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hoseoksluna · 2 months ago

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THE FUN DAY, pt. I. | kth ft. pjm

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, angst — the sad kind

word count: 4.8k

summary: you've prepared a fun day for your boyfriend's military vacation. thank god he's here, right?

pin: f. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: suggestive but not described themes of sex and alcohol consumption.

note: i'm so EXCITED to bring you this fic that i can't wait until tomorrow to post this. everyone welcome TAEHYUNG and JIMIN to the hoseoksluna universe. i have to tell you a secret. taehyung was my first bias when i first became army. taehyungie was the first one to save me from the bunch—literally to resurrect me because in him i found all the things i used to love and fell out of. jazz, poetry, the aesthetics and arts. it is an honor to write about him and i think i will write another taehyung fic next week. if you have any ideas, drop them in my ask box and i will use them for inspiration. this fic is dedicated to my baby ruru @tkslovechild, my tatlim @jjk7k, and the beautiful anon that asked me for a tae fic while i was already working on this one. i love you all so much. enjoy this beautiful piece. <3 mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ .

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

It was your love language, to dress up like your boyfriend.

Dress pants, shirts and jackets. Linen, silk, leather. Pointed heels or oxford shoes. Grays, browns, beiges and whites. It was something that made you happy—and it was something that represented a vessel, made of unbreakable porcelain, for your love that you carried for Taehyung.

He’s sitting in the corner of your bedroom, on a wooden stool he specifically placed at such a picturesque place. With the ivory curtains drifting along the nape of his neck, sheer enough to expose the small vase of tulips that stoop in a private longing for his touch. He fondles them often to preoccupy his mind when you take your usual long showers and he waits for the fashion shows you give him. He’s the one who says yes or no. These shoes, love. Look, they’re just like mine. And right at this moment, the wine-yellow petals are caught between his slender fingers when you come out and he doesn’t let go of them—because you’re not holding up the outfit for the day as you always are.

For the fun day as you’ve called it.

You’re dressed in it. Low-waisted gray dress pants with a little, tight, white shirt. Black stilettos, black shoulder purse. Your trench coat is waiting for you in the hall, hung up and lonely, but other than that you’re matching him fully. It feels as though you’re fading into him, becoming a singular being that has his DNA and his beauty, and when he beams up at you, boxy smile on full show, spine straight and tall on the stool, long fingers gripping its rim, Taehyung, with his gray suit and a white shirt, somehow validates that feeling.

Somehow, in that peculiar Taehyung way of his.

He extends his hands towards you, asking for your closeness. There’s a mist of murkiness that envelops him, with the saddened clouds beyond the window, standing in the place of the sun. It moves through you, this image of him reaching for you in this landscape, and you think he deserves to be painted like this. With black charcoal and a little bit of soft carmine to eternalize the blush of his cheeks—the only trace of color in the sketchbook. Your hands don’t know the art of drawing, but your heart does and while you take those necessary steps towards him, you feel the scratches of that dark pencil over that grainy flesh.

His palms find your curves and you consider it unbelievable, the fact he’s still so big, despite the size of the stool and the height of your heels. No matter how much taller you grow, he’ll always be that tower that protects you from the blazing heat of the sun.

He’s the epitome of autumn. No longer a boy, but a man, whose lungs are perfumed by apples, leaves, cinnamon, pumpkin spice and the slight iciness of the seasonal wind. Whose eyes witnessed the growth of your form since you were a little girl with two long braids.

Childhood best friends turned to lovers, favored by the hanging, twinkling stars.

You always saw him the most in autumn. Chasing you down during festivities that your mom couldn’t not be a part of, grabbing a hold of one of your braided pigtails with his already long fingers, then tickling you until you gave up. Ever so easy to catch because of the length of your hair. You knew, even as a little girl, that he was not just a part of your life, but your life itself. More than a companion, more than a friend. You dreamed about having his babies and that dream would come to life through your imagination whenever he would chase you down, years later, in the grand halls of the east wing of his grandiose family home, where nobody ever comes, just to steal a kiss or two. It was the moment you realized that you were no longer kids, even though you acted as such, but that you desired little legs to follow you in the fun of it all.

And that kiss changed every autumn from that year on.

Stolen glances, the blush of cheeks, quivering fingers that no longer grabbed your braids. Not until many autumns later. You gave him your everything, every bit of your newly-bloomed femininity, your dream of having his babies and he folded it into the vinyls of his favorite jazz music that he would play every night whenever he needed inspiration or whenever he simply needed you.

Newly. Not just yet as adults and no longer as kids. Somewhere in between.

And then the duties of adulthood came. The natural process of drifting apart settled between your bodies and you no longer played in the stage between. Taehyung, the saxophone-playing jazz singer, moving foreign bodies into his personal, heart-sung rhythm. Not yours, never yours for a long time. You, working a day job that never paid enough, not for the dresses you yearned to wear at those clubs he would play at.

But what you didn’t know was that drifting apart meant coming together eventually.

He might have become your Turnip Head, silent and distant, but you were Sophie—and you found him. You found him while looking for something, or someone for the lack of better words, and he helped you. Over a cup of coffee he didn’t drink, at a jazz bar you always wanted to come to. Your date was a hit and miss and the guy never came, and your Turnip Head didn’t help you find your Howl.

He helped you find himself. And from that moment on, you never drifted apart again.

Who would’ve thought that seeking a relationship that did not resemble your dream nor your childhood would make you find him all over again.

In autumn, too.

Taehyung paid for your dresses, your female suits, paid for your drinks. Kissed you underneath those dimmed, brown lights before he went off to play songs that moved your body at last. Dancing alone to his songs was your dream come true until he set down his saxophone and joined you. Let his band mates play his favorite Etta James song as he took your hand and drifted upon the dance floor with you. Those who danced before this song sat down, let you have this opportunity for yourself, and Taehyung kissed you, after a long time, after many autumns had passed, right then and there.

And both of you realized that you could never drift apart again. You could only drift together.

You moved in together. He bought you tulips of every possible hue every week. Played you his new songs for you on the saxophone. Took you to art galleries. Took you sightseeing, sometimes alone with you, sometimes with Jimin joining you. Shared your dream about having babies with you and talked about it all the time. Tried it out, seized it many times, though the outcome both of you desired never came. Had a beautiful life with you until…

Until he thinned out into his Turnip Head form and skipped away to fulfill his country duties.

But he’s here. Oh, he’s here. Buff and big, apples, cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Brown eyes that carry the memory of your growth, hands that clutch your hips and that hold the silky memory of your still long braids. Hands that edge around your slightly, barely puffy tummy and that don’t know that you are with a concoction of a small him and you, a divine magical realism, a dream that came true without his knowledge right after the last hours of his military vacation were up and he had to go back to serve the country.

The reason behind this fun day.

The day of his second vacation, the day you tell him.

“You look just like me,” he breathes, the width of his smile never lessening, hands skipping over the space between your hips and your arms and grabbing your hands. It gets to you still, the way his eyes never look up at you, the way they never have, and you feel so sweetly small. Even more so when Taehyung stands to his feet and slides his suit jacket over your shoulders. You become even smaller, a fawn taken care of. A pregnant fawn. “And now you are me.”

Oh, he doesn’t know just how much. Not yet.

He sits back down and gently pushes you to take a step back. On wavering feet, like that freshly-born fawn, you waver on your feet, but Taehyung keeps you stable, leaning forward to make sure you’ve caught your balance. A wisp of his dark hair falls over his eye that he, at last, flicks up at you. And the sensation from it, it is nothing that you ever felt before.

It is a step forward.

It’s something that tells you: go ahead.

You planned to tell him at the jazz bar where he kissed you for the first time as an adult and made you his. But now, now it feels more than right, amidst this strange newness that you don’t think you’ll ever experience again.

You open your mouth, brace yourself, but Taehyung is faster. Ringing fills your ears, the atmosphere around you feels gooey—as if you’re walking through a limbo.

“Jimin will meet us at the park.”

Oh, yes. Walk in the park, a warm drink to go, then the jazz bar. Jimin is having his military break as well, about to sing in Taehyung’s honor, you already knew this, knew he would join you, but being in the presence of your boyfriend, the detail slipped out.

The newness leaves. Taehyung straightens. Towers over you. The normalcy flattens over the chemistry between you and him, the atmosphere lessening to feathery lightness and when you move your arms to give back his jacket, your arms feel as though they’re not your own.

Your smile falls.

Jazz bar it is.

“We should go,” you prompt, turning around, having all the balance in the world as you go fetch your purse and reapply your red lipstick.

Taehyung watches you in the mirror, his boxy grin on eternal display, warming your heart. You think about how you can’t wait until his baby witnesses that smile for the first time—and wonder if God is molding, at this very hour, the same one upon their little face. It brings tears to your eyes, ones that you quickly blink away, and instead you focus on lining your lips with the tip of the lipstick with utmost precision.

In your vast collection of lip liners, you don’t have a red one. Truth be told, you always feared this vibrant color. It represented a stigma you never liked—that only promiscuous women wear that color, but to you it was never that.

It was a color that meant you lose your girlhood, your childhood upon wearing.

And now, it is a color that announces the next era of your life: adulthood, but different, painted with motherly instincts that are of these vibrant hues. Womanhood. No longer fearful, but brave.

Right.

You want your baby to connect this color to you and know that you made it. You waited your whole life for their father and gave it to him in one of the autumns as a child. Without knowing, without realizing.

That color is a legacy.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyung kisses the back of your head, halting your motions. Wraps his arms around you as he props his chin on the place he kissed—and right here, right now, you’re looking at a family portrait in the mirror.

A living, breathing one. With lifting chests in tandem, growing smiles and a growing baby in your womb.

Magical realism in full effect.

And then Taehyung is off to fetch your trench coat, holding it up for your arms to slip inside its sleeves. Grabs your hand and revels in the autumn weather outside, boxy smile never faltering. Sings in the car on the way to the park, makes eye contact as he mouths the lyrics—kiss me once and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time—because he could never sing over that part. It’s too precious to his heart for him to do so.

The wind accompanies you and grabs your other hand as you walk down the pathway lined with half-barren trees and a still pond. Taehyung hums the Bing Crosby song that seems to be playing on loop within his mind and it is the only greenery that spreads around through his husky voice. All else—the pond, the trees and the last of their leaves that dance around you, the shrubberies and the clouds up above—are smeared with sullen blues and grays, to which Taehyung is everlastingly immune.

Jimin is standing by an antique coffee stand, dressed to the nines in an outfit he most definitely must be cold in. Black dress pants with a jacket that stuns you. A matching Hussar one, with golden braiding. A military piece of clothing from another time. You think it suits the fun day quite delightfully, but not as much as it suits him. The golden detail goes hand in hand with his golden hair and you think he needs his picture taken.

“Jimin!” you call out, making his confused little face turn in your direction, and he swivels his body to face you altogether. He holds two cups of coffee in both of his hands, one for him and one for you. You melt at that and look up at Taehyung to see his boxy smile ever so frozen and beautiful, pointed at his best friend.

When you reach him, he hugs you. His cold skin stings you and you quickly warm him up with rubbing motions against his back. Scrunch your brows in puzzlement when he doesn’t hug Taehyung nor even look at him.

But all is swept away when Jimin exclaims in discomfort and takes a rapid sip of his boiling drink.

“Jimin, where’s your coat?” you ask him in pity, watching him shake and moan in pain once he burns his tongue. He uses the cup to warm up both of his hands.

“I didn’t think Paris would be so cold in October,” he explains in a hushed, livid tone, drawing the rim of the paper cup back to his lips as if he didn’t learn his lesson. Typical Jimin. “But this outfit is for Taehyung anyways, so I’ll survive.”

He talks of him but he doesn’t look at him. Makes heart eyes at the misting coffee, instead. Like Taehyung isn’t here at all.

Strange.

You shake off the thought.

“Go stand by the pond before you freeze. I want to take a picture of you,” you say, softly, pulling your phone out of your purse. Glancing up, you expect Jimin to be ready with his pose, but he’s looking at you as if you said the most outrageous thing in the world. Eyes wide, mouth downturned in horror. You laugh and place a hand on his arm. “Go, Jimin. This is a special day and special days ask for special pictures.”

Jimin sighs and nods, despite the fact he doesn’t really look like he wants to do it.

“Fine, but I’m keeping the coffee in my hand.”

Your tender laughter prolongs. “Fair enough. Go pose with your little heat pack.”

Gazing out at the pond, Taehyung is already standing there. With his brown coat over his gray suit, he coalesces with the autumnal scenery and you think he belongs there. That a statue should be made of him right where his feet are planted, for people to remember and appreciate his beauty. You snap a few pictures of him before Jimin makes his way towards the stone bannister and stops right in front of Taehyung, who towers over him. Jimin lifts his cup and smiles a little tight smile, the mist from his coffee eclipsing over him like a soft fog. Switching to portrait mode, Taehyung is gone by the time your screen clears out and shows Jimin by his lonesome self, setting his coffee cup down on the bannister and turning around for some dramatic, aesthetic shots. Taehyung laughs in your ear, catches your slipping purse and places it back on your shoulder, and what he says next gives your life a whole new meaning.

“Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.”

You pivot back, piercing your sight right through him, not believing those words were just flung out of him like that. Taehyung never mentioned you having a protector while being in the military and even the whole concept of it confuses you even deeper as Jimin is serving as well. He might not be in the special forces like your boyfriend is, but he’s serving nonetheless. The systems are the same, no matter the department.

Before you can ask him what he meant by that, the sing-song tone of Jimin’s voice reaches you. He calls out your name with a bit of alarm.

“What’s wrong?”

You gaze back and meet his eyes in full motion—he’s already taking long steps towards you and grabbing your arm, taking your confusion to another level.

“What happened?” he asks, his pupils thin dots that ripple through your skin with stiff, panicky electroshocks. You glance back at Taehyung to discover that he’s not standing behind you at all, but behind Jimin, clutching his shoulder.

You blink. “Nothing.”

Jimin lets go of your arm and inhales the autumnal air. The pond, suddenly, heaves.

“Let’s go somewhere warm,” Jimin suggests and you agree with him with a nod of your head. Pinpricks of iciness kisses your fingertips, despite the fact you’re still holding your own cup of coffee that Jimin bought you.

A strange feeling seizes you.

The jazz bar is an embrace of snug heat that embraces your womb first before greeting the rest of your body. You can’t help but to touch your baby, say to her in your heart: this is your Daddy’s most favorite place in the whole wide world. And the feeling is so surreal that it washes away the strange sensation that clung to you so heavily.

You’re the first customers to come. Jimin sighs in absolute relief and he’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen in time, as he lets the warmth of the place defrost his bones. Your cup of coffee was long finished and discharged; Jimin’s drank his in long sips that took seconds to finish, too, and the whole ordeal was so funny to you that it’s given you a sense of lightness that you needed.

Taehyung hasn’t spoken a word since you left your apartment.

He sits at the bar stool like he sat in your shared bedroom. One leg propped on the footrest while the other is relaxed on the floor, one hand folded on the apex of his thigh, the other drumming on the bar while the band he doesn’t know is rehearsing their instruments. You take a seat right beside him and feel like the parents you’re about to become. Sophisticated, classical, sublime.

The pretentious kind, but in a good way.

That thought makes you smile softly until the bartender asks you if you’d like anything. You politely decline her, even though you’d love a glass of wine with the daddy to be beside you. You can’t drink, not for many months to come. You wait for her to ask Taehyung the same question, but she doesn’t even lift her eyes to his direction. She wipes down the wood of the bar and leaps away.

Nobody fucking asks Taehyung anything.

Amidst a hearty guitar strumming solo, Jimin notices the furrow of your brows, the downturned pout of your mouth that opens to ask Taehyung about the strangeness that keeps occurring today. But before you get the words out, Jimin calls out your name into the microphone, the vowels made sweet by the sound of his princely voice. He stands with the band behind his back, his Hussar jacket exquisitely fitting the dimmed background. He holds out his hand for you, a poignant glint perched on top of his irises, and he flattens his puffy, pink lips.

“Don’t be sad. Tonight is for Taehyung and all sadness is prohibited,” he says with his feigned announcer articulations, the corners of his mouth rounding in a similar manner to yours, in sympathy. “We will have to kindly ask you to leave if you proceed in your sadness. Please, join me here.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile gracing your features couldn’t be erased even with the force of the whole wide world. You stand to your feet and paddle your way to him, the heels of your stilettos clicking on the worn parquets. Jimin gives you a soft grin and places his microphone down, meeting you halfway on the dance floor and taking your hand.

It is when he begins to sing, just for you, that you perceive that the instrumental song the guitarist played is one, which is contained in one of Taehyung’s vinyls. The ones he would play in the darkest of nights and sing the lyrics to your bare body. Tears prick your waterline when Jimin guides you into a gentle slow dance while maintaining the tones of the song with utmost perfection.

And Taehyung is carried in every languid motion and in every vocal cord that is strained upon this hour in his honor.

I’m in the mood for love, simply because you’re near me…

You gaze back at Taehyung, who sits still and smiles his boxy smile. Frozen and beautiful, but unbreathing.

Still and unbreathing.

Frozen.

You halt your movements.

Jimin stops the dance, ends the song with a deep hum that pulses through you along with the notion that something isn’t right, but very, very wrong.

“I wish Taehyung were here,” Jimin says with a deep sigh, holding both of your hands, and an uncanny, perplexing feeling constricts your throat.

Your breath shivers, vision blurry. “But he is here.”

Jimin lets go of your hands and you lament his touch. You need to be touched because you feel yourself shrinking into a fawn most vulnerable that doesn’t know what’s real anymore. A fawn just born, pathetically ignorant of the world and of her loved ones.

“I know, but I wish he were here for real.”

A cold sweat drips down your spine, paralyzing you. Your constricted throat dries up like a well and you can’t swallow. You can’t think, you can’t blink—your lungs can’t lift to inhale any air and they mirror Taehyung’s still ones, unbreathing.

It is a surprise to you, the question that flows out of you.

