunnel with the faintest hint of light at the end. You step onto the floor, the coolness of the wooden boards grounding you. Each step you take is careful, slow. You don’t want to make any noise. You don’t want to disturb whatever might be lurking in the shadows.

You peer into Momma's room, blinking slowly to adjust to the darkness. It smells stale here—like a mix of cigarette smoke and old clothes, the kind that have sat too long in the back of a closet. Momma has been sleeping less lately; it's like she's avoiding her room at night.

Her side of the bed is rumpled, the sheets twisted and wrinkled as if she's been tossing and turning all night long.

You bite your lip. Something feels off about this whole situation, but you can't quite put your finger on it yet. Looking back at your own room, you gulp hard and step in, hesitantly putting one foot in front of the other.

Did she leave? Is she hurt?

You advance. Nothing here, nothing. Just an empty, cold room because today was the day to pay the electricity bill and she must’ve forgotten. A dresser with chipped paint and a missing drawer knob. A wardrobe with the door open, displaying a bunch of hotel hangers—the kind you can't steal. A Bible on a corner table. To the left, the bathroom door, a mirror in its full length reflecting your own pale image. That door was slightly ajar and... You saw your reflection nodding slowly. 

Yes, that was where it was, whatever it was. In there. In the bathroom.

Your reflection advanced, as if it were about to escape from the mirror. It extended a hand, pressing it against yours. Then it disappeared at an angle as the bathroom door opened. You looked inside. A long, old room, like a train car. Small hexagonal tiles on the floor, some of which are cracked and discolored. At the far end, a toilet with the lid up, a roll of toilet paper dangling precariously from its holder. To the right, a sink, and above it another mirror, the kind that hides a medicine cabinet filled with old prescription bottles and half-used tubes of toothpaste. To the left, a huge white clawfoot bathtub with a shower curtain drawn.

"Momma?" you call again, your voice trembling now. 

There was water running.

You entered the bathroom and walked towards the bathtub as if in a dream, as if you were being propelled, as if all this were one of those dreams horror movies brought, as if maybe you were going to see something good when you opened the shower curtain, something you had forgotten or something Momma had lost, something that would make you both happy.

You reached for the curtain, your hand trembling, and drew it back.

-----------

There was nothing but blood and a knife in Jin-Man’s bathtub. No water. No glazy eyes looking up at the ceiling. No body. Just crimson stains streaking down the porcelain, the knife resting at an odd angle, as if someone had dropped it hastily.

Your fist clenches around the curtain as you feel your eyes getting wet, trying to make you feel something. Something that involves anything but crying like a lost little child. You glance around the bathroom, noting the little details that seem to scream at you—the designer shampoo bottles Jin-Man always bragged about, the lavender-scented candles he adored, now splattered with red.

You wanted to say you thought you weren't going to crumble. That you were not tangled in lies and were ready for this. But looking behind you, you saw your hair, shorter now, messier and lifeless, and you saw the woman that you were supposed to be. The woman who didn't run but followed the line she was always meant to follow. Determined. Confident. Someone who has seen grief rears its head countless times and isn’t supposed to cry. But the thing about grief is—it isn't like other emotions; it begs for something so visceral. It induces that gut-churning feeling, even when it isn't directed at you. And just like when you were a child, you do not know what to do with such raw fury, so you swallow it down, until your stomach hurts and you are coughing back up those shards, and suddenly, "I wish you were here.”

You closed the tap. With no sound of water, the house fell into complete silence. The only noise was the steak dropping from the counter onto the floor and a slight scratch on your jeans as you pressed your nails against them, trying to keep yourself together.

Interesting house for an ex-mercenary, you tried to distract yourself with that thought as you scanned the bathroom meticulously, looking for any signs of a struggle. Overturned objects, broken tiles, anything that might suggest there had been a struggle. 

However, the razor blades were neatly aligned in the sink, the aftershave was covered and in place, and even the toothbrush was upright in its holder. Checked the medicine cabinet, hoping to find something—perhaps a hidden compartment or a secret weapons cache. But it was as tidy as the rest of the room. Painkillers, vitamins, and antibiotics—everything perfectly lined up. No clues, no detours.

Quickly, you moved down the narrow corridor, your footsteps echoing off the bare walls. The empty frames hanging seemed to mock you, as if to say that there was nothing left to see, nothing to remember. The walls were a weird white, the kind of white you only find in hospitals or in houses where life has been carefully erased.

In the kitchen, you found an old Italian coffee maker on the stove. Next to it, a can of ground coffee from Starbucks, the brand he insisted on buying despite your complaints about the exorbitant price. Next to the tin, a box of tea, still sealed. Jin-Man never liked tea so it might belong to Ji-An. 

On the counter, a plate of leftover food. Kimchi and rice. Next to it, a half-empty bottle of soju, the lid open. Jin-Man was never much of a drinker, but when he did, it was always soju. He said he remembered the days when he was just a kid, stealing bottles from street stalls in Seoul.

You opened the fridge and found only a few cans of Cass beer, a packet of tofu, and a pot of kimchi. Nothing to indicate that he planned to run away. You closed the fridge with a sigh, the sound of the door echoing through the empty kitchen.

You had to be quick; Ji-An must be getting done with the hospital paperwork by now.

Here comes the worst part: you moved to the bedroom.

You took in the scene as if it were a movie playing before your eyes. The sun's rays escaped through the curtains, dancing around the room like intruders, unable to touch the cool tiles beneath their sharp gaze. The bed was made; no rumpled sheets and blankets fanning out in all directions, resembling waves on a stormy ocean like yours always are. A sense of loss crept into your bones as you almost smell his unique musky perfume lingering in the air, mixing with faint hints of sweat and aftershave. His old army boots were by the corner, cleaned and polished, waiting for him to wear them again someday. 

Over there by the dresser was a framed photo of him and Ji-An at some beach, her dark hair whipping in the wind as she smirked at something he said just out of sight. In another corner stood an oversized clock whose ticking echoed through the silent room like a heartbeat missing its rhythm. Its long hands pointed to 4:15 PM, hours before you arrived here.

Deeper in the room, you noticed a small dresser adorned with trinkets and memorabilia. A delicate porcelain vase sat atop it, filled with dried lavender that exuded a subtle fragrance. Next to it was a collection of novels, and you recognised some of the titles—classics by authors like Kim Young-Ha and Han Kang, stories that Jin-Man had once passionately discussed with you during quiet evenings.

Five minutes and nothing. Just nothing. You frown and ruffle your hair once more. The frustration gnaws at you, a beast with sharp teeth. You start pacing, your eyes flicking from one object to another, trying to read the story they were silently screaming at you. Jin-Man was always meticulous, always one step ahead. He would hide things so well that even the most seasoned detectives would miss them.

"Jin-Man, you clever bastard," you mutter under your breath, looking around the room. Your eyes land on the oversized clock. The ticking is louder now, each second feeling like a hammer hitting an anvil. One of two things: you were either deaf or hearing too much—you responded to this new confusion with a malicious and uncomfortable feeling, with a sigh of resigned satisfaction. To hell with it, you said softly, annihilated.

