#nonidol!namjoon

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

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[berryhobii]

7 Different Sheets (BTS OT7 x Reader)

Pairing: NonIdol!BTS x black!female reader

Word Count: 3,897

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), multiple partners, unprotected s*x(please be safe and speak with your partners before doing this), public s*x, spanking, oral(m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, riding, mentions of a mating press, reader does a split on someone’s 🍆🫣, intimate s*x, car s*x, múltiple orgasms(m and f receiving), mentions of STD testing, mentions of being arrested, weed smoking(reader is alluded to have smoked but it’s not explicitly mentioned), overstimulation, praise, degradation, choking, gagging, panty in mouth stuffing, restraints(wrists), mentions of a break up, i also might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with Namjoon’s part hehe, he definitely has me in a chokehold

A/N: Hi there! I’m here with my take on Seven by Jungkook ft Latto! I’m pretty sure someone requested something like this but now I can’t find the ask so hopefully they see this! I decided to include all of the boys in this. I absolutely love Latto and her verse in the song was just so good! And how could I not write gratuitous fuck buddy smut? I’m always open to criticism and please feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks so much. Stay safe💜

~

You had 7 fuck buddies.

Each of them were entirely different. Different jobs, different styles, different ways they liked to fuck you.

Just how did you fit all of them into your schedule?

Mondays were for Jimin.

You met him while out shopping with your friends. He worked at a luxury jewelry store. While your friends were busy staring at different charm bracelets, your eyes were focused on the rings on his hands—the way he twisted them whenever he was waiting for a customer to make a decision, how they glimmered under the bright lights, and especially how they’d look wrapped around your throat. Would they leave marks? Would he finger you with them on? Would your ass sting whenever he laid a harsh smack on it? So many thoughts yet so little answers.

“Does that feel good, my pretty slut?”

No words were in your head, your mouth stuffed with the panties he had ripped off of you. All you could get out were muffled moans and muffled calls of his name. Salvia soaked the material as much as your arousal did when you walked in his job, the fabric heavy on your tongue and slightly choking you which gave you a rush.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, his rings adding a pleasurable burn that made your juicy walls hug him impossibly tighter.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, eyes never leaving how your ass clapped back on him, cock coated in your creamy release. Sweat dripped down your back making your dark skin look like the most decadent chocolate, glistening like the gems displayed in the case below you. But not even those could compare to you when you were bent over like this.

Your hand slammed down on the display case, the sturdy counter shaking under the force.

Your walls spasmed around him, signaling your 5th orgasm since you came to visit him on his break.

His hand that wasn’t holding your hip moved to wrap around your throat, hauling your body up until you were arched. You felt unstable on your feet but Jimin was your rock, holding you up before your knees could give out of you.

He applied medium pressure to your throat, just barely pressing into your windpipe, stealing some of your already sparse oxygen from you. You felt dizzy like you were on a rollercoaster but one that never went down. Only up. And it was climbing and climbing until….

“This neck would look so pretty with a new necklace on it. Don’t you agree?” That low tone was enough to hurdle you right off the edge, eyes rolling back as you shook like a leaf in his hold.

And yes, your neck did look pretty in a new necklace.

~

Tuesdays were for Seokjin.

You met him at a wedding. Your “date” had gotten a little too friendly with the open bar which immediately turned you off. Not that you were that turned on to begin with. The man was nothing to write home about. Just someone who happened to approach you in a coffee shop.

After successfully detaching yourself from him, you were getting ready to leave before you caught the eye of Seokjin. He was tall and broad with a face you’d love to sit on. Respectfully, of course.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a proper gentleman with a goofy laugh that made you smile. He was definitely the type of person your parents would love for you to bring home. Polite and respectful and not bad on the eyes either.

But that gentleman act went out of the window when he got you in his bed.

“Jin! I can’t take it!” You screamed, yanking at the restraints on your wrists that were keeping you stationary. You were surprised you hadn’t broken his headboard from how hard you were jerking. His neighbors were probably tired of the slamming against the wall by now, their own calls for you two to pipe down died down a while ago. Let them call the police. You’d be damned if they put you in cuffs before you got Seokjin’s cock inside of you.

He was nestled between your legs, holding your thighs back to have more access to your cunt. His tongue never stopped its assault on your clit, abusing the bud until your entire body was shaking. Your legs would jerk to try and close with every lick but one firm look from him quickly put you in your place.

His plush lips were soaked with your juices, dark eyes staring at you as if you had just personified from his dreams. You might as well have.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I could eat it all day.” It sure felt like he has been. Your pussy felt both numb and electric at the same time. Sensitivity wanted to push him away but a desperate part of you was pushing you towards another orgasm. “You’ll be a good girl and give me another one, won’t you? You’re always my good girl.”

Fuck yes you were. Fat tears rolled down your face when he dove back in, sucking your clit in between his lips, his tongue flicking over it faster than before. Back arching, you screamed bloody murder as the strongest orgasm of the night engulfed your body.

Placing one more kiss on your throbbing bud, Seokjin backed up to let you breathe, stroking your thighs and whispering sweet nothings to you as you came down. Body still tingling from your release, you could barely blink through your blurry vision before you felt a shift on the bed.

A hand nestled in your sweaty hair, silk press gone to waste. You blinked through your tears, looking up to find Seokjin hovering over you, his knees on either side of your shoulders. His cock stiff and right in your face, the tip leaking precum.

He smirked down at you.

“Open wide, darling.”

~

Wednesdays were dedicated to Hoseok.

Honestly, you met Hoseok on a dating app. He was meant to be a quick one night stand since you were growing tired of your vibrator. After scrolling through a bunch of profiles and responding to a few messages, you came across him. He was a paralegal but apparently, he taught dance classes on the weekends which told you he definitely knew how to move. His photos were a sharp contrast to his job; bright and with him always smiling. He even had a picture of his dog on there which made you smile.

He was cute though and perhaps he’d be a fun night.

The pillow did barely anything to cover your screams, not when there was so much happening at once. You tossed it to the side, allowing your eyes to adjust to the glorious sight above you.

Hoseok’s head was tossed back in ecstasy, lip pulled between his teeth as he needlessly tried to keep quiet. You wanted to hear those noises, the way he cursed whenever you purposefully clenched around him.

“Hmpf, shit.” Just like that.

The pulses of the vibrator in your hand was making your arm numb but it was sending the most delicious vibes through your clit so whatever.

“Hobi…..”You called making him finally open his eyes and tilt his head forward to look down at you. You could have cum right there from how sexy he looked—sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, his chest littered in love bites you had obsessively sucked into his skin, and of course, the thin silver chain around his throat that bounced with every thrust. Take the wheel, Carrie Underwood.

He leaned forward, both of his hands moving from your thighs to place next to your head. His hips never faltered, keeping their languid pace rolling into you.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I…..I….can I cum?” Everything was moving so slowly. He had put the vibrator on its lowest setting so it wasn’t doing much for you and with this slow pace, he was prolonging your orgasm further than you wanted it to be. That was the thing about Hoseok. He liked it slow and intimate, going for hours until he brought both of you over the edge.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his chain tickling your nose.

“Not yet, my flower. Hold it a little longer for me.”

A particularly deep roll of his hips caused him to stroke slowly past your sweet spot, pulling a whimper from you.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes tearing up from your waning orgasm. It kept building and falling but it wasn’t enough to push you over. And with everything that happened today, you think this is exactly what you needed.

A gentle touch.

“But….”

He shushed you with a peck to your lips. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

~

Thursday’s were for Namjoon.

You met him at the gym. Don’t get it twisted. You weren’t really there to work out. Those few squats you did every couple of months were enough. That wasn’t the reason you had signed up for a membership.

It was because of the buff and drop dead sexy man that you often saw lifting weights. What exactly was the point of that tank top? Modesty? It looked like it was only soaking up the sweat that dripped down his honey kissed skin but it was failing at that too. Your tongue could do a better job. You’d lick every inch of that man for free and cook him a meal afterwards.

The steam of the shower was making it hard to breathe but Namjoon’s cock was making it even harder. When people told you to breathe through your nose, they factored out the cock being an absolute monster. You thought your jaw was gonna snap off.

Your nails dug into his yummy thighs, feeling the muscles tightened with every push of his cock into your warm and inviting mouth. You were definitely riding these things once you got back to his place.

“Damn, relax your throat, love.”

You happily followed his instructions, swallowing before exhaling through your nose. That allowed him to slide all the way home, your nose tickling the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Your eyes watered from the welcomed intrusion.

“Look at me.” He commanded from above you, the low tone of his voice making your pussy clench. Damn. Being a housewife sounded incredibly good right now. Patriarchy be praised.

Your eyelashes fluttered, looking at him and the sight was absolutely glorious. If he didn’t fuck you right now, you’d probably implode.

He must have seen that through your gaze because a dopey smile stretched across his face, adorable dimples indenting his cheeks.

Pulling out of your throat, you coughed and sputtered, swallowing a few times to soothe your sore throat. You barely had time to really cover before he was grabbing your arm and hauling you up. Legs draped over his buff arms, your arms scrambled to wrap around his shoulders. Now this position was the reason why bitches pull up to your mother’s house looking for you. You could feel the head of his cock sliding against your sopping cunt, your walls clenching in delight of finally getting what you want.

“Ready, baby?” He whispered in your ear before sucking on your lobe.

And no, you didn’t renew your gym membership.

~

Fridays were for Taehyung.

Funny enough, you met Taehyung while he was sneaking out of your apartment building. He was leaving a one night stand’s place and bumped into you while you were on your way inside. Of course, you could smell sex a mile away and the walk of shame was heavy on his shoulders. He actually tried hitting on you when he saw you, his eyes never leaving your cleavage.

You thought he was incredibly handsome though—a pretty boy type which you definitely liked. So you stopped him, told him to come back to you with a clean STD test and then you’d talk.

Taehyung had to will himself not to cum when you did a full split on his cock. Your hands kept your leverage on his knees, your head lolled forward from how his long cock was kissing your cervix each time, your legs stretched all the way out to give him the best view of his life.

He’s already cum twice, third orgasm almost painful but he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t want you to stop either(as if you could). You’ve been horny all day and you were going to get your fill of his cock. He knew you needed morning sex to get through the day yet he decided to go in for a shift at work, leaving you sad and desperate. The moment he walked in the door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pushing him on the rug in your living room. You didn’t even prep yourself and he was hard while driving to your place anyway so foreplay was unnecessary today. Maybe you’d ride his face later and you’d use that headband he was wearing as reigns.

Until then, you were going to ride his dick until he gave out. Or until you got tired, whichever came first.

“I’m gonna cum again. Slow down. Please.” He whimpered, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You whipped your hair behind you, the tips of your braids resting on his stomach. “Hmmm, give it to me, Tae. Fill me up again.” You leaned forward, bringing your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down. His cock was creamy with both of your releases, a wet smack sounding everytime you came down.

If this was how he died, put it on his tombstone.

“Oh shiiiiiiii….”His head thumped back against the floor, toes curling as you forced another orgasm out of him, the pulsing of his cock triggering your own.

You barely gave him time to calm down before you started your pace again.

He’d pick up another shift next Friday.

~

Saturdays were for Yoongi.

It was actually your favorite day of the week when you got to see the weed dealer. Not really because he let you smoke for free but because high sex was just another level. You met him when you were out one night. He catcalled you from his car and before you could even give whoever it was a piece of your mind, your voice got caught in your throat.

Your first thought was: man bun. Long hair in a man bun. Sexy ass drug dealer in a BMW with long hair in a man bun. Your parents always told you not to do drugs but how could you heed those warnings when temptation was served to you on a silver platter like that?

You gripped the headrest of the backseat, your breasts currently under attack by Yoongi’s expert tongue. The same tongue that had just ate you out like a champion a few minutes ago.

He pulled off your breast with a pop, delivering a smack to your ass with the hand that wasn’t holding his blunt. “Faster. I didn’t tell you to slow down.” His cat like eyes were hooded and glazed over from both the weed and the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock. For a second, he didn’t even think he was high on weed—he was high on you. You were like an addiction; savory and hard to avoid, you were like a forbidden fruit. One he’d sink his teeth into everytime.

He brought his blunt back to his lips, inhaling a deep pull, holding the smoke in before blowing it back into your face. Just that action had you cumming on his cock, the feeling vibrating all the way to your toes. When he felt a splash against his pelvis, he dropped his head to look down at where you were connected. You were still bouncing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and with each bounce, a small spray of liquid squirted from you.

He tossed his own head back, making sure to put his blunt in the ashtray on the door to prevent any burns to his upholstery before grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands and beginning to piston up into your spasming cunt.

“Bout to fill this pussy up. You want it?” He grunted against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the skin there.

He had knocked all of your words loose so all you could manage was a frantic nod of your head and a drawn out, “yessssss yessssss pleaseeeeee”.

“This pussy is so fucking good.” He landed a slap on your ass, the sting sending shocks of pleasure up your back as another orgasm crashed into you.

You were so absorbed that you didn’t even hear the police sirens as they pulled up next to you.

Wow. You thought you were just imagining the car rocking. Guess not.

~

The end of the week meant only one thing.

You had deep cleaned your apartment, moving slowly since your body still ached a little from sleeping on that bench at the station. Good thing Yoongi had connections that could bail both of you out. Still, you’d probably risk it again if it meant getting fucked like that.

You had just lit a candle and you were about to sit down to have a glass of wine but you were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing.

“Ughhhhhh.” You groaned, placing your wine glass on a coaster before hauling yourself up less than gracefully and shuffling to the door. You didn’t even look at the screen on your intercom, just opening it and immediately trying to close it back after seeing who was on the other side.

A foot jammed itself between the door, stopping you from shutting it completely.

“Baby, come on. I said I’m sorry.”

“Screw you, Jeon! I told you I don’t want to see you again.”

He managed to push the door enough to slip his upper body through. The sight of his face sent a weird rush through you but you didn’t know if it was good or bad. You didn’t like it.

His doe eyes pleaded at you. “Please talk to me. I can’t stand not being with you anymore. Please please. I’m sorry.” He sounded so genuine that it made you break, heartstrings effectively tugged on and strummed by the only man you truly loved.

You shouldn’t let him in. You really shouldn’t.

“Oh. My. God. J-Jungkook!”

His hand whizzed through the air, landing a hard smack on your bruised ass that has taken a lot of punishment tonight.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear a word from you, you little whore.” He spit into your ear, hand coming up to cover your mouth while the other one held your hip to keep you in place as he delivered the deadliest back shots.

Your entire body was lit up in pain and pleasure, both mixing together in a beautiful cacophony that had you ready to propose to him.

Your moans were muffled by his large hand, his grip forcing your head back at an uncomfortable angle but he could give less of a damn about your comfort.

“How dare you let someone else fuck what’s mine?” He uncovered your mouth to slap your ass again in a tender spot causing you to jump, a high pitched scream coming from you as he pushed you into another orgasm. You had lost count a while ago, brain not keeping up with your body. Everything just felt endless.

You didn’t want him to know you were fucking other people. It wasn’t any of his business. You weren’t together anymore but am accidental slip up revealed what happened yesterday and in seconds, you were bent over the arm of your couch with Jungkook behind you.

“Count.”

He had made it to 21 before your knees were buckling, your eyes and mouth begging him to fuck you. To put you in your place and make you remember exactly who you belonged to.

He gripped at your hair, yanking your head back and making your body arch even more. Only your fingertips touched the bed below you, knees spread wide as you began throwing yourself back on his thick cock.

“I expect an answer when I ask you something, slut.” Contradictory since he told you to shut up earlier but logic was not necessary here. You were just a pliant little doll in service to the hunk of a man that was abusing your walls so good that your pussy should file a restraining order.

“N-no….I’m…ah! Fuck! S-sorry…..oh shit, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right. You come on my cock and my cock only. Do you fucking understand me?” He could feel his own orgasm building. He’s been holding back, a hard task with a pussy like yours but he managed. Denying all of your orgasms earlier made it easy enough for him. Then again, he did almost blow his load earlier when you put both of your feet behind your ears and held out your tongue for him to spit in your mouth.

He was an idiot for letting you go.

“I said, Do.” Smack! “You.” Smack. “Understand.” Smack. “Me?”

“YES!!! Oh shit!” Your walls clenched around him so tightly that it forced him out of your cunt, a long spray of liquid soaking the bedsheets beneath you. He brought his hand between your legs to rub furiously at your clit, splashing your juices everywhere. You’d definitely be upset later about your freshly washed sheets but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Your body jerked around as pure bliss and pleasure coursed through your veins, legs squirming all around as you both tried to chase and run away from Jungkook’s assault on your clit. He held your hip firmly, trying to keep you still while you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

When overstimulation began to get too painful, you turned over onto your side, pushing his hand away with your own. You twitched in the aftershocks, covering your cunt with your hands. Even the cool air was too much against your abused pussy. You’d probably have to take a break for the week just to recuperate.

When the haze began to clear a little, you slowly turned your head, peeking through your braids that covered your face to peek at Jungkook. Only to find him missing. You didn’t even hear him get out of the bed. Where did he go?

You waited a few moments, trying to catch your breath before Jungkook entered the room with a bottle of water. He was still fully naked, cock hard and angry looking, shiny with your juices.

He came over to the bed, placing a knee beside you to lean over your twitching body.

“Here. Drink some water. You need to be hydrated before I make you squirt again like that.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. Again? Was he trying to kill you?

“W-again?”

His lips quirked up into his signature grin, nose scrunching cutely and it made you want to punch him in it and then kiss it better.

“You think that was it? We’re just getting started. This will teach you not to give out what’s mine.”

It didn’t teach you anything though. You’d have to learn your lesson again next week.

And he’d teach you faithfully every Sunday.

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — three

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, use of pepper spray, breaking and entering

▷ word count. 4.4k // taglist: open

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FILE_03 : by the tail

gotham city.

[seven days since your mother was murdered.]

"Is she here?"

The voice was familiar to your sensitive ears, and although your eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Lee, you shifted your attention mentally to the two—no, three—wait… four?—figures making their way over to where you and Mrs. Lee stood in the home office space. Their footsteps were as quiet as heeled loafers could be against hollow wood floors. The Lees' home in the suburbs was a safe distance from the heart of Gotham, so the neighborhood was much nicer and much more like a home. The Lees had been ushered here after Lee Sungjae had been found murdered, and they'd resided here since.

You had been called in the day after the incident happened—that was the day after you had gone to see your father. We must work fast, Yn. They've already gotten to one of my… men. That was what he'd told you, and when he elaborated, you had discovered that every news channel now blasted footage of Lee Sungjae's dead, glassy eyes.

You had been busy since, trying to both grieve in peace and work at the same time.

"—take more time, Yn-ah. Losing a loved—" Mrs. Lee's voice cracked slightly and she covered her mouth.

"Mrs. Lee—"

She waved your hand away, angling her body away slightly so she could regain composure. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright. I just… I know how it feels, and I think you deserve time to yourself, as well."

Of course you told her about your mother. You had to take another day off when one of your coworkers had noticed how spaced out you were when you came in. No, you didn't tell her your mother was murdered the same way her husband had. That was between you, your father, and the motherfucker who did this.

But for now, you were supposed to be here to answer the police's questions about your employer. You had been one of three of Mr. Lee's secretaries for the past several months now, having come under his employ about a year ago after Choi Enterprises turned you away. But magically, a few days afterward, this offer from the office of one Lee Sungjae had arrived in your inbox. When one door closed, as they said, another opened. Whatever guardian angel was looking over you then certainly wasn't looking over you now though.

"Miss Ln?"

You turned around and expected to see Commissioner Kim Namjoon and your co-secretary, Shin Ryujin, but you hadn't expected the two others with them. They stood behind the two aforementioned, both in black domino masks that covered the top halves of their faces. Their suits were skintight, most likely to allow for more mobility, but they also accentuated their starkly muscular figures. The taller one wore a suit of dark blue and black, while the other donned a maroon red and black ensemble. You recognized them, respectively, as Gotham's very own Nightwing and the Red Robin. Vigilantes. What were they doing with Commissioner Kim?

Ryujin bowed her way out, gently taking Mrs. Lee with her. That left you with the others.

"Hello, Miss Ln," Commissioner Kim greeted with a tired, but not unkind, smile. He fished a small notepad out of his coat pocket, ballpoint pen clicking to life. "My name is Commissioner Kim. These two… not sure if you need any introductions."

When you remained silent with only a nod, he continued, "We're here investigating the murder of your former employer, and we were informed that you often handled his familial affairs. We've already spoken with Miss Shin and Mr. Yun, but we wanted to ask where you were last Wednesday night at ten o'clock."

You were very aware that Nightwing had decided to wander about the office, eyes taking in the shelves and the notes and the desk… then there was Red Robin, who's attention was pinned intently on you, arms crossed firmly over his chest. There was something awfully familiar about these two. "Is that an accusation, Commissioner?" You asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.

"It doesn't have to be," he said airily. "Just answer the question, Miss."

"I was at home," you answered, schooling your face into neutrality. "You can ask my employer's wife and my coworkers—I was taking time off to grieve my mother's death."

The shock was not the most stark on the commissioner's face, but on Red Robin's. "She's dead?—" He coughed; even Nightwing had paused his movements. "I mean, I'm sorry for your loss." You didn't recognize the voice, but you suspected it was probably being disguised with a voice modulator.

The commissioner sent him a bewildered look, but turned back to you. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Yn. Truly." He asked with almost a grimace, "Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts? I understand you were most likely home alone, but perhaps a neighbor, a significant other…?"

And there it was again—that shift in energy as both the vigilantes in the room stopped to focus on you.

You shook your head with a tight smile. It probably wouldn't bode well if you revealed to them who your father was or that you paid the Iceberg Lounge a visit that day. You were also a little too preoccupied with survival to have a significant other, and you hadn’t been close enough to a neighbor in years. "No. Just my cats."

There was something so familiar about this Red Robin character, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Or maybe it was the way he was staring at you with such pity (and sympathy) that made you wish he was someone else. Either way, you needed to know why these two vigilantes were put on the case, and what they might have already found out. At the moment, it didn't seem like it would pose a problem, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to be a little more careful.

When you arrived home that night, bones aching as much as your head pulsed, you collapsed on the couch. A few of your cats began to swarm your legs, soft fur tickling the skin exposed when your pant leg lifted. Blue, a very introverted Russian Blue who you managed to make an extrovert when it came to you, plopped himself onto your lap like a warm, vibrating mass. You ran your fingers through his fur to the symphony of someone's purrs (you figured it was Byeol; he was quite vocal).