“Jimin, who is sitting at the bar?”

A wrinkle forms between his brows as he sweeps his gaze over all those bar stools and doesn’t linger at the occupied space that you know is there. A perturbing energy thuds in his eyes once he returns them to yours, and that alarming potency in him rises once again.

“Who do you see there?” he asks, carefully, leaving his mouth parted as he anticipates your answer.

You peer back behind you and don’t find any bar stools occupied. Not single one.

No Taehyung, smiling his boxy smile.

No Taehyung behind Jimin.

No Taehyung behind you.

A sob rumbles out of you in unison with your realization that you were, indeed, very wrong. You catch your sob, covering your mouth with your fingers as your tears spurt down onto your cheeks.

And then the memories arrive, the reality.

But Jimin ceases their flow with the warmth of his even more careful question.

“Did you see him at the park, too?”

You can only nod, but you can’t look at him. You stare at nothing in particular and it seems that what Jimin has ceased, he allows to stream through the pond of your thoughts, accompanied by his vocalized truth.

“Taehyung isn’t here. He should’ve been here with us, but he had to go to North Korea. There was a conflict, remember? You know this.”

Taehyung’s apologetic text message appears before your eyes. The letter that came first before his phone call, where he explained to you that he can’t have his vacation and visit you because he has to go and save his country. The real, known reason between the pair of you and Jimin behind this fun day. To honor Taehyung for what he’s doing. The day you wanted to share, as well, that you were pregnant.

The aloneness has gotten to you, helped by your blessed state. Confused your mind to the point that you imagined him here when he’s not here at all.

Jimin calls your name and you glance at him. Perhaps he can see the truth dawning on you by the way pity twists his features. He caresses your arm and leaves his hand there, his heat locking in the realization.

“What has happened to you?”

Another onrush of tears clouds your vision. Your spine bends. And you can’t.

You can’t not tell him. You can’t keep it in.

“I’m pregnant.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and it merely takes him a second to envelop you in his embrace. He coos your name, rubs your back, a whimper resonates in his chest against yours as he holds back his tears. The music falls into nothingness—and nothing is said for a time that appears to be as long as the season of autumn.

And then, somehow, you’re outside of the jazz club, sitting on Jimin’s Hussar jacket that he put down on the cold ground for you beside him. And the silence continues until it doesn’t.

“Does he know?” he asks, and you feel his irises gliding across the side of your face that you cannot turn.

It’s you who’s frozen this time.

Still and unbreathing.

With no smiling Taehyung at your hip.

“I wanted to tell him tonight,” you say, quietly, with your hands helplessly in your lap. “On the day of his vacation that he looked forward to.”

Jimin sighs, the sound full of that terrible pity. “How far along are you?”

It’s a question that brings life to your numb hands and you take them to your belly.

“Three months.”

A beat of silence.

You fondle your growing baby. Jimin seems to be watching you, considering his following words, but you fear to move your eyes. Lift them in expectation to see Taehyung only to meet the half-barren trees and the leaves on the ground that have absurdly regained their vivid colors.

Lift them to look at Jimin and meet the outcome of your autumn-long aloneness.

“He’ll be back in a month and I’ll talk to the Sergeant and offer my own vacation. I’ll give it up so you can see him and tell him.”

A sob lodges itself in your throat and you tilt to the side, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder. He, in response, leans his against yours.

“I don’t think your Sergeant will even hear you out,” you say, humorlessly, your personal pain still prickling the flesh of your heart.

But then Taehyung’s words wash over you.

Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.

Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend, who’s been there for him through thick and thin, long before you came into the picture. Jimin, who stuck by your side when sightseeing, and took your pictures. Who devoured dinners with you and drank a whole bottle of liquor with you when Taehyung abstained.

Jimin, your best friend, too.

“Will you be here for me while he’s gone?” you ask, the sob in your throat enlarging, preventing you from speaking, but you push through. “So I won't get delusional again?”

Jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it firmly in your lap, his thumb brushing over your little, half-swollen belly.

“It’s the least I can do. Let’s get you home.”

And he does.

He calls a cab. Walks with you up the stairs, lingers at the door, watches you take off your heels—watches the comprehension of this day being anything but fun take form on your face and posture, and he hugs you. Reassures you that he will be here the whole week until his vacation is over, and even long after that.

And you nod. Thank him. Turn your head away when he clicks the door shut behind him. Walk over to the window and stifle your tears when you see him head over to the liquor store in front of your apartment and leave with a bottle of spirits hanging from his fingertips.

And the tears rush out, despite your efforts, when your gaze cascades down onto the windowsill and onto the vase, where white wine-doused tulips stooped in yearning for Taehyung’s touch a few hours ago.

They aren’t stooping. They’re flaccid, dead and withered. Like the fun day you prepared.

Because Taehyung hasn’t bought any newly blooming tulips in a long while.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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namfinessed · 1 month ago

Text

and...cut! - p.jm.

genre: fluff, very mild angst (13.6k)

summary: the last time you saw jimin, you were pathetically deep in a one-sided love while he wasn't even at the shallow edge, that was when you were on the stage, dancing and acting together for hundreds to see. now, you are grown, you like to think you're cool but when jimin comes back to your life, you are just as pathetically deep, once again, in a one-sided love.

masterlist masterpost

you were breathless when the lights cut out, the crowd immediately broke into loud applause and your teammates gathered around you to congratulate you but as good as all of it felt, your eyes searched for him, desperately, more desperately than you would ever admit to anyone else.

and when you finally caught him, he was leaving the stage, he didn’t turn back like you hoped he would, he didn’t congratulate you like you hoped he would and you swallowed your tears.

but it was okay.

it was going to be okay.

you would see him in class in a few days and everything would fall into place.

for now, you grab the friends around you and squeeze them, hoping everyone mistakes your tears for happy ones.

you like to think that you’re cool.

you didn’t cry when you broke up with your first boyfriend, you didn’t crawl back to him and never begged anyone for a second chance. you set a ten-minute timer to cry for your second boyfriend and when he called you right after breaking up with you to ask how you were feeling, you told him you were reading a book and cut the call.

so, yes, you are cool.

maybe a little too cool because now, you’ve been single for two years and your friends take more offense to that fact than you do.

“we are just worried babe, you don’t seem to like anyone,” mia whispered with her hands in her boyfriend’s hands, as if it was some big secret.

“you don’t have to be,” you gulp down your drink, ignoring all the looks your friends and their boyfriends give you.

they didn’t have to be, you were perfectly fine the way you were.

you were totally okay with sitting at the end of the table with an empty seat next to you, you were okay with listening to your friends be all romantic with their boyfriends, you were okay with everyone.

sure, sometimes you wish you had someone to call at night and talk nonsense with, and yes, it would be nice to have someone you can call yours and someone who would sit next to you as if any other place was unacceptable.

but those were all things you could adjust with, all things you have grown to get used to.

“but seriously, you don’t like a single person we set you up with, i know you have commitment issues but i don’t think you’re even trying,” megan, who you could always count on to give you a reality check, spoke up with you guessed it, her boyfriend’s arms around her.

next to her, faye pursed her lips and turned away from the conversation to say something to her boyfriend, you were at least grateful that she didn’t add to the advice.

“you were single till two months ago, don’t act like you’re some love guru,” you bite back and the whole table falls silent and you hate it.

you hate that you have to sit here and listen to them advising you as they’ve figured it all out.

you hate that you look bitter as fuck right now.

you hate that, just because you don’t have a partner, everyone thinks you’re miserable and lonely.

you hate that you probably are miserable and lonely.

“okay, let’s look at the menu, what does everyone want?” mia chimes in, the mom of the group, the problem fixer where glaringly you are the problem at this table, and everyone is gracious enough to follow suit, and check the menus.

except you.

“i think i’m going to leave actually, i feel pretty tired,” you pick up your bag and immediately everyone starts protesting, “you know i didn’t mean it in that way,” megan grabs your hand with softer eyes and you nod, “i didn’t either, i’ll meet you guys another time.”

and just like that, you’re not mad at her anymore.

“please stay, it’s been so long since we’ve met like this,” faye whispers next and you want to scream that it could’ve been just you and the girls, that you hated their boyfriends coming as extended versions of themselves but she did stay quiet, she didn’t encourage your friends shitting on you so you sit back down.

“sorry, i’m late,” your ears pick up on a new voice and you instinctively look up.

you almost kill yourself on the spot.

“hey guys, this is jimin, my friend, i hope it’s okay if he joins us,” noah, megan’s boyfriend gets up and hugs his friend who very gladly returns the hug and nods at everyone at the table as they introduce themselves.

but you already, unfortunately, know jimin.

just not from here, or from any recent period in your life but from a buried piece of school history.

and when he gets to you, you mumble your name and immediately look back at the menu.

what was he doing here?

did he recognize you?

you hope the fuck not because there wouldn’t be a bigger embarrassment than him remembering that he rejected you even before you could ever ask him out.

but when he sits next to you, you stiffen up, mutter out some dish’s name, and pretend to be very interested in the shape of your plate.

why did he smell so good?

“oh yeah, i think she went to the same school,” you hear faye’s voice and immediately, your hands clench on your lap.

“really?” and his voice isn’t familiar or unfamiliar, you know it’s been years, and voices, sounds, and faces change but jimin’s voice always had a certain warmth that no one else seemed to have.

and he still had it.

he carried that warmth everywhere.

especially in his eyes, which were looking right at you when you lifted your head up.

“i’m sorry?” you clear your throat and faye answers, “he’s from your school,” and you make a ‘is that so?’ face and quietly nod along.

“which year did you graduate in?” jimin speaks from your left, you swear he’s recognized you already when he leans into your figure, and god, if that didn’t make you want to shoot yourself.

“2015,” you say and then grab your wine glass, keeping it close to your mouth so that you don’t have to speak.

“oh same!”

you fucking know!

he is delighted of course and the smile on his face still makes your face red.

and that knowledge only twists your guts further.

“that’s great,” you dare to glance briefly to nod at him and then turn back to everyone else.

“okay.” he purses his lips and looks away.

fuck.

you were being rude.

it didn’t seem like anyone really minded cause they continued with their conversations but you and jimin were now deathly silent.

you had to fix this.

you can’t have him hate you in the present too.

“i know you,” is apparently the best you can do and you want to smack yourself when he raises his eyebrows at you because, from a supposed stranger, that was creepy and mildly horrifying to hear.

“oh?”

“yeah, you were in the cinderella play in school, the prince,” and it was out.

now you have to hold your breath and see if he laughs in your face.

“i was,” and then he cranes his neck to look at you.

really look at you.

you wait.

you know he’s going to hate you when he figures it out, you know that you’re going to kill yourself at this table.

but he keeps looking, eyebrows narrowing and dropping, eyes scanning your every feature, and you know he’s putting his earlier pieces together, that it’s finally clicking for him.

his smile disappears.

his eyes lose all warmth.

you can tell the second that it clicks for him.

“you were cinderella.”

you can’t hide, you can’t look away, you can’t run, all you can do is meet his cold and sharp gaze.

and nod.

he looks away, puts his head down, and lets out the heaviest sigh.

you try not to reach for the knife on the table.

the rest of the dinner was…awkward.

so painfully awkward.

once in a while, the conversation would turn to you both and you would force yourself to say a few words before going mute whereas jimin enjoyed the conversations only to fall mute whenever you spoke.

it was embarrassing, the hot kind of embarrassment that paralyzed your entire body, every movement you made felt unnatural and forced, every time your hand moved, jimin would jerk away and towards the end, you just folded your hands on your lap and refused to be mobile.

if anyone noticed anything, they didn’t say a word.

“we should still get a few more drinks,” megan insists outside the restaurant and you twist your entire face at her, “what?” she shrugs her shoulders and you look away, panic rising in your throat.

two hours beside jimin was torture enough.

any more and you would probably combust.

“actually, i agree,” jimin steps away from his conversation with noah and for a split second, you catch him looking at you but you turn away, though the split second still leaves your knees shaking.

“i would love to host you guys at my place if everyone is comfortable,” he offers graciously, a smile reaching his eyes, warmth so bright and inviting on his face but you know that the invitation didn’t extend to you.

and the same way you fell head over heels for him, you see everyone around you falling for him, their eyes soften, they all nod at him and start cheering at the long night ahead of them and you, well, you just want to go home, knock a few teeth out and escape from the country with a fake passport.

but everyone turns to you, your silence is a bit too loud in their chaos and you stammer as all of their faces pick up in anticipation.

“i’m gonna turn in for the night, you guys go ahead, have fun!” you raise your fists in cheer, cringe internally at yourself, swallow that shame, and start waving goodbye and turning around to leave.

and you were truly so close.

so, so close.

your cab was booked, the night was done and you exhaled in relief.

until you hear steps coming towards you, “come, it will be fun,” jimin’s voice was still new, a sound that almost knocked you over and you shifted on your feet, “you don’t want me there.”

“did i tell you that?”

“you don’t need to, jimin,” you hate how breathless you sound when you say his name.

jimin tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowing again and you want to duck and crawl away from his sight, “i would lov-“

and your cab pulls up.

you clear your throat, “thanks for inviting me, but i have to go, goodnight,” and you step away towards your cab, not waiting for his response.

as your cab pulls away, you avert your eyes away from the pavement where he stands, eyebrows furrowed still, and eyes following the tires of the cab.

you take a deep breath in.

you would never see your first crush again.

and that was probably for the best.

sixth grade was life-changing for you.

it was the first time you realized you could feel so much for one person, even if you never intended it to happen that way.

you didn’t even know someone called jimin existed in school until he walked into your practice room, with a head full of thick, soft hair, with this smile that had you frowning, with this walk so confident which was uncommon in guys your age.

everyone was busy being cool, everyone was busy being something they were not but jimin was always just him.

when your drama teacher announced him as the prince in your drama, you nodded and looked away, passing him the script later and walking away.

liking jimin was never part of the plan, liking jimin wasn’t something you ever saw as a possibility, you always thought his personality was too much, too loud, and that he was a little too naïve and a little too bubbly.

but soon, he became your prince, as if every terrible cliché in the world had to come true, he became everything you would ever want in someone.

days passed, you watched the photos on your friend’s instagram from the night that you never ended up staying for, and you felt a jolt of joy every time jimin was in their pictures.

he still looked fucking gorgeous, he still smiled with his entire face, and he was still tall and moved with a confidence that guys, even at your age now, usually lacked.

it was a shame that he hated you.

you sighed, put your phone down, and waited for your nephew to burst out of his preschool class. as an aunt, you were constantly on babysitter duties, those duties included picking and dropping him places, taking him out to the park, attending parent-teacher meetings if your sister was too busy like she was today.

it was exhausting at times but your nephew was your baby too.

speaking of your baby, sunoo runs out the door full-speed, eyes darting everywhere before they land on you, you’ll always remember his smile as he heads straight towards you, your heart always picks up and immediately your arms are open to him.

“hey baby,” you mumble into his hair and he giggles, holding onto you tightly and you stand up, with him still koala wrapped around you.

when you look down again, a little girl is staring up at both of you with large eyes and you are immediately concerned.

where are her parents?

why is she alone?

“bubba, do you know your friend here?” you ask sunoo, who, to your relief, nods aggressively and signals to be put down.

and as soon as his feet are on the ground, he hands you his bag to hold her hand and your eyebrows jump up your forehead. sunoo was a very shy kid, he didn’t talk much to kids in the class, and his world was only your family.

so, when they both smile at each other with half their teeth still growing, your heart warms and you bend down to their height, “hello sunoo’s friend, can i know your name?” you hold out your hand and the girl shyly reaches out to take it, “arin,” she whispers before putting her hand back in sunoo’s and you giggle at the sight.

they were adorable.

“is it your first day here, arin?” you don’t remember seeing her and she nods, “this is my new school.”

“ah okay, sunoo, do you want to head inside for the meeting? arin can come in as well, yeah?” you look at them and hold out your hands to each of them which they happily take and you almost collapse when you turn around.

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

jimin stood, a few feet away from you, with a pink backpack held loosely in his hands and your face immediately dropped.

this can’t be real.

this cannot be your tuesday morning.

this cannot be your life at all.

“what are you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” you stare at him pointedly with your arms across your chest and he rolls his eyes, “that’s my niece next to you, she started here today,” and at that, you bend a little to see arin’s face and surely, the resemblance was there.

full cheeks.

and warm eyes.

god loved to punish you.

“oh.” and arin smiles at you, you smile back a little hesitantly and turn to see jimin who’s eyebrows have furrowed deeper than ever.

“yeah,” he looks exasperated at your presence and you try not to get hurt over it, “this is my nephew, by the way,” you point to sunoo, not knowing what else to do or say, and he waves at jimin with a toothy smile and like magic, jimin’s entire face melts into the most beautiful smile.

oh, fuck him.

he starts walking over and you clutch sunoo’s bag tightly, watching as his feet fall one after the other, watching as he completely avoids looking at you when he bends down to ruffle sunoo’s hair and press a kiss to arin’s head.

you hate when men are nice to kids, it makes it so much harder to despise them.

“oh, sunoo’s aunt! i didn’t know you came with your boyfriend,” you freeze at the sound of sunoo’s teacher coming from the hallway and jimin freezes too as she starts quickly walking over to you.

marjorie was an older woman who loved sunoo and you, she was the only teacher you trusted completely and she was also a bit chatty.

this was a live nightmare.

“he’s so handsome, good for you,” she slaps her hand on your arm while gushing at jimin and you, once again, wish to change your identity and immigrate to some unknown island.