You walk over to it. Jin-Man always had a thing for old-fashioned things, said they reminded him of a simpler time—an era of wind-up mechanisms and the kind of craftsmanship that required patience and skill. Your fingers trace the edges of the clock, feeling for anything unusual. The wood is smooth, polished to a fine sheen, and the brass accents gleam faintly in the dim light. And then you notice it—a slight indentation on the side, almost imperceptible. It’s a minuscule detail, the kind only someone intimately familiar with the clock would notice. You press it, and the back of the clock slides open with a soft click, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside, there's a small key and a slip of paper with a note scribbled in Jin-Man's handwriting. "Office," it says. Your heart pounds. You grab the key with fingers that feel like they belong to someone else and head out of the bedroom, your steps quickening as if the floorboards beneath you were on fire.

The office door creaks as you push it open. The room is where his personality shows through—bookshelves lined with volumes on military strategy, psychology, and history. The desk is cluttered with papers, but everything has its place. You move to the desk, pulling open the drawers one by one. They're filled with the usual office supplies—pens, sticky notes, paperclips—but nothing stands out.

Then you remember Jin-Man's favorite hiding spot. Kneeling down, you start feeling around the base of one of the shelves, cursing under your breath when a pencil stub pokes into your hand. With a determined grunt, you keep searching until your fingers brush against something hard hidden behind a row of history textbooks. It's a loose floorboard.

With trembling hands, you pull it open to reveal a small compartment within the wall. Inside is a box, plain yet sturdy. You pick it up slowly, heart pounding like a drum in your ears as you flip open the lid. A letter addressed to you in Jin-Man's neat handwriting sits on top—the sight of it making your throat tighten. Beside it is a USB drive and an old photograph of both of you from years ago; laughing over some forgotten joke while enjoying each other's company under bright sunshine at what seems like paradise now.

Your legs feel weak, and you drop into Jin-Man's office chair, clutching the items.

"My doll,

If you're reading this, it means something has gone terribly wrong. I know you hate me, and I don't blame you. But there's something you need to know, something I couldn't tell you before. The USB drive contains information that could change everything. 

Be careful. Trust no one.

Jeong Jin-Man."

You disguise your anguish and invent a pretext to be weak for a few moments. At the table, you bite the sleeve of your jacket, suffocating the screams threatening your throat. You sink further into the chair, your face buried in your arm, waiting for something to happen and save you. The room filled with Jin-Man's belongings, feels both comforting and suffocating. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the coffee he loved so much.

You start to hate them, all of them—the people who took him away, him, the circumstances that led to this moment. And you wish to abandon them, to flee from this feeling that develops with each passing minute, mixed with unbearable pity for them and for yourself. As if together you were victims of the same irremediable threat. You try to reconstruct the image of Jeong Jin-Man, line by line. His strong jaw, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the sound of his voice when he called you by your nickname. It seems to you that if you recall him clearly, you will have some sort of power over him.

You hold your breath, tense, pressing your lips together. Just a moment... Just a moment more, and you would have him, gesture by gesture... His figure starts to form, nebulous... And finally, little by little, desolate, you perceive it fading away. You have the impression that Jin-Man is escaping from you, smiling.

The blinds moved with the wind, and you could see him in the dim light sitting at the counter staring at you. He didn't look sad, or mad. Jin-Man was scanning you. His eyes darted from your button nose to your lips, from your ears to your sweaty forehead. Every inch of your face was being studied intensely, like it was the last time he'd ever see it. You knew because you did it all the time. You know how the shadows fall under his chin and along his shoulders. You know how his spine showed itself against his back. You know him in all the impossible ways dogs can't know ourselves, even when they drink from a river and stare at the water for seconds.

You didn't want Jeong to look at you like you looked at him, with a compulsion to memorize every part in case it all disappeared tomorrow. You traced every outline of him once, all the places he couldn't see.

You weren't the one who had the tendency to leave suddenly, making the other wonder if the last time would really be the last time.

“Can you stop it? I won’t be able to concentrate on decorating this cake if you’re going to stare the shit out of me like a fucking weirdo.”

You met at night at home that Friday, exhausted and excited; you recounted the day's exploits and planned the next attacks. You didn't delve too deeply into what was happening at Babylon in your house this night; it was enough that all this had the stamp of friendship while you made the blessed chocolate mint cake that he always wanted to try. 

With a deadpan expression, Jin-Man leaned back against the kitchen counter and folded his arms across his broad chest, looking amused at your irritation. "You've got it bad," he said with an eerie calm that made your stomach flip. It was strange how he could remain so unfazed when you felt like you were on fire just from him looking at you like that.

He watched as you slapped the mixing bowl down onto the counter, sending a small splash of batter flying up in the air before it sputtered back down onto the granite surface. You took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand, huffing out a laugh as you pulled out the ingredients for the cake batter. The scent of cocoa and mint wafted through the air, mingling with the faint smell of sweat from both of you as you worked together in silence. You cracked open eggs one by one, letting their yolky goodness drip into the mixture below.

The sound of butter being creamed together with sugar filled the room, along with faint metallic clangs from when you added flour and baking powder to make the batter smooth. It was oddly soothing, almost hypnotic—except for Jin-Man's gaze boring into your back like an anchor tethering you to the spot. They moved down to the collar of your shirt, a faded band tee from an old Metallica concert, then back up to your eyes, locking onto them with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Can I taste some of this mix?"

You turned around to face him, surprised by the request. His eyes were narrowed slightly in curiosity as he leaned forward on his forearms on the countertop, his fingers tapping lightly on the granite surface.

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in that mix?" You teased, scooping up a small dollop of the mint frosting with a spoon anyway and holding it out to him. His eyes lit up like a child’s, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips in anticipation.

He took the spoon and you watched as he brought it to his mouth, his lips closing around the metal. His eyes fluttered shut, and you could see the muscles in his jaw working as he tasted the frosting. His tongue played with the minty sweetness, and you could tell he was debating whether to spit it out or swallow it, much like a child chewing on an unfamiliar piece of bubblegum.

“Well?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow.

He opened his eyes, a frown creasing his forehead. “It tastes like toothpaste,” he said, his voice muffled by the spoon still in his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I've seen you handle a sniper rifle with precision. This should be a piece of cake. Plus, you've been bugging me for weeks to make this cake, and now you’re complaining about the frosting? You’re going to eat it whether you like it or not.”

He coughed, pulling the spoon out of his mouth and setting it down on the counter. “I’m not that picky about my alcohol, but cake frosting? That’s a different story,” he said, shaking his head. “This is like brushing my teeth with dessert.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for a bag of powdered sugar from the pantry. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “Here, let’s try adding more sugar. Maybe that’ll make it less ‘toothpaste-y’” The pantry door creaked as you opened it, revealing an assortment of baking supplies organized in neat rows.

As you reached for the sugar, however, Jin-Man grabbed a handful of cocoa powder and playfully tossed it at you. “Hey!” you exclaimed, laughing as the powder dusted your hair and clothes. “You’re going to pay for that!”