"Should I invite him to the funeral?" You murmured to Blue in question.

He stared back at you, then silently turned his gaze to a particle of dust floating in the air.

You exhaled back against the couch cushions. "I'll take that as a yes."

In the dead of night—because there was always a dead of night, even for Gotham City—you pulled a dark beanie over your head and the top half of your face. Two holes had been cut and sewn for your eyes to see through, and at the top of the hat, two little triangles sat akin to ears. You recalled the night you had crocheted this on a whim, your mother having done most of the work.

"Blue wants it to have cat ears, mama," you'd told her just as she brought out her tub of yarns.

Your mother's eyes glittered. "Is that right? Well, we'll have to add cat ears then, won't we?"

You thought it would be fitting to find her killer in this. You thought it fit you quite well, at least.

The rest of you was dressed in black, and your hand grazed over Soul's fluffy, white head as you propped open the second floor window. "I'll be home soon," you whispered to the last of your family, then disappeared into the night.

"I can't get why this is so familiar to me," Beomgyu voiced into the echoes of the Batcave, hands braced against the main monitor as he stared at the copy of the note: A Debt Repaid. He had been staring at it for the past week, not consecutively, but it hadn't left the forefront of his mind. Like you.

Soobin trudged over to his brother with a bowl of cereal cradled in his large palm, the other hand spooning the sweet milk and wheat flakes into his mouth. "Mm. Maybe give it a rest for a little, Beom."

"And do what?"

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin smiled and shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died so close to another's death?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the date go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly said 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers' were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of… shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Ln Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Actually, that was a lie. You kind of knew what you were doing, but that was leagues away from completely knowing what you were doing until it was muscle memory. Right now though, as you gripped onto the side of the building, fingertips digging into the concrete ledge like a lifeline (because it might as well had been one), you couldn't wait until it became muscle memory.

God, your arms were going to ache tomorrow morning.

"It's worth it, Yn," you muttered to yourself, under your breath, and that was what made you reach up one more time and grasp onto the ledge of the window sill. You had always wondered why buildings like this lacked security cameras, but based on its practically smooth facade, it was no wonder. Only a crazy person would dare scale something like this.

The law firm building was not one of the largest nor one of the dingiest. If it had been some place like Clark & Field, you would have considered other ways to get into the building, but it would probably be through the inside (because scaling a fifty story skyscraper without a net was not on your bucket list). And if the building had been on the dingier side, it would have, frankly, been much easier to find footholds and places to brace. Except for any mold or crumbly parts. That was not fun either.

Or maybe you could classify scaling buildings as just… not fun in general. But the skills and the strength would come with time.

This time, however, was fueled by pure willpower.

But the universe was on your side for once, and the window you clung to gave way and granted you entry. The stupid lock picks had actually worked.

Despite being dead for two weeks, Yang Eunhyuk’s office still looked like its owner was still alive. There were documents left out in the open, all of the furniture had yet to be touched, there was an old (upon further investigation, really old) cup of coffee on the desk, and a two-week-old calendar for the week’s appointments and cases. You peered at the calendar and skimmed its contents, but found nothing terribly noteworthy. You strolled by the bookcase, footsteps light as a cat’s, and glimpsed the titles. There were a lot of convoluted-sounding titles on the shelves, and honestly, you doubted that he even read half of the books there. They were probably just for show when clients came in.

After you had given yourself a tour of the space, you determined that no one had truly cared enough about this man to really clean up for him. The door out into the hallway was locked, and through its frosted glass door, you could make out the distinct yellow police tape crossed over the frame. This was no crime scene, but the police had still had the room locked down… odd.

You figured they didn’t care enough. But maybe this guy had more connections than you were giving him credit for. He had been one of your father’s clients, after all. (Actually, that wasn’t enough to determine whether or not Yang was smart or not. Resorting to your father’s ever-generous solutions was stupid; and you were very well-aware that that made you stupid, too.)

Your father had sent you to this office for something in particular.

“Yang Eunhyuk was an idiot and a half,” your father had told you the day you had come to him. “But he knows how to hide his things when he needs to.” He had carefully relayed all of the necessary information to you as the two of you sat on the couch together to outline your next steps and what exactly he was asking of you. “He owes me a compilation of files and a burner phone.”

When you’d asked what for, there was that gleam in his eyes as if he found the question amusing. “Well, to find out who betrayed us, of course.”

“To find who killed Mom?”

He had nodded at you—waved his hand flippantly. “Yes. That’s the same thing, Yn.”

A burner phone and a compilation of files. Your father had already searched Yang’s personal place of residence, but there had apparently been nothing but “shit." So here you were… sorting through more shit.

You drummed the pads of your fingers on the surface of the desk.

“Where would he hide you, hm?” You murmured to yourself. You tried all of the drawers under the desk—four of the seven came up locked. The top three drawers were all filled with a smorgasbord of knick knacks and junk like a fidget spinner, fidget cube, a package of cigarettes, and even a used gum wrapper. (Gross.) You slipped a lock pick out from your sleeve as you considered the remaining four locked drawers, then realized that Yang Eunhyuk might not have kept your father’s files in the same place as his regular, ol’ case files.

And so, you moved away from the desk.

You figured there were specific places a lawyer would keep their most sensitive files to ensure discretion and privacy. You recalled how your late employer, Lee Sungjae, often had his most precious files stashed away in a place that was so obvious that no one would ever assume any person in the right mind would hide such things. For Sungjae, it had been a picture frame on the wall of his office, the one with him and his entire family pictured. It was cute; but when one peered behind it…

There was only one picture frame in the entire office space. It was small and it housed his law degree. You wondered if it was phony.

You decided to give it a chance and reached for it with a gloved hand.

When you took the frame off the wall, a frown slipped onto your face at the solid wall behind it. Huh. It was worth a—

You stepped backward and inhaled sharply when your leg hit the back of his cheap office chair. You managed to right yourself, but your ears had also perked up at a curious sound. You swiftly replaced the frame on the wall and knelt down by the desk chair and twisted your body to peer beneath it.

The sound you had heard had been a soft swish. It was subtle and not at all loud, but thanks to the empty office and your own hearing, you had picked up on it. It was practically a miracle.

Your heart pounded in excitement as you stuck your hand beneath the chair and felt up the bottom. There—you felt a distinct, padded folder—and there—

Your fingers wrapped around a small device no bigger than the palm of your hand. It must have been attached to the bottom of the chair with some kind of tape, and you gave it a good yank. And behold… in your hand was the alleged burner phone, staring up at you, just begging for you to sneak a peek into its logs. But before you could, you removed the file that had been hidden beneath the chair as well. It was a standard manila folder stuffed to the brim with papers and, you assumed, lots of sensitive information. Your eyes were widening like your smile as you just struck gold.

Not too bad for your first time in a while.

You startled at the sound of a thump.

There was a figure, a shadow, standing on the window sill by the end of the desk. He was familiar to you with his dark hair and domino mask, and his red and black uniform. His cape flowed from just off the precipices of his shoulders and hung around the backs of his knees—imposing and regal but not in the way of any movements he made. The Red Robin had stood before you just earlier in the day at Lee Sungjae’s suburban home. He had been the one with the familiar presence to you, along with his… colleague? You didn’t know his and Nightwing’s association or relationship, but you weren’t about to interact long enough to find out.

“Breaking and entering is illegal, y’know,” the masked vigilante mused, and you could just make out the shadow of his smirk in the darkness. “Even at crime scenes.”

You rose from your spot on the floor, slipping the burner into the holster pocket on the garter around your thigh and tucking the file in the crook of your arm. There wasn’t really a place you could hide the chunky piece of shit. Despite your heart palpitating in your chest, you maintained a cool exterior. He didn’t know who you were, and you expected that he wouldn’t be able to recognize your voice since you had only spoken to him once.

“Nothing done in Gotham is illegal,” you replied to him.

His head cocked to the side, arms folding over his chest. “You’re not wrong about that. But…” He nodded at the file folder. “I really can’t let you leave with that.”

Oh, dear god. You needed an escape plan—and fast.

Nothing was coming to mind; it was just get out get out get out! (Very helpful, as always.)

“I’m sure you can make an exception for me,” you said with a mocking pout. “How’d you even know I was here? I didn’t realize Yang Eunhyuk had a connection to Gotham’s exclusive Bat Boys.”

A scoff from him. “He doesn’t. Your luck just happened to be running out, sweetheart.” He stepped off the window sill and entered the office, stalking toward you with slow, methodical steps because he knew you were cornered. You really should have tried that office door when you had the chance.

As you began backing away, you shook his head and tsked. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Give me the folder.”

“And I can go?” You wondered how fast you could disappear once you flung yourself out of that window.

He smiled. “If you give me that burner, too, sure.”

Your heart stopped for a millisecond. God damn it.

He must have seen the doubt in your eyes, and that fucking smile of his widened. Something about that was tug-tug-tugging a nerve. He stopped walking toward you as you slowly made a move to set the file down on the floor. “Good girl.”

The file flopped onto the wooden floor.

"Slowly," he drawled, eyes glued to your form as he watched your hand move toward the holster pouch.

All the while, you were counting down in your head.

Before he could blink, you swung a leg out and kicked the file back behind Red Robin and toward the window. His head swerved in that direction, and you launched yourself at him before he could realize his mistake.

You kicked at him, one-two, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a virus. He blocked your blows, just as you swung around and made a grab for his mask.

He caught your wrist; you whirled—it was a high stakes tango you had not been prepared for. But you jabbed your elbow behind you, fist flying up toward his nose. Every move you made was desperate and offensive.

You slipped free and ducked, body curling under his arm, under his cape, until you ended up in the flurry of the dark fabric.

The vigilante knew his own cape though. You gave him that much.

He grabbed the opposite end and arced it over your head, arm coming down to wrap you in it—but you threw yourself out of it, landing a swift blow to his shin. Wouldn't do much except make him curse and loosen his grip slightly.

The file was in sight—oh god, it was right the fuck there.

You made a mad dash for it, leaning down slightly and reaching out with your hand—

"Not so fast, kitty—"

You hit the floor with a curse, palms flat against the wood. His foot had hooked around yours and tripped you, his knee set against your back like his own palm as he held you against the floor.

You felt his breath by your ear. "What's in the file, sweetheart?"

"None of your concern," you gritted out, then throwing your head back until you heard and felt that telltale "fuck!" from Red Robin.

You ignored the throbbing in the back of your skull to fling yourself around and throw off his balance again. Your hand dove into your holster pocket to retrieve the small cylinder of mace, then sprayed it in a final move of desperation, breath and chest heaving.

The man sputtered, hand flying up to his mouth as he stumbled backward and tried to eject the chemical from his body. "Dirty fucking move," he spat as you turned tail and made for the file.

Only—

"Looking for this?"

Two others had joined the party, to your absolute horror. Nightwing stood with the file in his hand, while Red Hood—the vigilante from the bank, and supposedly Choi Yeonjun based on your deductions—was perched up on the window sill with zero care in the world.

Well shit.

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[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Lights Out, Words Gone | Lights Out, Words Spill - [yoongi x reader][2.4k+ friends to lovers, nonidol!au; light angst, smut, fluff] Exploration No. 5 - [namjoon x reader] [1k+ strangers to lovers, nonidol!au; fluff] Now That We Don't Talk | Not In The Same Way | Not Warriors | High - [seokjin x reader ft. hoseok] [3.5k+ lovers to strangers, breakup!au; angst, smut] Be My Mistake - [jhope x reader] [1.4k+ friends with benefits, celeb!au; smut, angst] Orbiting - 1° | 2° - 2,5° | 3° - 3,5° | 4° | 5° - [jungkook x reader ft. jimin] [5k+ friends with benefits, childhood friends to lovers, nonidol!au; smut—literally porn with a little bit of plot, light angst, fluff] Come As You Are, Doused In Mud - One | Two - [jimin x reader ft. taehyung] [5k+ circus!au, dead dove; smut ‼️ strong language and dark themes] Play It As It Lays - [taehyung x reader] [1.5k+ smut] Bad Omens | Ghost of You | Take My Hand - [jungkook x reader] [5k+ married!au; smut, angst] Untitled | Still Untitled - [jungkook x reader] [6k+ college!au; fluff] A Daydream Away - [idol!yoongi x music producer!reader] About You - [jungkook x reader] [3.9k+ mild angst] Bleach - [yoongi x reader] [1.3k+ angst, fluff]

[shadowofahope]

Upcoming Works:

Answers pt.2 SKZ x Ghost Reader

Possibilities Nonidol!Changbin/Nonidol!Minho x Reader

To Breathe Again - chapter 001 Unistudent!Namjoon x Unistudent!Reader, implied!Unistudent!Jimin x Reader

Till Death pt.1 SeokJin! Mafia Boss x Reader

Tell Me Again Jungkook!FWB x Reader

The Restricted Collection BTS!Hogwarts/SKZ!Hogwarts x Reader

Eucalyptus pt.2.5 Hybrid Reader

These Nights Can't Last Forever Idol!BangChan x Fan!reader

Love Revocation ImperialGuard!Hoseok x Princess!Reader

Must Be 4thyearUnistudent!Jimin x Clubowner!reader

[spicybutterfly]

Liyah's Masterlist ˚♡ᰍ

*Disclaimer all characters and events portrayed in my works are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons or events are purely coincidental. Most of my works will contain adult themes, and therefore will not be suitable for anyone under the age of 18*

Copyright © 2022 Spicybutterfly

All rights reserved.

Distribution, copying, reposting, or translating of any kind is not permitted. I will take legal action against those who attempt to steal my work.

(all works are crossposted on A03)

Thank you for reading!♡

──────────

Key ୭

Fluff - f

Angst - a

Smut - s

──────────

Kim Namjoon ᰍ

ꕀ The Wrong Cup

husband!Namjoon x pregnant wife!reader | f & a | 18 + | Oneshot

Based on a Tiktok video. When Namjoon's pregnant wife no longer wants a of cup water because it's in the wrong cup.

──────────

Kim Seokjin ᰍ

coming soon...

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Min Yoongi ᰍ

coming soon...

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Jung Hoseok ᰍ

coming soon...

──────────

Park Jimin ᰍ

ꕀ Lilac

nonidol!Jimin x fem!reader | f | 18+

On your way to your nail appointment, you run into the cutest, yet strangest boy you’ve ever met. 

──────────

Kim Taehyung ᰍ

coming soon...

──────────

Jeon Jungkook ᰍ

ꕀ Moon Meeting

nonidol!Jungkook x fem!reader | f & a | 18+ | Oneshot

Of course, you would get your first menstrual cycle on a Monday, in the middle of class, during an algebra test, in front of your crush. Fortunately, that very same crush is there to save the day. 

──────────

OT7 ᰍ

coming soon...

[jungkookiebus]

[d] Make up sex with Namjoon for @blakcherrysblog :D

“I don’t understand why you just don’t listen to me.” Namjoon was angry and you were just as equally pissed.

“I don’t understand what your problem is!”

The evening had started out easy and simple enough; the two of you had gone to a bar with friends for a few drinks. An old college friend of yours that you hadn’t seen in years showed up and you had both been deep into a conversation about your lives when Namjoon rudely interrupted you.

“We have to leave,” he had said.

“Wait? Why? Is something wrong?” You saw the anger flash through his eyes when he looked at you, but you left anyway. Now, you were both in the car having a heated argument about the evening.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you?” he growled.

“Uh,” you said throwing your hands up, “obviously not! I don’t understand what you’re talking about Namjoon! This is fucking ridiculous that you think there was something going on between us.”

“Did you guys date in college?”

“Fuck no! I had a few classes with him, and we were in a study group together, that’s it! You’re being stupid right now.”

Namjoon slammed on the brakes as he veered the car off onto the shoulder.

“What the fuck?!” you yelled.

“What did you just call me?”

“Stupid. How you’re acting is stupid.”

“Say it one more time, ______.”

“You’re. Acting. Stupid.”

Namjoon unbuckled his seatbelt faster than you could blink and he roughly grabbed your chin and brought you in for a heated kiss.

“What was that for?!” you asked when he pulled away.

“You’re hot when you’re pissed,” he said while pressing the button on your seatbelt and letting it pull back to hit the door beside you.

“What are you doing?”

Namjoon got out of the car and rounded it to your side. You looked around you on the deserted road to see if there was anyone around, but at this time of night there was literally no one on the streets. He reached your side and opened the door.

“Get out,” he demanded.

You hesitated at first but decided to do what you were told. He looked at you before climbing into the passenger seat.

“Now get back in.”

You looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Sit on me, ______.”

You awkwardly climbed back in, straddling his lap, and closed the door with you. It was seconds before he was bringing you back in for another heated kiss, his tongue danced along yours and before long he was inching both of his hands up your thighs and under your dress. He moaned into the kiss when he realized you had opted to not wear underwear that night.

“I bet he would have been crazy knowing how bare you are under here,” he said while rubbing two of his fingers along your slit as you became increasingly more wet.

“He never would have had the chance to find out,” you moaned out.

“Is that so? Not even a little bit?”

“Not interested.” Your head was now thrown back, fully rutting against Namjoon’s fingers as he held them against you.

“What do you think he’d say if he knew you were about to sit on my dick?” He was talking hotly against the skin of your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tried to get yourself off on his fingers.

“I-I think he’d want it to be him,” you breathed.

You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed you softly. “I bet he would too. Sit up.” Namjoon pulled his hand away from you as you pushed yourself up on your knees and off his lap. He unbuckled his pants and pulled them down enough to pull his cock out. You licked your lips at the sight of it, red and swollen in his hand. He reached beside the seat to recline it and then grabbed your hips.

“Sit on me, baby.”

You inched up forward and positioned yourself the best you could as Namjoon helped guide his cock inside of you. You went down slowly, placing your hands on his chest as you did so.

“Now fuck me as if he were watching,” he said as he grabbed onto your hips once more.

In your mind you imagined you were in a different place, somewhere where he could possibly be watching you. The thought alone of being watched as Namjoon’s dick disappeared inside of you had you increasing the pace of your hips.

“Are you seeing it, _____? He would want it to be him as he watched; this perfect little pussy taking my cock so well. He would want to feel you wrapped around him and so wet.”

The windows of the car started to fog as both of your breathing got heavier as you ground down harder onto him.

“Oh my god, Namjoon, I’m going to come.” Your hands clutched at his shirt as your clit made contact with his pelvis at each swivel of your hips.

“Come for me. Think about him wanting to fuck you so badly, but he can’t. I bet you he’s at home right now touching himself thinking about you in this dress. He’d want nothing more than to bend you over and have his way with you wouldn’t he, ______?”

His words had you quickly coming undone around him; your orgasm hitting you harder than it had in a while. You continued fucking down onto him as you felt his cock twitch inside of you; grinding down harder onto him until he was also coming.

You both sat there, his cock still heavy inside of you as you tried to catch your breath. The heat inside of the car had your hair sticking to your neck and you reached over to roll the window down and let a cool breeze into the car. About that time a, clearly, drunk couple stumbled past. You could not care less as they both gawked at you and continued to stumble on. You looked back at Namjoon as you heard from down the road, “Were they fucking?!”

Drabble Masterlist

[recluxx]

bts fic recommendations

kim seokjin

min yoongi

jung hoseok

kim namjoon

park jimin

kim taehyung

jeon jungkook

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ot7 x reader

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abo!au

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zookeeper!au

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last updated: june 27, 2024

[jungkussyficrecs]

Sh.

Sh. by @wwilloww

Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to reunite with your friends in a mysterious house in the mountains, how could you even think of saying no?

or

You end up fucking your 7 friends in a beautiful mountain chalet.

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty three | jhs

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 5.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS non penetrative sex. some mild angst.

AN hey :) i'm that dude sliding into ur dms after not responding to ur text for three months but i AM here with a new chapter for you all. this one, for some reason, was a doozy to write, but i hope you find something warm in it waiting for you. more to come soon! love you--and thank you for sticking along with me on this ride!

← || series m.list || →

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: WITHOUT A GOAL

Hoseok’s hand is warm in yours. You smile at him as he tugs you from Jimin’s bedroom. For a moment that is all there is: you, Hoseok, and the singular place where your bodies are joined. You are silent, curious about where he is bringing you. 

Namjoon calls your name from within a door. 

He jogs out before you have a chance to respond. “I’ve been looking for you!” he says with a grin. 

“Have you?” 

“I need a hand organizing some of the books in the library.” Then, sheepishly, “I thought you might like looking through some of them. I was hoping you’d help me.” 

You glance between Namjoon and Hoseok, trying to read their expressions, wondering if this is some remnant of your dream or if this is simply a perfectly normal conversation. 

“Hobi-hyung!” Taehyung calls, appearing at the end of the hallway. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

You and Hoseok share a look. “Apparently we’re quite popular,” he muses. 

“It seems,” you reply. 

“Sorry—” he mouths at you, as Taehyung slips his arm through Hoseok’s and tugs him away. You watch each other until the other disappears from view. 

Looking at Namjoon shakes loose the dregs of the dream from last night—the swirling mist of early morning, the possession in his eyes—as Namjoon leads you to the library. You watch his face closely for any recognition that the person you saw in your dream is the one standing before you. But his face is open– happy, even–taking in the sights and senses around him. 

“Is there a reason you keep pulling me away from Hoseok?” you finally ask Namjoon.

“No—why would you say that?” Namjoon asks, his brow furrowing. You shrug it off. 

“No reason.”

The day speeds by in a blur, and before long you find yourself at the dinner table, crowded around with your friends. Jin has whipped up a fusion meal: gochujang parmesan pasta with a whole brown butter spatchcocked chicken. It’s rich, creamy, and zings with acid at the end of the palate. You all coo over Jin’s culinary accomplishment, which he happily soaks up.

Jimin is a little quieter than normal, but when he’s not staring at his hands beneath the table, he’s consistently glancing at you, like he’s looking for something.  You offer him small smiles when you catch his gaze. He quickly looks away. It doesn’t feel like him. You have the sense he’s standing across a bridge from you, a forest, large and looming at his back. 

Where are you, Park Jimin?

—--------------

When dinner’s done, you all stay seated for hours around the table, laughing, talking, sharing small moments from your day. Jungkook shares that he tried to find a way onto the roof, which procures a very large, very enthusiastic scolding from the rest of you, Taehyung found some paints in an unexplored closet and has begun painting in his free time, and Yoongi sheepishly shares about a new song he’s been working on, in very vague, humble terms. You and Namjoon excitedly detail your work in the library, sorting books, and the discovery of a locked box of books. Everyone is enchanted by the story, and Jungkook offers to try to break the lock with a hammer, to which Namjoon shudders deeply.  