“we’re not-“

“that’s not-“

and you both pause to glare at each other with pure venom in your eyes.

he may have been your first crush but he was insufferable and you didn’t need someone else to think that you were together with him and his horrid personality.

jimin probably thought you were enjoying this, people mistaking you to be a couple, just like in school, but he was so wrong, he wasn’t nearly as cute as he was in school.

marjorie clears her throat and stares at you with anticipation, you hate to break her bubble but, “i don’t know who he is marjorie, i think he’s related to your new student here,” you point to arin and she starts looking between the both of you in confusion and jimin extends his hand to her, “i’m arin’s uncle, i’m here for her parent-teacher meeting.”

she nods with a smile, taking his hand graciously, “oh that’s lovely, arin’s mom did say her uncle was coming today, come in, come in, you too, sunoo’s aunt,” and starts walking ahead of the both of you into the classrooms.

you and jimin follow her in, you watch as he takes in the school and the classrooms and smiles at the artwork made by the children all over the walls, you look away with an irritated scowl.

why did he pretend to be some children-loving, kind jesus when he was absolutely vile to you?

“by the way, you two look so good together, it’s a shame you’re not a couple,” marjorie smiles at the two of you and you both nod stiffly at her which seems to delight her as she walks into a room.

you and jimin glare at each other one last time before following her in.

sunoo is still holding arin’s hand as you and jimin awkwardly follow the two of them outside the school, the parent-teacher meeting was done, thankfully, only two other teachers assumed you were a couple but was that really a win?

“okay sunoo, why don’t you say bye to your friend and we can go home?” you step forward from the slow, uncomfortable pace set by you and jimin, sunoo pouts and tightens his hand around arin’s which makes you frown, and look at jimin who was also observing the scene in front of them.

“but arin,” he starts tearing up, his face scrunching up and your panic rises, “it’s okay baby, you’ll see her in class tomorrow and every day after,” you try to calm him down, “it’s saturday tomorrow,” he whimpers and you wince, “well, it’s only two days bub, i’m sure arin wants to go home too,” and arin starts pouting too, “no.”

wow, she looked even more like jimin when she pouted.

you look at jimin again helplessly and he also seems to be panicking, at least you weren’t alone.

“sunoo, arin,” he bent down, “you two are in the same class, you will see each other again soon, for now, everyone should go home after class,” jimin’s tone was strict but still soft enough not to trigger any tears but just when you think he’s a better guardian than you, arin huffs and throws her bag on the floor, “no!”

you almost join the bag to laugh on the floor at the shock in jimin’s face.

“she never does this,” jimin says with his mouth still wide open as he gets up and you raise your eyebrows, “i think she gets it from you, the drama of it all, it’s cute, don’t worry,” and he glares at you.

“kids, for today, we have to go home, another day, i’m sure we can do something,” you try to appease them and jimin scoffs next to you, making you narrow your eyes.

“wouldn’t you love that?” your mouth falls open as his eyes roll back in irritation.

the fucking gall this man has.

“shut the fu-“

your colorful words are interrupted by sunoo and arin, who are so in sync already, that they begin their sniffing and subsequent loud cries together.

you immediately shut up to meet jimin’s eyes in horror as both of you see the kids melt into a puddle of tears before you.

“okay, okay! what do you want?” jimin is the first to give in and you want to smack him on the head, you should never give in to kids, that was the rule, you should always wait for their meltdown to finish and then bribe them with something less than what they want.

“seriously?” you give him a dirty look.

“i hate to see her cry,” he whispers to you and if it were anyone else, you would gush, to be honest, you were gushing, but you were also hiding it really well.

“playdate!” it’s like they never cried at all, children were truly magical.

you stare at jimin, waiting for him to respond because if you guys agreed to the playdate, you were also agreeing to spend the next few hours together.

and you didn’t want to be the one to agree to that, it was bad enough that he thought you were getting a kick out of meeting him like this.

he finally lifts his head to look at you, you shrug at him with your heart beating thunderously against your chest, you almost place your hand on it to calm it down but it only gets louder when jimin smiles at you, “sure, that would be fun.”

“yay!” sunoo and arin burst into jimin’s house, throwing their shoes and bags at the doorstep to wander off into the house and you are left with jimin, who just like you, would rather be anywhere else.

“thanks for hosting, we’ll do it next time,” you mumble while shrugging your coat off and he smirks, “if you want to see me again, you can just say that.”

you throw your coat on his face and stomp into the house, letting go of any politeness or manners that you would usually have and his giggles float into the air around you, making you scowl.

if he wanted to behave like a pig, he would be treated like one.

“i meant it though, sunoo doesn’t talk to anyone so it was nice to see him bond with arin, but i won’t be the one hosting it, it would be my sister, so no one’s dying to see you, settle down,” you sit down on the sofa, keeping your back straight and legs neatly crossed over the other, and scanned the house that you’ve only seen on instagram till now.

it was a nice house, cosy and bright and definitely expensive.

“arin doesn’t usually talk to anyone either so works for both of us.”

“but what if i wanted to see you?” he joins you on the couch and you roll your eyes, “can you stop with that nonsense?”

“it’s not nonsense, just a question,” jimin shrugs, “tea or coffee?” and you’re appalled at his skills of diverting a conversation, “green tea, if you have it, thanks,” and he laughs, walking into the kitchen, “you know, you don’t have to be so formal with me, we know each other,” and you squirm in your seat.

“i know you’d prefer it if we didn’t,” and jimin pops his head out of the kitchen, “what makes you think that?”

“seriously?”

was he dumb or were you overthinking this?

you get up and walk over to the kitchen where jimin stands, in the simple t-shirt and jeans under his coat, and he looks unjustly attractive in that bland outfit.

“did you forget school or something?” you ask again and he shakes his head, handing you a mug of steaming green tea, “i haven’t forgotten anything, i’m very sharp in case you didn’t notice already,” and you have to let out a groan at his tone.

“i know you hate me, jimin, you don’t have to sugarcoat anything just because we’re older now,” you take a sip, appreciating the light sweetness in the green tea, “did you add honey?”

“nope, cinnamon and i don’t hate you, where the fuck did you get that?” he looks at you as if you’re insane, as if you’ve imagined the times he ignored you in school, as if you’ve imagined him smiling at everyone but you during drama practice, as if you’ve imagined him leaving the stage without even looking at you.

was this what people called ‘gaslighting’?

“um you were an asshole to me and an absolute angel to everyone else,” you try to sound cool and casual about the whole thing but you were dying a little inside about having to have this conversation.

“when?”

“always.”

“no, but when exactly?”

“are you really going to make me say it?” you raise your eyebrows at him, there was absolutely no way that he didn’t know that he was your first crush and that he hated being liked by you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” and you force yourself to smile because if you didn’t, you might just throw the mug in your hands, onto his face.

“you look weird,” he frowns at you and you purse your lips, trying to keep your calm, “i really have no idea why you think i hate you, then or now.”

and you were done.

“during play practice! you smiled at everyone, talked to everyone, played along with everyone, talked to them even after the play finished but never to me! are you happy now that i’ve said it?” you push the mug away from you on the counter and fold your arms across your chest, looking away to some corner in the kitchen.

if there was a feeling more dreadful than shame, you were feeling it right now.

how embarrassing that you still remember every single detail about him, how your adolescent mind never really let him go, how your crush on him was so clear, so true that it never left you.

“y/n,” he calls out and your heart is in your throat.

his voice, even as a kid, was so soft, he always spoke so well, he always spoke as if the opposite person was the most interesting person in the world but somehow, that tone never came when he talked to you.

“can you look at me?”

“no.”

“no?” he laughs out, palms coming up to cover his smiling face and for a moment, you’re starstruck again, you can only stare at his smile that held the world’s love and warmth, from your periphery though.

“okay, don’t look at me but i never hated you-“ and just as you’re leaning into listen to jimin, loud stomps break the moment and you’re both turning to see who’s coming.

it’s sunoo.

and he’s crying.

“baby, what happened?” you get up from your seat to sit on your knees in front of sunoo, “home!” is all he says and you frown, “that’s no way to talk in a home that has invited us, sunoo,” you weren’t as strict as his mom but kids needed to be disciplined from time to time.

“it’s okay,” jimin sits beside you, “what happened, big guy?” he coos at sunoo who instantly falls into jimin’s arms and you’re left baffled, this wasn’t like sunoo at all, he never touched anyone until he liked them.

this was dangerous.

“arin’s not giving me her toys, i want to play too,” sunoo says between hiccups and whines and you straighten beside jimin, “those are arin’s toys sunoo, you should ask someone before you use their stuff, you know this,” and he falls silent.

“but arin should also share, right? she should know that too,” jimin rubs his palms on sunoo’s back who nods furiously, “i asked!”

“okay, let’s call arin and we can sort this out?” jimin suggests but sunoo shakes his head, “home,” he says again but with exhaustion instead of anger.

oh, the trials and tribulations of a 5-year-old.

and you know that once he’s tired, he won’t listen to a word, “i think we’ll head home, he’s tired so,” you scoop sunoo up in your arms and he immediately curls into your shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” jimin sighs and you let out a laugh, “they’re 5-year-olds’s jimin, it’s no one’s fault, and we’ll arrange something for them at mine or my sister’s, okay?” you don’t know why you’re trying to console him but it came automatically.

at the door, jimin casually wraps your coat around you, being careful to not disturb sunoo who was already dozing off, and you walk to your car with your hands and heart full.

“let’s talk sometime, yeah?” jimin says from next to you and you narrow your eyes, “why?”

“god,” he throws his head back with a delighted look on his face, “i just want to talk, jeez,” and you nod reluctantly.

“here,” he opens the door for you to put sunoo in carefully, you could’ve done it yourself but you didn’t mind the help.

“thanks…for today, it was nice of you,” you look at jimin and he nods with a teasing smile, “i can be very nice,” and you roll your eyes, closing the door and effectively creating a barrier between you two.

and you can finally breathe.

while you pull away, you feel your heart thud and thud and thud again.

seeing him with sunoo and spending so much time alone with him did a number on you, you’ll have to write down why you hate him to make sure that no lingering feelings surface but as you leave, he smiles at you through your side view mirror and you’re not sure you ever stood a chance.

it only took you a few seconds to understand what you felt, that it was against everything you had believed until then.

it was the first time you were so close to a guy, his hands were a little above your waist, your hands were on his shoulders, and his face was (so) close to yours.

you were practicing for the ballroom scene and when you looked at his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, you felt your stomach drop with the realization that you liked him, this guy that seemed so ordinary some minutes ago, became something magical, something beyond you and your heart.

“come closer, you two,” your drama teacher shouted over the music and you mindlessly shuffled forward and jimin moved with you, hands tightening on you by instinct and your breath hitched.

you danced weakly, still reeling with the consciousness of liking him and he looked like he did any other day.

later that day, everyone left the practice room except you and jimin, you waited for him to look at you at least once, say anything, you would’ve hung onto any word but he scurried out of the room just as you opened your mouth to tell him what you felt.

“jimin, can we talk? i think i lik-” and he was out of the door.

as if he could sense what was coming next and wanted to avoid it.

and since then, you never brought back the courage to tell him anything.

you had to make peace with that, your buried feelings in your heart had to stay buried.

and you coped with that until the day of the actual play, until he looked like he wanted to say something too, right when the ballroom scene started.

but then, he didn’t turn back on the stage, and you were left warm from his touch, cold from his absence, hurt from his steps away from you, and hopeful from how he looked at you in the eye while you danced.

“are you sure that it’s the same guy?” your sister’s voice came from your phone’s speaker and you sighed, “unfortunately, yes, he is,” and she laughed an evil laugh that told you how much she loved this situation.

“this is golden, you used to be so obsessed with him,” she gasped, you were sure her mind was playing the whole reel of you gushing about jimin, “that was a long time ago, give it up.” you groaned and scrolled mindlessly through your instagram.

jimin had sent you a follow request after you left his house a couple of days ago, you almost fell from the bed when you saw it pop up on your screen but what was more embarrassing was the speed with which you accepted the request and sent one back.

“oh my god, i just remembered how you would go for that weekly school exercise thing just to see him! you used to bend forward, backward, to see him a few lines away, this is amazing, this is amazing!” she sang from your phone and you winced at that memory.

it was true, you only went to the weekly drill to see jimin, a quick glance of his face used to make you unexplainably happy.

but with your fingers scrolling through his posts now, you guessed that some things just don’t change.

jimin would probably be doing the same thing, no one sends an instagram request without the intent to stalk that person’s profile, right?

but maybe he has a life and you don’t.

sigh.

“can you send me a picture of what he looks like right now? also, what is sunoo doing?” she asks and you frown, “sunoo is sleeping and why do you need his picture?”

“i just want to see,” and she starts rambling about how she deserves it as your sister, you tune it out, getting up to answer the door when the bell rings.

“it’s just so crazy to me that he’s back in your life, like imagine meeting your first crush in your nephew’s school? i bet it’s only yo-“ but you’re not listening to her at all anymore because at the other side of the door, are jimin with arin, who have both now heard your embarrassing older sister.

“anyway, send me a picture after you’re finished stalki-“ and you cut the call.

“hello.” you clear your throat, and he waves his hand while arin beams at you.

“oh wait, please come in,” you open your door wider, watching with wide eyes as they both step in and take in your home, you are suddenly too conscious about your pajamas and hair.

you weren’t expecting visitors.

what is he even doing here?

just as you’re about to ask jimin, he turns to you with a guilty look which consists of sad, puppy eyes and a slight pout.

arin truly gets it from her uncle.

how is that look not turning you off?

you know for a fact that the same exact look on another man would have just pissed you off.

“sorry to come so suddenly, you mentioned where you lived in one of our messages and arin was killing me all morning about wanting to see sunoo, and i tried to calm her down, i really did but you know how it gets,” jimin rambles on and on, and you nod along, only half distracted by his long coat and ruffled hair.

he must have come in a rush too.

and yes, you were texting each other and no, it’s very casual and friendly talk only.

“i thought they were fighting?” you ask and signal jimin to follow you into the kitchen where you put on a pot of water to boil.

how did he look like he belonged in your space when he was in it for all of two minutes?

“i thought so too,” jimin laughs and you smile at the sound of his laughter, you loved it then, and you love it now, someone should shoot you to snap you out of whatever magic spell jimin has cast on you.

“arin baby, what do you like?” you turn to her and she shakes her head, “you’re not going to ask me?” jimin raises his arms up in question and you hum, “you take what i give you, park jimin,” and he’s laughing again.

wow, you must be some extraordinary comedian.

“sunoo is sleeping right now but i’m sure he would love to see you guys, i’ll just be right back with him,” you place a cup of green tea in front of jimin and start heading out of the room.

“honey?” you hear as you’re leaving, “nope, cinnamon,” you reply, ignoring the shiver up your spine from how he called out honey.

after a lot of struggle with sunoo’s blanket and begging him, he was finally out of the room and standing in front of arin with his arms crossed, you and jimin watched with interest as they stared at each other.

“what do you think they will do?”

“fight?” you offer and jimin rolls his eyes at you, “they’re kids,” and you shrug, “kids are very good at fighting.”

and your eyes snap back to them when arin hugs sunoo over his crossed arms, you and jimin look at each other with your hearts melting as sunoo tries to resist but soon, gives up and wraps his arms around her.

“they’re so cute,” he whispers, and you nod with your hand over your heart.

sunoo and arin then take off to the living room where his toys are laid out and they’re lost in their own world within the next five minutes.

you and jimin sit in the kitchen, sipping your tea and looking at each other, only to return to sipping your tea, words lost in your tongues and throats.

“was that your sister on the phone?” and you ignore it, staring at the cup of tea with much focus and interest, “hey, she was, wasn’t she?” his voice gets more teasing, more light, more carefree and you hate that it makes you smile, you hate that your cheeks still flush in his presence.

“i won’t tell anyone or will i?” he winks at you when you finally look up and you groan, slamming your face into the table and he giggles next to you, uncontrollably.

“i’m going to kill myself,” you mumble into the table and he brings his hand forward to push your face away from the table and…towards him, his face and you almost fall off a chair once again because of him.

“don’t worry, i stalked you too.”

it was scary, how quickly you could come to terms with the fact that you liked jimin again, how quickly your heart accepted him even if ages passed and even if you’ve both changed.

“why do you even like him?” this was a question that your friends had asked you then, a question that your sister asked you then, and a question you often asked yourself.

it was simple to you.

jimin was different.

softer than other men but stronger too.

more delicate but also more protective.

he could make you blush and burst into laughter, in all of two seconds.

he was always like that, even when kids back then were trying to be cool and tough, jimin carried a bright, easy smile with care for the people around him. even if it didn’t always extend to you, it was still there.

but you think that might have changed.

“and you’re sure you are free to pick sunoo up?” your sister asks and you nod happily, “absolutely, don’t worry, i got him,” and she thanks you before cutting the call.

and now, you’re standing in front of his school in a better outfit than you normally would wear, you’re giddy with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks, but you don’t hate this.

“looks like someone’s all dressed up,” you don’t stop yourself from grinning at jimin’s voice from a few feet away.

fine, maybe you’ve been picking sunoo up a lot more these days but that’s just you being the best aunt in the world.

“unlike you, people like putting an effort into their outfits and personal style,” but you’re lying straight out of your teeth, jimin had a very good sense of style but he didn’t need to know that and besides, when he laughs and bumps your shoulder with his, your heart lights up.

so, this is what park jimin is to everyone else.

this is what everyone else felt when they were next to him.

how did all of them not fall in love with him?

you couldn’t have been the only one.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt this sure of something in your life.

you like chocolates, but not in milkshakes or when they are dark.

you like reading books, but sometimes you get into a slump.

you like romantic comedies, but sometimes, you find them cringeworthy and unrealistic.

you like jimin.

but….nothing, you just liked him.

“should we go get ice cream after this?” you turn to see him and he raises his eyebrows so, you quickly backtrack, “sunoo keeps asking for it and arin would like it too,” and he nods at it, you nod fiercely with him.

what your nephew wants, he gets, of course.

“i didn’t ask for ice cream,” is the first thing that flies out of sunoo’s mouth when you tell him about it, you are frozen with your knees bent as jimin stifles a burst of laughter behind his palms and you know if you turn around, you might as well bury yourself six feet under.