You retaliated by grabbing a handful of green food coloring and flicking it at him. It splattered across his shirt and into his hair, staining it with bright green specks. “Now you look like a Christmas tree,” you teased, unable to stop laughing. 

“Oh, it’s on!”

Before you knew it, the kitchen had turned into a battlefield, with cocoa powder, powdered sugar, and flour flying through the air. Your hands were stained green from the matcha powder, and his hair was speckled with chocolate chips, sticking out like tiny, sweet stars against his dark locks. Every surface in the kitchen bore marks of your playful war—cabinets smeared with butter, the floor dotted with floury footprints, and the stainless steel fridge now sporting a streak of vanilla extract.

“You're the worst baker!”

"You're going to regret this," you laughed, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips and throwing them his way. They bounced off his chest, leaving tiny smudges on his black t-shirt, before he grabbed your wrist and pinned you against the counter. Chest against chest.

You were laughing so hard, you couldn't do anything but shake your head as you wiped the chocolate smudge off his shirt with the hem of your own. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. His skin was warm under your fingertips, the soft fabric of his shirt clinging to the hard muscles beneath. You could still taste the mint frosting from earlier on your tongue, and the cocoa powder on your lips mixed with it, making everything just a little bit sweeter. You looked at him in the dim light of the kitchen, taking in the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned down closer to yours.

"I shouldn't have started this." His nose brushed against yours as he spoke.

Butterflies danced frantically in your stomach as you both stayed still, eyes locked onto each other. Even worse, their wings started to scratch the walls of your guts, and they danced a folklore song around your heart as his fingers trailed softly along your jawline before cupping your cheek gently.

"You always start things you can't finish.”

He smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. "Oh, you think so?" he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your lower lip. "Maybe I just need the right motivation."

"And what would that be?" 

Jin-Man's eyes flicked down to your lips, and he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your skin. "You," he said simply, his voice low and husky. "You are my motivation."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, but then he deepened it, his hand sliding around to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You complied,  clinging into him without thinking, pressing up against his strong frame as you tasted him fully now: mint frosting mixed with high-quality coffee, a hint of mint leaf extract, rich dark chocolate, and something so uniquely Jin-Man that made your mind swirl with confusion and want. 

Still, there’s this gross thing inside of you that can’t help but make you think that it would've been a kinder fate if he had stolen the words out of your brain, if he had beaten you up until you became a litter of teeth and limbs than holding you like this. This, this touch of your tongues intertwining was horrible. It meant being engraved in your brain, just like the feeling of these cold tiles beneath your bare feet until you were put seven feet in the ground.

Before him, you thought it was impossible to keep your heart but give your skin, and you never got to know the difference between love or obsession. 

Jeong? He was the kind of person who would light a cigarette and watch it burn down to the filter, never taking a single drag, just mesmerized by the way the flame consumed the paper and tobacco, turning it to ash. He was fascinated by destruction, by the way things fell apart, but he was too afraid to consume himself. He'd leave the door ajar, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability but never enough to let you step inside fully. He'd leave his boots by the entrance, yet his heart remained a no-go zone.

And you don't know how to love without bleeding. Your love wasn't a soft, pastel-hued glow but a crimson torrent. The kind of love that left stains—on your white cotton sheets, on the hardwood floors of your apartment, even on the porcelain of your shared bathroom sink. It was a love that demanded sacrifices—late-night hospital visits from knife wounds barely stitched up, bottles of antiseptic, and gauze pads hidden in the medicine cabinet among tubes of Colgate toothpaste and Dior Sauvage aftershave.

Perhaps you like how it feels when someone depletes you of your own blood. And deep down, you contemplate if he never let you in because he doesn't want to be responsible for the blood on his fingertips. All he might want is to feel your skin but never get to know what's beneath it.

Maybe he wanted to trace your figure, but never long enough to question about the same tattoo that he was caressing now, or the scars from the missions that marred your skin like battle relics. He might never have noticed the way you always cleaned your weapons in a precise, almost ritualistic manner or how you preferred to read military strategy books late into the night. He probably didn't pay attention to the way you meticulously organized your gear by functionality or how you always carried a first-aid kit, even when you were off duty. Perhaps he never realized how you preferred to sit with your back to the wall in a restaurant or how you always needed a cup of black coffee before starting your day to stay alert.

On the other hand, you wanted to know him. Wanted to know him before touching his skin, wanted to question the bruises on his back before leaving bite marks on his neck.

But the sound of keys jangling came before your question mark, and you both jumped apart like startled animals. Pinpricks of color stained your cheeks as you quickly wiped away any remaining powdered sugar from your face, trying to compose yourself while Jeong took a step back, his face flushed and eyes locked onto yours.

“Here. I brought the green sprinkles for the cake,” Pasin announced as he entered the kitchen, his eyes half-closed and a smirk playing on his lips. He tossed the bag of sprinkles onto the counter, narrowly missing the pile of powdered sugar. 

“Hey! Good night to you too, dude,” you said, using your hair for coverage while pretending to wash something out of your nails under the sink. The faucet gurgled as water splashed onto the stainless steel basin, masking the awkward silence that followed. Your hands trembled slightly, the cold water biting into your skin like tiny needles before you turned off the tap and dried your hands with a dish towel as you turned around to look at him.

Pasin seemed to ignore your trembling voice and how Jin-Man almost drowned in a cup of water and grimaced at the state of the kitchen before even starting to speak, tying his hair back into his usual ponytail. "Don’t mess with me. An old lady spilt milk on me at the grocery store," he continued, his tone half-amused, half-exasperated, his Thai accent becoming more pronounced. "Can you believe that? I tried to help her pick up her groceries, and she upended a whole carton of milk on me. Smells like a dairy farm now. I’m going to take a shower; try not to set the kitchen on fire or make babies on the stove while I’m gone."

You glance at Jin-Man, who is now coughing, trying to get the water out of his windpipe. His face turns a shade of red that matches the color of crimson stains. You can see the frustration in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches, and you wonder how much longer he can keep it together.

"We’re not—"

The Thai immigrant gave a smile, shaking his head as he fetched a can of beer from the fridge. "Yes, yes, sorry, I forgot. 'We are just colleagues. She is the one who uses the knives; I'm the shooter. Plans, gunshots, blah blah blah,'" Pasin mimicked Jin-Man, closing the fridge with his foot before rolling his eyes dramatically and straightening his back, squaring his shoulders. "You two are impossible. And speaking of which, who's going to clean up this mess in the kitchen? Because it won't be me. And if you find my body lying in a pool of chocolate, at least give me a decent eulogy."

Jin-Man smirked, shaking his head. "You always have a flair for the dramatic, Pasin. Maybe you should have been an actor instead of a soldier."

Pasin laughed, taking a swig of his beer. "And miss out on all the fun of dodging bullets and cleaning up after you two? No thanks. But seriously, what’s with the cake? Are we celebrating something, or is this just another one of your midnight baking sprees?"