Though you never explicitly agreed to it, it’s become a tradition that you all eat dinner together each night. As the conversation winds down, your cheeks are heated from laughing, talking, and smiling so much. The gang breaks apart, some of you shifting back into the kitchen to finish dishes and tidying after Jin’s masterpiece. You and Jungkook tag team the table, collecting remaining dishes and napkins. 

Jungkook pauses, and leans across the table towards you. 

With a smile, he asks, “Wanna stay over tonight?” He waggles his eyebrows. 

“We’ve been meaning to have a moment alone,” Hoseok cuts in. You look up from your dishrag and spray bottle to find him standing in the doorway. You wonder how much he overheard of your conversation. We, you think. Hm. “Do you mind?”

You glance between Jungkook and Hoseok. 

“I did promise him earlier,” you say with a shrug to Jungkook. 

“Don’t you worry, Jungkook,” says Jimin, who also appears from the kitchen and lounges against the door. Somehow he manages to make every position—seated or horizontal or standing—look luxurious and effortless. “Why don’t you come hang out with me tonight?” 

“Really?” Jungkook says, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah—yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Mind if I join you two?” Yoongi chimes in. He, too, has emerged from the kitchen. Jungkook and Jimin nod, Jungkook’s face reddening slightly. You can read on his face what he’s imagining: the three of them tangled up in bed. 

This is may be the first time you’ve noticed Jimin and Yoongi being so straightforward with each other. You had always noticed the way that Yoongi would watch Jimin a little bit extra carefully than the others, his eyes tracking Jimin’s movements and the immediate surroundings whenever the latter was present. Before your group agreement you had always attributed it to Yoongi’s protective side, how he looked out particularly close for Jimin, despite Jimin’s lack of need for a guard dog. It had always seemed to you to be some kind of disagreement in perception, one you couldn’t always understand. Jimin had never needed protecting, not with his quick words and sharp judgment. But now, alone, stranded in the wilderness, who was Yoongi protecting Jimin from? 

“I, um, wanted to do some reading tonight anyways,” Namjoon chimes in, poking his head through the entryway. You exchange a glance, your gaze asking what no one wants to ask aloud: Do you want to be alone? He nods in response.

With arrangements settled, Hoseok slips his hand into yours. You look down at it, a little surprised. 

“Come on,” he says, and leads you to the back of the house. 

In the bedroom, you take in the sight of what is supposed to be your room (even if you share it). The last time you were here, you were getting ready for the dinner party that changed everything. The room remains unchanged, and yet it feels entirely different than the last time you were inside. 

You wonder where that red dress went. Knowing Namjoon, he probably returned it with a careful touch to its proper home shortly after the orgy. 

Standing in this room, something in you feels older, a little more mature. That’s not the word…

—Bigger?—

Yes, like you had grown, larger, more expansive, around the edges of your previous self. Has it really only been a couple days since you left your belongings here and began wandering the beds of the house? (Officially, and with everyone’s knowledge, that is.) The distance between now and then feels like it stretches weeks, time itself stretching taut and thin, despite it only being a handful of days.

Time seems to move so strangely here, in this house, like a river, barely moving in some places where it collects, stills, and becomes cold in the far reaches of its depths. And yet, there are other days that speed by with the quickness of a white water rapid. Right now, there is a part of you that feels caught in the eddies: whipped along and holding your breath. 

“You probably just want to just go to bed, don’t you?” Hoseok says as he strips off his sweater, revealing a simple t-shirt beneath. “You must be tired.” 

You come up behind him and wrap your arms around him, standing on your tiptoes. With your head on his shoulder, you look at him in the mirror. 

“Mmm. A little. Not too tired though.” The end of your sentence remains unspoken, but still understood: Not too tired to touch you.

You catch his gaze in the mirror and hold it for a moment. He smiles. A sense of ease and affection flutters in your chest. 

After a moment, though, that warmth becomes too warm, searing into your cheeks and making your heart flutter, and you break away, your hands falling to your sides as you take a step back. 

“Almost everyone in this house has asked something of me today, but I never learned why you pulled me out of Jimin’s room in the first place,” you say. 

“Do I need a reason? I just wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you. Is that too much to ask?” 

You startle, but gather yourself.“Never.” 

You both get ready for sleep, as if there’s nothing else to do. And when you have very thoroughly brushed your teeth and washed your face twice, instead of climbing into bed, you grab the book you were reading earlier in the tree and Hoseok promptly grabs his journal. You are avoiding the bed. 

You settle on the couch by the fireplace, sprawling out comfortably. The two of you lay there for a while, both minding your own business. It feels awfully domestic. Like you’re a married couple already settled into routine. The difference is—not a single word of the page in front of you is sinking into your mind.

 The difference is—you’re burning up, your whole body tuned to how close he lies—where his hands are (they’re playing with the edge of the page)—how his foot brushes against yours—how deep his voice resonates when he apologizes for nudging you. 

The difference is—you notice every edge of him. 

“Don’t apologize,” you say firmly. 

“Sorry—Don’t? Why not?”

You laugh. “I don’t ever want you to apologize for touching me. If anything I want you to touch me.”

“You do?” He stares blankly at you. 

“My god, Hobi,” you say, rolling on your side and discarding your book. “Sometimes you can be so thick.”

“Me?? I’m the thick one? And what about you? I’ve been waiting for days for you to pull me into a closet or a spare room or—god forbid—just kiss me out there in front of everyone—”

You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his book, and into yours. For a long moment, you both stare at each other, as if waiting for the other to make a move. And then, making a decision, you both move at the same time, hands reaching for faces, lips magnetized towards lips. 

Hoseok’s hand trails down your body, slipping beneath your pajama pants. Your hand wraps around his wrist, stopping his movements. 

“But—Jimin—” He said, I’m not allowed to come.

He chuckles. “It’s so sexy when you say another man’s name in my bed.”

You roll your eyes. “Behave,” you remind him. “But I did make him a promise. And in all honesty, I have no interest in being punished again. Today was enough.” 

Hoseok’s brows raise, and for a moment you think he’s going to ask about what happened between you and Jimin, and will end up hurting himself by wanting to hear the gritty details. But instead, he shakes his head and continues. “You know, not everything about sex has to be about orgasm,” Hoseok says, raising and waggling an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sometimes sex can just be about pleasure. Instead of trying to chase something down, like a goalpost or, um…” he searches for the words. “Like some kind of race, where the only objective is to come. It can just be about the sensations along the way. Gentle pleasure.” 

“Edging, you mean,” you say, a little bit of disappointment in your voice. You have had enough of edging in the last weeks to last you an entire lifetime. You would consider yourself the resident expert of edging, considering how many orgasms you’ve been denied since arriving at the doors of this mysterious house, though you have a sense Jimin or Jin might try to come for your title. 

“No, not quite.” He frowns, trying to find the words. “I think edging brings you right to the cliff of an orgasm and hangs you over the drop for as long as you can hold out. The thrill is in not knowing if you can hold on or not.”

“Oof, all this talk of edges and cliffs hits a little too close to home,” you giggle.

“Okay, yeah that wasn’t the best way to say it.” He smiles. “But you know what I’m trying to get at, right?” You nod. “What I’m proposing, we just get to feel each other. Make each other feel good—without running. Running towards a finish line, I mean.”

That sparks an idea in you. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

Hoseok flushes. “Oh… You know.” 

“I don’t.” 

“It doesn’t really matter. Former partners. Reading.” 

You pass quickly by the first answer and focus on the second. “You read… about sex?” 

“Yeah. Sex. Psychology. Sexual health. Namjoon is my dealer.” 

You laugh. “Your dealer?”

“My book dealer,” he grins. You nod knowingly, well aware of one of Namjoon’s favorite activities: shipping his friends books during quarantine in the city. He sent the books out wrapped messily but compactly in brown construction paper. You can picture his notes, scrawled in pencil in the margins. He hated the thought of permanently marring a book with an ink pen, but in the same moment, couldn’t shut up with his brilliant ideas, even if it was received by the silence of a page. 

Namjoon had always been the designated librarian of your friend group, and was ever enthused to coerce anyone into reading whatever book suited his most recent interest with him. He had been trying to get a book club with you all up and running for years now, and yet—

“Never thought much about what it was that Namjoon was reading,” you murmur. 

“He’s got a diverse taste, that’s for sure,” Hoseok chuckles. “So, what do you say?” He leans in close, his fingers gliding over your belly. “Want me to make you feel good?”  

You’ve never really thought about the possibility of sex without a goal, without an orgasm to reach for at the finish line. But you nod, and smile, and his fingers slip beneath your pajamas again. 

At first he just explores you, his fingers tracing around your lower lips, pressing here, circling there. He doesn’t kiss you, but lays close enough, watching your face as you try to hold it together. But you can’t help it: little gasps slip out and pattern the silence. A gentle warmth begins to build in your belly. But without the urgency, the rush, the goalpost of it all, you find yourself focusing on the sensations in a deeper way than usual.

“Hobi—” you breathe. “It feels good.” 

“Good,” he grins. You reach for him, to slip your hands into his own pants, but he stops you. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?” 

That’s when he slips a finger inside you. He begins by pumping shallowly and oh-so painfully slow. You can feel every inch of him as he slips deeper on each thrust, opening you up for him. He’s careful, deliberate. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. “With your mind, I want you to trace where I’m touching you. Focus on the sensation of it all. Put all your attention there.” 

His other hand wanders your body, a gentle finger tracing your collarbone, a palm cupping and pressing against your breast, swirling touches against your belly. Your attention follows his. You feel your skin brighten, warm. All of it culminates in a sensation that he’s exploring you, learning you with a careful sense of duty. You can feel his diligence. 

“I want to be closer to you,” you gasp as he adds a second finger to you. And you mean it in more ways than one. But he answers the surface request, pulling you flush against his chest, lifting your leg over his hip. Your fingers cup his face, tracing over his features. 

He builds you to a slow, radiating heat, one that sifts through your whole body. You burn like embers, flushed and gulping for air. 

“Where are my hands?” he asks gently. “Follow them. Tell me what you feel.” 

“Warm. So warm, Hobi. Like sunshine.” 

Where he touches light radiates through your skin, down to your bones. It’s sex like nothing you’ve had before. There’s a part of you that keeps wanting to shift away from the slowness and sense of it all, to grab for more, to beg him to let you chase pleasure. It is the same part that has whispered since you arrived at the mountain house: run, run. The whisper turns to a shout: run, run. But when you breathe in deep and bring your attention back to touch—his finger circling your nipple, your bare feet brushing against the soft cotton of the sheets, his lips biting down on the soft flesh of your earlobe, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you—there is a new awareness, golden and bright. 

You take a deep breath. You settle into the feeling. 

It feels like forcing open a door, hinges rusted shut from disuse. 

It is a door that leads into your own body. It’s traitorous territory. But you breathe once, then again, sinking deeper, deeper, led by his touch.

You let your hips move against him, a slow grind. His hand is now between his and your pelvic bone, and you know that as you rock against him, he can feel it too. You shift closer, so you’re intentionally pressing against his groin, your hands tangling in his hair, raking slowly against his scalp.

The closer your bodies move, the more his touches blur into pleasure against your skin, the more the lines between you blur too. This is what you had all anticipated a few days ago, right? The muddling, the mess. You had told everyone you wanted to lean into it. But as sensation bubbles to the surface of your skin, so does something else within you: something dangerously warm. Something dangerously happy.

When he groans into your mouth, echoing your own pleasure, you know you’ve gotten what you want. 

Tonight, it’s so easy to find a quiet rhythm with him. It feels like it was never any other way. Without the element of chasing down an orgasm, there’s nowhere to go except here, now. Nowhere to go except towards him. 

That’s how you fall asleep, your bodies slowly grinding against each other’s, gasping against the other’s mouth, the other’s neck, the other’s chest until sleep swallows you whole. 

-----------

When you wake up Hoseok is pressed close to your face, his eyes wide open, a grin on his cheeks. 

“Oh my god are you watching me sleep?” You roll over, away from him, sleep fogged and groggy. 

“Come here,” he rolls you back towards him. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I have something to show you.” 

With his urging, you quickly get dressed, grab some coffee and something quick to eat, and head out. You’re sure he’s going to bring you outside.

“Hobi, maybe we shouldn’t,” you say. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, a look of genuine confusion on his face. 

“I don’t think any of our stints outside were any good,” you say. “Can we stay inside today? Please?” 

Hoseok nods. “That was the plan anyways. No outside for us, at least not for a while. We’ll stay inside today.” 

You smile at him.

He leads you to the back door, but instead of going outside, he takes a turn down a narrow hallway that you hadn’t noticed before. It leads to a spiraling, narrow staircase descending down into the unknown depths of the house. Though the white walls of the passageway are narrow, as if they might lead to a basement or root cellar, the steps shine as if they’ve been polished recently. As you step onto the first step, you notice a thin carving on the edge of every stair. A woodland scene: a bear, an evergreen forest, a collection of tree-loving creatures. The wood itself is gorgeous: a reddish lumber that glows in the dim light. A delicate handrail leads your descent.

“Where are we?” 

You’re in shock that even after all this time in the house, there are still parts you haven’t explored. A dark basement is hardly something you’d like to explore alone, but you trust Hoseok, so you give him your hand and let him lead you down the stairs, trying to ignore how they seem to melt into the darkened floor below.

The sound from upstairs dampens, the voices of your friends blending into silence as you journey deeper. 

The temperature too, drops, raising goosebumps on your skin.

You emerge into a dark hallway, and Hoseok’s grasp tightens around your hand. 

“This way,” he whispers. 

There’s a doorway at the end of the hallway, a simple thing, and you know that’s where you’re headed. 

Hoseok pushes the door open and light spills all over you. 

The room that opens before you is walled by a thousand mirrors, an oak-golden floor, and a sweeping modern chandelier dangling from the ceiling. To your right, a wall of windows looks over the valleys and peaks of the mountains. Today the light is bright and warm, and as it spills over the changing leaves, you feel like you are held in the center of a pendulum. 

You’re standing in a ballroom. 

“This is it.” 

“Goddamn, Hoseok, this is beautiful.” You step away from him to wander the room. In one corner is a baby grand piano, and you run your fingers over the keys. Perfectly tuned. 

“I thought you would like it.” 

“I love it.” 

There’s something about the open space and the reverberating light that fills you with energy. 

“Yoongi showed it to me,” Hoseok says. “I bet he loves coming down here.” He plinks a key too. “Where he can play and sing without anyone listening.” He smiles fondly, and then turns his attention to you. “I thought maybe today I could give you a dance lesson?” Hoseok offers. “It’s something we could do together. You know. Without having to fight off a rabid bear or dangle off a cliff.” 

“Risk management. I like it,” you laugh. 

“But also selfishly—I was missing dancing with someone. And I’ve been working on a new piece of choreography, and, well, it needs two people. Will you help me with my little experiment?” He gives you those doe eyes you know better than to say no to. Still, you hesitate.

“You know I’m no dancer.” 

“But you’re good enough.” 

“Are you saying ‘I’ll do?’” you laugh.

“Yes, basically. But also, I wanted to do this—”

Hoseok steps closer to you, wrapping his hands around your lower back. 

You had danced with Hoseok in the past,  stepping in when he needed a hand or wanted to practice teaching a new dance before bringing it to a studio. You were decent, you could admit that, but you were no professional. 

“You just want to touch me, don’t you?” you tease. 

“Of course I do.” 

“And last night wasn’t enough?”

“Of course it was enough. And now I want more.”

“Ah…” You trail off. “I dunno. I’m not at the level you’re used to.” 

“You’re at the perfect level,” he grins. “Please? For me?” 

You sigh and nod. “Fine. But you owe me.” 

“I owe you times a hundred! Yes! Thank you!” 

He bounds away from you, before flicking on a stereo. A remix of an old waltz comes on, synths and electronic iterations dotted throughout the classical sound. He pauses, puzzling over how to start. You can see it in his eyes, all of the steps of the dance existing at once, the story of the dance, and the logistics of how to pull it out of the trenches of his mind to share with you. And then it clicks.

“Maybe we can just start out with a basic waltz? Just to warm up?” 

“Absolutely,” you say, and offer him your hand. He messes with something on his phone—speaking of, when was the last time you checked your phone?—and the song changes to a traditional waltz. He sweeps you into his arms. 

And like that, you’re off. His left hand holds your right tightly, while his right hand presses gently against your back. You’ve done this with him before, and the steps come back quickly and easily. Before you know it you’re laughing gleefully as you twirl around the room. 

You can’t help but compare it to the dream. There’s that same warmth, the way both dream Hoseok and real Hoseok had felt identical. Or no-–that wasn’t it. You had glowed identically in their presence. 

That was it. 

“I dreamt about this,” you blurt, before you can think of what you’re saying. This is the first time you’ve spoken about the recurring—and intimate—dreams you’ve been having about your friends to anyone beyond Jimin.

“So you’re dreaming about me now?” When you don’t answer, he asks, “What did you dream?” 

“That you wanted me—to marry you or something. It was some old timey thing. There was a barn. And lots of candles. And you teased me, endlessly. And you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“Hobi, it was my own imagination that didn’t kiss me, not you.”

“Well dream Hobi was right about one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“That I want you.” 

You flush, letting your eyes drift down. 

The dance comes to an end and Hobi puts the original song back on. He shows you the dance once from beginning until end, miming a dance partner in his arms, before he walks you through his choreography step by step. Tongue caught between your teeth, you follow him painful step by painful step, over and over again, until you’ve gotten the movements down. 

“Now we try it all together?” 

“That wasn’t all together?” 

At first it’s stumbling and awkward, but it doesn’t take too long for you to catch the gist and begin moving in tandem with him. As your hips roll, so do his. A perfect mirror. As you turn, he’s ready to catch you and pull you into him. As you step towards him, he steps back. 

Your bodies move as one and it feels so easy, too easy with him. The movement of the dance feels so natural that you find yourself blurting out: “You’re easy.” 

“Excuse me?” He stops moving, an incredulous laugh breaking free from him. 

“Shit, no sorry—I mean. You feel easy.” 

He tilts his head, still not understanding. 

“These past couple of days. Everything has felt so nice with you. So simple.” 

He nods slowly, finally unraveling what you’re getting at. “Yes, I, well, I agree.” He steps away to turn off the music and all at once, as the gargantuan room around you settles into silence, you’re struck by the profound quiet. Although it’s frequently quiet in the house, you usually have at least a passing awareness of the other people in it, a shuffle from the hallway, a cough from the room next to you. Now, all you hear is your breath, and his. Now, it’s just you and Hoseok. 

You nod. You’re not really sure where you’re going, what thread you’re trying to pull at. You follow him across the dance floor. 

“I’m confused that it’s so easy.” 

“You’re confused?” He turns back to you. “Aren’t these kinds of things supposed to be easy?” 

“Yes—I mean, gosh.” You run a weary hand over your face. “It was so hard. After we fucked the first time. Not hard. It was so goddamn awkward. And in all honesty, painful too.” 

Hoseok grimaces. “Yeah, I—Even though I was shitting on everyone else and, you know, the whole ass dynamic, I don’t even know how to put into words how uncomfortable it was for me too. Even though it was my own fault, I hated it. I hated every moment of it.” 

You nod and squeeze his hand. 

He continues. “It feels so stupid because I can’t even remember what was holding me back from you,” he clears his throat. “From you all, I mean, when right now it feels so easy. It makes me think that I was a complete and entire dummy.” 

You chuckle. “You were a complete and entire dummy. But then again we both were.” 

You want to say that you’ve been holding back too, but you swallow the words down. This moment, everything, him, it feels like it’s drawing short. Like it’s so fragile that at the arrival of the wrong word or touch it would shatter around you, leaving you too, broken into a million pieces. 

“We work well together, you know,” Hoseok says. “We’re good partners.” 

“It is really easy dancing with you!” 

“I don’t just mean dancing.” 

You stop. “What do you mean then?” You ask tentatively.

He pulls you close, runs his nose against your neck, nips against your ear. “I mean, I think you and I work really well together. It’s so natural it makes me wonder.” 

“Wonder what?” 

He laughs. “What it would be like to lean in—to explore this connection. To keep making it work.” 

“Well, of course–” you stop yourself. Well, of course we can keep exploring and making it work. You swallow the words, swallow the promise of offering him something more than what you can give. “Well, of course there are the others too. It feels so wonderful to be connected to you as well as to the others. Like it feels like it’s not supposed to work? But it totally does.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Hoseok steps back, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “The others. Totally.” 

You notice the tension but you’re too worried to step into it and interrogate it, lest you upset the precarious balance you and Hoseok hold these days, the tightrope between past and present that it feels like you’re constantly walking. 

“I mean it, Hoseok. It feels like this should all be a disaster but—it’s been the best part of my year.” 

You get him to smile at that. “I know. It’s been really special for me too.” The two of you grin at each other for a long moment, and then Hoseok is blinking and stepping away, moving towards the speaker to flip it on again. “Again? I think we can really get that final move down.” 

“Alright,” you sigh. “Again.” 

This time, when you go through the steps, you really feel the core of them. You understand the story behind it. You keep catching Hoseok’s eye in the mirror, and find his gaze glimmering and full of admiration. Sweat beads on your forehead with the effort of it all, but you’re exhilarated. In glances and glimpses in the expansive mirrors, you watch two bodies—bodies so familiar you might mistake them for those of a pair of old lovers—glide across the floors. Behind your figures, the valleys stretch, cavernous and deep. The mountains radiate with the kind of sun that only spills right as the seasons are in shift.

And then, you are back in the moment, trying to remember the next move, and the next, and the next. 

When he pulls you against him, he slips his leg between yours and raises an eyebrow, pausing longer than the dance calls for. The command is clear: Grind on me. 

You give a tentative swivel of your hips against him, gaze stuck to him, his form. 

“That’s all you got?” His hand on your hip presses against you, showing you the way. Showing you how to move your hips. You lean forward, so your lips are at his ear. Your breath ghosts over him, and you can feel him shudder beneath you, before his strength returns and he continues guiding you. 

“Like this,” he says. 

Sure, the move is part of the dance, but not quite like this. 

“Again,” he breathes. 

This time you shift your energy, bringing your focus to your hips. With careful deliberation, you grind your hips forward, pushing your pelvis to his, letting his thigh press up to your core. It’s the perfect amount of pressure to have you shuddering against him. 