“sunoo,” you warn-whisper and he just tilts his head at you, you drop your head, there is no point in blaming your nephew for this, you’ve done this to yourself.

you grab sunoo’s hand and speed-walk to your car without looking back, with red cheeks and shaky palms.

the universe seems to be hell-bent on making sure that you embarrass yourself in front of park jimin for the rest of your life.

“hey hey, where are you going?” jimin pulls you back with his hand around your elbow and you purse your lips, “did you not hear my nephew out me?”

he throws his head back in laughter, “i did but don’t be silly, let’s go,” and you frown, “go where?”

“for ice cream,” and you’re lost again, he’s tutting at you, “if you want ice cream, we’re getting ice cream,” and looks down at you with a grin that has you holding your smile back, “okay.”

at the ice cream store, jimin hovers around you, asks you your favorites, asks you if you like desserts, asks if you like movies or tv shows, and you answer each question with increasing fondness towards him.

god, you must love attention.

“you were so intimidating in school,” and your jaw dropped, “no, i wasn’t! if anything, you were intimidating,” and jimin shook his head, “no way, how was i intimidating? i talked to everyone.”

you wipe ice cream from the corners of sunoo’s mouth as you speak, “that was intimidating to me because i didn’t talk to too many people,” and jimin nods, “and for me, you were intimidating, i could talk to literally anyone and everyone but you.”

“but why?”

“why?” he looks up in question and you pause for a second, not knowing if you should continue the sentence, “but why was i intimidating? why couldn’t you talk to me?”

because i would’ve given everything to talk to you, stays deep in your throat.

jimin sits back in his seat, pondering for a few seconds and you almost take it back, you almost tell him to forget it but then he opens his mouth, “you were intimidating because you were always good at what you did,” and your eyes widen by their own accord, you had never heard that from anyone except your drama teacher.

“i don’t know if you remember but i was so lost in the beginning, i didn’t know anything about acting but you set this example that i could follow and it was easier for me, you were constantly checking on me too,” he laughs amusedly, as if that time was playing behind his eyes and you crack a smile too, though your heart just got warmer and warmer until it felt like it was catching on fire.

“you were good at it too, jimin, especially the dance,” he was taken for his dance skills first and he was bloody good at it, “i know, i was amazing,” and you’re throwing a tissue paper at him.

“but i wanted to talk to you,” he nods as he speaks and you can’t help it, “because you knew that i liked you?”

he stops himself from grinning, “that was the biggest shock of my teenage life, y/n,” and you roll your eyes, “i know, it’s hard for me to believe too,” he groans and slides into his seat, making you giggle.

“did you…really like me?” his voice is soft, unguarded, and he throws one arm over his eyes, you notice his cheeks are red too and you shift in your seat, the mood was shifting, you didn’t want to giggle and deny it like you probably would have if he asked that even some ten seconds ago.

“i did,” and he removes his arm, and stares at you unsuredly, as if he doesn’t believe you and you clench your hands on your lap to hold back from saying anything else.

“home!” a chorus from the kids you’ve forgotten about brings you back to life, a life where it wasn’t just you and jimin in it.

jimin smiles, “how about a refill?” and as they cheer out loud, he looks at you, and you know that look.

he had something to say.

you both got scolded by your respective siblings for giving their kids extra ice creams but it also meant that the kids loved you more, you and jimin had giggled about it on text.

it was a win-win for you.

but what was even more of a win-win was that jimin purposefully got them extra ice cream to spend more time with you, you are about 90% sure that’s the reason.

you spent about half the day in that ice cream parlour, and jimin asked you questions that no one else ever has and you asked him all those things you never got to when you were in school.

it was terrifying, to talk to him like that, to give him parts of what made you, you, and it was especially terrifying when you gave all of it away so easily.

“so, you’re coming to pick him up, right? like this isn’t an extra task for you?” jimin’s voice through a phone was different, lower, more serious, you loved it.

“definitely, don’t even worry about it, i’ll pick her up and bring her over,” you didn’t know what it said that he trusted you with his niece but it had to be something good, it made you feel fantastic.

“thank you so much, seriously, i owe you one,” and you can sense the relief in his tone, “you do owe me one, yes,” he laughs at your tone, “you get here, i’ll make it up to you very well.”

on the whole way there, you are so giddy that you can’t stop smiling.

you never understood why people got so excited over phone calls but if it was up to you, you would’ve never even cut the call with jimin.

when you get to the school, sunoo and arin are holding each other’s hands and standing obediently next to margaret.

“hi kids, today auntie is going to take you both home, are we excited?” sunoo and arin raise their hands up in joy and you resist the urge to pick them both up and give them one nice hug.

“her uncle called and said you would be picking her up,” margaret smiles at you knowingly and you roll your eyes, “it’s nothing like that margaret, we’re good friends,” and she scoffs at you but it only makes you giddier.

it felt good that someone, besides you, liked the idea of you two together.

you: picked them up, on my way over!

jimin: thanks again, see you soon <3

you almost throw your phone out of the window in happiness but for the sake of the kids, for them to think you’re not some insane person, you just grin and put your phone aside.

“okay arin, let’s go to your uncle’s place,” after checking them, you fasten your seatbelt and they both cheer again.

oh, you love these kids.

as you pull away, they instantly start rambling about their day, which picture they were made to draw, which teacher annoyed them, which toy was stolen, which color pencil they lost and you nod intently, offering dramatic reactions wherever you could.

“and then mummy told me that i had to throw away some toys but can you talk to mummy? i like my toys,” sunoo whines to you and you sigh, “you got it buddy, i’ll deal with your mother.”

“so arin, what have you been upto? anything exciting?” and she lights up, “i drew a castle today, do you want to see?”

“of course baby, as soon as we’re home, i absolutely have to see it,” your agreement only makes her happier, “our new home is nice, i like it, mummy and daddy made my room pink, and i even have a close friend!”

“is that so? who’s this lucky person?”

“it’s miss ana, uncle jimi’s girlfriend! she’s always over at uncle’s home and she likes me, i like her too.” and she goes back to swinging her legs and poking at sunoo until he laughs.

in the front seat, you are frozen and confused.

“your uncle has a girlfriend?” you try to sound casual and you hate that you’re asking a kid about this but you couldn’t help it.

“yeah.” she shrugs and goes back to sunoo.

you felt your stomach turn.

of course, he has a girlfriend.

of course, you had read it all wrong.

of course, you are the idiot again.

you kept your eyes steady on the road as the feeling of nothingness settled into you.

you would get over this, you got over jimin once, you could do it again and next time, you wouldn’t make the stupid mistake of thinking that anyone could ever like you for anything more than what you present them. you’ve gotten over first boyfriends, situationships, and dates which felt like they would lead somewhere and you would get over this too.

it was weird that you could still feel the same embarrassment of liking jimin, the same pathetic feeling you get when you overestimate yourself and what people feel about you, rises and falls in your chest.

but it was okay.

you’ll get over this.

“oh jimin! jimin!” you turned your face away from classmates who yelled his name.

somehow, the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew about your crush on him, your bets were on one of your play’s cast members but you couldn’t point a finger at anyone. your school was small and boring enough for this kind of stuff to spread quickly.

it was true, you did like him, a lot but you never wanted anyone to know, you only wanted him to know.

you were hoping to catch him alone, tell him that you liked him, and accept whichever response he gave you, he didn’t have to like you back but now, he knew, you knew that he knew, it was just not in the way you ever wanted him to know.

and then one day it happened.

the quiet rejection.

the annoyance of being liked by someone you don’t like back.

“look, look! they’re together” you were in the hallway, talking to your friends and jimin was just a few feet away, your friends were subtly pushing you toward him while you pushed back and his friends were pushing him.

that itself was embarrassing enough.

then, your back hit his back and you froze, skin tingling already but he immediately pushed away, and you heard him yell at his friends.

“how many times have i told you guys not to bring her up? how many?” jimin was a gentle guy, that was the first time he had yelled at someone and it was because of you.

and since then, whenever you were in the same room, he would look away with an irritated sigh, he would leave the room or he would glare at his friends until they shut up.

you took it all in, you really did, you just reasoned to yourself that you too, would be very annoyed if your friends acted like that.

but one day, you were alone in your art classroom, arranging some portraits and he walked in, your eyes met his and you were both too aware of how empty your surroundings were, for the first time in a really long time.

he immediately stepped back, his footsteps landed heavily as he walked away.

no one was there.

no one to make fun of him, no one to see or hear.

but he still pretended that you didn’t exist.

your feelings were more tender then.

your heart was a bit too soft and you had taken that as his reply, his response, his rejection and you buried your crush.

your chest was tight the entire day, you couldn’t speak without choking up because as much as you accepted his rejection, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

he never uttered a word to you since then.

you vowed to yourself never to like anyone too much again.

“how was school, guys? i missed you,” jimin hugged arin and sunoo as soon as they entered his home and you stood near the door frame with your heart in your throat.

today wouldn’t have been so hard if you didn’t have to see him.

they leave his arms and run into the house, their bags and socks left behind and you quickly collect sunoo’s stuff to put them aside.

“hey,” he appears beside you and you nod, keeping your eyes away from his face.

“i missed you too,” and you wish that you didn’t give in to seeing his face because as soon as you turn to face him, you are in front of his warm eyes and smile, the ones you were so jealous others could see.

but whatever feeling tried to creep on you, you shoved it away.

you nod again, swallowing and the warm scene fades and it’s replaced with a stiff awkwardness that both of you feel in a flash.

you see it go away, the warmth, the smile, the eyes, all of it drops and you hate that you feel terrible even if you didn’t do anything.

“arin made a castle drawing, it’s in her bag,” you say and jimin frowns before shaking his head, “of course, i’ll see it later.”

and your head bobs once again, the only response you could produce at the moment and when jimin steps forward, you step back.

“hey, is everything okay?” he asks, fingers reaching to scratch the nape of his neck confusedly, “yeah, everything’s fine.”

this time, he’s the one nodding and pushing his hands into his pockets, “i’ll make you tea, come on,” you have no choice but to follow him in, though you stay at least five steps behind him.

any touch from him would break your resolve, you couldn’t afford that, not anymore.

“honey or cinnamon?”

“honey.”

“alright,” jimin frowns once again, turning away to boil some water.

and you sit there, wondering if this is all you could ever be with him, wondering if both of you were always destined to be close and far, you feel scalded by the fact that he had never mentioned a girlfriend, you hadn’t asked but he shouldn’t have been texting you the way he was.

“you know, i owe you one,” he turns with a mug of steaming green tea and you stiffen in your seat when he hands it to you with a small, unsure smile, “would you accept dinner as me making it up to you?”

twenty minutes ago, you would’ve jumped up, spilling hot tea everywhere, and closed around him, your arms and heart giving even more way for him, but that was twenty minutes ago, now your arms and heart were closing in on themselves.

him rejecting you in school, you could handle.

him hating your presence, you could handle.

but this, you could only handle for about five minutes before you crumbled.

you should’ve never let your young feelings grow and stay.

“don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do anything, it was just one pickup,” you shrug, playing with the handle of your mug and you see jimin visibly deflate.

“okay, i don’t know what’s going on, is everything okay? did i do something?” the pleading in his tone was there, the sincerity in his face was there but you couldn’t believe any of it.

“nothing happened, jimin, it’s just that you don’t have to make up for anything,” you couldn’t bring yourself to confront his betrayal, to ask him about his girlfriend, you know that any answer would just hurt you more.

“fine, i don’t want to make up for anything, i want to take you out on a date, a proper date without anyone else around, because,” and he pauses, you release the breath caught in your chest, grateful and disappointed that he didn’t finish his sentence.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you give a weak smile, feeling your bones tighten in your body, you would snap like a bowstring if this continued.

jimin looks away, chest rising and falling slowly, he squeezes his eyes shut and you see his hands shake as he whispers, “why?”

“sunoo is sleep!” arin’s yell makes you get up immediately, the distraction was welcome and needed, “also, see this!” she shoves her drawing into your hands and you smile at the messy green castle.

“it’s beautiful, arin, just like you,” you tap her nose and she giggles, you are all too aware of jimin’s stare on your back so, you pat her head and rush to take sunoo out of her bed and into your arms.

you held your nephew tighter to you, his sleeping form was the only thing keeping you stable, you never realized before how much you needed him the way he needed you but today, you needed him most even if he was just sleeping in your arms.

you don’t say bye to jimin on your way out, you only hug arin, ask her to take care, and leave his home with your mind so heavy that you feel like you could tip and fall over.

but as you pull away, you catch jimin in your side mirrors, he stands as if he’s lost everything, you almost turn back, break down in his arms, and ask him why he was so cruel to you, but you drive away instead.

“and you’re sure that he won’t be there?” you ask megan for the third time over the phone and she sighs, “listen, it’s his friend, i can’t tell him not to invite his friend but i did tell him that something happened, the rest is truly up to him,” and you bite your lip in annoyance.

it’s been two weeks, you’ve successfully avoided jimin at sunoo’s school, you’ve ignored his calls and deleted his texts without reading them, and you were only one more week away from mentally cutting him off completely.

but again, the universe hated you and noah’s birthday came up right as you were starting to forget that a person named jimin existed.

“you’re right, i’m sorry for being difficult and i’ll be there, noah is sort of my friend too,” you give in, you couldn’t be a bitch to your friends just because you were going through something, and megan hums, “but just know that i won’t judge you at all for not showing up, it’s totally your call.”

you thank her and close your eyes as the call goes dead on the other end.

what a fucking mess.

“happy birthday to you!” you sing with everyone else as noah shyly stands in the center with the birthday candles lighting up his face.

it was nice to see your friends again, you melted into every hug they gave you as you walked into noah’s home, you almost teared up at how much you needed them, you were annoyed with all of them just weeks ago but now, you saw clearly that you needed people who cared about you in your life.

“how are you feeling now?” faye put her head on your shoulder as you sat on the couch and you hum, “i’ve been better babe but i’ll be fine soon, i promise,” you squeeze her hand and she purses her lips, “i don’t think he will come, you know, it’s already been a while since the party started, everyone will leave in an hour or so,” and you know that she’s trying to make you feel better.

“thank you for saying that but even if he does come, it’s okay, it’s not like i’ll see him after this,” you shrug and she nods unsurely, “but it’s also okay if you feel shitty that he’s here, you know? you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine with all of it, it’s not a great situation, he lied to you and you’re hurt, you’re allowed to be hurt.”

you blink back tears as you try to rush some air into your lungs that tighten with each word from her.

“i love you, faye.” you whisper, “i love you more,” she smiles and pats you on the back before getting up, “now i’m going to get us some drinks so you stay there in that emotional mood,” you laugh at her and shoo her away.

maybe you weren’t fine now, you won’t need to be for a while but you’ll be okay at some point.

you sigh, you don’t want to be here anymore and pretty much everyone’s given you the green light to leave, you can always have drinks with faye another time so, you get up, surer than ever that you don’t want to be okay anymore, you kiss your friend’s goodbye, you thank noah for inviting you and you step out to the cold night.

right near your car, just as you feel relieved and light, you hear it.

“y/n?” and then quick footsteps.

a presence behind you.

his voice in your ears and bones.

and you freeze.

you hold the key to your car and your legs feel so heavy, they might as well be dead, and you blink, you do nothing but blink until he’s in front of you.

you almost cry at the sight of his face.

“you’re leaving?” jimin huffs out, his breath leaving white clouds in the night and you just stare.

how could someone so beautiful lie to you?

you only come back to earth when you feel him scanning your face and body, as if he was re-remembering what you looked like, as if he was savoring you in front of him but you knew it was all deceitful.

and you lose it.

“don’t you feel ashamed?” you breathe out, feeling every nerve in you tighten impossibly, your body was once again a bowstring being pulled, in front of him.

tight and so breakable.

jimin’s entire face falls, “about what, y/n? why haven’t you been answering my texts and calls? why are you suddenly ignoring me? what is going on? i tried to come up with so many reasons but none of them made sense, i thought we were heading towards something good?” and his face looks so pained, so sad that you almost break.

almost.

“i should’ve never fucking liked you in school, i should’ve never given you that ego boost, i should’ve seen you for who you are,” you angrily spit out as you fumble with your keys and open your car.

without looking at him even once, you climb in, leaning back once you are in.

but immediately, as you begin to start the engine, another door opens and jimin is in your car.

jimin is in your car.

“what the fuck are you doing? get out!” you yell at him, and he shakes his head, “i’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what is going on.”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you, get out jimin, or i swear to god,” you huff out, feeling your hands shake from the rage you felt, he doesn’t move an inch, “or what?”

“seriously?”

“yeah, if i don’t get out, what will you do?”

“i’ll fucking crash this car.” you level your glare on him and he sits back, “do it.”

“what?”

“do it, crash it, i’ll pay for the repairs, but i’m not getting out until you tell me why you hate me right now.” the calmness he had at that moment, the level in his tone never wavering, pissed you off even more.

“fine, we can sit here all night,” you shrug, desperate to match his cool, you switch off the engine, “fine by me,” jimin shrugs back and you clench your teeth to not groan at him.

minutes pass, you tap your foot against the floor of the car, he looks out the window, and both of you sit stubbornly without making a move.

you should be furious.

you should be still trying to kick him out.

but you slowly start to deflate, your anger fades bit by bit as the feeling of missing him, liking him even now, begins blooming in you again.

“who is ana?” you whisper, not trying to hide how sad just mentioning her name made you.

whatever his answer was, you would move on.

you never liked him for him to like you back, not then and not now, but it felt good to believe that somewhere, he felt the same desperate, pathetic love that you did, that somewhere, he was different with you the way you were different with him, that he too lost his cool and common sense when it came to you.

“what?” he frowns and you sigh, “please don’t lie to me jimin, just tell me who she is and why you never told me that she was your girlfriend.” you choke back the sobs building in your throat, and jimin immediately leans towards you, “hey, hey, what girlfriend are you talking about? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

you laugh bitterly through your tears, “so, you’re calling your baby niece a liar?”

“arin? what did she say?” he continues to frown, seemingly growing more confused by every passing second, which only makes you more confused, “that ana is your girlfriend? she’s always at your place?”