You rolled your eyes, scooping another dollop of frosting onto the cake. "Jin-Man has been nagging me to make this chocolate mint cake for ages. Figured I’d finally give it a shot. Besides, it’s been a while since we had something sweet around here."

Pasin raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "Chocolate and mint, huh? Sounds fancy. You know, back in Thailand, we had this dessert called Khanom Chan. It’s a layered cake made of rice flour, coconut milk, and pandanus leaves. My grandma used to make it for special occasions. Maybe I’ll whip it up for you guys sometime. Show you what real dessert tastes like."

Jin-Man chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll hold you to that, Pasin. But for now, let’s see if this cake lives up to its hype. And maybe, just maybe, we can avoid burning down the kitchen in the process."

Pasin clapped Jin-Man on the shoulder, grinning. "Deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to scrub the smell of dairy farms off me. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone."

The sound of gravel beneath tires makes you startle back to reality. It's a motorcycle. The low hum of the engine cuts through the evening silence, and you can hear the faint squeak of brakes as it comes to a halt. Ji-An arrived. You can hear her fidgeting with her pockets, can see her expecting to hear the jingle of keys mixing with the distant chirping of crickets, and see the crunch of her nose when she finds nothing. The smell of gasoline and dust lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of pine from the trees surrounding the house.

You stash the letter and USB drive into the inner pocket of your jacket, feeling the cool metal press against your ribcage. There’s no time to be delicate; you have 2 minutes before she gives up and bends down to pick the spare key beneath the worn-out welcome mat. You need to leave before she sees that the weird doctor from the morgue is in her fucking house

"Where the hell is that key?" Ji-An mutters under her breath, frustration evident in her voice. She pats down her black leather jacket, and the sound of metal on metal grows louder as she digs deeper into her pockets. Her boots crunch on the gravel. "Come on, come on," she grumbles, her voice rising slightly in pitch. Her hair falls into her eyes. She blows a stray strand away impatiently, her breath visible in the cool night air.

You barely have time to hide the loose floorboard and close the office door before you hear her footsteps approaching the front door. Your heart races, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You slip out of Jin-Man's office, moving swiftly but silently through the hallway, your breaths shallow and controlled. You navigate through the dimly lit house, your senses heightened, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a thunderclap in your ears.

You reach the back door and gently push it open, the cool night air hitting your face like a splash of water. You step outside, careful not to let the door slam behind you. The moon casts long shadows across the backyard, and you stick to the darkest corners, moving quickly towards the side gate. You glance back once, making sure Ji-An hasn’t noticed your escape.

You slip through the gate and duck behind a row of hedges, your motorcycle hidden just a few feet away. The sleek, black machine is your lifeline now. You move with purpose, straddling the seat and inserting the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, and you cringe at the noise, glancing back towards the house. But there's no sign of Ji-An. You twist the throttle and take off, the wind whipping through your hair as you speed down the gravel path.

The bike's headlight cuts through the darkness like a knife, illuminating patches of yellow grass and muddy puddles on the sides of the road. Every now and then, a bat flaps its wings close to your face, causing you to swerve reflexively, and a small stream hums to your left, its water glimmering silver in the light. There are narrow streets lined with old wooden houses, their eaves heavy with age and darkness. The smell of rotten fish wafts from one open window as you pass by; another house has a young family gathered around a TV set, laughing at some ancient sitcom that blares from within. A group of teenagers huddle together on a corner, passing around a cigarette and talking loudly about sports or the new porn edition. 

As you approach the main road, however, you hear the voices of an old couple. They’re coming up the road, carrying bags of food in their hands. You slow down, trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.

The old man, Mr. Park, as a name tag from the local market says on his chest, adjusts his glasses and squints at you, trying to make out your face in the dim light. He's wearing a faded blue cap that looks like it's seen better days, and his clothes are practical—heavy-duty work pants and a checkered flannel shirt, the kind you'd wear for a day of hard labor. He has a sturdy build, with broad shoulders that hint at a lifetime of physical work. On the other hand, his wife’s silver hair is tied back in a neat bun, and she clutches a small purse under her arm, its clasp shaped like a tiny bird. She’s wearing a floral apron over her coat, the kind with deep pockets that always seem to have a piece of candy or a spare coin for the neighbourhood kids. 

"Ji-An, is that you?" Mr. Park calls out, his voice trembling slightly with age. He shifts the bags in his hands, the labels from different brands of local produce peeking out—fresh vegetables, a loaf of bread from the bakery, and a carton of milk. "Where are you going at this hour, girl? We just saw you come up the road!"

Mrs. Park nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, darling. Something happened? Poor thing, you look like you've seen a ghost.”

You quickly put your helmet on, hoping it will obscure your features. You pull up beside them, pretending to be Ji-An. "Oh, just running an errand, harabeoji and halmeoni!" you say, your voice muffled by the helmet. "What do you have there?"

Mrs. Park smiles, her dentures slightly slipping as she does, and hands you a bag filled with homemade kimchi and rice cakes. "We brought some food for you. This kimchi is from the last batch we made, and these rice cakes are fresh. We know it’s been a tough time since Jin-Man’s passing. Our condolences, dear. We’ll be at the funeral."

Mr. Park places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "If you need anything, anything at all, you just let us know, alright? Jin-Man was a different one, detached from the countryside, yes, but he had a good heart. He helped us a lot, especially with the summer crops. Those tomatoes wouldn’t have grown half as well without his help. He was a master with that old tractor of his, always fixing it up so it could run just a little longer."

You nod as you clutch the bag tighter, feeling the warmth of the rice cakes through the plastic. "Thank you. He was a good uncle. Always knew how to lend a hand." You shift uncomfortably on the hard seat, feeling the cold leather bite into your skin through your thin jeans.

Mrs. Park's wrinkles deepen as she places a wrinkled hand over her husband's. "Take care, dear. Sleep and eat well. Do you need any help with the funeral, or is your auntie going to help you with it?"

Auntie? Jin-Man had… he had another woman? That’s why he left you behind? That’s why he didn’t have anything related to you in his house? Did you really sit there teaching him how to love and how to let someone in, knowing damn well it wouldn't be you?

“Auntie?” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue like rotten fruit. Your mind raced, trying to piece together this new fragment of information. You imagined a woman, perhaps in her late thirties, with a kind face and warm eyes, someone who had shared Jin-Man’s life in a way a younger girl like you never could. Someone who knew his secret laughter and his midnight snack cravings, who had nursed him through illnesses and comforted him during sleepless nights. Someone who had grown old with him, watched their garden wither and grow beside each other, their hands aged from hard work and time. The thought of it made your stomach turn, and you couldn't help but wonder what kind of person she was—did she know about you? Has Jin-Man ever mentioned your existence? Were they happy together?

You waited for a response, and in expectation, with all your senses heightened, you wished to immobilize the entire universe, fearing that a leaf might move, that someone might interrupt, that your breath, any gesture, might break the spell of the moment and make you fall again into the distance and void of words. Blood throbbed dully in your wrists, chest, and forehead. Your hands were cold and damp, almost numb. Your anxiety left you in extreme tension, as if ready to throw yourself into a whirlpool, as if ready to go mad.