“Fuck,” you groan. 

“I love when you have that filthy mouth on you.” 

You smile into his shoulder. His hand continues to roll your hips against him, matching the beat of the music. 

And then he shifts, his weight pulling away, pulling you with him, resuming the dance. But this is different. As you move, your bodies are pressed together without air, your lips ghost over one another’s, your fingers dig into each other’s flesh, desperate for more. When the dance dictates that he’s at your back, he presses his pelvis to you and you feel him against you. In the mirror you catch his gaze and he smirks. 

“This okay?” he whispers against your neck. 

“More than okay,” you reply. 

There’s a darkness swirling in his gaze, a contradiction to the usually sunny disposition you’re so used to. It’s a warm darkness, one that beckons you near, one that sings sweet promises of drowning oh-so gently. 

Do you want to drown?

In the next step you’re spinning back into him, and all choreography forgotten, you kiss him, hands flying to his face, pulling him down to you. He seems surprised at first, but soon relaxes into you, his arms wrapping around you, hands splayed across your lower back. Your kisses are hungry, needy. 

It’s like you’re making up for lost time. You devour each other, lips mashing together messily, hands wandering, clutching, gripping. Time slips past you like a stream. 

He begins to walk you backwards, until your back hits the cold surface of the mirror. You gasp at the cool sensation, your body split between the heat of exertion and the livening shock of the glass. His lips devour yours, his tongue scraping against the roof of your mouth. You pull him as close to you as possible and whisper in his ear: 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. Forget the dance. Bed. Now.” 

— 

You sprint through the halls and up the stairs, laughing, giggling, Hoseok pulling you forward, forward. When he kisses you against the wall of your bedroom, you melt. When he slips under the covers with you, ignoring the knocking on the door and the sound of one of your friends calling your name, you turn into liquid in his hands. As he fucks you with his fingers, while you take him into your mouth, you hum with pleasure. 

Still at the back of your mind, the knot of a question sings: Why don’t we ever talk about what happened that night, all those months ago? It’s repeating like a chant, in tune with the sounds of pleasure that he pulls from your body over and over and over again.

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[berryhobii]

Pure(knj x reader) a drabble

Pairing: NonIdol!Kim Namjoon x black!female!reader

Warnings: established relationship, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), slight corruption kink, car sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl, mentions of multiple orgasms, mentions of dom/sub relationship, slight praise kink, begging, mentions of pet play, Namjoon has tattoos because YES, He’s also obsessed with reader in a sweet way, Namjoon’s a tease, reader’s whiny and a good girl

A/N: Hi everyone! This is just a little Drabble I thought of last night. Hope you enjoy!

~

His little slut.

That’s how he’d describe you. Especially with how you were bouncing on his cock in the backseat of his BMW.

Just how did he change this innocent little angel into a cock hungry whore that only had eyes for him? He guessed it just came with dating you. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t pressure you into sex and he certainly didn’t expect it from you. Being able to take you out and see you smile was enough for him; he fell a little more in love everytime you met and now he was deep. In both your guts and in love. It was the best of both worlds. He’s never felt this way about anyone before and only you could make his cock harden this way, only you could make him feel so loved and well taken care of. He doesn’t think he could ever feel this way about anyone else.

Why would he? You were absolutely perfect.

Reason 236: you could ride his cock for hours.

His large tattooed hand slapped down on your jiggling ass, a moan coming from your throat at the sting of pain. But you loved it so much.

Your back was arched, body laying on the center console, the leather heated up against your sweaty skin despite the AC being on. Both of your manicured hands were gripping the headrests of the seats; good thing you sprung for a shorter set this week because your nails could have broken from how hard you were holding on. It didn’t matter though. Namjoon would pay for a new set. Hell, he’d buy you a personal salon if you wanted it.

Namjoon was admiring the view; your ass bouncing, the curve of your back, how your squelching pussy was leaving a wet ring around the base of his cock. Thank god for birth control. He’s only worn a condom with you 4 times. Eventually, you got tired of it and went to get a birth control insert. While Namjoon would never shame a woman for wanting to use protection, he could have jumped for joy when you told him you were on birth control. He ravaged your body like a man starved that first night, not stopping until your legs were shaking and you were begging him to stop.

“Ah shit, don’t stop baby. I’m bout to nut.” He groaned, right hand coming across your your back to grab your left hip, encouraging you to bounce faster. That burning feeling in his own belly was building once again. You’ve already squeezed two orgasms out of him, this third one would probably be his strongest yet.

You weren’t planning on stopping, ass crashing into his thighs even harder, louder moans coming from your mouth. “J-Joonie! Feels so good!”

“My little love….you’re so gorgeous.” He said while running his hand up your back.

The praise went straight to your gut, walls tightening even more around his thick cock. He stretched you out so good, every vein and ridge hitting all of your sweet spots.

A few more bounces and you were screaming—he could feel the wetness hitting his lap. He tossed his head back, moaning as his own orgasm hit him out of nowhere. His hand gripped the back of your neck, forcing you all the way down on his cock and filling you up. Your entire body quaked in his hold, arms dropping behind you to smack at his spread legs as your orgasm overwhelmed you.

As you both came down from your highs, Namjoon patted you twice on the ass. “Show me, baby.”

Whimpering, you lifted off of his softening cock, leaning forward to stand the best you could on weak legs. You lifted your hands to grab your own ass, pulling your cheeks apart to give him a full view of your clenching pussy.

“Push it out.” He demanded, his voice sending a shiver through you.

Embarrassment bubbled in your tummy but your need to be his obedient girl overpowered that. You clenched, pushing his release out of your pussy—it dripped down slowly, his eyes glued to your pussy.

He brought his hands up, moving yours out of the way so he could grope at your ass. “Fuck, you’re sexy.” His thumb brushed over your puckered hole, ideas flooding his head. Should he get you a butt plug? Maybe something with a tail? And some cat ears. He’d make you meow and lick at his cock until you were begging for his cum. Hmmmm…

A little whine came from you, your hips wiggling back and forth to signal your impatience. You honestly hated downtime between orgasms. Namjoon would stop just to tease and admire you which you secretly loved but not at a time like this! He’s been gone for weeks handling work stuff which means you haven’t gotten off in weeks—a strict rule of no touching yourself keeping you in line. But now he was back and you just wanted as much of his cock as possible.

He rubbed at your ass, shushing you, “Patience, little love. Let me look at you.”

“Joonie, pleasssseee. I need your cock.”

If you could see the smirk on his face right now……and he could imagine the pout on your thick lips. Damn, he was getting hard again but he wanted to tease a little more.

“Yeah? Beg for it.”

And like the good girl you were, you did.

“Please please please. I need your cock in my pussy. I’ve missed it so so much. Please give it to me.”

“Hmmm. Well….” His finger poked at your clit before sliding up to slide into your hole, your walls tightening around his digit. “Since you asked so nicely.”

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — six

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of dying during childbirth, mentions of bruises

▷ word count. 4.9k // taglist. open

a/n: yeah... she's still alive :l a considerably tame chapter tho haha pls remember to reblog + comment!!

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PREVIOUSLY ON BIRD HUNT...

The bird boys (Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin) catch a cat-eared burglar in the middle of stealing from a dead lawyer's office. After losing her tail, they retreat with their thoughts and a file the burglar was after. Beomgyu comes to the realization that the woman was his childhood friend Yn, and soon receives an invitation to attend her mother's funeral. Soobin opens the file to find it filled with evidence compiled against Gotham's infamous and elusive Capo.

When Beomgyu attends the funeral, you and he are forced to confront the friendship left abandoned between you two. Later, after Beomgyu is called away by his brothers, you are tasked by your father to break into Commissioner Kim's office to steal back your mother's file. However, things quickly go wrong and you are left unmasked. How the Hell are you supposed to come back from this?

Tune in to the next chapters of Bird Hunt to find out.

FILE_06 : arms of an angel

gotham city.

[Eleven days since your mother was murdered.]

It was the slam of the interrogation room door that awoke you from your slumber. Your eyes fluttered to adjust to the blinding fluorescent lights again, vision blurry and watery and—holy shit. Were you seeing things?

“You’re in luck, kid,” said Commissioner Kim as he let two others into the metal box with you. They were like two obsidian towers, dressed in similar black attire, dark hair, sculpted features, all the works. “You’ve got one Hell of a guardian angel.”

One Hell of a guardian angel was one way to put it, especially when said guardian angel was Choi Minho. Yes, you supposed you really weren’t hallucinating when you soaked in the sight of Choi Minho and his youngest son, Nishimura Riki, standing beside him. The kid was actually tall, standing at his father’s height, with the same kind of intimidating scowl that all of the Chois inherited, apparently. You hadn’t been fully informed of the family situation, but you knew that Riki was the kid of Minho’s most recent wife, who had unfortunately passed away after childbirth. Yet, the way that father and son looked right now, they were practically the spitting image of each other. 

“Hello, Yn,” said Minho, his voice just as gravelly and regal as it sounded on the media, and not at all the voicecrack-riddled mockery Beomgyu had done when the two of you were teens. He gave Namjoon a nod. “We can take her home, Commissioner. Thank you for calling us.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you let the commissioner undo your handcuffs and follow the Chois out of the room. Paperwork was filled out, bail was posted, and suddenly, you were inhaling the smoky, night air of Gotham again. But among the relief soaking into your bones, you realized that dread pooled in your gut and weighed you down like a brass ship anchor. You were sinking to the bottom—you’d failed. 

“They’ll be watching you for a while, Yn,” you heard Minho’s voice beside you. 

You swallowed. “I know.” You needed to lay low, and maybe get over the absolute embarrassment tonight was. Where had that file gone?

Minho and Riki walked forward to the curb where a car had been parked. It was slick and black, shiny metal like the one Beomgyu had been driving, just a different company you didn’t care enough to identify. You figured this was as far as their kindness would extend—break you out and let you go, after all, who in the world called them of all people? It didn’t make sense to you. 

You began walking down the sidewalk the opposite way, hands tucking beneath your armpits to prepare for the trek home. There was that one shortcut you could take—

“Yn!”

You glanced over your shoulder. Riki had slipped into the passenger seat of the car, but Minho stood just outside the driver’s side. “Where are you going?”

“My house?” 

“We’ll give you a ride, kid.”

Kid. God, you really were just a kid to some people, huh. You felt like one sometimes. “Look, Mr. Choi,” you sighed, turning around to face him, “I’m really grateful for you bailing me out, but I’ll survive.”

Riki’s window rolled down. “Aren’t you curious why we came?”

And god dammit… the boy was right. You hated that he was right. With a huff, your breath coming out in visible puffs against the crispening night air, you trudged your way back toward them and threw yourself in the back seat. The car peeled away from the curb as you tugged on the seatbelt, suddenly self conscious about ruining or tainting the very nice, Italian leather seats. You wondered how much this all cost, then realized, it would probably be better not to know. 

The father-son pair did not play any songs on the radio, which made the space all the more quiet. The car motor was actually quite low volume as it brrr'd through the Gotham streets. You had never been in a car so silent before, especially considering Beomgyu's loud ass BMW. 

Slowly, you crossed one leg over the other and rested your hands in your lap, waiting for one of the two of them to start the conversation. 

Choi Minho was the one to speak up, making brief eye contact with you through the rear view mirror. "It's nice to finally meet you, Yn. Beomgyu's told us a lot about you."

A snort from Riki. "A lot is an understatement," he muttered. 

Minho sent his youngest son a small, but pointed look. "All good things, of course. He's very fond of you."

You didn't know why your heart was beating so fast in your chest. It made you giddy to hear that, yet jittery energy raced through your veins, and you couldn’t help but crack your knuckles. "That's… nice. I didn't realize he cared enough to talk about me."

"He cared much more than you think he did then," he continued. "Because he asked your mother, before he left that apartment, if he could put me as one of your guardians.” 

Oh. 

There was no mistaking the fluttery sensation in your chest as your heart seemed to sprout wings. Perhaps there was something wrong with you (no kidding), but was it normal for someone who didn’t care about you to go to such lengths? It never occurred to you just how affected Beomgyu was by his own leaving of the apartment across from yours, but you had always figured that that had been his choice. You knew somewhere deep down that those nights and days spent together were sincere, but you couldn’t wrap your head around him caring so deeply about you and your mother. You had always thought that maybe he would have seen your invitation to the funeral and discarded it because he didn’t care, or worse, didn’t remember. 

But this changed things. And Minho and Riki let you sit with your thoughts for several moments afterward. 

When you’d resolved to turn your gaze out the car window, you realized that Mr. Choi was not driving toward the lower district of Gotham, but past the dark glassed walls of skyscrapers, then beneath the bridge out of Gotham. Your heart leapt in your chest and you bolted upright. “Uhm,” you stammered, “this isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“Ah, I must have forgotten to mention that we’re in a rush to get back for dinner,” Minho replied flippantly. There was a teasing glint in his eyes that you guessed not many people got to see. “Consider this an introduction party to the family, Yn.”

You opened your mouth to retort out of instinct—maybe even demand him to turn the car around and take you home—but the other half of you kept your voice locked and your limbs glued to the car seat. That half of you yearned for exactly what Minho hinted at: a family. You hadn’t had a cohesive family since your mother and father stopped seeing each other, and though you liked to argue that your mother was enough or that your growing family of stray cats were, you couldn’t deny the warm feeling settling in your chest. 

"We can turn back now to take you home though, of course. Whatever you decide."

You found yourself shaking your head, throat tightening. "No—this, this is okay."

A family dinner. What a pleasant thought. 

The car raced past empty fields of nothingness as Minho drove you and Riki to the outskirts of the city. It was a similar route to Lee Sungjae’s house, which was why you had recognized it in the first place. But instead of turning into the little, gated community of cookie-cutter, suburban dreams, the car chugged along for a while longer. 

Eventually, you rolled past a pair of towering, black iron gates, centered with a magnificent letter “C” to mark your entry into the Choi estate. You’d never been to the Choi manor before, but you recalled the hints of it that Beomgyu dropped into conversations when you were kids. In the spring and summer, the fields surrounding the estate were blankets of emerald, littered in dandelions and daisies. With the sky darkened to a miserable gray, however, the shadows felt a lot more prominent. 

The mansion itself was beautifully lit, radiating in a warm-toned glow. It stood at least a few stories tall with chiseled marble columns numbering in a few, and large window panes framed in pale colored shutters. Minho pulled the car into the roundabout at the front of the house, and the realization that you were about to step foot into the building finally dawned on you. Were you really about to have dinner with the Chois? You weren’t even properly dressed. You were still in your ridiculous all-black—it was like you had just come from a workout funeral.

Minho and Riki were already well out of the car by now, and you sighed, resolving yourself to open your door. Riki hardly waited for anyone’s invitation into his own house and bounded up the steps before you or his father. The latter rounded the car and inclined his head to the front door. “Well? Shall we?”

You swallowed, gazing up at the mansion. You couldn’t believe Beomgyu willingly stayed in that ratty apartment when he could have been here the whole time. “I…” you cleared your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I don’t think I’m wearing appropriate dinner attire.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw the ghost of a smile linger at the corners of his mouth. He shouldered off his black coat and offered it to you. “Just until we can loan you something more comfortable. Only if you’re okay with this, of course.” 

You imagined your eyes were wide with surprise, but you slowly reached out to accept the jacket. “Thank you,” you murmured, shouldering on the coat and basking in its warmth. 

Then, you and Minho climbed up the steps to the house together. 

Upon entry, your eyes darted to and fro to soak in everything presented to you. Your first thought was “wow” — all of the dark oak, the sculpted wall sconces, the roaring fire in the parlor room to your left—all of it was such a rush. It smelled awfully warm, which was most likely from the smell of freshly-made food wafting into your nostrils. You gazed upon the twin staircases reaching up to the second floor, and noted all of the different doorways just before you. There was so much going on, so much you were trying to notice, but Minho was already moving swiftly, leading you toward the sound of the hood range of a stove and the smell of dinner. 

“Yn,” Minho addressed you as the two of you walked into the magnificently-sized kitchen, “I’d like you to meet my greatest friend and mentor. This is Alfred—he keeps us sane in this house.” Minho gestured to an older man stationed at the stove, his hair grayed over, but his face distinct with kind smile lines and a matching pair of soft eyes. He wore a dark blue colored apron around his front, one of his hands wielding a pair of chopsticks as he turned around to meet you. Riki was already perched upon one of the stools at the island counter, munching on strands of peeled rice noodles. 

Alfred smiled at you, and the gesture prompted a similar reaction from you. “Well, it’s been awhile since the masters of this household deigned to finally invite a friend over. I was beginning to believe they lost their ability to socialize.” He chuckled, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yn. Master Beomgyu has told us much about you.”

That was yet another person who confirmed this fact. “Oh, it’s lovely to meet you, as well,” you replied. You lingered by the threshold as Minho made a comment about freshening up before dinner, dipping out of the kitchen to leave you with Riki and Alfred. 

Alfred whacked Riki's hand as he reached for another noodle. "Go on and set the table. Make sure to leave out an extra setting for your guest."

Riki obediently began collecting plates and utensils, and Alfred met your eyes from across the kitchen with a charming twinkle in his irises. 

When the youngest had left the room, Alfred motioned for you to take a seat at the breakfast bar. "Miss Yn, how did the Chois come to invite you over?"

"Oh," you averted your eyes to the countertop. "They… were just in the right place at the right time, I guess you could say." Better than telling him that they had picked you up from the police station for breaking and entering. He would probably be told by Minho later on, but you'd rather not ruin this peace. 

Alfred hummed in understanding. "They seem to do that often."

"Do they?" You straightened, idly watching him finish off with something on the stove and turn the flame off. 

"You could say it's their hobby, going around and being in the right place at the right time," he chuckled to himself as if it were an inside joke. He hustled over to a door at the side of the room that led into a pantry space. He seemed to have decided against whatever his original plan was before moving out of the pantry to peer into the hallway outside. "Are we all ready to go?"

From somewhere deeper in the house, you could hear stomps resound like the echoing walls of a cavern. You tilted your head back curiously, eyebrows creased. There were more people in the house? Minho didn't seem like a man to stomp his way around his own home. 

Soon, the crashing and thunder moved to the stairway just near the mouth of the kitchen. 

"Riki, you menace! Put my wine glass back!" 

You froze. Was that… oh god, the other Chois were home then. That was Yeonjun's voice you recognized, and for a moment you felt stupid for not anticipating the others being here. Maybe it was because Beomgyu had received a call from Soobin earlier about a work emergency, but perhaps that had been solved already. 

"Dad said you need to cut back or you'll become an alcoholic," came Riki's response. 

Did they know who their brother was? Did they know he ran around in a red helmet with guns as one of the city's premiere vigilantes? 

Alfred came back into the kitchen and immediately began plating his concoction into a serving dish. "Would you like to go get seated, Miss Yn?"

"I can help," you replied instead. You wondered what your mother would have said had you not offered. You and she always used to spend time in the kitchen together. The apartment was super small anyways, but your mom… 

Alfred glanced back at you with a grateful smile. "That would be marvelous. Thank you."

You flashed a small smile back. Once he was done, you took the gloriously-smelling dish in your two capable hands out into the hallway. You followed the sounds of chatter and brotherly squabbles to the next doorway closest to the kitchen. 

This, you thought, must have been the formal dining room. There was no way it was anything else with its lofted ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, cartoon-rich-people table, and dark floors that matched the rest of the house. There was yet another fire roaring away in the hearth, and it gave the room a homey feel, and less like a stereotypical, cold mansion. 

With the large table, the placings that were set coalesced around the end of the table closest to the hearth. You figured that Minho would be at the head, and that the rest of you would pick seats on either side of the table—three on each. 

You tried to ignore the wide, curious eyes following your every move. 

“Yn?” Beomgyu was first to stammer out. He sat in the seat just beside Riki on the side closest to where you came in, his body twisted around and mouth gaping open. 

You carefully placed the hot dish at a location you hoped everyone could reach. Your heart hammered, and you wiped your sweaty palms against the suit you wore beneath Minho's (no doubt) thousand dollar coat. “Hi.”

You were suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were currently in a very dramatic coat and wearing your catsuit beneath it. This would have to be a reveal then, if not, a very warm dinner. 

You recognized Soobin and Yeonjun seated on the other side of the table with one chair separating them. Yeonjun cocked his head to the side, lips curled into a smirk-like grin. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi, Yn,” Soobin chimed in with a cordial smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Beomgyu fumbled out of his chair with Riki giving him a very potent side eye. “Let me take your coat—”

You stepped back, and everyone seemed to hyperfocus on that little movement. “Oh, no. That's—that’s okay,” you chuckled nervously, tugging the coat tighter around you. “I'd rather keep it on actually.”

Besides the second of hurt that flashed in his eyes, he swallowed, gripping the back of Riki's chair with a slow nod. “Of course.”

Sensing the strange shift, Soobin coughed. “Won't you please sit, Yn?”

“Riki,” Beomgyu grunted, shaking his youngest brother's shoulder. “Scoot.”

Riki scowled. “Absolutely not. This is my seat and has been for sixteen years.”

Your friend rolled his eyes. “You can't be chivalrous for one day in your life?”

“You can't suck it up that your girlfriend has to sit next to your brothers instead of next to you?”

Twin snorts chorused from the opposite side of the table as Soobin and Yeonjun failed to suppress their entertainment. Only Soobin had been courteous enough to at least try to cover his mouth. 

Your skin was aflame, and you weren't sure it was all from the hearth behind you. 

Beomgyu's eyes darted nervously from you to his brother, before narrowing into a glare. “She's not my girlfriend; don't make our guest uncomfortable.”

You heard a sigh from the youngest brother. Riki turned in his seat to meet your eyes. “Apologies, Yn. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by insinuating that you were dating my brother; that would be insulting to you. I only meant the prospect of a girl friend, not a significant other.”

You could feel your own mouth twisting into a smile at Riki's reconciliation to you and spite toward his brother. “No worries, Riki.”

Beomgyu's lips parted. “You're fucking kidding me.”

“Language,” chided Alfred as he entered the room with a basket of fresh bread and a couple dishes of butter. 

He nodded to you with a smile. “Miss Yn, I apologize for these boys’ lack of manners. Please sit.”

Everyone sputtered out their own excuses, but Soobin's was the one you heard most prominently: “I asked her to sit, but then these assholes—”

“Who are you calling asshole, asshole?”

“Can we have a civilized dinner for once?” Came Minho's voice. 

Everyone shut the Hell up. 