“ana? oh!” and jimin throws his head back on the seat, eyes closing in what you thought was relief, “ana is her new babysitter, y/n,” you huff out in annoyance, “believe it or not jimin but i’m not as stupid as you think i am, how fucking convenient is it that a woman your niece calls your girlfriend, turns out to be her sitter.”

and he gapes at you before throwing his arms up, “i’m sorry that the truth is convenient and fits with the situation!” he yells back at you and you glare at him, “oh really? then why is she over when you’re there with arin already? why does arin think she’s your girlfriend? do you have an explanation for any of that?”

“i do, but only if you’re willing to at least hear me out,” and jimin is back to calm, back to zen, and you want to push him out of the car, “see, i know it sounds bad if she just mentioned the girlfriend part but i’ve told you, arin is shy, she never talks to anyone, she doesn’t like sitters, she takes a lot of time to get used to strangers so i’m a buffer until she gets used to ana so, that ana can just babysit her at my brother’s place instead of mine.”

you narrow your eyes at him as you process his words. unfortunately, it made a lot of sense, sunoo was the same, that is why you always babysat him.

“okay, then why call her your girlfriend?”

“because she thinks friends if they’re girls are girlfriends,” he sighs out and you purse your lips, that also made sense, especially with kids as young as sunoo and arin.

“i see.” you whisper back, not knowing how to feel about all this, it made sense, you should be over the moon, falling into his arms, telling him that you feel everything again, that you like him again but you freeze instead.

you were so ready to move on.

you were so ready to never see him again.

and you were so ready to never know his response, to never know what he felt.

but you are here, in front of him, as he waited for you to speak with anxious eyes and you only felt overwhelmed.

“okay.”

“okay?”

“thanks for explaining, if you get off, i will go now,” you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, refusing to look at him even through your periphery.

“seriously? do you need time or is something else wrong?” you hear the pleading in his tone, the desperation, you wonder if you ever sounded like that to him.

“nothing’s wrong, i’m glad you explained, and now, i’d like to go home,” this always happened, whenever your emotions got too much, whenever it seemed like everything would fall on your head and crush you, you slipped into robot mode, where you refused to feel anything, where you refused to be human, where your feelings were nothing but dust in the air.

it’s how you never went back to a boyfriend, how you never begged anyone for anything and it kept you protected.

“why are you doing this?” but god, the crack in his voice might just break your resolve.

“doing what, jimin? i just want to go home,” you try to reason and he huffs in annoyance, “that’s not what this is, you aren’t even looking at me.”

and you pause.

take a deep breath.

look at him.

and the warmth you missed for all your teenage life, lights you up, beyond his frown, his gathering tears, his clear sadness, his warmth peeked through and stared straight at you.

you knew you had to go, leave before you couldn’t but where will you go?

how many times will you turn your back on yourself?

how many chances do you have left with jimin?

and will he ever take those chances the way you will?

“you’ll never like me, jimin,” you start, unwilling but forcing yourself to pull through, he opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off, “you’ll never like me as much as i like you.”

and his mouth falls shut.

“and i’ll always know that, i’ll always know that you like me less than i like you, that you hated me at a time when i would’ve done anything for you, and by some miracle, it’s changed now, you might like me but never as much as i like you, my past of loving you as a kid, will always haunt me, and your rejection then will always hurt me,” you have tears dripping down your chin by the time you’ve finished and you know it will only pain you more if you look at him so, you stare at your lap.

you wait for him to get off, to go away, to finally understand why you two would never work out.

“so, please let’s leave this be, i’ll continue to bring sunoo around for arin, we can be civil for them but whatever this is, i can’t do it, not with you,” you whisper, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear but he stays eerily still, staring into nothing and you wonder if he didn’t hear you.

“jimin, can you-“

“what about me?”

“now you’re just being childish,” your anger rises again.

“no, i never got the chance to explain my side at all, what if i like you more? what if i liked you way before you did?” your heart stops in your throat at his words but you shake it off, “this isn’t a competition, jimin!”

“fine, then this should just be a casual question, when did you start liking me? in school, when did it start?”

“seriously? what are you trying to prove here?” you turn to fully face him with a scowl.

“just tell me.” he sits just as rigid, just as fed up, and it only irritates you even more but your face goes red nonetheless at the memory, “ball room scene, dance practice.”

“i liked you when you gave me the script,” and you want to look away, ignore all of what he says but you only lean in further and he leans in too as if letting you in on a secret that no one else knows, “i remember exactly how stomach-bottoming it felt, how scared i was because i thought you would never like me back.”

“really?” you’re leaning in even closer, so much more desperate to every other secret of his.

“really, and i’m not saying this because it’s a competition, i’m saying this because i couldn’t then, i didn’t have the courage, i liked you so much that the thought of you rejecting me, it would’ve killed me,” he laughs, both amused and horrified at the truth spilling out from his lips, but you see the fear too, the restrain in his breath, and it makes your own shoulders fall.

“then why did you act so annoyed whenever someone teased you?” you whisper again, embarrassed to ask the question because it made you feel like a kid again, the same kid who hid her feelings to make sure that he wasn’t inconvenienced by your heart.

he drops his head in quiet laughter, “imagine you like this person so much that your whole body fails you, and there’s some idiots making it even harder for me to look you in the eye,” he looks up at you as he says it and your spine weakens to fall on the seat behind you, every word of his puncturing itself into your heart.

jimin copied your movements and fell back too, sighing out, “i also knew how annoying it could be for you so i thought if i acted like that for a while, they would forget but fuck, they were persistent. honestly, i thought you would figure it out because of them.”

“figure out what?” you are breathless by the time the question escapes you.

“your crush was never one-sided, y/n, but mine was, at least for a little while.” you blush, not knowing what to do with your face anymore, you didn’t know if you were smiling or frozen or frowning but the numbness, the blind excitement left you gasping.

and jimin purses his lips, “i might’ve been this bright kid who talked to everyone then, but none of that helped me when it came to you, it was like every bit of confidence i had fell from me when i was around you and it was alarming, you know, it was so fucking scary to feel so different because of one person.”

and there it was.

the confirmation.

that he was different with you, that he too lost his head with you.

“what about later? when we met again?”

“oh that, i was trying to be cool, it didn’t work, right?” he winced and you couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of you, “nope, not at all.” and jimin bangs his head against the headrest and you sit there, smiling.

it was strange, the elation and frustration you felt, it was strange to sit next to jimin and hear the words from him that you’ve waited for forever.

but you won’t hold that over him anymore and you were done burying your heart.

“i like you,” you say, twisting to face him and he smiles, not bothering to hide it, “a lot, jimin, i liked you then, i like you now, a lot and i’m scared.”

he leans forward to take one of your hands into his palms, you melt your fingers into his skin, and he speaks with a smile and with the world’s confidence and fear, “i like you, i’m sure that like is love too, it’s always been there and i’m scared too.”

“but i like you and i’ll continue to do that while i’m scared.” and any worry you had, flies out the window.

you feel brave.

you feel like you could fly and never see the ground again.

you stare at him for a minute or two, until his face is in your head like it’s your own face and you cross the barrier, in this case, the handbrake in your car to climb into his lap and you shiver when he buries his face into your neck.

you loved him when you didn’t know what it meant, and jimin loved you before he ever knew his heart could feel so much.

and that was enough for you to smile into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his neck.

“i’ll do the same, jimin.”

jimin felt heavy with the love in his heart, with his arms on your waist, with his fingertips touching your skin, he felt overwhelmed, a bit crazy, and definitely scared out of his mind.

this was it.

the performance.

after today, you probably wouldn’t even look at him again, he’ll probably be just another guy who sees you walk down the hallway.

he knows when this funny feeling in his heart started, you had passed him the script and walked right past him to teach someone else how to do their scenes, and instantly he saw you, he saw nothing but you.

being the loser he was, he messed up any scene he could so that you could walk over, glare at him, and then, help him endlessly, help him until he was perfect (which he already was).

and he was alone in that pathetic-ness, alone in that feeling until one day, you looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky and he didn’t know what to do with himself since that day.

but he had you in his arms, he had you in front of him, he had you in every moment of being on the stage and he knows he can’t just get off.

“and…cut!” jimin deflates, his arms that were so sure of holding you, weaken and fall from you.

then, the lights die and his confidence dies, and he feels ashamed of himself, so much so that he leaves the stage immediately.

he hears the cheers, the screams, the applause but none of that matters when the words he’s wanted to say die inside of him.

but he stops below the stage, looks up to see you hugging everyone on the stage, and hates himself a little but charges forward.

he would love you from afar.

but he would continue to love you.

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byuljoonie · 1 year ago

Note

Give me possessive koo smut 😇

pairing: dom!jk x fem!reader

genre: smut, drabble, request, unedited

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, drinking, lots of swearing, oral 4f, overstimulation, mocking, couch sëx, rough missionary, unsafe sëx, degradation, biting, slapping, squirting, bruising, hair pulling, dom!jk, sub!reader, a little toxicity, idk Sunday fun day ig

note: hope it’s to your liking♡ -dubu

“Unlock your phone.” Jungkook’s eyes pour into yours as he waits for your compliance.

“What?” you question, aggravated by his unnecessary interest in your coworkers.

“Open it, Y/N.” he insists, leaning back onto the sofa cushion, pressing the cold rectangle into your palm.

“Babe, seriously?” you whine, searching his eyes for a hint of playfulness, finding nothing but an ocean of severity.

You were having a conversation about work, letting your boyfriend know of your upcoming schedule and activities. You accidentally let the name of your project partner slip through your wine-coated lips.

Jungkook’s ears perked up at the ring of a masculine sounding name. You stare at him in defeat, taking the phone from his hand with a pitiful sigh.

“I haven’t even texted him yet, for Christ sakes Jungkook!” you say exasperated.

“Yet.” he replied matter-of-factually.

“It’s not like I chose to work with him, Koo.” you exclaimed dramatically, unlocking your phone and going to his saved contact.

You felt this antagonizing creature clawing at your tender insides for momentary satisfaction. Why did you let the wine talk before your instincts? Jungkook isn’t exactly the kindest when it comes to other men around you.

He wasn’t controlling, but his possessiveness was like an amplified speaker to anyone who even thought of sparing you a second glance.

You hated to admit it, but it was hot. The veins on his tattoo covered arms bulged with a vengeance. Each intricate pattern defining his Herculean figure.

The white T-shirt not leaving much to the imagination, your eyes lingered on his pierced lips as you passed the phone over. Earning a hum of approval from him, he tapped away on your phone.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You already follow him on Instagram?” he rhetorically asked, a mound of annoyance behind his darkening pupils.

“I follow all of my coworkers, Kookie.” you complained hesitantly, downing the rest of the red liquid that swirled in your large Burgundy glass.

“Listen, I don’t want you working with him. Simple.” he admitted, pressing the unfollow button on Hoseok’s profile.

You were beyond infuriated, you snatched your phone back pressing the follow button in an instant. Not thinking about the consequences that follow your instinctual actions. Jungkook chuckled at your sudden burst of anger.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Y/N?” he grabbed the phone from your hand, tossing it to the plush rug, letting it slide beneath your glass coffee table.

The wine made you drunk with rage, the other part of you craving a deeper need from your hellish boyfriend. Jungkook rose from his spot on the sofa, grabbing your neck and pinning you below him. He enjoyed the feeling of your palpitating heartbeat on his fingertips.

“Baby—“ you struggled to speak, legs clasping around his knee that rest atop your unclothed hips. Bad day to only wear his shirt, you thought to yourself.

“Shut up.” he glared down at you, putting pressure between your legs.

“Since you want to act like a pathetic slut —“ he pressed his knee down harder, rubbing your clothed pussy agonizingly slow.

“I’ll treat you accordingly.” he let your neck go finally, being met with a few strained coughs from you. You had no time to react, his shirt was being pulled from your body. Your head swimming with anticipation and thoughts of Jungkook’s defilement.

You felt dizzy and exposed to the harsh temperatures of your once comfortable living room. Jungkook watched you writhing under him, a predatory smile lingering on his soft face.

“You think it’s okay to let him spend time alone with you?” he grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks between his large hand.

“Looking at you, speaking to you, touching you.” he peered over your naked body once more, eyes lingering on your bare chest, his free hand stopping above your panty line.

“All this —“ he began lustfully, “ is mine.”

He ripped your panties from your lower half, causing you to scream in frustration, fighting against his muscular arm. He let your face go, delivering 3 small slaps to your cheek. Putting you in check before he had to let whatever caged animalistic intentions loose.

“I’ve had enough of your resistance, Princess.” he whispered hotly in your ear, biting your earlobe before moving to the next ear.

“I can smell how wet you are from here, Y/N.” he bit down again, sending you into a frenzy of pathetic whimpers.

“Your cunt is crying for my attention, but you want to play with some loser?” he questioned cockily, rubbing his bare palm over your soaking pussy.

You moaned his name in retaliation, hips rutting upwards against his calloused hand. He laughed at your feeble attempts at gaining friction, pulling his hand away.

“I’m going to ruin you right here, baby.” A smirk tugged at his lips, he leaned back on the couch. Grabbing his glass from the table and downing what once was at half full capacity.

He sucked in a small breath, biting his bottom lip before turning back to you. Pulling his shirt over his head and revealing everything your eyes have been waiting for.

“I want to leave a trace of me on every inch of your body.” He stood up from his seated position, stalking over you like this was his last chance to consume you.

He yanked your ankles towards him, turning your body to face him like you were praying beneath him. Your legs hung carelessly over the edge of the couch, too dizzy to hold them up for your waiting beast. He smiled down at you in admiration, loving how ruined you already looked beneath him. Pussy leaking onto the sofa cushion, legs sprawled open for him.

“Look at you — so fucking gorgeous” he gleamed, kneeling in front of your body. He ran a hand over your stomach, letting his inquisitive fingers explore your skin.

“Fucking love your tits, Princess.” he leaned down beginning his assault on your chest, licking and sucking at your nipple like a love drunken mad man.

“More — please Kookie,” you begged, arms resting on his back, nails scratching in intricate motions. He hummed against your nipple, tongue circling the bud feverishly.

He pulled away with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down his chin. “No one’s mouth will ever feel as good as mine.”

He started kissing down the center of your chest, occasionally leaving love marks on your memorized sensitive spots. He stopped just above your panty line, loving the way your breath hitched in your throat.

He went in with a wink, tongue lapping at your exposed sensitive skin. His tongue searched your core for unanswered questions, gripping at your hips with every moan you released. He slurped against your clit letting lewd noises drown out the sound of the crackling fireplace. He released one of your hips, bringing his hand down to open your lips. Exposing your clit to the invading muscle, he latched his lips around the bundle of nerves. You screamed in pleasure clasping your shaking legs around his head.

He removed his lips from your pussy, mouth shining with your essence. He worked two fingers over your clit, sliding them down until they hovered over your entrance. He grinned down at you before he inserted them, fingering you fiercely.

“Aww, who makes you feel this good? Hmm Y/N?” He cooed happily, “Who’s pussy is this?” He mewled, setting his fingers into a come hither motion.

“Y-yours—“ you cried out desperately, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

He used his free hand to slap your clit repeatedly, sending you into a crying mess. Your legs closed around his arm, body writhing against his unmoving fingers. He pulled you closer and closer to your orgasm, biting his lip in concentration, relishing in the sounds you were making for him.

“Cum, baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck the soul out of you.” he confessed sweetly, sickeningly sweet. You groaned at his words, letting the knot in your stomach burst. You felt stars cloud your vision as his fingers continued their actions.

He used his free hand to slap your pussy again, smiling at the way you cried out for him to stop. He kept going, moaning at your cunt clenching repeatedly around his fingers.

“Koo, please” you implored weakly, hiccuping along with a string of moans.

“Please what? Stop?” he questioned teasingly, “No.”

You felt another knot forming in your lower stomach, his fingers edging you closer to a stronger orgasm. Your stomach felt funny, it felt different, like a new sensation of pleasure was pushing through.

His urged you to cum, his fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. With a few last pumps, you felt yourself release on his fingers, screaming his name in shock. You stomach twitched continuously, opening your eyes to see the aftermath of what just happened.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s lower face glistening with your mess, his pupils dilated and hungry for more. You felt your cheeks grow warm, not knowing what to say next, you’ve never done that before.

“Naughty girl, why’ve you never squirted like that before? Guess I should do better, huh?” He rose from his position on the floor, giving you a second to catch your breath while he removed his shorts.

His cock sprung free from its restraints, mushroom head aggressively leaking with pre-cum. “I want you to take this dick like the slut that you are,” he pumped his hand around his length, moaning at the way you lasciviously looked at him.

He lowered himself down until he was level with your center, rubbing the tip against your sticky folds. You granted him a pitiful whine, biting the corner of your swollen lip as you watched him rub against you.

“Use your words, Y/N. I won’t hold back unless you say it,” he probed, restraining himself from slamming his hips forward. You lay quietly looking him in his eyes, daring him to take you.

“Fuck —“ he pushed into you gradually, “squeeze my dick just like that,” he groans fingers pressing heavily into your hips.

“So big, just want you,” you moaned at him, pussy clenching around his cock again. He pulled away slowly, ramming back into your hips with brute force. His balls lewdly slapping against your skin as he fucked you into the sofa. He picked up his pace, rhythmically filling the room with grunts. He reached forward taking a hold of your hair and yanked your head back, biting your exposed neck. A light sheen a sweat coated your hot skin, beads of sweat running down your cheeks as he fucked you. The living room rang with filthy words of mocking betrayal and faux empathy for your overstimulated figure.

He pressed a hand down on your lower stomach, eyes nearly bulging from his head at the feeling of his cock invading your insides. His actions made your breathing increase, hiccuping over his name. His face contorting in immense pleasure as he demanded you repeat after him.

“Say it. Tell me you love me while you take this dick, Y/N.” you felt your hips aching, knowing marks already began forming on your body.