Mr. Park widens his eyes slightly, a flicker of realization crossing his face. He stammers, his words faltering. "Ah, y-yes, your auntie. I suppose you might not know about her..."

The taste of bitterness lingers on your tongue, and your hands tremble slightly as you grip the handlebars of the motorcycle. “Oh, no, no! I know who you are talking about, yes. But I’m not actually in contact with her, so I don't know if she will... appear," you say, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice wavers. You can feel the cold sweat forming on your back, drenching your shirt and making the fabric stick uncomfortably to your skin.

The elderly couple exchanged a worried look but did not insist. "Well, if you need help, dear, we are here," said Mrs. Park, the compassion in her eyes making her lips tremble slightly. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, shielding herself from the cold night wind. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it," you replied, your voice almost a whisper as you started the motorcycle's engine again. The Yamaha roared to life, the sound reverberating off the brick walls around you. “Thank you for the food again, really.” You bowed your head to them in deep gratitude, the weight of your helmet making the gesture slightly awkward. “Good night!”

"Good night!" Mrs. Park added, her voice a touch higher, betraying her worry. She reached out, as if to touch your arm, but stopped short, her hand hovering in the air before she let it fall to her side.

You speed through the empty roads leading out of town, passing by fields that seem to stretch endlessly into oblivion—their crops swaying gently under the moonlight like they have stories to tell if only someone would listen. The darkness swallows everything beyond them; it feels like there is no end or beginning to this world where secrets are buried deep within hearts and closets alike. The wind bites at your cheeks and fingers numb from cold; yet still, adrenaline keeps pumping through your veins like an unrelenting beast demanding acknowledgment.  You glance into your side mirror occasionally, making sure no one is following you, but for now, it seems like they've all gone inside for the night. You smile grimly in response to their absence—alone time is what you need right now more than anything else.

You want to scream, to break things, but instead, all that comes out is a hollow smile.

-------------------------

“Mrs. Lee? Can you wait just a second?”

Halting your steps, you look back to see the attendant from the shady motel you were staying in. Her name tag read "Mina," and the bubblegum she chewed snapped between her teeth, a pink bubble forming and popping every few seconds. She had a bored expression on her face, her dark eyeliner smudged slightly as if she'd been rubbing her eyes. Beside her, Yumi sat on the counter with her legs crossed, her skirt riding up just enough to almost show her panties. She glanced at you from under her eyelashes as she painted her nails a bright crimson, the color matching the cherry-red lipstick she wore. If she were off duty and you weren’t that urgent to look at this USB, it wouldn't hurt to have a quickie with her in some spare room. It wouldn't hurt to have some hot flesh in your cold hands.

“What is it?”

“Two men, twins, came here looking for you,” Mina said, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and fear. Her fingers drummed nervously on the counter, each tap echoing like a heartbeat. “Both had a cold expression and were filled with scars. They looked like they just walked out of a warzone.”

You raised an eyebrow, your grip tightening around the bag of food in your hands. “Twins? What did they look like?”

Mina chewed her gum thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing as she recounted the details. “They were tall, maybe about six feet. Both had buzz cuts and wore black leather jackets—looked like something straight out of a biker gang. One had a scar running down his left cheek, and the other had a tattoo peeking out from under his collar—a snake or a dragon, couldn’t tell for sure.”

Yumi glanced up from her nails, her smirk widening as she blew on them. “They were packing heat too. Saw the outline of a gun under one of their jackets. Made me think they were either cops or criminals.”

“Did they say what they wanted?” 

Mina shook her head, her oversized, retro glasses slipping down her nose as she did. “No, but they didn’t look like the talking type. More like the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind.”

You sighed, recognizing the description. Dad always knew how to find you, no matter where you went. It seemed that your short-lived escape was over. Probably checking if you already knew about Jin-Man’s death. He isn’t stupid and you have a tendency to do things without thinking through the consequences. Now, the consequences were there, floating in your mind, and you couldn't keep them shoved back the way you shove dirty laundry into a closet instead of washing it.

Yumi hopped off the counter, her Converse sneakers squeaking slightly against the tiled floor. She started to circle you, her eyes scanning your face and clothes with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. “They scared the living daylights out of us,” she said in a childlike voice, her eyes wide with faux innocence, the kind you'd see on a doll in a horror movie. “I thought they’d hurt us if we didn’t tell them where you were staying. But we’re such loyal attendants, we never told them a thing.”

Mina’s gaze lingered hungrily on the homemade kimchi and rice cakes you carried before she glanced sideways at Yumi, who was now biting her lips and touching your arm like you were a lamb, although it was pretty clear you were the wolf in this scenario. “We just thought… maybe we could use some reinforcements. Just in case they show up next time.”

Yumi nodded vigorously, her pigtails bobbing with each movement. “Yeah, like, maybe we should call in some favors.”

You understood what she was hinting at. 

With another sigh, you handed her the bag of food and fished a couple of wons from your pocket, handing them to her. Yumi's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she took the money, giving you a glimpse of her cleavage as she tucked the wons into her bra. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, a calculated move from her days working the streets, using every trick in the book to get what she wanted. But you knew the game too well to be swayed by her flirtations.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee!”

“Good night. I’m going to my room now.”

The stairs were narrow and steep, each step creaking ominously under your weight. The walls were lined with faded, water-stained wallpaper that might have been green once but now looked like a sickly shade of brown. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap cologne grew stronger as you approached the fourth floor, mingling with the faint odor of mold and dampness. You passed by room 304, where the sounds of drunken laughter and a woman's exaggerated moans spilt out into the hallway. Some businessman letting off steam with a prostitute, you guessed. You were glad you didn’t have to settle for such shallow pleasures.

You reached your room, number 402, and slid the key card into the lock. The door opened with a reluctant groan, and you pushed it open with your fingertips since your hands were full of takeout from a restaurant near the port that was still open late. The fries were steaming hot and sour, and you savored the taste as you closed the door behind you, setting down the bag of food next to your laptop on the cheap wooden desk.

You took off your jacket and threw it on the bed before reaching for the lighter and cigarette that lay on the nightstand. Your hands were shaking slightly as you lit up; the smoke filled your lungs, and you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your nerves as you thought about what to do.

The room was small and dingy, with peeling wallpaper and a stained mattress on the bed. A small, portable fan whirred loudly on the nightstand next to it, doing nothing but pushing hot air around the room. There was a dirty sink and an equally filthy mirror above it, making it hard for you to look at yourself in the eyes. But it was more than enough for what you needed right now. You dropped onto the bed, feeling its springs groan under your weight, and stared at the empty bottle of soju next to an ashtray filled with butts and cigarette filters.  It seemed like forever since anyone had bothered to clean this place.

You finished smoking before tossing the cigarette butt into the ashtray carelessly and stood up again, pacing restlessly across the room. The squeaky floorboards beneath your feet only added to your agitation as thoughts raced through your head like wild horses. Your father would be here soon enough; there was no avoiding him this time. He always found you eventually; he always knew just where to look or who to ask for information about his wayward daughter. You rubbed at your face wearily before walking to your laptop.