The father of the household strolled into the room with a pinch between his brows and his work clothes slightly undone, sleeves rolled up and tie missing. In his hands, you recognized a set of neatly folded clothes to which he held out to you. 

“If you would like to, these are some things you can change into,” he said. “You're welcome to change in the hallway washroom.”

You accepted the clothes gratefully. “Thanks. I, uhm, I appreciate it.”

“Don't worry about it,” he replied kindly. He pointed you in the right direction. “Just out this doorway and to the left. You'll see a little door beneath the staircase.”

You bobbed your head in understanding and hustled out of the dining room, following Minho's instructions. You couldn't hear if they were saying anything as you left the room, but you were certain that something was being discussed. 

Nonetheless, you found the bathroom and began inspecting the garments given to you. It was a simple pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt from a volunteer organization (you tried guessing who this belonged to), and a plaid shacket to keep you warm and comfortable. They smelled nice—familiar, in a way—but nice. You shouldered Minho's coat off and neatly folded it as best as you could, before peeling off your uniform for the night with a wince. There were places on your body that were bruised and aching, but you had little time to mourn about internal bleeding. You didn't want to make your so-called guardian angels wait, but…

You looked at yourself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink as you did so. You looked like shit. 

The nervousness on your face was as stark as the shaking in your red and purple fingertips. You willed it to stop—or at least, pretended it was suppressed enough to be hidden. 

It was now a matter of how to get through this and what any of this even meant. You were sure your father heard about your failure tonight, and you would have to atone for it. You needed to find out where your mother's file had gone, but you were uncertain of where to start. 

But one problem at a time. 

With haggard breath, you brushed a hand through your hair and piled the discarded clothes into the crook of your arm to begin making your way back out into the dining room. 

You could hear the hushed voices as you made your way back, but you still couldn't make out anything in particular of what they were saying. 

When you just turned the corner, their words became clearer. “—but the Palmer situation is a genuine issue. We'll need to ensure that our relations with the company aren't—ah, Yn.”

They were talking about business, not you. Relief soared through you for a brief moment. 

All eyes were on you again, it seemed. Alfred had taken Beomgyu's original seat, while your old friend now joined the side where the older brothers sat. That left the chair to Minho's left wide open for you. 

You met Beomgyu's eyes first—his own pupils widened at the sight of your changed clothes, you guessed. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, handing Minho his coat. 

He nodded. “Of course. We didn't want to start without you. Would you like any water or wine?”

Dinner, you gladly admitted, tasted divine. You made sure to let Alfred know his efforts weren't wasted, though when you tried to help with dishes, he dismissed you and reminded you that this was his job. You supposed you couldn't argue against that. 

For the most part, the boys had kept it civil throughout dinner. Though, there'd been a kerfuffle over how many glasses of wine Yeonjun was allowed to have (despite his being an “adult,” Minho still enforced some of the rules Yeonjun had to live by while under his roof). 

But now, you were left with what next? 

“Yn, my father would like to extend an invitation to stay at the manor tonight.” Riki appeared beside you in the front parlor where you were sitting, waiting for everyone else to join you. Alfred had set you up with a mug of hot chocolate (funny how things turned out) while you did so, body seated right before the crackling fire. 

You glanced up at his imposing figure, sharp angles emphasized by the firelight. “Oh,” you said. “I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not impose any longer.”

“It wouldn't be an imposition,” he reassured you as he stared into the embers. “But if you would prefer, we'd be happy to drive you home instead.”

You marked his formal way of speaking. It was like a business deal, but there was still a kind of warmth underlying it, in a way. You supposed that growing up in this kind of family, his speech was bound to develop an air of formality. 

“I have… cats to look after,” you said as an answer. You could admit that sounded lame, even if it was true.

Riki seemed to understand though and gave a nod. “I'll let my father know.”

Just before he could turn out of the room, the remainder of the household appeared in the parlor. 

Beomgyu sent you a small smile as he claimed the seat next to you. In his hands, he nursed a dark colored tumbler used for coffee, and you wondered if Alfred made him hot chocolate, too. 

“Father, Yn would like to be driven home,” said Riki. 

“I'll drive her home,” Beomgyu immediately followed, half off his seat. 

“No, Riki and I will,” Minho cut in. 

Yeonjun slapped his knee from where he lounged in one of the armchairs off to the side of the room. “Get vetoed!”

Beomgyu cut a glare toward his brother; he seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. “You are so annoying.”

“You have responsibilities, Beomgyu. You know that,” said Minho with a tone that suggested no argument. There was another pointed look thrown, and you could see the conflict warring across your friend's face, the one where his forehead creased and his lips turned downward. 

Responsibilities? Perhaps with the company. That was the only thing that made sense at this time of night.

Beomgyu let out a begrudging, “Fine.”

And it was settled; you would leave the way you arrived. 

With the matter at hand complete, Minho and Alfred excused themselves from the room for a matter you definitely did not know anything about. Niki sat across from Soobin at the table in the far corner to play a round of chess, while Yeonjun kicked his feet up onto the coffee table to slump over and get some shut eye. 

You peered over curiously at him. You could distinctly recall the day he showed up at the bank you were at when the robbery took place with him as the Red Hood. What motive did he have for revealing his identity to you anyways? 

You took a daring gulp of your hot chocolate, ignoring the way it scorched the roof of your mouth and back of your throat. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy their company, you simply felt that you'd overstayed your welcome. 

“Oh, I should probably change out of this,” you muttered once you'd swallowed down more than half the drink. You motioned absentmindedly at what you were wearing. 

Beomgyu shifted his attention back to you. You could've sworn his expression grew sheepish. “I mean, no rush at all! You—you can even keep it, if you want. It's just, you know, an old T-shirt—”

Your eyes went wide. “Are these yours?—”

He smiled, and confirmed your thought, cupping the back of his neck. “Uh yeah, they are. But you don't have to worry about returning them or anything. I'm sure my dad just kind of popped into the first bedroom that wasn't his or something—”

“Beomgyu, can you fail to flirt somewhere else?” Yeonjun's lip curled upward in teasing, exposing a canine, but his eyes were still blissfully closed. 

You saw Beomgyu's millionth dirty expression of the night. “Can you go be an asshat somewhere else?”

Before another argument could break out between brothers, you cut in, “No, I can give these back. I'll just launder them when I get home. 's no big deal.”

Beomgyu bit his lip. “You really don't have to—”

“I want to; it's the least I can do,” you insisted. There was no way you were going to let them get away with feeding you, clothing you, and saving your ass from the slammer. All in one night, you would add. 

You knocked back the rest of the hot chocolate like it was a shot. It was a shame you felt like you had to leave, otherwise, you would have been able to relish that decadently made drink for a little longer. It was insane how rich that hot chocolate was. It wasn't the same as your mother's, but you couldn't deny that it was delicious.

Beomgyu clasped his hands together over his knees. “Thanks for having dinner with us. I know that we can be a lot to handle.”

“You guys are good company,” you replied with a small smile. “I mean, if anything, I should be thanking you for—” You stopped yourself short, unable to address the elephant that had been in the room since you stepped foot in this house. You backpedaled. “This was nice,” was what you settled for instead. 

In the hearth's firelight, his irises burned like soft, molten embers. “I'm glad, and you're welcome to come over for family dinners all the time. Or even any time—” He stopped himself, clasping the back of his neck in what you believed to be sheepishness. “—Sorry, I'm kind of jumping the gun. There is absolutely no pressure in coming over to hang out.”

It was strange how only a couple years could make you tiptoe around each other like this. You could vividly recall all the times he barged into your apartment unannounced, and you into his. He'd been one of your closest friends at such a pivotal point in your developing years. 

Earlier outside of the Iceberg Lounge, he had said something similar to you. The offer still stood, and you wondered if him finding out why you were here changed his mind about you in any way. 

But while this afternoon had been just a taste, you'd just enjoyed an entire feast of what-could-have-been. 

“I'll take you up on it,” you told him. “The family dinners. It'll be like old times.”

His smile widened, and you were sure everyone in the room could hear how loud your heart hammered against your chest. “I'll look forward to it.”

a/n: DONT IGNORE THIS PLS i need to know if u liked the little "previously on bh" part at the beginning !!! also, reblog + comment if u enjoyed

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[faithalenora]

Paring: Kim Namjoon x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.4K 

Warnings: Slight mentions of loneliness

Credits: This one was conjured up in my lovely brain! The picture was taken from Namjoon’s instagram account. (Thank you lord for blessing us with that.)

A/N: I want to apologize once more for not posting yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well and then I had really bad anxiety so I geniunly couldn’t bring myself to write anything. However, I did wake up today determined and although I don’t feel 100% fine, I did manged to write this! 

Friendly reminder this part #4 of the 12 days of Giftmas series! Please do consider checking the other parts and don’t be afraid to comment, rebblog or like! (No reposting though!) I love hearing your feedback! Hope you all enjoy!

Giftmas day #4 goes to... @leftieaquarius​! I chose this one for you because you’ve always made me feel like I am not alone. I remember I asked you about hair colors in nurses and even though at the time you didn’t know much about the rules, you still went out of your way to find out and let me know. Thank you for being you and I hope you enjoy this one shot dedicated to you. 

Sypnosis: When your parents tell you that they won’t be in South Korea for the holidays, your heart plumets to the ground thinking you’ll have to spend it all alone. However, Kim Namjoon may have some surprises up his sleeves. 

You loved Christmas. It was your favorite time of year. 

It was a great excuse to eat cookies and drink all the hot chocolate in the world without anyone judging you for it. Or wear pj’s all day because the weather just always called for it. It was another great excuse to fly back to your hometown and see your parents and grandparents that you usually never saw because you never had the time. Yeah, you called each other every once in a while but it really wasn’t the same as seeing them face to face and being able to hug them.

When you called home at the beginning of December to tell your eomma about the plans you had, meaning you were gonna be flying back from Seoul to go see them and be with them, your eomma interrupted you. 

“Sorry sweetheart but your appa and I decided to go spend the holidays in New York! Isn’t the exciting? He actually surprised me…” 

You tuned out the rest of the conversation, looking up at the ceiling with disappointment creeping up your body. Were you happy they were traveling? Of course, you were. Your parents had been the most hardworking human beings ever and they never took a day off unless it was strictly necessary. (This did include skipping work because you were sick or just wasn’t feeling up to par.) So the thought of them finally traveling as they’d always dreamed off wasn’t the part the caused the disappointment. The part that did cause disappointment is that now you would be spending the holiday at the apartment by yourself. That alone made you shudder. 

“Eomma, that sounds great! I hope you guys have fun and take lots of pictures. When are you guys coming back?” 

You’d come back to your sense when your eomma’s side of the call had gotten silent. She had been waiting for your reaction and by the tone of her voice, in the beginning, she felt guilty for not telling you about the trip before. 

“Next year actually. We will be spending New Year over there as well.” 

Your heart plummeted down even further than it had earlier. Now you’d be spending Christmas and New Year’s by yourself. Awesome. 

“That’s great! You’ll be able to experience a Time Square’s New Year. I know you’ve always wanted to experience that.” 

Your voice was mumbled. Probably because you were on the verge of smuggling yourself with all the blankets you had on top of you at the moment. 

“Ah yes. Harabeoji is very excited about it.” Your eomma gushed, and you suddenly leaned upwards from your resting position on your bed, almost dropping your phone in the process. 

“Wait, Harabeoji and Halmeoni are coming too?” 

“Well of course they are! Did you think that we were gonna leave them?” Now that your eomma said it, it was kind of dumb of you to ask. 

“No no! I just-” You shook your head as if she could see you through the phone’s screen. “Nevermind eomma. I’m just happy your guys.” 

“I didn’t tell you about the trip earlier because it was a sudden thing.” Your eomma apologized while you sighed. “But I really wish you were coming with us.” 

‘Me too.’ You thought. ‘Me too.’

“So you are spending the day alone?” You sighed, nodding and resting your chin in the palm of your hand. 

You were currently at a cafe near your apartment, drowning your tears in hot chocolate bought by your best friend, Kim Namjoon. He lived right across the hall from you, meaning you’d somehow found an unlikely friendship in each other. At first, it had been a bit awkward but then you found you had more in common than you thought and the rest was history. 

Today he had stopped by your apartment just to see you having an existential crisis over your suitcases. (Yeah, not your proudest moment.) So he decided to take you out to eat at your favorite cafe near the apartment in hopes to cheer you up. 

“Well, that sucks.” He mumbled around his hot chocolate cup. 

“Yeah. You are going back to Ilsan-gu, right? Heard your sister was gonna be there this year.” You twirled the straw from your cup mindlessly, wondering to whoever was out there why they’d been so cruel to you. 

“Ah yes. Eomma has this big thing planned now that she is coming back for the holidays.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal when in reality it was. 

Namjoon’s sister had been studying abroad for a year and a half now. She hadn’t been able to come and spend more than a week with them, always having to return as quickly as possible to be able to keep her scholarship and keep on studying. Meaning, her return to Islan-gu was a pretty big deal. 

“That sounds exciting. I’m sure you are excited to leave then.” He made a questioning noise, tilting his head to the side. “You get to spend the holidays with your whole family.” 

“Ah yes,” He scrunched up his nose, a habit you had picked up he did when something made him nervous. Although you couldn’t understand why being here with you would make him nervous but you’d let it slide. 

“Well, regardless of my situation, I really do hope you enjoy the holidays with your family.” You meant it though. 

Although you were a bit bitter that Namjoon got to spend time with his family while you didn’t, the sentiment didn’t last for long. Namjoon was a man who dedicated all his time to his studies. He was always doing this and that, majoring in two things at the same time somehow. So if anyone deserved to go back and rest, spending the days with their family, it was Kim Namjoon. Plus, he deserved to spend time with his sister and catch up on everything they had missed over the last 6 months since her last visit. 

Logically you knew your parents hadn’t left you alone on purpose, even if sometimes it did feel like that. Your parents, and your grandparents too, deserved this trip to the states. Although you would have loved to be able to go on the trip with them just to spend the holidays in their presence, you knew it wasn’t realistically possible. They were leaving about 2 weeks before Christmas day, meaning you still had finals to take and somehow ace. You couldn’t just postpone your finals just to go on this trip and travel half across the world. Even if the strong urge to do so was there. You just had to suck it up somehow and spend the day with yourself. 

“Thank you,” He scrunched up his eyes as he smiled, his cute little dimples on display. You had the strong urge to poke them but kept yourself at bay by clutching your cup. “What do you plan on doing then?” 

“Ah well, I haven’t really given it much thought,” That was a total lie. You had stressed about it so much last night you barely slept. “Maybe eating some cookies and some more hot chocolate. Probably gonna binge-watch those Hallmark movies that suck so much but somehow I love.” 

Namjoon chuckled at your mention of Hallmark movies, knowing how much you loved and hated them. He had once come into your apartment to find you screaming in anger at the tv with tears streaming down your face. When he, concerned out of his mind, asked you what was happening, you proceeded to tell him the whole plot of the movie and how angry and upset you were on how they could be so blind. 

(“He loves her! Why can’t she see that? Why does she go and settle for the ugly guy? Namjoon he is so ugly.” 

“...”)

He just sat down on the couch, letting you lean on him while crying and mumbling in anger at the tv till the movie was over. 

“That sounds nice. You could always just, I don’t know, come with me?” 

Your eyes widen at his sudden question. When you looked at him, he wasn’t doing any better. His hands were clenching and unclenching, his cheeks were red, and his nose was scrunched up. 

“T-thank you for the offer but I wouldn’t wanna intrude on family time.” You manage to squeak out, Namjoon nodding. 

“That’s okay. Totally understandable. Sorry, I asked.” 

You would have done anything to change the sad expression that crossed his eyes for a split moment. 

“How about telling me about the new Hallmark movie you watched?”

“Don’t even get me started…”

“Merry Christmas, Eomma!”

The morning of Christmas, your mother had woken you up with a facetime call. She then proceeded to show you around their hotel room and the view they had. Your appa had taken over at some point telling you about their plans for the day. Once your harabeoji and halmeoni had heard your voice through the phone, they’d both had ripped the phone from your appa’s grasp. You laughed loudly at the struggle before their faces came into view, both a bit too close to the screen. 

They’d proceeded to tell you about all the cute little things they’d started to collect in New York, some for them and some of them for you. You’d enthusiastically answered to everything they told you. Seeing them so happy made you feel happy and the feeling of loneliness in your chest lifted at seeing their smiles and laughter. 

“We wish you were here,” Your Eomma had somehow wrangled back the phone into her hands, and was now looking at you with sadness in her eyes. 

“Eomma, I’m fine okay? Have fun and relax and do all the things you could do in New York for me. So when you get back, you can tell me about everything alright?” Your eomma smiled, tears brewing in her eyes and you couldn’t help your own tears from falling. 

“I love you so much.” She whispered as if it was your own little secret. 

“I love you too. So so much.” 

After the phone call with your parents and grandparents, you cried for a solid 15 minutes. Seeing them made you realize how much you had missed them; how much you wish you could hug them and kiss them. You knew deep down, that they all felt that way too. 

You were in the middle of preparing your hot chocolate with extra extra marshmallows for your hallmark movie marathon when there was a loud knock on your door. For a second you thought you were hallucinating but then the knock sounded once more. 

“Coming!” You shouted to whoever was behind that door, while you cleaned your hands on your pants and tried to fix the mess on your hair. When you deemed yourself presentable enough, you walked out of the kitchen and to the front door. Once you opened it, you couldn’t believe your eyes and thought you were once again hallucinating. Maybe eating all those sugar cookies for breakfast had not been a good idea. 

There standing in all his glory was non-other than Kim Namjoon. He was wearing a Christmas sweater, most likely knitted by his halmeoni, and a beanie resting on top of his head. He was holding his hands in front of him, shifting from the balls of his feet to the front. 

“Hi.” He was the first to speak up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, eyes still taking his form and acknowledging that he was standing there in reality. “I thought you were spending Christmas with your family.”

“I just couldn’t leave thinking about how you were gonna be here by yourself.” He answered and your heart melted in your chest. This was something only Kim Namjoon could do. 

“Joon, I was gonna be fine and I am fine. Now go back home for Christmas.” You tried to shoo him away but he only grasped your hand and pulled you closer to him till you were practically chest to chest. 

Up close you could see every single little detail on his face. The softness of his eyelashes and the little mole underneath his lip. The way his cheeks were pink and bunched up as he smiles softly at you. His deep dimples resting on the middle of his cheeks. You’d always known Kim Namjoon was a work of art but now up close you were sure he was something out of this world. 

“But I am home for Christmas,” He whispered, being so close to each other that you could hear what he said. “Being here with you is being at home. And the thought of being far away from you, knowing you were here alone, was killing me.”

“Joon,” You whispered his name so softly and so lovingly that his smile just widen even further. “What about your sister and your eomma and appa? They want you to be there with them not here with me…” You trailed off, eyes searching for any hint of remorse. But you surprisingly didn’t find any. 

“I talked to them about it yesterday and they were the ones who suggested I stay here with you. They know how much you meant to me.” The blush in his cheeks deepened and the scrunch of his nose returned. You stared at him in bewilderment. “Y/N, I really like you and might even possibly be in love with you. I just had…”

You didn’t even let him finish his sentence as you surged forward and captured his lips with yours. At first, he didn’t respond, seemingly in shock with your sudden actions. But after a couple of seconds, he did start to kiss back. Hands lifted to grab your cheeks and deepened the kiss a little bit. His lips slowly molded with yours in a kiss so sweet and innocent, you couldn’t help but sigh into it. He pulled away, only a couple of centimeters, to laugh at your sigh. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as well when you opened your eyes to see his cheeks red and his eyes glistening with admiration. 

“Joon, I kind of, sort of, love you too.” Once you’d finish saying that, he went in for another kiss. And then another. And another. Till you both just stood there in the doorway of your apartment, kissing and basking in each other’s presence. 

“How about hot chocolate and watching my hallmark movies?” You whispered hands circled around Namjoon’s neck. 

He hummed, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips. 

“That sounds like an amazing idea.” 

Maybe spending Christmas with Namjoon was just the beginning of a new place to call home.

[astapasta7]

Buzzer Beater moment (Namgi AU)

Word count: 5762

Warnings: Major character death, mentions of blood, car accident, fluff and angst

The rain storm woke him up, but he didn’t move. He just watched as the raindrops fell down his window pane. The dark starless sky featured gray clouds that struck lightning and screams of thunder kept him at bay in his bed. He looks at his clock next to his window. It reads 4:37 AM. With nothing better to do he finally rises out of bed and walks downstairs to his kitchen. He makes himself a cup of green tea. Staring down at the honey colored liquid he puts it down without giving it a second though and walks away from the tea cup. He goes back to his room and begins to weep silently to himself not trying to cause a disturbance. He has no idea why he’s crying. At least that's what he tells himself, but he knows exactly why.

He wants to let go. He wants to move on. But he can’t. He’s still holding on to the air between them, but it’s no longer there. He lost what mattered most to him and will never get it back. No matter how hard he tries. He wipes his tears away and reaches under his bed and grabs a shoe box from under his bed and goes through the memories in there. He pulls out a painting he made on vacation once, reminiscing of the air and calmness of the lake he portrayed. He holds a notebook that was gifted to him. He opens thinking it’ll be an embarrassing diary, but it turns out to be his old poetry book. He flips through mindlessly before re-reading a short poem.