“I love you Jungkook—“ you cried out obediently, pussy convulsing around his stilled cock. Your orgasms rushing through your bodies. You shivered at the empty feeling you felt when he removed himself. He leaned down pressing a kiss on your neck, wiping some of the sweat from your foreheads.

“I love you too.” he smiled boyishly, breathing heavy and warm on your neck. “I’m taking you to work all next week, babe.”

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katnisspeetaprim · 2 years ago

Text

Always, Us (Suchwita)

Min Yoongi/FemIdol!Reader Requests open!

Warnings: Established relationship, discussion of pregnancy and marriage, idol!au

Word Count: 1506 M.list

‘Today on suchwita, we have someone people have wanted for a long while.’ Yoongi addressed the cameras as you stood at the side, excitedly waiting for your cue. Since Yoongi started his show, fans had wanted you to make an appearance, but there was never a good enough reason for you to appear until now. You don’t know if the reason fans wanted you here because they genuinely liked you, or if they just wanted to be nosey about your relationship now that it was public. Either way, you were happy to do this for Yoongi.

‘It’s Y/N of the group Prima.’ He stood from his seat and welcomed you with a bow, before pulling your chair out for you. You feigned shock as you sat down.

‘This is how you know cameras are around. He’s acting like a gentleman.’

‘YAH! Don’t say that!’ He snorted with a laugh as he sat down opposite you. ‘I’m always kind.’

‘Sure if you say so.’

‘I’m sure you noticed I got your favourite alcohol here. I’ll keep it for myself if you carry on.’ He smirked, gesturing to the various colourful bottles on the table.

‘You wanna play that game?’ You challenged, leaning forwards with a smirk to match his own. Yoongi relented, leaning back and waving his hands with a smile.

‘Ok, we’re getting off topic and we haven’t even started yet.’ You also relaxed, but you knew you had won that round.

‘As I was aying, this is your favourite. Let me pour you a glass.’ You held out your glass and thanked him as he poured.

‘People have been curious about us since we went public right?’ You asked, getting right into why you were there.

‘Yes.’ He agreed, drinking from his own glass. ‘How did it feel for you to finally be open after having to hide it for so long?’ Yoongi had given you a brief run down of the kind of questions that would be asked the night before, so that you could prepare, though you didn’t want to just write and memorise a script, especially when it came to your love life. You wanted your words to be as natural as possible.

‘It felt good to not have to sneak around. I know you were relieved too.’ Yoongi nodded in agreement.

‘It made me feel like we were a couple of horny teenagers sneaking out at night.’ He laughed.

‘Oh yeah you’re right! But looking back I don’t know why we hid it so long. People have been shipping us since we first met pretty much.’ You smiled warmly, thinking back to when you posted a picture of yourself and a young trainee Yoongi onto your groups twitter account. Yoongi wasn’t well know back then, but your fans were curious about your connection to the young trainee.

‘Do you remember how we met?’ Yoongi asked, smoothly moving the conversation along. You didn’t answer right away. You looked down as a subtle blush spread across your cheeks as you thought of the memory.

‘Why are you blushing? Don’t get shy now!’ Yoongi laughed as he called you out.

‘Shut up.’ You mumbled, all in good fun.

‘Ok. I was late for rehearsal and I ended up barging into your guys room by accident.’ You cringe at that part. ‘ You all stared at me and I was so embarrassed, but you also offended me that day!!’ Yoongi raised his eyebrows questioningly. Had he really?

‘Yes!’ You exclaimed, making him a little nervous. ‘You didn’t know who I was! Even though I debuted like 2 years before that!’ Yoongi sighed in relief and rolled his eyes.

‘I told you before! I didn’t know many current groups back then! I was too busy trying to debut myself.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ You crossed your arms with a pout.

‘Why are you pressed about that still? It was over a decade ago!’

‘That’s not the point! I’m your senior so you should respect me!’ Yoongi choked out and exasperated laugh, before he addressed the crew.

‘do you see what I deal with on a daily basis?’

‘You see! This is what I mean.’ You laughed whilst gesturing towards him. ‘No respect...’ Yoongi shook his head, laughing at the interaction.

‘You know, my mom keeps asking me when we’re going to give her grand kids.’ You froze and internally cursed him for bringing up this topic. It’s not like you don’t want babies with him, it just never felt like the right time to try. Especially now with his military service coming up...

‘I always thought we’d try after your enlistment, but we never really discussed it....’ You confessed, feeling the energy of the room die slightly. You saw Yoongi’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your answer, but he covered it up by rubbing his face.

You weren’t lying when you said it hadn’t been talked about, so your answer definitely caught him off guard.

‘We also need to find time for a wedding.’ He played it off cooly, trying to move on with a joke. You frowned to yourself. His reaction was strange. This definitely needed more investigating.

The remainder of filming flew by. You’d managed to avoid any more awkwardness after that and put on a good show. You were fairly certain that part would be cut anyway. It may have been a little too personal to bring it up in that way in hindsight....

‘So, do you want to talk about what you said?’ Both you and Yoongi were sat in his car in the parking lot. You could get a lift from the company driver, but Yoongi proffered the freedom of being able to drive himself. ‘About having kids?’ He looked over to you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Looking down at your hands in your lap, you began to speak.

‘I meant what I said. I want kids with you, but I ... also don’t want to give up my career...’ You trailed off. He sucked in a breath at your words, but stayed silent. ‘I just said that about your enlistment because I didn’t know what else to say.’ You sniffled slightly, but you were determined to not get upset. Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your thigh and leaned across the console.

‘Hey. You won’t loose your career. You really think Bang PD would let you go after all these years?’ He spoke soothingly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop a few tears escaping your eyes.

‘I know it’s stupid to think this way but-‘ Yoongi quickly shook his head.

‘Don’t talk like that. If you’re upset it’s not stupid, ok?’ He had now moved his hand to the back of your neck, rubbing calming circles into your skin. You slowly looked up at him to see him giving you a reassuring smile. You were unable to stop yourself from reaching up and pulling him into a hug, or as much as you could manage with the gear box between you.

‘I’m sorry I got upset.’ You mumbled into his neck. He craned his neck to place a kiss on the side of your head.

‘Nothing to be sorry for.’ You both stayed like that for a few relaxing moment as you calmed down. Pulling back, you wiped at your eyes before quickly pecking his lips.

‘We need to talk properly at some point, but right now I need you to take me home so I can stuff my face with ice cream.’ Yoongi broke out into his iconic gummy smile as he stared at you.

‘You must be feeling better if you can crack jokes. Now put your seatbelt on woman.’ Yoongi pulled out of the parking lot and started the journey home. You both sat in comfortable silence, only the sounds of the quiet radio played in the car. You thought back to the filming, when you suddenly remembered something he so casually said during the interview.

‘So...’ He glanced at you briefly, before looking back to the road. ‘What was that about a wedding?’ You smirked when he choked on his own spit and clearing his throat.

‘Ah yeah. That...’

‘You haven’t even proposed to me.’ You teased, hoping he might get a hint. Yoongi fully looked at you when he pulled up to a traffic light, smile tugging at his lips.

‘Do you want me to?’

‘I certainly wouldn’t be oppose to the idea!’ You both sent coy smiles to each other and that was that. Conversation over.’ The two of you didn’t need to get married to know you loved each other, but having said that...

And thus, a few weeks later, Korea woke to the news that you and Yoongi had secretly eloped and made your marriage official.

You had a lot of explaining to do to your parents, but you got out of it by promising that you would have a ‘proper’ ceremony at a later date. For now though, you were both content with how things were.

#bts #bts x reader #imagine #one shot #scenario #drabble #reaction #smut #angst #fluff #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #idol!au #Request

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thatgoddamngingerundercut · 9 months ago

Text

‘Butter’ Jacket Shoot Sketch Day Three - Jimin

#bts #park jimin #jimin #bts jimin #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts gifs #btsedit #my gifs #his sweet lil face in the first one like shut UP #he gets more screentime in the group shots but i haven't sorted those yet #and like i probably should have so that i would have more individual gifs #but like he got SO MANY on day two so it's fine #his lil overalls tho jesus christ

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vanillakook · 5 months ago

Text

MASTERLIST⋅୨✧୧

Drabbles

munch - jjk nsfw

the roommate - jjk nsfw

One shots

the boy is mine - jjk nsfw

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jungshookz · 1 year ago

Text

y/n doesn't know how to be petty & jealousy is not a good look on jimin

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader // balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n

➺ genre; balletteacher!jiminiverse!! i think there’s a fairly good balance of honk honk humour and angst and fluff in here but i could be wrong!! seulgi (once again) is a pot-stirrer and you can either love her or hate her for it!! jungkook’s cute and is a really good dance partner!!

➺ wordcount; 12.1k

➺ summary; surprisingly enough, both y/n and jimin are great at acting unaffected by their devastating breakup — it’s only when they’re reunited two weeks later in class that their nonchalant, callous composures begins to crack.

➺ what to expect; “i just think the respectable move is to wait until we’re done learning, mr. park. or would you like to continue wasting everyone’s time by singling out jungkook and i just because you’re clearly in a sour mood for no reason and seem to be enjoying using us as your emotional punching bags?”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; need you now — lady antebellum

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

the feeling of your phone buzzing rapidly against the mattress is the thing that rouses you from yet another restless night of sleep

you kept waking up every few hours and every time you woke up you’d be awake for at least another hour before dozing back off

you’re pretty sure you fell asleep close to six in the morning and according to the clock on your bed stand it’s already 1:30 but somehow you still feel so, so groggy despite getting seven and a bit hours of sleep

you peel an eye open reluctantly, staring at the bright vibrating rectangle for a few seconds before you drag your arm up lazily to grab it because something crazy must be happening if the group chat is chirping away like this

you’ve had your phone on do not disturb for the past week (except for the few times lisa clearly hit the ‘notify anyway’ button to get your attention) so you’ve kind of been out of the loop but being present and a functioning member of society isn’t exactly the first thing on your mind

people are right when they say time just melds together when you’re going through a breakup because you honest to god do not even know what day of the week it is

“okay, what’s going on…” you mutter to yourself, voice thick with sleep as you roll over onto your back and bring your phone up to your face to unlock it

it takes you a couple of tries to get into your phone because of how bright the screen is and you curse before resorting to typing in your passcode with fumbling fingers instead

you haven’t been on your phone too much because… well, you’ve just not really been in the mood to do anything but rot in bed all day with the curtains drawn — and not to mention, every time you’re on your phone you’re just waiting for a text or a call or literally anything from jimin but unsurprisingly it’s been complete silence on his end

you’ve mostly been ordering takeout and also you’re pretty sure you went the whole day without drinking water yesterday, so all in all, it doesn’t seem like you’re handling this very well

what makes things worse is that you have class today and it’ll be approximately a week since you last saw jimin and the two of you officially ended things and seven days is simply not enough recovery time — you haven’t even accepted the fact that you can no longer call him your boyfriend and that you have to call him your ex-boyfriend now (and teacher, but it’s not like that’s anything new)

i think we should end things permanently, because i want to be in a real relationship instead of whatever the fuck this has been.

jimin’s words ring loudly in your head and you feel your eyes starting to well with tears for the trillionth time in a row as you mindlessly scroll through all the notifications that have been marinating on your phone for the past seven days

the only thing you’ve been able to focus on is replaying that last conversation with jimin in your head and it’s driving you up the wall

i never said i was ashamed to be with you, jimin.

you never had to say it for me to see it.

“god…” you mutter, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in a poor attempt to stop the tears from flowing

you haven’t been able to stop thinking about jimin and what makes it harder is the fact that you can’t talk about this with anyone without exposing yourself and jimin

and as much as you love lisa, you know that if you told her she would of course be concerned about you but would also have a million questions for you and you’re just not in the mood for an interview at the moment

another thing you’ve been thinking a lot about is what would’ve happened if you grabbed the phone and called lisa when jimin told you to call your friends and tell them the truth

would he have stayed?

was that really the proof that he needed to show him that you wanted to be with him?

would that have fixed everything?

you’d still have to hide your relationship — the only difference that telling your friends would make is that mr. park would be accused of playing favourites and knowing a few of the chatterboxes in class, word would spread very fast and it probably wouldn’t take long until you get an email from the dean asking you and jimin to come and speak to him

and then either jimin would get fired or you’d be expelled and both those options sound like hell

with that being said, wasn’t it an incredibly unfair move on jimin’s part to ask you to do that for him?

what if you’d asked him to call the dean to tell him that you two were together?

given the circumstances, wouldn’t jimin be hesitant to do it as well???

well, you suppose in your scenario it’s a little less high stakes because you’d just be telling a close friend, but still… you did the right thing, didn’t you?

it was irresponsible of both you and jimin to enter into a romantic relationship when you guys are teacher and student, and you had to put an end to it before the truth eventually came out and tore the two of you apart

this was the right thing to do

now jimin can continue teaching, and you can continue learning at this very prestigious dance academy that you worked very hard to get into

plus mom and dad would probably kill you if you got expelled over something as scandalous as this

sometimes doing the right thing feels bad! and it’s okay that you feel very, very bad at the moment, because feeling bad is just a normal part of the human experience.

you let out a huff of frustration, rolling onto your back as you look up at the ceiling

…but how do you know if you did the right thing or not?

you let out a slow exhale, shaking your head as you bring your phone back up to look through all your texts

you can’t help but wince a little looking through all your missed notifications throughout the week

most of your texts are from lisa and you know she’s going to want some kind of an explanation of your disappearance

from: lisa [wednesday 9:08am] — are you okay? barely heard from you all week

from: lisa [thursday 6:23 pm] — ??

from: lisa [friday 10:32am] — y/n

from: lisa [friday 11:02am] — helloooooo some kind of indication you are alive please

from: lisa [friday 8:14pm] — okay well you’re still sending me tiktoks so ik you’re alive

your thumb goes tired from scrolling through all of lisa’s texts and you finally reach the end to see that she texted you a few minutes ago

from: lisa [1:22pm] — are you coming to class today?

your fingers pause slightly as you think about how to respond and how to act casually about the fact that you’ve been a ghost for the last week

to: lisa [1:34pm] — yes!! i’m coming

to: lisa [1:34pm] — SORRY i haven’t been responding to your texts, social battery’s been weirdly low and feeling blegh bc period but i’ll see you today mwahaha

unsurprisingly, lisa doesn’t take too long to respond because she’s always on her phone and it’s never on do not disturb-

from: lisa [1:35pm] — hmmmm okayyy hope you’re feeling a little better at least? just glad ur alive! i’ll see u later ALSO read the group chat bc omg i’m dead

from: lisa [1:35pm] — mr. park

your stomach dips a little in anxiety at the mention of mr. park because the point of looking through your texts was to distract yourself from any thoughts of jimin, but then again, why are you surprised? the girls are obsessed with him and he’s always a hot topic in the group chat

one time he showed up to class wearing a pair of jeans that made his butt look really good and it was a topic in the group chat for like a week and a half straight

you switch over to look through the group chat, scrolling up the literal hundreds of texts until you get to what’s clearly the meat of the conversation

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — You guys aren’t going to believe what I heard

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — Rmb how I said I’m pretty sure Miss Im and Mr Park are like meant to be

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — Apparently they were out on a date this weekend

lisa [best ballerinas 🤍] — wtffff NO WAYYY wait where’d u hear it from

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — One of the guys from Miss Im’s class

seulgi [best ballerinas 🤍] — He slid into my DMs after their performance 💅🏼 as he should 💅🏼 and then we were texting for a bit and he just told me that he saw them walking around downtown together lmfaooooo I totally called it

you don’t even bother reading the rest of the messages but through your frantic scrolling you manage to catch a message from seulgi teasing you directly about losing your precious mr. park and- “oh, just give me a break!” you groan obnoxiously, tossing your phone aside before flipping onto your stomach and letting out a muffled scream into your pillow

great!

good for them!

good for jimin, good for nayeon, good for the happy couple! you’ll have to make sure to ask jimin if you’re allowed to bring a plus-one to their wedding and what colour they want to paint the nursery for the child they’re going to have who’ll undoubtedly be the cutest baby on the goddamn planet-

the thought of playing hooky and calling in sick so you don’t have to go to class crosses your mind briefly, but then you remember that in order to do that, you’d have to call mr. park to let him know (one time, lisa asked jisoo if she could let him know that she wouldn’t be in class because of a bad cold, and both lisa and jisoo ended up getting mildly scolded because why are you asking your classmate to talk to me for you, and why are you talking to me on behalf of your classmate?) and needless to say, the last thing you need is to talk to jimin and pretend like the only problem you have is that you’re not feeling well and you don’t think you can come to class today

and not to mention, with this new piece of information of him and miss im going out on a date over the weekend, you don’t want him thinking that he won the breakup because you’re so heartbroken that the only thing you can do in stay in bed and cry (even though technically that’s what you’ve been doing all weekend, but whatever) — as heartbroken as you are, you’re just as stubborn so you will be going to class and you’re going to try your absolute best to keep it together… you have to.