You slide into the creaky chair, the legs scraping against the worn linoleum floor as you open your laptop. The screen flickers to life, casting a faint blue glow across your tired features. You plug the USB drive into the port, your fingers trembling slightly as you wait for the device to be recognized. The familiar chime of the computer acknowledging the new hardware is almost comforting in its routine normalcy.

The folder opens, revealing a series of files with cryptic names. Your eyes scan the list, searching for something that stands out, something that might give you a clue as to why Jin-Man had kept this hidden. The filenames are a mix of alphanumeric codes and odd words—"Dossier_003," "ProjectKX," "Confidential_12/21." 

You scroll, scroll through packs of photos and zips of files until one calls you out.

“VENDETTA.ZIP”

[monstress]

fave 2024 korean releases

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: I HAVE YET TO LISTEN TO 'AAA' BY HYUKOH x SUNSET ROLLERCOASTER! IT IS NOT ON THIS LIST! I AM WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIMING! IT IS NOT TIME YET!

on to this year's list:

beautiful world - kimhwol

akin to its album cover, it's best to listen when you are out on a walk. kim hwol's voice cradles you like a beating fire, like a baby bird. while forest child might be the best song of the album, my favorite is the demo track of dear my love with its plinky piano which i find particularly delightful. sparse, basic, but each tracks soars.

yin - colde

i was hesitant to place this here since it's only 3 tracks long but considering it's on my top spotify wrapped, i felt it'd be bias not to give it a place of honor. the background adlib at 3:25 mark in I Color You is laced with cocaine. solid rnb singles, per usual. where is that offonoff album.

dudndudndudn - yujin kim

get on the ground floorrrr. kim yujin is a gorgeous jazz vocalist (listen to her past 2 albums if you haven't) and this EP is rich, bright and her voice is playful and unpretentious. the double track You Love Me / I Love You are so disgustingly cheesy it rounds back to being good. personal fave track is hit me back where it dipped its toe in shoegaze.

orange hour - joyce kwon

have your ever heard an album that is so technically perfect that you get mad? this is that album. i don't even know what else to say.

neom 0541 - BØJEONG

during my first time listening of Unreal, i had to pause and check out if they were a side project of the band The Solutions - they're not. it doesn't mean this release isn't an absolute barn-burner. a concept rock album of landing in a desolate new world, this EP's highlight is Unreal but i implore to stick around for the next track Hyenoid as it hits you with a solo that can melt your face clean right off. check out their latest EP kin as well.

angel interview - meaningful stone, swervy

the latest entry in this list, not even a month old as i am typing this. however, i had a sneaking suspicion this album is going to be an instant shoegaze classic (red car and i open the window instead of the closed door especially) the transition from garage rock esc to house track _()_ is insane.

are you watching at all? - min.a

while i can't say i am a fan of the current epidemic of particularly nasal tiktok singing that's hitting youngsters, min.a is an exception to the rule because she actually has the sauce. by that, her EP thoroughly impresses in its production that i am here for everything she releases from now on. while skipping stones has the play numbers, do not skip on sunshower and petty because they are so cleverly arranged that i don't wanna spoil it.

cool - hyelyn joo

this is a funnnn indie-pop EP with great earworms like Kiss! and Crazy. it's bubbly nature oddly reminds of Lee Jin Ah, albeit steers more safely to the pop side. it's a true crowd pleaser release and each track can be someone's favorite. no on asked but B-Yum is my tongue-in-cheek fave.

the world you live in - ashmute

let it be on the record that everytime they release, it's gonnaaaa be on this list. i prayed for an album from them and my prayers were answered this year. to top it all, it's good and STILL so underrated. Air and Saudade deliver their signature sad sexy bops but surprisingly HARUMADA comes out as the citypop track i didn't know i needed.

honorable mentions:

growing pains - ghost bookstore, miniseries 2 - sumin & slom, play with earth! 03 - wave to earth, "L" - the volunteers, PUMP - epik high, sphere - jooyoung, gimbap - george, entire i & and july - kim kak sung, overtime life - 8호실 peridot, the earth - mrch, bonfire - cifika

[prapaiwife]

All the jaw clenches akin is doing!😫😫😫 but it's the fact jin is just keep going down on his rating

[aayakashii]

Excuse me, tumblr user aayakashii, but if I could ask for a morsel of content? I made a post about king jin x court jester reader and mentioned how it would be an interesting yandere dynamic. Your name got mentioned, and then I also saw you had liked it, so if you had any thoughts? That? Would be cool?

But absolutely no pressure! I was just curious about what a yandere dynamic would look like when jin is obsessed with someone who does fit the servant role.

Sorry for the rambling! Thank you for reading my request, and I hope it finds you well! And please feel free to go as dark as you want with it if the mood strikes you

-@lucky-lucky-duck☆ (user name change ^^")

Of course tumblr user @lucky-lucky-duck 🫡

Okay I had to think looooong and haaaaard about this one because it's an interesting concept, but, as you said, it can turn dark very quickly. I'm not sure if I analyzed it properly tbh, but I hope this gives you a nice idea of how I think the dynamic would go.

First, Jin as a yandere in his usual setting would probably be an extremely controlling man. He'd demand MC to be at his beck and call at any given moment and would probably tell them what they can or cannot do, what to wear, what to say, basically how exist as "his property".

I've had someone say that it's a bit upsetting that the boys as yanderes see MC as an object to possess, but that's just how most yanderes act; they might love their darling, but most of all, they're obsessed – they want to possess them. It's the nature of a yandere character, so I'd have to say Jin would be the blueprint for that.

Now, in that king x court jester dynamic, things would escalate A LOT MORE.

I researched the accurate definition of what a jester used to do, and they used to be "a member of the household of a nobleman or a monarch employed to entertain guests during royal court."

Okay, well. Forget about entertaining other people. You'd be Jin's personal plaything, and no one else would be allowed to watch your lovely acts. And of course, that would allow him to demand more intimate ways of entertainment too...

You'd have to be ready to be his pillow; to light his cigarettes; to smother him in kisses and sweet words whenever he got stressed; to follow him around wherever he went like a loyal puppy; and, just like one, he'd expect you to never complain.

You're the king's favorite, how dare you complain about not being free? You have privileges no other jester could ever have!

And what if the king had a queen? Well, that would not matter at all. You'd still be tied to him, even if he was married to someone. The king's consort would sit beside him, but you'd be perched on his lap, petting his hair and being entirely open to his touches.

You're just a jester after all, and he's the king. No one bats an eye, even as he holds you so possessively.

Jin would be quicker to ditch his consort than let go of you, but he would rather not admit it.

If anyone wants to marry him, they have to understand that he's just too attached to his little pet. See, they're so cute, so entertaining, so welcoming to his touches. How could he ever let them go?