From my heart blooms flowers of all kind

You give love of the best kind

I knew from the time we were young

Just kids on the playground

That someday you would be mine

He cringes at his embarrassment but he knows the exact moment he decided to write this.

~~~~~~~~~

“Come onnnnn Namjoon '' The young boy no older than 7 peeks his head over his book. “All you ever do is read, don’t you get bored of it?” The other younger boy known as Yoongi plops down next to Namjoon. It’s currently recess time on a particularly hot day. Namjoon was comfortably sitting in a shaded area under a tree that had a decently nice breeze. “Do you ever do anything fun?” Yoongi is practically whining trying to pry Namjoon from his book.

“Well this is fun to me” Namjoon gets shy at his confession.

“Don’t you want to do something else? Like why don’t we play basketball?” Yoongi was the athletic one in this friendship. When he wasn’t playing basketball, he was trying to convince Namjoon how to play basketball.

“But I suck at basketball” Namjoon goes back to reading his book. “And besides I don’t wanna get all sweaty and it's too hot to play basketball”

Yoongi groans and gets up from under the tree. “It's never too hot to play basketball. And you never know you can be really good at it if you keep going.”

Namjoon sighs “But that’ll take forever to get good at. I really don’t feel like learning a new skill right now”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at his friend's incompetence. “Come onnnn just try again. For me?” The 9 year old flashes his puppy eyes that he knows will work against Namjoon. “Pleeeeeeaaaassssseeeee? After today we never have to play again if you don’t want to”

Namjoon sighs. “Pinky Promise?”

“Promise”

Namjoon gives it one last thought. “Alright. And this is the last time”

Yoongi's eyes light up and he is practically about to jump out of his skin. “Alright let's go” He drags Namjoon off of the ground and onto the basketball court.

“Ok so what you wanna do is…” Yoongi and Namjoon go on to spend the next 5 minutes practicing how to shoot the ball. Namjoon watches in amazement as Yoongi effortlessly makes shot after shot, while he can barely make one. He slowly begins to give up.

“Am I doing this right?” He dribbles the ball and tries to shoot again but the ball falls to the ground without being remotely close to the rim, known as an airball.

“Not quite but you’re getting there.” Yoongi puts his ball down and comes closer to Namjoon. “Try to aim for the white square, that's what I do. '' Yoongi begins his demonstration. He dribbles the ball, gets in his position and shoots the ball. And what do you know, it goes in. Yoongi chases after the ball and passes it to Namjoon. “You try”

Namjoon with shaky hands dribbles the ball and tries to shoot the ball again, aiming for the white square like Yoongi said to. The ball doesn’t go through the net but it touches the rim which is progress in Yoongi's eyes. “Hey you touched the rim this time. Maybe you should move closer to the hoop and it might go in.” At the current moment Namjoon was standing at the freethrow line.

“Yeah. Or maybe basketball isn’t my thing like it is yours.” Namjoon drags his feet as he goes to pick up the ball.

Yoongi sighs. “Look, you won’t get good at something overnight. I didn’t magically wake up and be good at basketball, I had to keep practicing.” He goes to Namjoon and puts his hands on the ball. “Don’t give up K?”

“Alright kids time to go back inside” The young boys peer over and look at the teacher.

“Well, recess is over. We can try again tomorrow” Yoongi takes the ball from Namjoon and runs inside. Namjoon however, does not move at all. He’s practically frozen until another student taps him on the shoulder.

“You left this over there.” The student places the book in Namjoon's hands and leaves. Namjoon glances at the tree once more then down at the book. He shook off whatever feeling he was feeling and ran back inside the school. From that day on he vouched he would never give up on something so easily and would keep trying. Maybe not basketball, but whatever he was working on at the time, he wouldn’t stop until he saw it through the end.

Namjoon should’ve known Yoongi wouldn’t keep his promise because Yoongi came to him asking to play basketball the next day. And the day after. And the day after that. And the day after until the two boys had spent practically everyday for the last 2 weeks playing basketball. Each day Namjoon got easier to convince to play as he knew there was no longer any point in fighting it. 

On today instead of just shooting hoops, Yoongi decided that he would 1-v-1 Namjoon to a game of 20 points each shoot being worth 1 point. Everything was fine until Yoongi crossed Namjoon and he fell to the ground scraping his knee pretty badly. Namjoon bites his lip trying to hold back the tears but the pain is pretty much inevitable. He had scraped his entire knee and it was bleeding pretty bad. Yoongi looks over and immediately runs to help him up and carries him to the nurse. There she patches him up with a band aid and Yoongi explains the situation to her. By the time recess ended the pain died down and Namjoon was able to walk on his own. The two boys leave together and go back to class. It's pretty quiet for most of it before Yoongi speaks up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just got too into it” He picks at his skin. “We don’t have to play basketball ever again if you don’t want to” He scratches the back of his neck.

“It's ok Yoongi. It happens. I don’t mind playing again, I think I’m starting to understand why you like it so much” Namjoon gives him a small smile. “Don’t think too much about this. I’ll be fine.” The two boys walk into the classroom and finish off the school day.

~~~~~~~~~

He chuckles at the memory of that school year. They basically spent every day that year playing basketball and forming a bond together. He misses the innocence they had back then He closes the poem book to save himself any further embarrassment. He goes back into the box and pulls out 2 gold medals. One that reads ‘MVP’ and another one being a championship medal. He also pulls out a championship ring. He also remembers this day quite vividly. The team had spent the entire season working hard to make it to finals. And it all paid off as they went the whole season undefeated, even winning the championship. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Yoongi leans against the lockers. The two boys are now 17 and 18 nearing the final stages of their high school career.

Namjoon closes his locker. “I’ll try to be there before the end of the game, I have to tutor a few people tonight but it shouldn’t take long” He holds his books close to his chest. 10 years have passed and the two boys that were close in height now have a slightly noticeable height difference with Namjoon being slightly taller. Yoongi has mint green hair and Namjoon has brown. Both have gotten noticeably stronger over the years as they work out together when time allows. Yoongi has spent most of his school days playing basketball while after middle school Namjoon decided that it wasn’t the thing for him and doesn’t play the sport with anyone except Yoongi. It's kind of like their thing to do with each other.

“Ok that's fine. Tonight is our championship game and I would really like for you to be there as good luck” Yoongi gives Namjoon a sly smirk. Namjoon turns as red as a tomato and his heartbeat quickens.

“Can you not say such things to me...It's embarrassing” He hides his face behind his books and goes to walk to class. But, Yoongi is next to him the whole way.

“What's embarrassing? Being my boyfriend?” He says it a little too loud and Namjoon fears someone could’ve heard.

“Can you keep it down. I thought we didn’t want anyone to know” His head hangs low.

“Come on. No one knows except who we want to know. And so what if someone does know? It won’t hurt. And I kind of wanna show you off as my boyfriend. I want everyone to know that you are mine and that I am yours” Yoongi grabs Namjoon's hand but he pulls it away.

“That's easy for you to say. You're the school pride. You brought the school the semi finals 3 years in a row and now you guys have your championship game tonight. For me I’m just some unimportant nerd” Namjoon holds his books closer to his chest. “We’re in two different worlds Yoongi. Please understand that”

Yoongi's face drops. He goes to say something but the school bell rings signifying the start of class. “I’ll see you tonight?” He drops the subject.

“We’ll see” Namjoon replies and walks into his classroom. Yoongi sighs and walks to his classroom which is in the opposite direction of Namjoons classroom. Yoongi always walks Namjoon to class everyday without fail ever since before they started dating their Sophomore year of high school. Yoongi sits in his 3rd period class thinking about what Namjoon said. He’s right, they are in two different worlds and he wishes it wasn’t like that. And it’s not like anyone isn’t suspicious of them. They are practically always together. And whenever people ask Yoongi if they are together he hates denying that they are a thing. He wants to be able to shout it from the rooftops that Namjoon is his boyfriend but he’s not sure if he will.

“Yoongi? Care to share with the class what you're thinking about?” The teacher questions him and the entire class turns and faces him. He looks up at the teacher and doesn’t respond. Luckily someone else does for him.

“He’s clearly nervous about tonight. Alot is riding on his back.” Someone says.

“Are you kidding? The Min Yoongi is nervous? If anyone is nervous it's the other team” Another says. And this basically sparks a class debate about the championship game tonight.

The teacher sighs and claps her hands. “Ok OK everyone pay attention to class. You can worry about tonight's game later. For now let's focus on the review for the test” The teacher goes back to teaching and the students keep whispering about tonight's game. Yoongi however could care less for either topic. All he can think about is Namjoon.

~~~~~~~~~

There's 1 minute left in the last quarter. Namjoon is sitting on the bleachers with the rest of the student body. He had missed the first few minutes of the first quarter but other than that he has been there for the entire game. The two teams are neck and neck with the other school in the lead 71-72. It's a 1 point difference between the teams. A 1 point difference is between the basketball team and the championship. Right now there is a timeout going on and the enemy school is cheering because previous to the timeout they made the shot that made the score it is now. Namjoon doesn’t know what is being said to those boys and would prefer to not find out. He practically feels the entire team, hell the entire gym's heartbeat quickening, awaiting to see the end of the game. There are loud screams everywhere and the buzzer goes off notifying coaches that the time out was over. Everything is moving in slow motion now for Namjoon in the stands. The ref is holding the ball and when Yoongi's teammate reaches him he blows the whistle and the timer begins. Yoongi's teammate passes the ball over to another and it seems that they are trying to waste the clock and pass the ball around. Finally he gets to Yoongi around the 30 second mark he passes the ball to a teammate and the ball goes in bringing the score to 73-72. The gym erupts with cheers again but then it becomes a realization that the other school now gets the ball. There's 20 seconds left in the game all the team has to do is ensure that the other team doesn’t get a shot in. Namjoons heart quickens as he realizes this. The other team rushes down the court and tries to get a shot in. Now the timer reads 15 seconds. All they have to do is hold out for 15 seconds but this seems like the longest 15 seconds ever. Then the timer drops down to 10, then 5. And Namjoon sees the hope that is until the team takes the shot and leaves 4 seconds on the clock. Yoongi quickly gets the rebound. And throws the ball all the way from across the court and Namjoon  begins to remember a day from when they were young.

~~~~~~~

“Really? You’re reading again” Its 5th grade for these two. “Come on we’re playing basketball” Yoongi tries to pry Namjoon from the bench but Namjoon pulls away.

“We played basketball yesterday. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Namjoon places his book down trying to understand Yoongi’s fascination with sports.

He shakes his head. “Nope. It’s so much fun and so unpredictable.” He dribbles the ball next to the bench. “You never know if you're gonna make the next 3 pointer, if you can cross someone over or better yet, making a buzzer beater” Yoongi lights up with excitement just thinking of all the possibilities while Namjoon is confused on a few of the terminology used.

“A buzzer beater?” You can practically see the question marks on his face.

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. So you know how each quarter of a game has a timer right?” That much Namjoon did know, so he nods in response. “Well right when the timer goes off and the buzzer goes off but the ball is already out of your hands, all the player can do is wait for the ball to go in '' Yoongi sits close to Namjoon. “And it's like your heart is getting ready to explode, it's beating so fast. Everyone gets quite waiting to see if it’ll go in or not and time slows down” Yoongi has this big smile on his face. “And then when the ball goes in, it's like the best feeling ever. Everyone around you cheering for you and it's just indescribable” Yoongi leans his back against the connected table to the bench thinking about the day he’ll be able to experience that feeling.

“Wow. That sounds nice but I still don’t want to play” Namjoon goes back to reading his book

“Ughhhhh come on pleaseee?” Yoongi places his hand on Namjoons shoulder. “Just one more time?”

“Why don’t you play with the other kids who play basketball? Why must you drag me into this?”

“Because they’re all losers and suck. You’re different”

“Yeah But I don’t play basketball, I don’t find it fun like they do.”

“Ok but don’t you want to feel that feeling? That adrenaline rush? It must be exciting to feel right?” Yoongi keeps pushing his younger friend. “I’ll show it to you one day. I promise”

~~~~~~~

Well, Yoongi did keep that promise. Namjoons heart was racing a mile a second as he watched the ball slowly fly through the air and the buzzer went off. Even though it went off the ball was still going through the air and it was nearing the hop. It bounced off the backboard and I thought it was all going to be over and then it finally hit the edge of the rim and it sunk down bringing the score to 76-74 with Yoongi's team winning. The gym erupts in a loud cheer and Yoongi stands there frozen as his team and the school all run towards him. This was it. This was the moment and the feeling that Yoongi talked about when they were young. Namjoon has a big smile on his face and he goes to try and find Yoongi in the crowd and give him the biggest hug ever. He was so proud of him, everything in their life was leading up to this moment. He finally was able to get it, his buzzer beater moment.

~~~~~~~~

The memories come back to the now adult man. He puts the medals and ring back into the box and closes it once again. He puts it back under his and looks back over at the clock. Nearly 2 hours have passed since his reminiscing and the sun is beginning to rise. The rain stopped long ago and the man goes back down to the kitchen. He looks at the cup of green tea that has been untouched since he poured it. The tea is now cold and probably tasteless. The man grabs the cup and pours it out remembering how he even got the handcrafted cup before him.

~~~~~~~~

The two boys are now in college. Namjoon got into Yale University and Yoongi settled for UConn, a neighboring school with a great basketball team for him. They aren’t far from each other but their schedules are always conflicting so they aren’t able to see each other all the time. However today is a weekend and they were both available to hangout. They decided to go on a picnic and Namjoon picked this place. He also brought painting materials as they decided to make something for each other. Yoongi brought the blanket and the food and they settled down in the space. Yoongi has no idea how Namjoon found this place but it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. They were on a cliff and it had the most beautiful view of the area and of the sky. There were budding flowers and an old swing there, it was the perfect place.

“How did you find this place Namjoon?” Yoongi is taking in all of the sights he can.

“For my art class we were in the area and we were told to make a painting of an area and I found this place. I did the assignment and about how I just had to show you.” Namjoon sets up their place as Yoongi looks all around them. He has the biggest grin.

“This is really beautiful. And I have got to see this painting you speak of.” Yoongi takes his seat next to Namjoon. “So, should we paint or eat first?”

Namjoon thinks for a second. “We should paint first and then eat. Give the paint time to dry while we eat. Then we can go and glaze all the stuff.”

Yoongi nods in agreement. “I like how you think.” The cups are similar in size and shape but how the two of them paint them are drastically different. Namjoon takes a more ‘professional’ approach. The cup doesn’t even look like a normal clay cup, but one made of marble. It's mostly white with hues of black, gray and gold. It looks exactly like a marble countertop or a marble statue. It looks like it took him almost years to make this but in actuality it only took about 3 or 4 hours. It's perfect in Yoongi's eyes. Yoongi on the other hand took a more ‘cuter’ approach. The base color of the cup is also white but he added mini frogs to the cup with one giant one on the front. Namjoon lets out a small chuckle.

“What? What's so funny?” Yoongi is a little confused, and then he looks at the cup and sees what happened.

“It looks like your frog has tits” Namjoon tries to stifle his laughter but it all comes pouring out. Yoongi begins to laugh as well.

“Shut it. That was not my intention and you know that it wasn’t.”

“It’s still funny” Namjoon sits up straight and calms down after his laughter fest. “It’s still pretty funny”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” The two continue painting their cups and just chatting about what was going on for them. Namjoon was studying business courses as he always wanted to be a businessman and Yoongi was studying music production and captain of the basketball team. The pair finish painting and eating right around the time the sun begins to set and they watch as the fog appears and the sun goes down revealing a yellow and orange sky. Namjoon is now sitting on the swing, Yoongi slowly pushing the swing.

“I wish we could have more days like this. With each other” Namjoon confesses. “I love you Yoongi”

Yoongi's heartbeat quickens. This wasn’t the first time Namjoon said this. They say it to each other so often it feels like it lost all meaning. “I love you too Namjoon” The two bask in the sunset until the moon rises and the stars appear. Namjoon gets off the swing and the two pack away all of their things and make their way to Yoongi's car as Namjoon doesn’t have his license at the moment. As they are leaving they are spotted by two of Yoongi's teammates.

“Yooo Yoongi whats up” The two men dap Yoongi and Namjoon does nothing but watch. It comes about that their names are Taehyung and Jungkook, two lower classmen on the team.

“Whos this?” The younger one, Jungkook, points to Namjoon.

Yoongi halts for a second before responding. Everyone on the team knows he's bi so it shouldn’t matter what he says right? “This is my boyfriend, Namjoon”

Surprise goes across the two boys' faces and Namjoon stiffens up. “Well nice to meet you. I didn’t think you were the relationship type Yoongi” Taehyung says.

Namjoon is very clearly confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well whenever people would approach him he always denied them and would just say he didn’t want a relationship or anything. So we just thought he was some grumpy man who just liked basketball and music. He’s never really talked about you either”

Namjoon's eyes fall. “Well I understand. I did tell him that I didn’t really want anyone to know about us in high school but I didn’t think it would carry over to college” The two of them exchange a look for a few seconds. Yoongi then turns his attention to the 2 underclassmen.

“What are you guys doing here anyway? There's nothing here for miles”

“Well we actually came to find you. You missed practice today and the coach was pissed” Taehyung says matter of factly.

“I didn’t know you had practice today” Namjoon looks at him confused

“That's not important” Yoongi brushes him off. “How did you find me?”

“Did you forget?” Jungkook questions the older boy. “The team shares location with each other at all times. If you didn’t want to be found you really should’ve turned it off.”

Yoongi mentally beats himself up for that. He throws his head back then rubs his temples. “Alright you guys head home and I’ll make it up to coach later.”

“Alright. But he was pretty mad so I’m praying for you.” The two underclassmen leave and Namjoon addresses Yoongi missing practice.

“Why did you skip practice?”

“Well I wanted to come see you. I missed you”

“Yeah but you know better than to just miss practice. You should’ve gone”

“Its fine its nothing” “No Yoongi, it's nothing. You love basketball. What if you get kicked off the team because of me? I could never live with that”

Yoongi puts his hands on Namjoons shoulders. “Calm down. I won’t get kicked off the team. I’ll be fine.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath. “You better be Yoongi”

“I will I promise”

~~~~~~~~

He was in fact fine. The coach dismissed it and let the situation go. It's now years later and the cup presented before the older man still looks as fresh as it did the day they made those cups. The man looks at the oven clock and it reads 6:13. He realizes he will have to go into work soon. It's a quite cold day out with the temperature being 30 degrees fahrenheit (-1 degree celsius) he decides to bundle up. He goes to his closet and falls down a red scarf he hadn’t seen in years. He lets the fabric drape over his hands. He looks at the scarf once more as he can’t remember how he got this like he did with the poem, the medal, and the cup. Then he does remember and he wishes he hadn’t.

~~~~~~~~

“No. It can’t be true” His heartbeat quickens and tears well up in his eyes.

“We did everything we could. I’m so sorry Mr.-” The world stops for him. He drops down to his knees and begins to sob loudly pleading with the doctor to go back and bring back his lover, his one and only, his soulmate. Friends he made through the years try to comfort him but it just doesn't work out like that. They don’t understand. He was the only one right for him. He couldn’t just let him go. They did everything together. He wasn’t ready for him to go. The man's friends bring him out of the hospital after a few minutes and bring him home. The man has stopped crying and is now dead silent. Not a single sound coming from him other than the sound of his shaky breath.

A few days go by and it's time to get the last of his stuff from the hospital. It wasn’t much. Just his clothes, his wallet and a red scarf. The man gave his love this red scarf for their anniversary along with an engagement ring. He felt it was time seeing as they were high school sweethearts and weren’t leaving each other anytime soon. Their anniversary was just a few days ago. He begins to tear up again and then just stuff all of it into the car.

It was all so sudden when it happened. The two had decided that they were going to go back to the cliff and swing as they always did. After that first date it became a regular occasion for them to do. Hell they even got engaged there. The man remembers already being there waiting for the other to appear. But then 10 minutes go by with no sign of showing up or text. Then 20 minutes. Then around the 30 minute mark The man gets a call from the hospital getting the news he dreaded. The love of his life had been in a terrible car accident. They were doing everything they could to save him but the chances of his survival were slim. The man managed to catch one of his friends before they got too far and they drove to the hospital together.

It's now the day of his funeral. The man thinks of just not going as a whole as the pain he bears is too much, but he knows that's wrong of him to do. He sits down in the front row trying to hold in his composure and not sob in the hysteric way he wants to. His head hangs low. He’s wearing a black tux and black shades to hide his puffy eyes. He just wants this to all be over so that he can go to his home and never come back out again. 

Just like he wished, everything was over quickly. He decided to not go to the repass and everyone around him, including both families, understood why. The man just wanted to be alone. He felt as though this was his fault. That is he hadn’t told his love to meet him there and just stayed with him instead of taking separate trips that would’ve been avoided and that he would still be here. Everyone tried to tell the man that he couldn’t have predicted this and that it wasn't his fault. But he can’t help but like it was.

~~~~~~~~

The man calls out of work that day and decides to go back to the swing and the tree. Today would've been the love of his life's birthday. He sits behind the swing and reminisces on all of the time they spent together and what would’ve been if not for that fateful day. The man has come to terms that he would never love another like he loved him and that he would be content with waiting out the rest of his days alone.

“You know, it sucks you aren’t here anymore” The man begins to pick away at his skin. “It's your birthday today but I’m sure you know that already considering that, it is your birthday” He chuckles at his joke. “I spend every day thinking about what our wedding would be like. What you would wear, what I would wear. Who is in the wedding, the theme, the color. Everything. I decided to write my vows to you so here goes.” The man clears his throat and reads from the paper.

My dearly beloved,

You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You were always there for me. My thick and thin, my sickness and my health, my light and my dark. We’ve always known each before we even knew our own selves. I'm so thankful to have known you since diapers and now to be able to call you my husband. Ever since that day on the playground and the many days after, I knew you would be mine.  It’s like the stars aligned for us to be together. We were inseparable. We spent every waking moment we could together and even if our busy schedules wouldn’t allow it, we tried our very hardest to make it work.

Being with you is like having that buzzer beater moment everyday. Every minute. Every second. Being with you is always something new and unpredictable. Whether it's trying a new recipe, seeing a movie, going to a new location, it was  always fun doing it with you. You are the highlight of every day, my entire life even. I would never go back and change anything. Because if I did the butterfly effect is very real and I don’t wanna mess up the littlest thing if it meant getting to this moment.