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

jimin splutters after splashing icy, ball-shrivelling cold water onto his face, blindly fumbling for the towel in his duffle bag before using it to pat himself off

he looks at himself in the mirror, leaning closer and reaching up with a finger to pull at the bags under his eyes

the last time he had bags this bad was when he would stay up all night rehearsing for his own exams

there’s not enough concealer in the world to hide the bags he has now

needless to say, this breakup has completely destroyed him and this is the first time he actually has no idea to conduct himself after ending things with someone

he’s had flings and short relationships all throughout high school, undergrad, and even at the academy, and it usually only takes him a few weeks to fully flush his ex out of his system, but he can already tell that this breakup is nothing compared to those ones

sure, he was sad after his breakup with nayeon and couldn’t even force himself to get over her for much longer than he’d anticipated, but that was then and this is now — and now, he can fully say that the breakup with you is one of the most devastating things to ever have happened to him

he’s been so out of it all week that he even ordered pizza for himself on friday night instead of digging into his usual meal of [insert choice of lean protein here], roasted vegetables and brown rice… a family sized pizza

a family sized pizza!!! a pizza for an entire family!!

the only time he went out this week was saturday afternoon when nayeon texted him to ask him if he wanted to go out for coffee and also to discuss what they wanted to do for their conjoined class today

and to be honest, jimin barely remembers what they talked about that day and he’s hoping that nayeon will carry them both through today’s class because mr. park is just not mentally here at the moment

to be honest he’d kind of been dreading coming to class (can you blame him?) and he considered calling in sick and cancelling class today, but if he cancelled today, that’d mean he’d have to have an extra makeup class next week and- well, he can’t avoid seeing you forever

it’s just that he doesn’t even know if he can look you in the eye after you basically showed him that you don’t want to be with him

it’s embarrassing

he’s heartbroken and humiliated and hurt and you’re basically the only thing that’s been on his mind this whole week

admittedly it was a little selfish of him to demand you to call your friends to tell them that you were dating him

it was an unfair move on his part and he knows he acted out of emotion, but… well, he just wished that you fought harder to keep him, that’s all

and it’s true that he always felt like you were slightly embarrassed to be with him — he was never afraid to hold your hand in public and act like a normal couple but it was always a little upsetting to turn and see you cowering down or hiding behind a pair of sunglasses or baseball hat or something to conceal your identity

he knows that you only did it to protect the both of you from being exposed, but you didn’t have to hide yourself all the time

you guys couldn’t even go to restaurants without you quietly requesting for a table at the very back to avoid being seen by anyone passing by

maybe this breakup was for the best, now that he’s had a week to think about it…

sure, his relationship with you was one of the best he’s ever had and he’s pretty sure he’s head over heels in love with you and would 100% say it back if you said it to him, but hey! he’ll get over it one day

you’re his student, he’s your teacher — it was inappropriate from the start and it was irresponsible of him to pursue anything with you, so this breakup was a good thing

it never would’ve worked out in the end, and it’s better that it ended sooner or later

this was just a lesson from the universe that he had to learn, and yes, it was a very hard lesson, but he’s always been good at learning and he’s just going to take this as a sign to not get involved with another one of his students ever again!

it was silly of him to think that it would ever work out in the first place, anyway, so if anything, he should be able to move on and move on fast

easy peasy

“easy fuckin’ peasy.” jimin clears his throat quietly, running his damp fingers through his hair as he looks at his reflection in the mirror from side to side, “i’m park fuckin’ jimin. top of my class, aced all my exams, youngest and most sought after teacher at this academy,” he puffs his chest out slightly, nodding to himself as he feels his confidence coming back to him

he’s mr. park, he knows he’s hot shit!

he doesn’t need you to feel complete

he doesn’t need you at all

he hears the voice in his head let out a laugh of disbelief followed by an all-knowing alright, keep lying to yourself if this is how you’re planning on coping with this breakup and immediately shuts it out before bending down to grab his duffle bag, swinging it over his shoulder before putting a pair of thick-rimmed, square framed glasses on

he forget to order more of his contacts over the weekend so he’ll have to wear his stupid dorky ass glasses today (the memory of you telling him how much you love it when he wears his glasses flashes in his mind and he shuts it out as best as he can, but the thought of getting you flustered today in class with these glasses makes the corner of his mouth twitch in a cocky smirk.)

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“wow, look who’s alive!” you jolt in surprise when lisa slings an arm around you from behind, leaning her head against yours with a grin as the two of you continue walking towards the main doors, “period cramps are brutal this month, hey?”

“yeah, it’s been- ha, not great, you know how it is-“ you press your lips together in a tight smile as you pop your airpods back into the case so you can give your friend your full attention, “sorry i… barely texted you all throughout the week, i’ve just- um-“ you clear your throat quietly, pausing for a second to think about what excuse to give lisa

you feel awful for lying to her about all of this because you know that lisa would never be upset or angry with you and is only here to help you because she’s your friend, but still… the wound is a little fresh at the moment so lying will have to do

because if you rip this bandaid off right now and she gives you that sympathetic head tilt and shoulder droop and big sad eyes combo, you are 100% not going to be able to make it through this class without completely losing your mind and you are certainly not about to burst into tears in front of your classmates

“you’ve just what?” lisa nudges your side to get your attention and you look over at her, your mouth still hanging open with no fake excuse sitting on the tip of your tongue

you’ve never really been good at thinking of things on the spot

you’ve also never been good at lying so there’s that to consider as well

“i just… i don’t know! weird mood. one of those weeks, you know?” you shrug weakly, lisa’s brow raising slightly before she purses her head and nods slowly

“no, that’s okay! i was just worried about you, that’s all. but you… know you can talk to me about anything, right?” she holds the door open for you and you offer her a meek smile, swallowing the lump in your throat as the two of you head towards the changing rooms

“yeah, i know.” you respond quietly, choosing not to say anything else after that even though you know you’re acting very suspicious and you have a feeling lisa knows you’re hiding something from her

“you excited for class today?” she changes the subject swiftly and you immediately nod even though you have no idea what’s happening in class today, “i’ve been buzzing about it all week. miss im’s boys are so fine.”

“they’re- oh, we have the, uh- they’re coming to our class today, right? we’re, like, pairing up with them or something like that, right?” you clear your throat, opening your locker door up before sitting down on the bench to take your sneakers off, “yeah, they’re all very nice to look at. that jungkook guy is nice, i follow him on instagram.”

“oh, jungkook is- mmph-“ you can’t help but giggle when lisa bites her fist, “he’s more than very nice to look at. you should ask him out. he was making googly eyes at you at mr. park and miss. im’s performance.”

the reminder of that night immediately kills the vibe and you feel your mood drop, but you focus on taking your socks off instead of thinking about i think we should end things permanently, because i want to be in a real relationship instead of-

the sound of lisa’s locker door slamming shut snaps you out of it and you turn to see that she’s already fully dressed and ready to go with her water bottle in one hand and her phone in the other, “you want me to wait for you?”

“you can go in first! i’ll be a while, i-“ you look down at yourself and your sweatpants, letting out a breath because you’re already exhausted and changing into a leotard is no easy feat, “i still have to change and then i have to pee and stuff, but i’ll see you in there.”

as soon as lisa leaves, you feel yourself slump as you lean over with your elbows on your knees, your mind immediately spacing out

you are not mentally here right now and you don’t know how you’re about to go through a two hour class where the main thing you have to do is focus otherwise you get in trouble for it

“it’s a guy.”

you immediately perk up when you realise you aren’t alone and you turn to look over your shoulder, your brows knitting together in confusion as you blink up at seulgi before looking back down at your duffle bag quickly and pretending like you were in the middle of going through it, “what are you talking about? and how the hell did you get in here so quietly??”

“it’s a guy. am i right?” seulgi sighs, ignoring your second question (though you are genuinely curious how she managed to come in without you noticing, or maybe you’re just really really checked out that you didn’t notice her at all) and plopping herself down on the bench next to you before crossing one leg over the other and crossing her arms over her chest, “that’s why you’ve been acting so off all week.”

“what are you on about?” you snort, though you can’t help but think to yourself how true it is that women are very intuitive when it comes to pretty much anything but especially when it has something to do with men

and seulgi is the best at figuring things out — especially when it comes to things that are literally none of her business like this!

“you’ve been weirdly civil with me over text when you usually bite back with something.” she raises her chin slightly, her gaze never leaving your face, “you never just sit there and take it.”

your eyes flicker slightly and you find yourself unable to look seulgi in the eye for more than two seconds before looking away, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle when she gives you that one look that screams i’m not going to stop pestering you until you tell me what drama you’re swept up in

“what makes you think that me being civil has something to do with guy problems?” you blurt out, your cheeks starting to grow pink out of anxiety because now you know that seulgi’s onto you, “also, we rarely text and talk outside of class except for when we’re out with the other girls for brunch or something. why do you care about my texting style all of a sudden?”

“well, you didn’t deny anything.” seulgi points out, and your hand immediately freezes in your bag upon the realisation that yeah, you didn’t deny anything and seulgi is definitely onto you and is also definitely right because you definitely are going through guy problems right now

but how much can you trust seulgi? you haven’t even told lisa who is arguably your best friend in the class and also the entire world

“we aren’t friends, seulgi. you don’t have to pretend like you care.” you mutter, voice wavering slightly as your eyes begin to brim with tears because this is the first time someone’s asked you if you’re okay in person and clearly you’re an emotional wreck if seulgi is the one asking and it’s making your eyes tear up

keep it together, keep it together, keep it together, you remind yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you pull your leg warmers on and quickly reach up to wipe a rogue tear away before seulgi sees you crying

“so it is a guy.” seulgi hums, nodding her head to herself before clicking her teeth, “knew it. is it someone we know? was it a hookup? long time situationship? did he ghost you? have you been secretly dating someone this whole time and you just got dumped by them?”

all the blood drains from your face as you turn your head to look at seulgi with wide eyes (nearly snapping your neck in the progress), your lips parting before you quickly shut then and turn back to pull your slippers on

seulgi’s eyes widen before she blinks rapidly

no way

this whole time you’ve been dating someone?!

to be honest seulgi’s always thought you were a massive prude who would crumble at the sight of a couple holding hands in public so this is actually a pleasant surprise for her

“no fucking way!” seulgi delivers a harsh slap to your shoulder and you press your lips together, your eyes fluttering shut because fuck, the jig is up and now you have to confess to your sins to someone who cannot be farther away than good and holy, “oh my god. y/n y/l/n, you sneaky, sneaky girl. who?!”

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“are those new leg warmers?” lisa looks over at you as you stretch beside her, and you look down at your brand new (grey, with little thunderclouds on them) leg warmers before nodding, “yet another pair for your already extensive collection…”

“well, what can i say?” you chuckle, reaching down to smooth them down a little before shrugging, “i wasn’t gonna get them, but retail therapy always makes you feel better when you’re feeling like shit.” you blurt out, looking up slightly when you realise that saying retail therapy implies that something happened in which you need to make yourself feel better

…

“retail therapy? what on earth bugged you so much that you needed to buy something?” lisa snorts, pulling her hair up into a ponytail in the mirror

“probably just dealing with the fact that she knows she’ll never be as good of a dancer as i am.” seulgi butts in, letting out a sigh before shaking her head, “it’s okay, y/n. not all of us were meant for the stage.”

“thank you for the reminder, seulgi. you keep me humble.” you joke, giving her a soft smile and acknowledging her attempt at a distraction with a little nod — you ended up telling seulgi absolutely everything in the changing rooms (but not before triple checking that nobody was around to listen, because that would’ve been a disaster for sure) because… well, it was killing you having to hold everything in! and seulgi, believe it or not, was willing to lend an ear and actually listen for a change instead of blabbing her mouth off like the know it all she is

much to your surprise, seulgi told you that she wouldn’t tell anyone about this (to be perfectly honest, seulgi thinks it was kind of sick of you to break the rules and date your own teacher, because it’s very unlike y/n y/l/n to do something as taboo as that… she has a newfound sense of respect for you because she would probably also do the same thing if she was in your position because who in their right mind wouldn’t launch themselves full speed at the chance to date mr. park?? but she’ll never tell you that because she knows it would go to your head and you would try to become best friends with her and she’s pretty sure that your relationship works better when you’re frenemies who are constantly trying to one-up each other.)

“they’re a little… gloomier than what you usually get…” lisa giggles, reaching over to jab a finger into one of the thunderclouds, “still cute, though! and it matches the weather.” you turn to glance out the window, frowning at the sight of the dark grey clouds hanging in the air as the the windows tremble from the weight of chubby raindrops smacking against it rhythmically

the weather for the past week has been absolutely dreadful and definitely hasn’t made you feel any better, but you have to admit that it was kind of relaxing laying in bed all day listening to the sound of the rain

“well, the weather is shit, but what makes me feel better is knowing that in a few minutes this room is going to flooded in an ocean of hot testosterone-“ lisa wraps her arms around herself before shimmying her shoulders with a squeal, “aren’t you guys excited?! i don’t know why you aren’t more excited that we basically get a free pass to flirt with boys for the next two hours-“

“i’ve got my eye on seokjin,” ailee chimes in, “god, i would climb him like a goddamn tree.”

“you know who’s actually built like a tree? kim namjoon. you seen those thighs of his?”

“well, i’m gonna see if i can get paired with hoseok — i’ve seen him dance, he’s super good. he does hip-hop too, the man can do it all-“

“yoongi and i already spoke last time so i’m pretty sure we’re gonna hook up in class and also out of class-“

“you guys just stay away from taehyung, because i’ve been eyeing him for so long-“

“y/n, what about you?” you feel lisa nudge your back with her foot and you spin around on your bum to face the group, “well, i don’t think i need to ask you who you want to be paired up with.”

“you seem to be convinced that jungkook was making googly-moogly eyes at me but i’m telling you that he was just being friendly-“

“oh, well- yes, jungkook was definitely making googly-moogly eyes at you and i’m pretty sure he’s going to try to get paired up with you so don’t even worry about that- i was talking about mr. park!”

“wh- what?” your eyes widen slightly and you let out a nervous laugh, “i- what- what makes you think that i- why would i get paired up with mr. park?? that’s not even- that’s not even allowed, i don’t think a student is allowed to be paired up with a teacher for an exercise like this-”

“why are you getting all flustered??” lisa laughs, reaching over to pinch your thigh, “oh my god, i was just teasing you because of the fat crush you have on mr. park, i’m not actually saying you’re going to get paired up with him, dummy-“

“even if y/n was paired up with mr. park, she’d probably clomp all over his feet.” seulgi snorts, “besides, she- oh, shit-“ she immediately gets up and you turn to see jimin walk into the room, muscle memory forcing you up from the ground so you can stand with your feet in third position with your hands behind your back next to seulgi

you feel your heart racing in your chest as the familiar smell of his cologne wafts past you and you immediately look down when he walks past you

you just hope that no one can hear how hard your heart is pounding because you would’ve appreciated some kind of warning before jimin came into the room

you’re just going to keep your head down and stay in the back of the class for this lesson, and then you’re going to slip out with the girls at the end of class as quickly as you can

“good afternoon, ladies…” jimin greets lowly as he makes his way towards the front of the room, his voice slightly raspy from the complete lack of sleep he’s gotten

he drops his duffle bag on the ground as he looks out at the godawful weather, frowning slightly because no one’s responded to him and he thought he taught you guys better than that! it seems like two weeks without class has turned you girls a little sloppy…

“i said, good afternoon, ladies…” jimin tries again, emphasising his tone before turning around swiftly with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the counter with toned arms crossed over his chest, “what’s the matter, you guys forget your manners?”

“good afternoon, mr. park!” everyone fumbles to respond to his greeting, and you find yourself barely mumbling out a barely coherent ‘afternoon’ before continuing to stand in your spot obediently

“…alright, jesus, i don’t know what the hell that was-“ jimin scoffs, shaking his head with a mild expression of disgust on his face, “maybe it’s a good thing miss im and her students are coming over today so you can see how proper students are supposed to act!” he claps his hands together before reaching into his back pocket for his phone, “miss im will be leading the class today, i’m just gonna be hanging around the back as her co-teacher, but please do your best and try not to embarrass me in front of her students. she just texted me and let me know that she’ll be here on time, so just continue warming up until they get here…”

“someone woke up on the bitchy side of bed this morning. what do you think his problem is?” lisa mutters to you as the class disperses back into doing warm-up exercises, and you shrug with one shoulder and plop back down on the ground

“i bet i know.” seulgi snorts, and you shoot her a warning look before she smirks and sends a blowing kiss in your direction

you turn your head slightly to look over your shoulder, surprised to see jimin looking right at you before his eyes flicker and he quickly turns and looks down at his phone instead

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“now, the purpose of today’s class is just to familiarise yourself with dancing with a partner — after all, it’ll be one of the things you have to do during your exams at the end of the semester!” nayeon chirps, standing tall with her clipboard held close to her chest, “mr. park and i were dance partners, as you know… it’s also important to develop a bond with the person you’re partnered with. if there’s no bond, there’s no trust, no warmth, no chemistry, and all of that will be visible on stage through your dancing, so i cannot emphasise how important it is to really strengthen the connection you have with one another.”

“well, there’s more than one way to do that-“ taehyung mutters, the class breaking into a collection of snorts and giggles before going silent again when jimin gives them one of his signature unimpressed death glares

he’s barely spoken a word since nayeon and her boys came into the class ten minutes ago because that’s how mentally checked out he is

it’s actual torture having to be here with you standing across the room as if he doesn’t have a million questions lined up and ready to go

were you just lying when you said you loved him? did you know he was awake? did you do it on purpose to get him to become more attached to you??? did you date him so that you would be chosen for the nutcracker at the end of the year?!

he made brief eye contact with you earlier (he was staring at the back of your head and wasn’t expecting you to turn and look back at him) and he swore he was going to start tearing up when the two of you locked gazes which is why he had to look away so quickly

“i’ve paired you up randomly, so i’m just going to read your names off my list. when you hear your name, pair up with your partner and stand to the left side of the room and wait quietly until everyone’s been paired up,” nayeon clears her throat, looking down at her list, “lisa and taehyung, jisoo and seokjin, seulgi and namjoon…”

jimin resists the urge to blow his cheeks out and roll his eyes out of complete boredom as he stands next to nayeon with his arms behind his back, occasionally glancing down at her list to see how many people still have to be paired up

“-y/n and jungkook-“

he immediately perks up at the mention of your name, eyebrows furrowing when it’s followed by jungkook’s name because what the hell does nayeon mean by y/n and jungkook??

“oh, uh-“ jimin nudges nayeon’s arm, “you- you paired y/n up with jungkook? we, uh, did we… did we talk about that, or…?”