Basically, being the king's jester would be akin to having a collar and a leash on your neck forever. The most powerful man would be able to move mountains just to have you under his constant watch. You'd have no freedom, and his obsession would be overlooked. You'd have no one to save you and nowhere to run.

But that's what you wanted, right?

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (21)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N BETA READ @seoul9711 YALL. My bad for missing an update! I'm visiting family this week so it's been an occupied time for me. However because I've been starting to want to write a lot of other things, I might start changing the updates. Nothing too large. I think I'm going to do Monday's and Thursday updates.

Your day started with you taking care of Namjoon like normal. You had taken to making sure the man had his skin moisturized and taken care of. By the looks of it, it seemed to have been a while since the last time new wounds had formed over his skin which brought you some kind of relief. 

As you lightly skimmed over his healing wounds, you sighed. “Joon, you said the company uses your abilities to make the medicine.” You spoke up. “I'm assuming yours has to do with your skin.” You told him. 

“My dragon scales are some of the most powerful things known in my world.” Namjoon began. “Much like Yoongi's blood, it can heal just about anything if mixed correctly with other medicinal ingredients.” He looked down, sighing to himself. “HYBE uses them for burn ointment.”

Your hand fell from his back, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. “This is abuse Namjoon!” You cried out. “It's inhumane.”

“Everyone knows that Little one.” He turned around, moving you to stand between his legs. “But we haven't found a way out yet.” He softly told you.

“Then I'll go to the police.” You shook your head, sniffling as your nose began to get stuffed. Your fingers moved up to his shoulders, lightly touching his skin. 

“That involves gathering evidence.” Namjoon told you. “That's too dangerous.”

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you to his chest. You fell over into his lap, pressing your cheek to his chest. “Just please, leave it to us and we'll figure it out.”

“I want to help you, Joon.” You softly pouted. 

“I know you do.” Namjoon placed his head atop yours, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You could feel him start to warm up, causing you to shift closer to the warmth. “And that means more to me than you'll ever know.”

As his body brought a soothing feeling down your spine, you began to think about the others and what they must suffer from. You weren’t in charge of them to know the kind of tests they had to go through; Jungkook was the only one you knew about. 

You knew he had to spit into a cup, causing dry mouth for him often. It wasn’t as extreme as Namjoon but you knew it was still bothersome to have dry mouth. 

“The tests Jungkook has to do.” You pulled back to look at Namjoon. “What do they use his saliva for?”

Namjoon hummed, moving along his bed with you in his lap. He made himself comfortable along the pillows. You moved around for a bit, finding the perfect place to lay back. You had settled for turning around in his lap, back to his chest. 

“Jungkook is a werewolf, as you know.” He started. “His saliva has healing properties for superficial injuries. It can heal any kind of penetrative wound over the skin. They make another cream with it.” He told you.

“And the others?” You asked quietly, pulling your knees closer. 

Namjoon felt your emotions change into something akin to depression. So he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you closer to him. You suddenly smelled the most soothing aroma ever. It calmed you down immediately, almost like lavender would. It didn’t take away from your worry but you felt relaxed. 

“Jin is an elf, which means he has a long life span. They take his DNA for patients with disabilities caused by old age.” Namjoon explained. 

“What do they take?” You asked. 

“His blood.” You purse your lips, dropping your shoulders.

“Jimin has this water resistant substance on his body, it makes him aware of his surroundings in water. They take it off him for medication having to do with water in the lung:  Bronchitis, pneumonia, the flu.” The man continued. “ Yoongi, has venom that mixes with blood to cause some kind of reaction.”

You remembered Twilight when Namjoon talked about venom. “Is that what is used to turn people into vampires?” You asked. 

“Yes.” Namjoon chuckled at your question. “They create blood related medicines with it.”

The boys were all kinds of magical creatures that you read about in books. They had their own powers and abilities. While you really wanted to learn all about them, you knew you wouldn’t be able to with them trapped in this hell. 

You sighed to yourself, thinking about how you applied to this job. You should have taken notice of all the red flags. The fact that you didn’t know what they focused on was probably the biggest one. And yet here you still were–blinded by wanting a job to keep you afloat. 

You knew if you hadn’t taken the chance you wouldn’t have met the boys. And they would probably still be stuck here for another 10 years. You were going to try your best at taking them out; they deserved so much more. 

“What about Taehyung and Hobi?” You turned to look at him.

“Taehyung has this ability where he can manipulate his magical energy. They extract it from him in order to create the medicine, it's like an activator.”

Your first thought was if Taehyung was the only faerie having to struggle with that. You remembered how he had burst into Yoongi’s room talking about how he exploded his energy and gave himself the gash. You knew you had seen it. 

“Are there more faeries here?” You asked. 

“I think there's one more. Her name is Hanni, she's just a child.” Namjoon sighed. 

You knew Namjoon cared about more than just the seven boys. He was the first patient to be kidnapped. So he knew much more than anyone else. Seeing all those other people be brought in, must have been painful for him. 

“Hobi is a different case. He's more of a just-in-case type deal. His magic has the ability to put anyone to sleep as well as hypnotize and cast spells. He can also heal people.” Namjoon continued. 

“Can all of you just heal people?” You snorted.

“Hobi's healing is a lot more helpful than ours. I mean, I have to rip my skin off and Yoongi has to give blood. It's easier for him.” He shrugged. 

“I understand.” You nodded. “Hobi and Taehyung seem like very powerful people.”

“They were one of the first creatures to ever be created. So they tend to have the most magical energy.” Namjoon explained. “Behind dragons.” He added a teasing smile on his face. 

“Are you bragging?” You laughed. 

“No, in my word.” Namjoon looked offended. “Dragons are the oldest living creatures in my entire world.”

“Sounds believable.” You giggled, leaning further against his chest. 

There was a silence that made you comfortable. You could feel Namjoon’s chest rising and falling with each breath he took. If the scent you had smelled earlier hadn’t already relaxed you, Namjoon’s breathing would have. His fingers were splayed out on your tummy, his thumb rubbing against you. 

He froze for a few seconds before going back to paying you attention. “I'll see you later, Kook wants attention.” He patted your thigh, making you move off him.

You looked at him skeptically, turning on your knees. “How do you know?”

“Magic.” He grinned. “I'll tell you later.”

He walked you to his door, giving you a pat on the head as you walked out. You giggled, setting into the hallway without looking. As your body passed Namjoon’s door, you quickly bumped into someone making you look up. 

“I'm sorry.” You told them man. 

“It's alright.” He gave you a smile that made you uneasy. “You're the new nurse.”

“Yes.” You told him, looking down to the floor. 

“Jungkook's.” He looked up at the door you had walked out of. “And Namjoon's, I see.”

“Yes. Excuse me, I should be going now.” You quickly said, wanting to get away from the man. 

“Of course.” He told you. “Have a nice day.” He waved you off as you fast walked to Jungkook’s room. 

With how disturbed you were feeling, Namjoon was quick to step out into the hall. His eyebrows pinched together in anger when they landed on Kyong staring at you. When Jungkook’s door opened and you had disappeared, Kyong turned to the man. 

“Hello, Namjoon. How are you today?” Kyong asked the man. 