You, My dear, are my everything. If I didn’t have you around I probably wouldn’t have the drive I have now. You kept me moving forward and wanting to keep pushing myself. I probably would’ve given up by now but I always think about the time you learned what a buzzer beater was and how you get all the glory and cheers. I was always waiting and hoping for that moment to happen. And it did. I thought it was the time in high school during the championship game when I had an actual buzzer beater moment. But it wasn’t. I was never one for metaphors and similes until I met you. You are my buzzer beater moment.  And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The man looks at the swing. “It’s cheesy, I know.” He eyes the swing up and down. He lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for centuries. “I’m not ready to let you go, but it’s something I have to do. I'll always think of you and our memories together.” The man takes the red scarf off of his neck and ties it to the swing. He stands and gives the swing a push. “This will always be our spot. That’ll never change.” He pushes the swing again. “And I’ll always be yours. That's another thing that’ll never change” He pushes the swing one last time. “But I'm letting go. I hope you're ok with that.” and with that the man walks away and never returns back to the spot ever again. 

~~~~~~~~

The scarf still sits on that swing blowing in the wind. Sometimes the man wonders if anyone has gone to that spot and taken the scarf or if that became a new couple's spot. But even with someone new, the man still thinks of him. It's been a few years now and the man has a family. He has a husband and kids now. He looks outside the window to see his oldest son in the driveway saying what he once said to his love.

“Come onnnnnnn all you ever do is read do you ever get bored of it?”

[rightsockjin]

Day 1

Summary: You, Y/N, have just come off of the bachelor dejected and rejected. What’s a girl to do other than to go home and cry? Join paradise of course! This is a series and will be updated regularly. The more interaction it gets, the quicker chapters will be put out! Please like and reblog guys! Thank you!

Rating for chapter: K+

Genere: Romance, slight angst

Word count: 7,862

Warnings: Nothing for this chasers but will probably have warnings later. Quite obviously, this is fiction so don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s for fun.

-AdminKimmy

This wasn’t the ideal situation to be in. You weren’t the kind of girl to do something like this. You had never really wanted to be on one of these shows that seemed to glorify drama and sexuality yet here you were, in a car, on your way to something called Paradise. You were embarrassed to say the least. Or maybe it’s just that you felt like you should be. You really, actually felt a bit excited. For all you knew, you were well on your way to meeting the love of your life. He could be at this same place, at the same time, looking exactly for you.

You had your legs crossed and your hands on your knees. Your foot was bouncing nervously and you were biting your lip all the while trying to keep a slight smile on your face. The camera in front of you didn’t help to calm your nerves whatsoever. You briefly looked down at your chest to make sure that the multitude of buttons on your lilac dress remained secured and safe. You hadn’t worn this dress ever before and earlier this exact morning you had thought that it would have been a good idea to wear it. Now, it felt like maybe you should have worn something you were a little more comfortable in. Something a little more you. But it was too late for that, obviously. You were now stuck in the pretty dress that you had pulled on and you just had to be satisfied.

Still, you felt the worry tugging at the back of your mind. A curl fell over your eye and this was what prompted you to stop biting your lip so you could instead blow the hair out of your eyelashes. This was another choice you weren’t sure about. You had curled your hair. Would everyone think you were fake for fixing your hair arguably glamorously for the beach?

Your heart squeezed as the producer who had been assigned to you cleared his throat to get your attention. You jumped in your seat slightly, your head snapped up to meet his apologetic brown eyes which were shielded by a pair of thick, square glasses. They rested low on his relatively small nose and made him look a little like a nerd. You assumed that they seemed to fit him awkwardly mostly because of the black head set covering his ears, the mic was pulled slightly away from his admittedly full lips. He had a clipboard in his hands as well as a pen and since you had stepped in the car, he had been glancing anxiously at the papers in his lap. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was new to all of this and that’s why he seemed so on edge, but you assumed that it would be a little rude to ask.

“Sorry,” he slurred looking down at his clipboard again and tapping the pen anxiously on his cheek, “I just have some questions to ask you before we arrive.”

“Oh,” you answered, dropping your hand from your heart and placing it back on your knee.

“Okay. Sure. Shoot.”

Mentally, you cringed at yourself. Would it be too much to ask of yourself to not say anything cringe worthy?

“Okay,” the producer said, a smile pulling at his lips at your answer still looking at the questions, “I’ll take a shot.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He was cute. You couldn’t lie to yourself about it. Since you had seen him at the airport a couple of days prior, you had noticed that he was attractive but you weren’t here to flirt with the staff. You were here to find a boyfriend and potentially a husband. So instead of dwelling on how cute he was, you chose instead to keep in mind who this man was. A glorified handler of sorts.

“So, why did you want to be in Bachelor in Paradise?”

You took a deep breath and looked at the producer but he shook his head and pointed down at the camera instead. You smiled and nodded, trying to keep your nerves at bay and your voice even.

“Well…after being on the bachelor for all of two seconds, I felt like maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have like sixty girls dating the same guy. I guess I don’t stand out much at first so I thought that narrowing down the dating pool and adding a couple more men would help my chances? Honestly, I just wanted a second chance at this whole reality show dating thing.”

The producer nodded, his eyes hooded slightly like you had maybe said something wrong. You thought back to your answer and realized that you had spoken a bit fast. It might be hard to edit it later on.

“Sorry,” you said, “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“It’s alright,” the producer said, adjusting his glasses and writing something down before he asked another question.

“Who do you hope is in Paradise if anyone and what do you hope will come out of it?”

A specific face popped in your mind. The hope that this person was going to be in Paradise as well was what had pushed you over the edge to apply.

“I hope that the last runner up is there,” you said with confidence, “Seokjin. I honestly can’t believe that he was rejected. That last girl was crazy. He’s so funny and good looking. I’d love to get to know him. Honestly though, I’m not expecting anything from this. I just want to see how things go. I just really hope that Jungkook isn’t here. After the last season…I just don’t want to see him. I didn’t have a lot of time on the show but he just felt so…disingenuous and shallow. He was nothing like what I thought he would be like.”

The producer snorted. You blinked up at him but he cleared his throat again and continued on as if he hadn’t just laughed at what you said. It rubbed you the wrong way.

“Is something funny?”

The producer looked up, a smile still sparkling in his eyes as he realized what it could have seemed like to you.

“Oh uh…no I’m so sorry, that was unprofessional. It won’t happen again Miss Y/N. I just have one more question for you if that’s alright, then we should be good.”

You crossed your arms and sat up straighter. You honestly felt a little judged. If this producer was going to be the one constantly questioning you, you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to be honest with his judgy ass.

“Right okay go on.”

        “What would be the worst case scenario for you coming out of this experience?”

You raised an eyebrow. Isn’t that obvious?

“Well obviously being single-”

“I’m sorry Miss Y/N, could you phrase your answer with ‘The worst case scenario would be’ for editing purposes?”

You held back an eye roll. After that chortle, your annoyance seemed to be on the surface of your skin.

“Sure,” you conceded, “The worst case scenario would be for me to come out of this single or looked over again. I feel like I’ve worked a lot on myself since the last time and I don’t want to be ignored again.”

The producer hissed but jotted something down. Suddenly, you remembered that the producers of this show were notorious for making people look a certain way and took things out of context for entertainment sake. Had you come across too harshly? You didn’t want to be the bitchy girl on the show.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly as he began to turn back around in his seat, “did that come out too bitchy?”

The producer tilted his head slightly, “Uh, no. I don’t think so. I think it was just the right amount of bitchy to be honest.” He shrugged then turned fully to the front. Your heart sank.

“You’re not going to make me look like a crazy person are you?”

Again, you winced at your word choice. You had seen how they could twist this out of context. You should be much more careful with what you were saying.

“Mm… probably not.”

Probably? Probably not? The greenest trees you had ever seen suddenly took up the view from your seat. You were nearing the film sight. You could still see the car that was filming your car following behind, but where there were only streets and buildings before, there was now open blue skies and greenery so beautiful it almost took your breath away.

“That’s not very reassuring,” you said looking out of the window and placing a hand over your heart just to feel it beat. It grounded you.

“I don’t usually do the editing so I can’t say for sure, but there’s this other girl who arrived a little before you and she was super defensive so I feel like the title of bitchiest has probably gone to her already.”

You felt your shoulders relax a bit at that but a sliver of fear wormed his way into your body. You hoped that she wouldn’t actually be a bitch. You felt a little bad for her.

“How do you think they’ll make me look? The forgettable one?”

The producer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up his phone and typed something out. He then held out his phone to you without turning.

You took the phone with uncertainty. You looked down and noticed that he had his notes open and what he’s been typing was directed at you.

If you don’t want to be shown in a bad lighting, I recommend you don’t say things like “did that sound too bitchy” or “I’m the forgettable one”. That is only giving them ideas as to what to brand you. Be positive.

Your heart sank. He was right. You had seen it many times before and you were making all the mistakes that you said you weren’t going to make. You decided to type back instead of answering out loud.

You’re probably right. I guess I’m just nervous. I’m scared. I’ll try to be positive.

You handed the phone back to him with a tap on his shoulder. He took the device without hesitation. He held it a bit away from his face then began to type frantically. You felt like you were buzzing. Maybe it was the cameras or the fact that you could now see the resort. You couldn’t be sure which.

“Namjoon,” said the driver with a chastising tone to his voice, “You know you shouldn’t be talking to her like that. Speak with your voice. The editors will complain that they don’t have any footage.”

Namjoon. Why did that name sound familiar?

“Right sorry Sejin ssi,” Namjoon answered looking down at his phone awkwardly then over his shoulder at you. He seemed to be debating whether to show you what he’d written or not now that he’d been chastised.  After a couple more seconds, he sighed and clicked his phone off. You frowned. You felt like what he was going to say was important.

You let yourself look out the window again just as the car turned left into the parking of the resort. Now you knew it was the fact that you were so close. The resort was enormous. It seemed to span for a good three miles. The walls were painted a vibrant yellow and the roof offset it with a deep warm brown. Small shells lined the front door and the driveway was littered with sand and kept shrubs. A plethora of flowers decorated the stairway leading to the entrance. Your heart skipped a beat. This was it.

You knew you weren’t the first person to arrive. There were already people at the resort waiting to meet you. If that wasn’t terrifying and exciting, then you didn’t know what was.

“Okay,” Namjoon said as the driver- Sejin- parked the car. You sat at attention, ready to do as he said.

“This is the villa but right now Chris is waiting for you at the entry to the beach access we have reserved for the show and we want to record that now since more people are on their way already. Sejin-ssi and I will take your bags to your room then I will meet up with you on the beach. Try not to talk to me directly too often unless there’s something urgent. At the end of the day,” he paused there for what may have been a bit too long, “you are here to meet the other people here, not me. Think of me as like a shadow for you, if that makes sense.”

You nodded. The reality of what you were doing had suddenly hit you square in the chest. Your body was on high alert. Every nerve in your body was ready to jump with the slightest thing. You were throwing yourself into the fray again.

Flashes of the last time you were on a show like this one crossed your mind’s eye. You tapped your chest as if you could stop the ache of last time from being present once again. You had gotten over that slight heart break. Jungkook hadn’t appreciated you and that wasn’t your fault. It was his for not seeing how amazing you were. You couldn’t let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game. This time would be different.

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Great. Just walk through the right side of the villa and you should see the cameras and Chris. It’s hard to miss.”

“Okay.”

You opened the door  without a second thought and stepped out into the Mexican sun. The humidity was already prominent. You could almost feel your hair frizz. The sun was strong on your exposed shoulders. You should have put on sunscreen before arriving. Oh well. It would have to be something to keep in mind for the next time.

You heard the two other doors open and out walked Sejin and Namjoon. Both men were much taller than you, even in your beachy wedges. They both wore jean shorts and a black shirt. You could already see the men sweating in the summer heat. You weren’t surprised. It was almost unbearably hot but you had bigger things to worry about.

“Miss Y/N-“

“Please just call me Y/N. The whole Miss thing makes me feel old.”

You looked over your shoulder as Sejin opened the trunk that held your luggage. Namjoon was standing next to the taller man with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on his lips.

“Okay sure. Y/N, go ahead and go to the beach access. I’ll be there shortly.”

A strained smile crossed your face as you nodded and took a deep breath. With all of the courage you could muster, you took a step in the direction of the shooting sight. Like a spell being broken, the nerves dissolved slightly. You pulled your shoulders back and adjusted your hair. You were beautiful. Confident. Interesting. Attractive. Bachelor in Paradise was going to be different for you. You could just feel it.

As you walked along the path that Producer Namjoon had suggested, you felt yourself begin to sweat. The sun and humidity were starting to get to you already. Oh how you wished that this season was taking place in the alps somewhere instead of in the middle of summer on a beach in Mexico.

From a distance, you could see Chris, the host of the show, speaking to a man who wore a similar uniform to that of Namjoon and Sejin. He had glasses as well and was a little on the bigger side. He seemed to be telling Chris something but as soon as they saw you approaching, the man walked away with a pat on his shoulder and a cue to the camera man.

Chris, the professional he was, turned on the charm instantly. He smiled brightly at you as if you were an old friend though you were pretty sure he barely remembered you. Regardless, you smiled at him and prepared yourself for an awkward hug.

You waved at him and he waved back enthusiastically, his blond hair shone in the sun like spun gold. You wondered how much he paid for it.

“Is that Y/N?”

Taken aback, you looked behind you as if you thought he was talking to someone else. When you saw no one behind you, you realized that he actually did remember you, or the director had told him who you were.

“Me? Oh uh yeah! I didn’t think you would remember who I was,” you said. Namjoon’s words came back to you in that instant. Here was yet another thing to twist. You really needed to think before you spoke.

“How could I not remember who you are!? You left our last bachelor literally speechless with your entrance.”

You cringed at the memory. You had dressed really old Hollywood and paid a fortune to have your hair done up and while Chris was right, Jungkook had been left speechless, it hadn’t amounted to much as he sent you home almost instantly.

“It didn’t really help though,” you laughed as you neared and he held his arms up as you had thought he would to give you a hug. You walked into it unceremoniously, careful not to smudge the lipstick you wore on his light blue shirt. After a second of back pats, he let you free and you chuckled awkwardly.

“Well it looks like you came here with a similar approach. Do you think it will help you out this time around?”

“Am I overdressed?”

“Oh no, you’re fine. I just wanted to gauge your thoughts on this season.”

You unconsciously bit your lip and looked up at the sky in thought. The clouds were so white and fluffy they almost made you wish you could touch them. In that moment, a cloud shaped like a heart floated above you and your excitement soared. You pointed up at it to get Chris to look which to his credit he did without hesitation.

“Look! A heart! That’s gotta be a good sign!”

“Uh,” Chris stuttered, “Yeah it must be. Do you think anyone is going to be excited to see you?”

You smiled at the cloud as it morphed into shapeless blobs before you looked back down at Chris to answer his question.

“I hope so. I hope someone will want to date me. I came here to find love after all.”

“Yes, well, it looks like you’re about to find out. Why don’t you go ahead and meet up with the rest of the contestants that have arrived?”

Chris gestured to the stone walls that served as the entrance to the back side of the villa and you felt your heart drop. This was it. You were about to see who else had made it to Paradise.

With a final hug and a nod, you pulled your dress up and descended the moss covered stairs. It was like walking into the twilight zone of sorts. Reality seemed to melt away as you traveled further into the beach access. Suddenly, the wall gave way to bushes and palm trees you had seen so many times on TV and you felt yourself light headed.

“Someone else is here,” you heard a male voice yell. You felt a shiver run up your spine. As you took the final steps into the clearing. You plastered a smile on your face so you wouldn’t look threatening and near the cabana you saw multitudes of people already sitting and waiting and talking to one another. You could see two girls sitting together as well as a single woman sitting away from the Cabana alone. You made a mental note to go talk to her later.

At the bar, were four guys all of which looked extremely close to each other and very handsome. When your eyes landed on the one farthest to the right, your heart stopped. There he was in all of his glory. The fabled Kim Seokjin. Even from this distance he was stunning. He had lips like pillows and skin like silk. He was in a salmon colored button up and some khaki cargo shorts. His hair was black now and kept long which you guessed made it hot since it was already kind of gross outside, but the slight glisten of his skin only made him seem less approachable.

You forced yourself to look at the other men and realized you recognized them all as well. None of these men had been the actual Bachelor but they had been on seasons of the bachelorette.

Kim Taehyung was the runner up on Yuri’s season which had shocked the world in its entirety. The man was a tall glass of water and on top of that he seemed to be extremely caring, so when the bachelorette of the time had rejected his marriage proposal, it was a shock to say the least. More so, it was a shock that he hadn’t been chosen to be the next bachelor. People had started the petition.

Next to him was an older man. He had black hair and a severe undercut. He was drinking what looked to be whisky with a heavily ringed finger. He was hunched over slightly and his oversized shirt hung off of him so you could see into it if you wanted to. He was pale. Nearly as white as his shirt but his stoney exterior was enough to keep you intrigued. Min Yoongi. He was rich. That much you knew. He was some sort of architecte who’d become a psychologist and after having finished his career, he realized he wanted to be in love and was convinced to go on the show by a friend of his that worked on it. Who that friend was, the world never knew, but he was on a particularly uninteresting season of the bachelorette. He was the only thing you remembered about that show.

Finally, next to him was someone you knew was much younger than most of the people there. Choi Soobin. He may have been younger, two years to be exact, but he was by far the tallest man in the house as of yet. He towered over Yoongi in the stool next to him. He had a tall fruity looking drink in his enormous hand and was taking sips from it every so often. He had been voted off his own season of the Bachelorette because Katie, the bachelorette, wasn’t into being a noona.

It was a mistake for her. Soobin had been the most good looking man on her season and she had ended up with no proposals. That must have hurt her ego. Then again, she was kind of a jerk if you remembered correctly from your own season of the bachelor. She had been one of the three finalists for Jungkook but he had gone with some girl that was clearly all wrong for him and they had broken off their engagement shortly after the show aired.

“Hi guys,” you heard your voice say. Already, the two girls who were seated together glared at you though you didn’t know who they were so you had no idea why they did this. The men on the other hand, looked chipper. They stood instantly and waited for you to arrive. You stepped into the Cabana and realized that even with heels, it was going to be a challenge to reach Soobin. He seemed to see this as well and stooped town to gently hug you. His smile reached his eyes which squinted prettily. He smelled a little like linens and cotton. It was refreshing and you wondered if it was his clothes, or his hair that gave off such a delightful scent.

“Hi, I’m Soobin,” he said after he had pulled away. His voice was deeper than you expected and you blinked up at him.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.”

Almost instantly, without waiting for Soobin to reply, another set of arms wrapped around you. Taken aback, you hugged the person back and felt his wide shoulders.

“I’m Seokjin but you can call me Jin! It’s nice to meet you!”

Your heart stopped. Here he was. The Kim Seokjin, hugging you! You tried to keep your nerves at bay so that you could make a good impression. You knew that later, you would have to talk to a camera about how you felt and you wanted to appear cool and collected.

“Wow Seokjin! So nice to meet you as well!”

He gave you an extra squeeze then let you breathe, though he was holding onto your shoulders examining you. You felt self continuous. Would he find a lot of flaws? Not all of the world could be nearly scientifically perfect like him.

“Wow you are just gorgeous! I can’t believe the kid kicked you out of the show so quickly! What a prick!”

Your eyes went wide. Had Seokjin watched your season? And he remembered you? Wow. It was almost worth not making it halfway through the show.

“Yeah I can’t believe Jungkook let her go,” said Taehyung from behind Jin. His eyes narrowed at the older man who only winked at him and stepped back.

“Oh well, lucky for us,” he said, opening his arms wide. He was weaning a blue and white striped shirt that was tucked into dark blue shorts. His dark brown hair was pushed back by a bandana that seemed to be matching Yoongi’s. You chuckled to yourself before stepping into the hug. His arms wrapped around your frame easily but he only held onto you for a second in fear of being disrespectful.

“My name is Taehyung.”

“Hey, yeah I know.” If you could hit yourself, this would be the time to. “I mean, I watched your season. My name is Y/N.”

“I know,” he reciprocated, “I watched yours too.”

You didn’t have time to react as Taehyung winked at you then moved aside to introduce you to the last man.

“This is Yoongi. He’s a little grumpy because it’s so early and he’s usually asleep at this time. Right hyung?”

Yoongi took a prolonged sip of his whisky before he spoke and glared at his...friend? He stood from the stool. This man was significantly shorter than the rest but his presence seemed to take up the whole room.

“I’m not usually asleep at three in the afternoon you little shit,” he whined pushing Taehyung lightly on the shoulder. His glare seemed misplaced on his cute face. He almost seemed like a baby when he was mad. It was the least threatening thing you had ever seen.

“He did get one thing right. I’m Yoongi,” he said, holding out a hand. He had been the only person not to hug you. You wondered if this meant that he was already not interested in you.

Sensing your unease, Taehyung stepped in once again, “Don’t worry about his lack of affection Y/N. Yoongi hyung is just a little awkward when it comes to women.”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi warned, his eyes blazing at the taller man.

“I’m just messing with you hyung!”

You took Yoongi’s hand and shook it carefully. You could feel that your hands were a little sweaty and you worried he’d find it gross. Yoongi showed no signs of disgust though. He smiled softly at you then offered you his seat at the bar. You smiled brightly at him and was ready to take the seat but then you remembered the girls and realized you should go introduce yourself to them as well. If they weren’t going to do the polite thing and introduce themselves then you would do it.

“I’d love to stay but I should go say hi to them as well,” you said, tilting your head towards the girls. Taehyung did nothing to hide his dejected feelings. His lips turned down in a frown. Yoongi elbowed him and he straightened out his expression instantly.

“Okay go ahead. Do you mind if we speak later though?” Taehyung asked hopefully and your heart raced. You may have shown up partially for Jin but you weren’t going to deny spending some time with the most handsome man in the world. That would be plain stupid.

“Of course! After I greet everyone, you’re the first on my list.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jin’s face turn into an attractive scowl but he said nothing and you excused yourself.

You first walked over to the two girls who had been scowling at you this entire time. One of them had bleach blonde hair that was tied back into a long flowing ponytail. She had the prettiest blue eyes and her features reminded you of a doll. She was petite and beautiful. Too bad the scowl on her face was unflattering. Her friend was quite pretty as well. She had dark brown hair that was cut sharply at her shoulders. It was loose and flowing in the wind showing off her highlights. She had freckles all over her shoulders and some scattered on her nose. She seemed to be a bit taller than the blonde girl though, this evident by the way she hunched slightly in her seat to be at ear level.

You forced a smile on your face as you approached. They seemed to exchange a knowing look and shifted their expressions. Now, two perfectly white teeth smiles beamed up at you.

“Hi,” you said, waiting for them to stand, but they only sat and waited as if you were meant to do the same.

“Uh… My name is-”

“We know who you are,” said the blonde girl. Her voice was squeaky and high pitched. She reminded you very much of a barbie.

“Oh you do? I thought no one remembered me.”