“What do you want Kyong?” He asked, turning his nose up.

“Just visiting.” He shrugged. “Haven't been in such a long time.” He placed his hands into his pockets, looking back down the hall. “Do be careful with that nurse.” He hummed. “She seems to be hiding something.”

Namjoon almost growled at the look Kyong gave him. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that Kyong was suspicious of you. However he didn’t want the man to know that you were special to them. 

“Wouldn't want anything to happen to her.” 

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee ,  @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @girl-nahh , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @oemmi2005 , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @bts-4-life-ot7 , @woozixo, @serveruslovebot ,

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - X So This Is Love

masterlist

e&b masterlist

Notes: Wooh! Here's Jin's POV. Not much to say about this one, it's much shorter so it was easier to post faster. Hope it's good!

Seokjin took pride in being the most easy-going among his brothers. Unlike Taehyung, whose harshness could cut through steel, or Namjoon, who seemed perpetually buried in books, he found his balance. He didn't indulge in Jungkook's childish antics nor did he delve into Jimin's occasionally mischievous streak. Seokjin navigated life with a steady demeanor, avoiding Yoongi's moody spells while also steering clear of Hoseok's carefree attitude.

He perceived himself as a harmonious fusion of his brothers' traits, something that made sense to him, especially given his position as the eldest. While his siblings tended to be particular about their individual interests, Seokjin found himself anchored by just three core passions.

Sex, beautiful people, and large parties were the only things that he looked forward to every day. He didn’t particularly care for the servants, save for a few pretty maids that could be used for a quick fuck.

He preferred to maintain a certain distance from the lower-class residents of the castle. To him, there seemed little reason for interaction. They weren't privy to the court gossip, nor could they partake in the lavish parties he frequented. Moreover, their company seldom appealed to him, as most of them lacked the visual appeal.

Certainly, you captured his attention. It was an unforeseen turn of events, how swiftly and deeply he found himself drawn to you. The moment unfolded when you entered the hallway where a Lady was sucking him off. Your evident embarrassment painted your cheeks a vivid shade of red, akin to a ripe apple.

The instant your eyes met, if only for a fleeting moment, it stirred something profound within him. It was as though a puzzle piece he hadn't known was missing had seamlessly slotted back into its rightful place.

In his foolishness, he merely smirked at you. There was no effort to distance himself from the Lady or adjust his attire. He made no attempt to reach out to you or offer an apology for his impropriety. Instead, he remained rooted in place, a smirk gracing his lips, while you stumbled through an apology.

To worsen the situation, he then instructed you to fetch him a towel, adding to your evident embarrassment. As you hurried away, a twinge of guilt crept into his conscience.

Yet, overriding any flicker of remorse was a consuming thought: you were undeniably adorable when flustered.

Each day thereafter, he prowled the halls, his routine interspersed with vigilant searches for glimpses of you. The rapid emergence of his feelings puzzled him, yet he acknowledged it had been years since he'd experienced such emotions. Certainly, there was no trace of affection for Lady Woong in his heart.

He recognized Woong as nothing more than a pawn in his mother's schemes. If she hadn't been chosen as his fiancée, she would have likely been given to the ranks of his mother's white-clad maids. His sentiments toward her were nothing but pure disgust.

He yearned to see you, to reaffirm that connection once more. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, fabricating emotions that weren't truly there. The only means to discern the truth was to seek you out once more.

Jin had always been drawn to beauty, and by his standards, you appeared remarkably plain. Your lineage lacked the prestige he typically associated with his circle, and a single glance conveyed your unease in social settings.

You were the opposite of his usual preferences. That's precisely why he felt compelled to understand. He needed to unravel the mystery of why he found himself so irresistibly drawn to you.

Naturally, events didn't unfold quite as he had envisioned. Initially, he had hoped to have you alone, away from the watchful gaze of his mother and her informants. However, it appeared that fate had a different agenda in store.

As he entered the library, accompanied by his mother and Hoseok, he quickly noticed your presence. Hoseok seemed to know of you too, as his suddenly perky reaction did not go unnoticed. Jin found himself instinctively adjusting the collar of his cream-colored jacket, an unconscious gesture as he prepared to engage with you.

He couldn’t resist the urge when you addressed his mother as "Ma’am." Your voice held a sweet timbre, yet a subtle discomfort lingered beneath the surface. Before he could restrain himself, he interjected, correcting you with a hint of sass. How could he not? He found himself yearning to hear your voice once more.

In that moment, your wide eyes locked with his, and he saw the recognition flicker in them. The blush that bloomed across your face stirred something within him. He realized he had misjudged you. You were undeniably cute, someone he felt an instinctual urge to embrace, someone he longed to shield from the toxicity of his court. It was clear to him now: you needed protection, and he was determined to provide it.

Before he could utter a word, Hoseok cheerfully greeted you, igniting an unexpected flame of jealousy within him. He managed to suppress his rising anger until he noticed the fear and panic flickering in your eyes as you faced his younger brother. A dark expression clouded his features involuntarily. Sensing the shift in atmosphere, his mother tactfully intervened, dismissing you with a polite gesture and summoning him to the sitting area with a subtle flick of her wrist.

He grappled with the rapid escalation of his feelings. Was this what they called "Love at First Sight"? Jin found himself bewildered by the notion. He had experienced love before, yes, but it had been a gradual buildup over years with a girl he had known since infancy. After her passing, the only emotions he could summon were a desire for meaningless sex and hollow intimacy.

He hadn't harbored genuine love for Lady Woong, only the familial duty to wed as the eldest son dictated. Yet, here he was, consumed with thoughts of how he could claim you as his own. He envisioned a lavish wedding, introducing you to a world of culinary delights you likely hadn't experienced due to your humble status. He imagined surrounding you with a court of devoted admirers, all eager to cater to your every whim. Above all, he longed to see you happy and cocooned within the safety of his embrace.

As Hoseok dismissed himself moments after sending you for tea, Jin felt a sharp pang of anguish pierce his heart. The mere thought of someone whisking you away from him before he had the chance to even reach out to you was unbearable.

He struggled to concentrate on his mother's idle chatter, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of possibilities lurking behind the doors. When Hoseok entered the room once again without you, a faint hint of anger in his eyes, Jin couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. Perhaps he had expressed affection towards you, and you had rejected him.

Jin made no attempt to defend his brother when his mother inquired about Hoseok's whereabouts. His gaze remained fixed on the doors, anticipation mounting as he waited for you to reappear. But as the other maid departed and you failed to return, Jin's worry escalated into irritation. Could Hoseok have harmed you? He was all too aware of his brother's capacity for brutality. It wasn't until a half-hour later, when you finally entered the room again with a cart of tea that Jin's anxiety and restlessness subsided.

You served them quietly, apologizing for the delay, before leaving again to attend to your other duties.

That afternoon, Jin retreated to his room with a newfound determination. A singular fantasy consumed his thoughts: he desired you, and he was prepared to take whatever steps necessary to bring it to fruition. Could this overwhelming desire truly be love?