“Are you kidding? No one could believe Jungkook sent you home so quickly,” said the brunette.

“Really?” This was hard to believe for you. You assumed you had been too boring and everyone could tell.

“Yeah. You’re super pretty,” Agreed her friend, but then something shifted in the air and their smiles seemed less friendly and more threatening. “Just so you know, Kim Taehyung and Kim SeokJin are taken.”

Your heart sank. And so the drama began.

“Oh really? They didn’t mention that they already-”

“Well they are. Stay away from them and we shouldn’t have any problems. ‘Kay?” The Blonde asked, her voice was deceivingly perky.

You weren’t in the mood to argue. It seemed to you like both Taehyung and Seokjin weren’t exactly set on anyone. If Taehyung’s invitation was anything to go by but you knew that indulging in shananigans such as this would only make your life much harder here.

“Got it. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Glad we understand each other, “ said the brunette, without warning or dismissal, they stood and walked over to the men. The blonde instantly threw her arms around Seokjin and the brunette bent down half way and stuck her admittedly nice ass out next to Taehyung. Both men seemed civil enough. You felt a slight pang at the sight but you pushed it aside. There were more men to come and you still had at least one more introduction to make. One of those two must be the girl that Namjoon had warned you about.

With slight hesitance, you walked over to the girl who was sitting by herself on a chair near the ocean. She seemed pretty relaxed. She was leaning back on her wrists. Her short legs were bare and her feet were encased in some cute brown sandals. She had a loose white knitted shirt over what looked to be a one piece blue swimsuit covered in flowers. It dipped low on her chest and showed off a little bit of cleavage. A pretty straw hat sat on her medium length wavy hair. She seemed totally unbothered by it all. For a second, you wondered if she even was a part of the show but the mic strapped to her back was a dead give away.

“Um hey,” you said uncertainty. You didn’t want to bother her after all but at the same time, you really did want to make at least one friend that wasn’t one of the men. It would be pretty lonely if you didn’t.

The girl slowly looked over at you. Her expression was polite. She didn’t exactly smile, though you swore you saw the corners of her lips tilt up.

“Hi,” her voice was soft which was a contrast to the initial coldness that she exuded. You smiled at her as if this would show that you weren’t there to harass her. She mirrored your smile.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself but if you want to be left alone I can go?”

The girl sat up straight instantly, “No it’s okay. My name is Alexandria but you can call me Alex.”

Relief swept through you at her friendly tone. You walked closer and sat slightly behind her on her lounge chair. She adjusted so that she was sitting parallel to you. She seemed a little nervous and you saw that in yourself. You could at least keep eachother company.

“Alex! Okay hi! My name is Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name,” she complimented, “It’s nice to meet you. I know i must look weird being so far from everyone but those two girls kind of freaked me out and all the guys are really tall so I thought I’d take a second to breathe.”

“Yeah, those two were...something else,” you agreed, “And that Soobin guy has to be like seven feet tall!”

“He’s six two,” she corrected then quickly covered her mouth. A blush covered her cheeks and you chuckled.

“You like him then?”

Alexandria shook her head quickly, “I just always find out how tall people are before if I can. I’m really short so height is a big deal.”

Indeed, as you looked at her, you realized you were about a head taller than her. You yourself weren’t that tall so this girl must be-

“I’m four eleven.”

“Oh my God,” you said without thinking. This time you blushed.

“I’m so sorry that came out wrong. I’ve just never met someone so short! And these guys are…”

“Huge,” she finished.

“Completely.”

A gargle of noise drew your attention back to the bigger group. At some point, while you had been distracted, another girl had arrived. That made the total count four guys to five girls.

This girl was very different to the rest of the girls already here. She was wearing a loose pink romper and some circular sunglasses. Her hair was cut short at her jaw and it was dark brown and straight. She was very tan and curvy. Gladiator sandals adorned her muscular calves. It was no surprise that the men and now, the girls, were gawking at her. Romper cut low to her chest and ran nearly to her shorts. She exuded confidence.

“Looks like the competition is stiff,” Alexandria said. You nodded and stood to go greet her. You expected Alex to follow but she didn’t move.

“Don’t you wanna go say hi?”

“Mm.. maybe later. She can come to me if she wants.” You blinked at her.

“Okay well, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah later.”

You didn’t know how to feel about her. She seemed nice enough but a little closed off. You guessed you had six weeks to find out.

You made your way carefully to the group which had migrated a bit to greet the new girl. The men each took turns hugging the girl and to no one’s surprise, Yoongi held out only a hand to shake. Taehyung rolled his eyes at his friend this time but said nothing. As you approached, the girl looked over at you. She was also shorter than you were but not nearly as much as Alex. The sea of men before her parted to let you through. A weird tension rested in the air.

“Hi,” she said, her voice like honey, “I’m Julie.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she said unabashedly, hugging you.

“Wow you’re a really affectionate person huh?”

“You could say that,” she joked, “How is everyone doing so far?”

“Pretty good, “ said Seokjin, “It’s hard not to be when there're so many beautiful women arriving.”

The blonde chose that moment to wrap an arm around Seokjin’s bicep and giggle like her life depended on it. You fought yourself not to roll your eyes.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Julie answered stepping up directly to Jin and taking his hand, “Would you be interested in telling me what I’ve missed out on?”

Seokjin’s eyes seemed to pop out of his head as he shook off the blonde and let Julie lead him away towards a canopy over a comfortable looking bed.

The look on her face was worth the slight jealousy you felt as Seokjin walked away entranced by the woman’s curves. Awkwardly, you looked at the rest of the group and noticed that the brunette was sulking somewhere behind. Taehyung must have shut her down or something.

“Hey Y/N.” You looked back to the group and realized that said man was speaking to you. His hair had curled a little at the ends with the humidity of the day. It was attractive.

“Could I talk to you now?”

You smiled at him. It was incredibly flattering to have him want to speak with you specifically.

“Yeah! Totally.”

A shock of electricity ran through your body as his long fingers entwined with yours. His hand dwarfed yours. If you were honest with yourself, Taehyung was everything you could possibly want in a man. He was tall, good looking, he seemed to be funny and even respectful. Things could have gone much worse if you were honest. He was a catch.

He led you a bit away from the noise of the Cabana and to the pool. No one was really there so you guys had the space to yourselves to really talk. You could still see the main section of the beach from here so if you were needed you would be able to tell. The bubbles of the jacuzzi were soothing to listen to. You could almost feel the jets on your back. Just the thought made your shoulders roll back and your head lull. You heard Taehyung chuckle but you didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like he was laughing at you.

“Sorry, I just love hot tubs. I can’t wait to get in,” you explained looking at Taehyung. He smiled brightly at you.

“We can get in if you want! I’ve been dying to get in the water.”

You giggled and shoved his chest lightly, “I’m not wearing a swimsuit under this and I didn’t put on any sunscreen. I also don’t want to mess up my hair just yet. It took a long time to get it like this.”

“We could just get in like this. I’m actually not wearing swim trunks either. I’m okay with getting a little wet if you are. As for your hair,” He said as I opened my mouth to protest, “I have a hair tie.”

He let go of your hand and stepped behind you, pulling your sleek hair off your shoulders. You could tell that you were already getting a little sunburned but his breath on your back made you completely forget about it.

He delicately pulled your hair up and tied it into a bun on the top of your head, a couple of strands escaped his hold and framed your face. He must have done people’s hair before because he was done quickly and he hadn’t pulled your hair once. He didn’t move away when he was done though. He placed his hands on your shoulder and leaned in close to your ear.

“Take off your shoes,” he whispered. Without question, you did what he said. You set your shoes by one of the chairs and as soon as you had straightened his hands were on your waist.

“Is this ok?”

Yes. Of course. Was he really asking that? Was he kidding? Had he looked in a mirror?

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said. Suddenly, Taehyung picked you up off your feet by the waist and tossed you into the hot tub, dress and all. You screamed as the water splashed around you. Usually, something like this would make you furious but not too much after, Taehyung waddled in after you and sat down, the water at his shoulder. He smiled up at you as your dress soaked up the hot water and floated around you almost ethereally.

“Wow… how is it that you’re more beautiful now?”

The anger rushed out of you instantly and you waddled over to him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and his legs were open so you could stand between them. His hands fell to your hips again. He was laying it on thick. You knew that, but honestly, you didn’t mind. You were here to find love. What better way to do that than to throw yourself into it head first. The sun beat down on your skin but you knew that the warmth you felt wasn’t from the ray or the water but from the excitement that so quickly, someone had shown an interest in you.

Like a magnetic force, you felt yourself lean down. Taehyung was reaching up too, his wet hand was now at your neck. It was like a spell. You would never have done something like this before. You were always the kind of person to take things slow, but you had six weeks to fall in love and you realized that maybe you would have to speed up your regular process. Would you regret this later? Maybe. But in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Y/N!”

The deep voice of Producer Namjoon made you both jump apart. A groan escaped Taehyung’s lips. Embarrassment flooded your body. What must he think of you? He’d left you alone for what couldn’t be more than a couple of hours and already you were going to kiss a complete stranger.

“Producer Namjoon?”

Namjoon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the name but he shook his head and moved past it. He gave Taehyung a weird look before he focused on you again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever it was that was about to happen but I really have to talk to you.”

“Hey Joon hyung,” Taehyung interrupted. Hyung? Were they that close?

“Aren’t you supposed to not interrupt us?”

PD Namjoon rolled his eyes at the younger man, “Yes I know. I just need to talk to Y/N for a second-”

“Is it really that important, hyung? We really were kind of in the middle of something.”

“Taehyung. I need to speak with her. You guys can make out later.”

“We were not making out,” You interjected, flustered that Namjoon had kind of walked in on you.

“Whatever. I don’t care what you do with yourself. I just have to speak to you in private.”

PD Namjoon gave you a withering look. You looked at Taehyung who sighed and stood up. The shirt was stuck to his abs and the water glistened in the sunlight. He had some really pronounced arm muscles that you hadn’t noticed. He ran a hand through his hair. Drops of water ran through the strands. He looked like he was straight out of a commercial.

“I’ll talk to you later Y/N,” Taehyung said before stepping out of the hot tub. He trailed water as he walked back to the Cabana. From the distance, you could see that a couple more people had arrived. There were more men than women now. Julie was sitting at the bar with a couple of them. Alex seemed to have migrated a little closer and was talking to a man with what seemed to be blue hair and the two girls you had met earlier were speaking to one of the new guys and Soobin. There were three new girls that you hadn’t spoken to as well. It hadn’t felt like you had been gone for a long time but from the looks of it, your absence had been longer than imagined.

“Okay first thing’s first,” PD Namjoon said holding out a tube of 100 spf sunscreen. You were shocked. How had he known that you needed some?

“You’re mic,” he explained as you took the sunscreen and clicked it open, “I’m supposed to be listening in case you need anything.”

“Oh,” you said, “that’s...creepy.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, you’ll be really grateful if something really serious happens. Think of me as like an older brother or something like that. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay,” you conceded, slightly disappointed that he seemed to have closed a door with that analogy, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. Is that all?”

You squeezed a good amount of sunscreen onto the palm of your hand and rubbed it tenderly on your shoulders and around your chest. You pulled it up to your neck. You tried to reach on your back. With the tips of your fingers you barely reached. You scrunched up your nose. If you had just worn something with more cover, everything would have been fine.

“Come here,” Namjoon said. You raised your eyebrows at his tone.

“Please? I’m going to help you put it on your back.”

You waddled closer to the edge then handed him the tube, a bit suspicious. He was a stranger after all. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t on the show to try and seduce you. He was genuinely just being nice.

You felt his warm hands on you slightly sunburned back and you winced. Namjoon chuckled. This wasn’t like Taehyung. Instead, you felt like he really was making fun of you. You crossed your arms but let him massage the sunscreen onto your skin before he spoke again.

“Okay so secondly, I really thought I should warn you, especially after what you said in the car on the way here.”

“Warn me about what?” You turned back to look at him. His expression was uncomfortable and it reminded you of how he had looked when PD Sejin had told him to speak to you out loud instead of through a message.

“What is it?” A spike of fear shot through you.

“I’m not supposed to tell you and I need you to act like you don’t know but one of the people who is coming is-”

“Hey Y/N,” another voice cut across Namjoon. You turned towards it to see that most of the people who had been hanging out by the Cabana were now making their way towards you. Amongst them, was none other than Jeon Jungkook.

[sugagimmesugar]

Would you like to have some Ramyeon?

Cook!Seokjin X Reader fic. Fluff. Youre a cook, hes a cook. Nationality & cuisines clash and thats a lil conflict but not much.

Set in germany, I am german. I wanted to use the contrast between german and korean food since its a food anchored fic.

pls enjoy

First chapter word count approx 2.5k

Chapter 1: Kimchi Stew and Japchae

You had only just gotten out of cooking school, so you desperately needed a job.

On a drunken tuesday night you had decided to just apply to anything. Any restaurant, whether they cooked what you liked or not, whether they had a job opening up or not, you just applied to anything in your city. Of course, the next morning was filled with regret for your half-heartedly written cover letters and how you had basically sent some of the most well-respected restaurants spam applications.

Out of 36 sent applications, only 5 replied. Three were invitations to interviews and two just said "No, thank you." .

So the next week was spent getting ready for interviews at three restaurants or varying prestige-levels. The first one was an old-school family lead restaurant that served german classics. The food you had eaten all your life, the dishes that had made you fall in love with food, with experimenting with old recipes and improving them with new ingredients, techniques and spices. So you were excited, putting your all into the preparation for the interview, even going as far as to bring some homemade cookies, the use of your grandma's recipe meant to charm your way into the owner's heart. Or at least the kitchen.

But as it turned out, the interview had just been a courtesy, the position had been way out of your reach, cookies or no cookies, they had only invited you to tell you how to properly apply to jobs so that they would actually consider you next time.

After a minor breakdown at home, you decided to put your best foot forward at the next interview. A quite prestigious french restaurant, trying to achieve it's first star. It would be a super hard job, plus you'd be cooking food you didn't like, but where better to get experience from than a restaurant that was aiming high on the culinary sky?

To everybody's surprise, the interview went very well, the boss had been impressed by the gutsy decision to apply to a high caliber restaurant right out of cooking school. So they had offered you a job. Only an apprentice, but you would be able to try out the different jobs, making it possible for you to freely decide which part of the kitchen you actually wanted to work your way up in, in the long run.

It really sounded too good to be true. So you decided to think about it. Go to the last interview and see if the other kitchen better suited your person than this fancy french place.

That night, sitting at home, you decided to do some actual research about the last restaurant, seeming you didn't bother with something as trivial as that when you actually applied to it.

The restaurant was very new, it had only been open for a few months, and many of the reviews seemed to be quite angry about the head chefs attitude.

It was a korean restaurant, something quite unusual in Germany. People here aren’t adventurous when it comes to food. Sushi is still some “stupid newfangled idea” to many of your countrymen.

But somehow, the owner and the chef had decided it would be a good idea to serve very spicy food with names the people can’t pronounce to the general public. And somehow, it was working.

While many reviews were annoyed with the attitude of the chef, all of them still loved the food. Many reviewers had written something along the lines of “When I was able to taste something through the pain, it tasted amazing.”, while those who were fine with the spice level only raved about how amazing it had tasted.

Thinking about it, you weren’t sure if you had ever tasted korean food. While japanese and chinese food where quite common by now, korean food was not. Not Yet, as this restaurant seemed to already be making headlines about their cooking, their attention to detail and their refusal to tone down their spice level for their clientele. Which had gained them a lot of respect from the culinary community. Cooking what you want and not listening to everything that the customer says, most of all in the first years of opening a new restaurant, that shows bravery…. Or stupidity.

Looking at the menu and the restaurant’s instagram, you had to admit both the food and the chef looked very tasty. Even though the chef seemed incredibly uneasy about having his picture taken, his face sourly even when he was standing arm in arm with what you had read was his best friend, the owner of the restaurant.

You were curious who you were going to meet tomorrow. The owner or the head chef?

Emptying your drink, you looked at the clock. Only 8 pm. You would’ve thought it would be later by now. But 8 pm meant restaurants should still be taking customers. So you decided to try some korean food, checking out “This Night” before going to the interview tomorrow.

Stepping into the restaurant, you are quite surprised, the minimalistic dark blue and white interior so unusual for a restaurant with prices normal people can afford. You pick a table close to the open kitchen, the almost empty restaurant making you bold enough to stare at the chef working away in his kingdom, the tall, broad-shouldered man easily spotted while he flits through the kitchen, concentrated and working circles around the other cooks.

Ripping you away from your staring, a waiter comes over with a menu.

“Good Evening, would you like to have something to drink already?” He says, smiling down at where you’re already looking at the drink menu.

“I’ll have a cola, and what would you say is the perfect introduction into korean food? I’ve never had it and would like to try it, but I don’t know where to start.” With a small laugh, you look up at the waiter, immediately cursing yourself for your words. It’s not just a waiter, it’s the owner himself, aka the man who received your CV. The man who you’re trying to get to hire yo to cook korean food, who knows what you look like, and who is now laughing at you.

“Ah, you have never had korean food? That’s too bad, but I guess Chef Kim will just have to teach you. I’m glad that you’re at least trying to inform yourself before lying to me tomorrow. I’ll talk to the chef and have him whip up something nice for you.” A bold answer to your stupidity, which makes you remember how young both the owner and the head chef are, both only in their twenties. They obviously don’t care about how restaurants usually work. As you bury your head in your hands, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, the young man continues: “Looking at the time, I actually have to say that we close in half an hour, but since it’s you, we could pull your interview up a little bit, seeming you’re already here. You can have a drink, on the house, and then join us in the kitchen after so that we can teach you about the food. Mr. Kim gets a lot nicer after hours, so he can cook something for us while we conduct a little interview out here. Would that be okay for you?”

Overwhelmed by the beautiful man in front of you as well as the speed at which all this is happening, you just nod, still somewhat in shock.

You want to bang your head against the table in front of you as your drink arrives, the owner quickly informing you that the chef agreed to the plan as well, so you can just relax and prepare yourself for the upcoming interview. He winks at you as he leaves, pointing at the kitchen.

As you turn, you see the head chef almost hanging out of the hatch, looking at the two of you. He only waves at you before returning to what you now realize to be the beginnings of cleaning the kitchen.

So that’s why the restaurant is so empty. Cursing yourself for your stupidity again, you decide to browse instagram while you wait for what will probably be your doom.

The time goes by faster than you would’ve liked and soon the restaurant closes, the owner locking the doors before waving you over to follow him into the kitchen.

Suddenly you’re standing there, in the restaurant’s kitchen, looking around as the Chef is still busy fixing something.

“I am Kim Seokjin, nice to meet you. I heard you haven’t eaten korean food before? And you’re the cook that applied to work here, right? Why did you apply? Also, here try this, we had some leftovers from the kimchi stew we made for the team before. And I made you some Japchae to have on the side.”

He waves you over and as you try to process the wave of words he just chucked at you, you stammer out: “ Uh, nice to meet you, Chef. I am y/n y/l/n. I have never had korean food before because, to be honest, yours is the first korean restaurant I have ever seen. And I have had no contact with korean culture as far as I know so the food was never brought to my attention. Now that I checked out your website and instagram I am very interested and would like to learn. And I applied because I just got out of cooking school, I need a job.”

Behind you, you hear a short laugh, as you turn, you see the owner, a plate in hand, shoveling food into his mouth as he smiles at you, gesturing for you to go take some from the Chef.

So you take a deep breath and go over to the man who’s still whizzing around at his station, readying yourself to try some completely new food.

Hearing you approach, he quickly grabs some plates, heaping food into both, before he stops in front of you, holding the full plates out to you with a big smile.

“Which is which, and what’s in it? Wait, this looks like a stew, where’s the spoons?” Talking half to yourself, half to the cook in front of you, you set down the bowl with what must be Japchae, and look around for a spoon when one suddenly appears in your field of vision.

“There, now eat.”

You huff out a laugh at his command before you take a big spoon of the steaming hot stew, only blowing it slightly before you taste it.

The spice hits you like a truck, and you can’t help but cough a little. This is not the kind of spice you’re used to. Where you’re from, white pepper is deemed spicy.

At your reaction, the man’s shoulders sag, his expression suddenly only full of disappointment, as you take a deep breath, trying to get through the spicyness.

And then you take another spoonful, and another, and another. And his smile gets bigger with each one, since, although it takes you a while, you are obviously enjoying what you’re eating.

“Ok, so in the stew, we have some pork belly, some tofu, kimchi obviously and some shiitake, as well as onion, green onion, garlic, mirin and soy sauce. Oh, and quite some chili as you noticed.” He says with a smile, counting up the ingredients in his mind as he looks at you.

“ Now try the Japchae, please. It’s my special version, so I can’t tell you what’s in it until you sign the contract. It’s also less spicy, so it’ll give you a little breather after the kimchi stew.”

He holds out a pair of chopsticks that seem to have appeared from nowhere, and again, that smile. You almost choke on your last spoonful of stew at that smile.

As you dig into the Japchae, your eyes widen with surprise. “It’s amazing. This is probably some of the tastiest food I’ve ever had. Thank you, Chef.”

Both of the men are now laughing, the man who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin pointing at his friend behind you: “I told you, Joon. I could get anyone with my japchae. Now do your little fake interview shit so I can start to train her tomorrow.”

This time, you do choke. “Fake interview shit”... what’s that supposed to mean?

You turn around, pulling up your brow since your mouth is still too full to speak. The owner just looks back and forth between the chef and you and says something in korean, a mocking grin on his face at the shocked gasp that leaves the taller man’s mouth.

Seconds later, Seokjin pulls the bowl out of your hands, ignoring your small whine. “You will join our team, right? We could really need the help of someone who actually enjoys our food.”

You think about it, but it doesn’t take long for the obvious answer to pop up, crystal clear in your mind. This is way better than some fancy french restaurant. The owner and the Chef seem like great people and even if the spice needs some getting used to, it’s still some of the best food you’ve ever had. So you nod. And earn a bright-as-the-sun smile for it, which you can’t help but return.

Suddenly you hear a voice behind you: “ If you like her so much why don’t invite her over for some ramyeon?” At your confused face, the owner smacks his own forehead. Which makes him miss the fact that his friend just threw a spoon at him, which hits him in the shoulder.

As your eyes fly back and forth between the two “grown men” the chef just waves you off. “Go sign the contract so that you can go home and I can clean the kitchen for tonight. Work starts tomorrow at 12. Don’t be late.” And with that, he turns away, busying himself with putting food in takeaway boxes and cleaning up the rest of the dishes. So you turn away and follow the owner to the dining room, to sign your contract.

A few minutes later, you have a job. And as it turns out, the opening you applied for was sous-chef. Leaving you with an amazing job without any experience under your belt, but with what seems to be two great colleagues.

As you say goodbye to the owner, who unlocks the front door to let you out, you stutter trying to remember his name. “Uh, Goodbye Mr…” At your panicked eyes, his face drops. “Oh shit, I never introduced myself, huh? I am Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you. We will be expecting you tomorrow at 12 for prep. Good Night y/n.”