“what do you mean? i asked you if you had any preferences for partners and you told me to sort them out, don’t you remember?” nayeon whispers, using the tip of her pen to trace a line down her page before tapping right next to your name and jungkook’s name, “plus y/n’s clearly your strongest student, and jungkook is mine, so i’d like to see how they work together. i think they’ll work out quite well, they already seem to be pretty friendly with each other…”

“y/n and jungkook.”

you look up when you hear your name being called and you immediately look over at jungkook, offering him a shy smile when he beams and starts to make his way over to you

what a pleasant surprise!

you actually really like jungkook — sometimes he sends you memes on instagram or he’ll swipe up and respond to your stories, so the two of you have interacted more than a handful of times and you think he’s a pretty solid guy

and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t handsome (and it kind of gives you an ego boost knowing that he might have a teensy weensy crush on you)

“pst- make him jealous.” you hold back a yelp when seulgi suddenly burrows her fingers into your side and you turn to glare at her

“what?”

“make. him. jealous.” she enunciates through gritted teeth, eyes flickering over to jimin before she looks over at a smiley jungkook, “nothing wrong with being a little petty.”

“what- i’m not going to make him jealous, that’s not going to solve anything-“

“it won’t solve anything, but would it be so wrong to have a little fun to make yourself feel better?”

“seulgi, i don’t like being petty and- hi!” you turn your head and greet jungkook with a bright smile, letting out a chuckle afterwards, “nice to see you again.”

“likewise! i’m glad we got paired up.” he nods, standing a little closer to you as the two of you return your attention to the front where miss. im is in the middle of giving her tips for the girls

“try not to help your partner! you kinda just have to trust them — i know it’s very tempting because you know the combination and you know what step comes next, but the best thing to do is to just keep a strong core and focus on yourself! that way, your partner can- you know, kind of put you where you need to go. so, what we’re going to have you do for this exercise is, girls, you’ll make up a short combination, tell your partner what that is, and then immediately perform it on the spot.” miss. im turns to look at jimin, “so, mr. park, do you have any tips for the boys?”

“uh, i mean…” jimin purses his lips slightly, “use your palms, not your fingers. it wouldn’t feel good for your partner to have your fingers digging into their ribcages especially. also, you’ll be able to have more control when you’re using your palms instead of lifting with your fingers. just, uh… yeah, trust in your partner.” he nods, looking over at nayeon to signal that he has nothing more to add

god, he really is out of it today

“any volunteers?” nayeon purses her lips as she looks around the class, not surprised to see that majority of you are avoiding eye contact with her (it is pretty intimidating dancing with all of your peers looking at you and judging every move, but it’s something that all of you will have to do eventually), “alright, then i’ll have to choose, since no one is taking the initiative.” she chirps, smacking her palm flat against her clipboard before turning to look right over at you and jungkook, “jungkook, y/n — would you like to come up here and demonstrate for the rest of the class?”

you feel the hairs on your arm prickle in anxiety as you stand there for a second in silence, both you and jungkook exchanging glances before you turn back to look at miss im with a meek smile, “ah- yes, miss im.”

you were expecting everyone to break out and scatter around the room instead of immediately performing in front of the class, but you suppose everyone’s already warmed up and ready to go…

“bepetty.” seulgi coughs quietly, and you turn to see jungkook holding his hand out for you to take

“shall we?” he grins, clearly very confident in your guys’ ability to impress the whole class with your little routine, “don’t worry miss im, y/n and i will try our best not to completely amaze you with our routine, but no promises…” jungkook’s comment gets a couple of laughs and you giggle lightly before taking his hand and letting him lead you to the front

“that’s easy for you to say, i’m the one who has to come up with the routine-“ you add on, the corner of your mouth lifting in a knowing smirk when jungkook lets out a laugh and a nod

his hand feels quite warm in yours and your eyes widen a little when you feel his thumb rub over your skin soothingly

“do your best!” miss im smiles, flicking the main lights off and turning the spotlight ones on as you guys get to the front, “y/n, what combination will you two be demonstrating for your peers?”

ah, shit

“i….” you’ve never been good at thinking of things on the spot, and you can’t help but look over at jimin for a split second who seems to be shooting daggers right at jungkook as he stands leaning against the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his chest and his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek before he clears his throat quietly and rubs his lips together a couple of times

his eyes are lidded slightly and to be honest, if looks could kill, jungkook would be bleeding out on the floor right about now and you can’t help but feel a little pleased at the obvious fact that jimin doesn’t like that you were paired up with jungkook and definitely doesn’t like the fact that miss im chose you and jungkook to demonstrate in front of the class

“y/n?” jungkook elbows you slightly to get your attention and you clear your throat before standing up a little straighter, sorting through all the moves that you know and trying your best to come up with a quick routine on the spot

“oh! i, uh… okay, first, i’m gonna piqué attitude to the left, tombé… uh, double stepover, and then i’ll do… ah… i’ll do… échappé-echappe… passe-passe, i… suppose i’ll do a spin and then finish in arabesque?” you smile sheepishly, looking over at miss im and jimin for validation only to get a grunt from jimin and a pleased nod from miss im

that seems like a doable combination, right?

god, you hope so

lisa shoots you a thumbs up from the audience and you clear your throat quietly, taking a few steps back and waiting for your cue as miss im lowers the spotlights slightly

the last thing you see before the lights dim is jimin’s furrowed brows and clenched jaw and you press your lips together in order to suppress a grin

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

“wonderful job, you two. impeccable!” nayeon claps her hands gently along with the rest of the class, a proud smile on her face as she nudges jimin with her elbow, “see, what’d i tell you? the two of them fit together like two puzzle pieces, don’t you think?”

“yep.” jimin licks over his front teeth in irritation when he notices the way jungkook’s hand lingers on the small of your back (a little too low for his liking, and if he was grading jungkook for an exam he’d immediately dock off a point for hand placement alone) as the two of you bow/curtsey at the front to thank your classmates for the applause and he feels his blood beginning to boil when he sees the shy little smile on your face and the blush spreading across your cheeks when jungkook whispers something in your ear

what the fuck is he saying to you that’s making your cheeks red??

“you have something you want to share with the class, jungkook?” jimin blurts out right before he can even process that he’s blurted something out, his hand instinctively reaching over to smack the main lights back on

the light switching back on so suddenly makes a few of you flinch and you reach up instinctively to shield your eyes, a little puzzled by what the problem is

jimin is completely unbothered as he looks at jungkook and tilts his head, “well? if you can whisper it to y/n, you can share it with everyone.”

you and jungkook exchange glances of confusion

“oh, i-“ jungkook stands up a little taller and jimin can’t help but feel drunk on power because of how intimidated he looks right now, “i just said that she did a really good job, mr. park, that’s all. a-and that she looks very pretty when she’s focused.”

“interesting. well, i don’t think that’s a very appropriate comment to make to your peer,” jimin responds immediately, shaking his head before looking over at nayeon, “miss im, you need to control your hormonal students-“

“woah, my boys aren’t the hormonal ones here-“ nayeon scoffs, and jimin’s eyes widen in offence at the dig at you guys even though he technically made the first jab (and also, nayeon’s probably right about that because he’s seen the way you guys look at him and has also heard many of things said about him), “and it’s perfectly fine to compliment a peer! maybe keep the second half of your comment for after class, but don’t listen to grumpy mr. park, you two — again, great job, you can go back to your spots.”

awkward, scattered applause makes its way around the room as you and jungkook return to your spots, and lisa gives you a look that says “what was that??? we’re definitely talking about this later” to which you respond with a quick shrug as you pass by her

“okay…” miss im clears her throat quietly, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before flipping to the next page on her clipboard, jimin following close behind her as the two of them head back to the front of the room, “let me see… jisoo, seokjin, can you guys come up next?”

“i’m sorry if i- if i made you uncomfortable with my comment, y/n, i really didn’t mean to-“ jungkook whispers, and you shake your head quickly as you look up at him with a frown

“no, not at all! it was very sweet of you-“ you reassure him, reaching down to give his hand a squeeze, “really, it was very kind of you to say. and you did a great job as well- sorry i almost stepped on your foot when i-”

“oh, that’s- no, it was really all you, i basically just followed you and made sure to spin you and stuff-“

“jungkook!” jimin’s voice is crisp and it makes you stand straight up as you turn your head to look back at the front, “talking again while your peers are getting ready to perform up front?”

jungkook’s face turns bright red and he shakes his head quickly, “i- no, sir, i’m- i wasn’t-“

“i talked to him first, so if you’re going to bark at someone, you should do it at me-“ you raise your hand to get jimin to look over at you before giving him a casual shrug, “my bad.”

“‘your bad’?” jimin repeats with air quotations, narrowing his eyes at you and almost daring you to continue speaking to him in such a casual tone when you know he’s made it very clear how important it is to speak to him formally when it’s class time, “well, is there something that you’d like to share with the class since it was so important you had to speak to jungkook about it right now?”

“just that he did a fantastic job and he looked incredibly handsome doing it,” you chirp, maintaining a smile on your face, “i also said that we did completely amaze everyone with our routine because i guess we just fit together so, so well and- well, the second half of my comment, i’ll say to him when the two of us are outside of class, as miss im suggested.”

your comment doesn’t get any snickers, which isn’t a surprise considering the fact that everyone is probably terrified of how angry jimin looks — but honestly, you have no idea why he seems to be picking on you and jungkook but you have a feeling it has something to do with the breakup

and when you think about that, you can’t help but get more infuriated because can’t he see that he benefits from you breaking up with him?! now he’s free to date whoever he wants to date

like he said, he can be in a real relationship instead of whatever the fuck the two of you were in

not to mention, you haven’t brought your personal feelings into the situation the same way he has (this is a lie, you are definitely acting on your emotions right now but the denial is slathered on thick today) so what makes him think that he has the right to treat you and jungkook like shit just because he’s all pissy?!?!

“i’d like to pull y/n out to talk to her for a moment.” jimin immediately turns to look at naeyon with his hands behind his back, nayeon frowning as she looks back and forth between him and you, “now please, miss im. we won’t be long.”

“well, can you wait until we’re done?” you pipe up, and that gets you a little stomp on the toes from seulgi because now you’re just doing too much but the rage that’s building inside of you from having jimin clearly picking on both you and jungkook is becoming unbearable, “i just think the respectable move is to wait until we’re done learning, mr. park. or would you like to continue wasting everyone’s time by singling out jungkook and i just because you’re clearly in a sour mood for no reason and seem to be enjoying using us as your emotional punching bags?”

the silence is almost palpable, both you and jimin glaring at each other from across the room as everyone stands silently, awkwardly, because what the absolute fuck is going on right now?

jimin’s eyes have gone completely dark and if it weren’t for the fact that he used to be your boyfriend, you would probably be terrified for basically cussing out your teacher in front of the whole class — but the scale feels balanced now because the current conversation taking place doesn’t seem at all like a mr. park vs miss. y/l/n interaction… this is a jimin vs y/n interaction.

“leave this classroom right now.” jimin says through gritted teeth, his voice eerily low and quiet as he continues staring at you without a single blink, “right fucking now, y/n.”

“no problem.” you snap, swiftly moving your way through the crowd and heading straight for the door, your fists clenched at your sides

you let the door slam shut behind you, angry tears beginning to brim at the edges of your eyes as you storm down the hallway towards the changing rooms so you can get your bags and go home

you shouldn’t have come to class today — you knew that seeing jimin would be too much for you and now look at where it’s gotten you!

openly disrespecting jimin not just in front of the girls but also in front of miss im’s boys, which probably mortified jimin because he prides himself on how well-behaved you guys are whenever you’re paired up with students from another class… you have a feeling this isn’t going to end well at all.

the thought of being grilled not just by jimin but also the dean of the school sends a lightning bolt of anxiety right into you and your brain immediately begins to conjure up an email of what you’re going to say in your apology letter because that’s the type of student you are, not whoever you were just a second ago

you just couldn’t help yourself!! you’re running on an inconsistent sleep schedule and you haven’t been eating right and you’ve barely been drinking water and you’re sad about the breakup and mad at the circumstances and also feeling a little bit like maybe you acted too hastily in the first place and should’ve communicated with jimin about how you were feeling and what you were insecure about instead of diving head first into the whole crazy jealous girlfriend act and driving him away

and now it seems to be your ego and your pride standing in the way of making you turn around and just talk to jimin because walking away and accepting that this is just the way things are is the much easier option

“so stupid,” you sniffle, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear as your bottom lip starts to tremble

you’ve ruined everything

“hey, i didn’t say you could leave-“ you glance over your shoulder when you hear jimin’s voice as you continue making your way down the stairs, but you pick up your pace when you see him starting to follow you, “y/n, i swear to god-“

“i’m going home, i’m clearly not in the right state of mind to be here right now, mr. park-“

“oh, don’t give me that bullshit, y/n-“ jimin snaps, “i think you and i both know we’ve been avoiding each other but we need to talk because your behaviour today isn’t coming out of nowhere-“

“i’m sorry for talking back to you in class, but you were clearly picking on jungkook and i and i was so fucking over it-“ you swing the main door open, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum when you come to a sudden stop after seeing how heavy the rainfall is

you contemplate staying and waiting until the rain calms down a little but the thought of having to stay and talk to jimin is just a little too much for you at the moment

“it’s raining out and you don’t have an umbrella, you big baby-“ jimin changes the subject when thunder suddenly rumbles from outside, stopping at the top of the stairs to look at you, “what are you gonna do, walk in the rain?!”

“if that’s what i wanted to do, then i have every right to do so!”

you came here by bus and you know it doesn’t come for another twenty minutes, meaning that not only are you going to have to walk in the rain to the bus stop, you’ll also have to wait in the rain until it comes and that’s just a recipe for the nastiest cold in the entire world

and the thought of having to nurse a horrible cold and nurse your poor heart sounds like a nightmare

“y/n, i know you’re upset but you’re being irrational-”

“so what if i wanna walk in the rain?!” the emotional side of your brain takes over as you glare up at jimin before storming towards the doors, “i’m an adult, i can make my own decisions-“

“i know you are, and i know you can, but, y/n, please-“ jimin grabs the back of your arm right as you get to the bottom of the stairs and you immediately fling his arm away, “just talk to me, please-“

“about what?!” you adjust the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, “we broke up, it’s for the better, you’re my teacher and i’m your student and we never should’ve started dating in the first place because it never would’ve worked out anyway and-“ before you know it, everything is coming out of you and you can’t find a way to stop or control the words coming out of your mouth, “and i think maybe i shouldn’t come to class for a few weeks because it’s going to be weird and i can’t- i can’t be in the same room as you, jimin, it’s killing me-“

“it’s killing me, too-“ jimin admits softly, brown eyes glistening slightly underneath the lights, “i just- i can’t stop thinking about you, and i- baby, i- i miss you so much, you have no idea-“ your eyes immediately well with tears and you shake your head quickly as you take a few steps back, pushing the door open and stumbling out while unable to tear your gaze away from jimin’s, “please, we can figure something out, i know we can. i know i want to be with you, y/n, i don’t want anyone else, i just want you-“ his voice tremors slightly and he reaches out for you, “and i didn’t mean it when i called our relationship nothing, i was just hurt and- and angry and- i don’t even know why we broke up-“

“you should be with nayeon, she’s better for you and-“ you lower your voice slightly, “i know you went out with her over the weekend, so-“

“went out with her??” jimin gawks, almost letting out a laugh of disbelief, “we met up for coffee to talk about the lesson plan for today- don’t think i didn’t hear what everyone was muttering about before class, you guys need to cut the gossiping and- oh my god, y/n, is that what this is about?? you think i want to be with nayeon? we broke up for a reason, you- this is so incredibly frustrating, y/n, why can’t you just believe me when i say that i want to be with you?!”

everything that’s coming out of jimin’s mouth makes you feel ten times worse knowing that the two of you can’t be together

“this is why we need to sit down and talk about things, be honest and give each other our side of the story, because clearly something’s been miscommunicated and-“

“it doesn’t matter, jimin, at the end of the day, even if we talk about what happened we still can’t be together-“

“we can, we just- we can figure something out-“ the overwhelming reminder that you’ll have to tell the dean and all your classmates and face judgement and be gossiped about on top of the already overwhelming emotion of seeing and talking to jimin is just too much for you to bear, and you find your heart skipping more than a few beats out of anxiety because the only thing on your mind right now is to run away and hide from all of this

“i can’t be here, i have to go home, i can’t be here right now-“ you whimper, turning around to head into the rain, “you just- we can’t be together, jimin-“

“y/n-!” the last thing you hear before you sprint out into the dark, misty rain is the sound of jimin crying out for you and you can’t help but burst into tears, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs

run away run away run away run away

water splashes up and around you at every step you take, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you keep running down the sidewalk with your duffle bag flopping behind you wildly

this is too much

everything is just too much

you just need to go home and then everything will be fine

it doesn’t matter that jimin wants to work on things with you (it does, because you do, too), it doesn’t matter that he wants to find a way to make things work (it does, because you do, too), it doesn’t matter that he’s clearly stated that he wants to be with you and not nayeon (it does, because it reassures you and now you really know that jimin just wants you and you know that you just want him too) because all that matters is that everything is too much to handle and you feel like your head is about to explode

“so what am i supposed to do then?!” the sound of jimin’s voice down the street immediately makes you stop and turn around, and you’re glad that it’s raining like this to mask the tears streaming down your face

you aren’t surprised that he’s caught up to you, and you stand still as you look at him standing across from you, all the way at the end of the block, “what the FUCK am i supposed to do, y/n, huh?!” he yells, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pounding against his chest a few times, “you want me to stand here and act like i don’t love you?! like we never happened?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!”

“i…”

“tell me that’s what you want and i’ll leave it alone, y/n. all you have to do is tell me that this is what you want.” your feet are stuck in place as jimin jogs right over to you and you resist the very strong urge to look away from him again but he just looks so sad and you hate yourself for doing this to him

“it was wrong of me to pressure you to tell your friends about us the way that i did, i know that.” jimin nods, slicking his hair back with a hand, “i fucked up, and i’m sorry for doing that. but i meant it when i said i wanted to be in a proper relationship, y/n, because i want to be able to hold your hand in public, i wanna take you out for dinners without constantly feeling like we’re going to get caught, i- i want to show you off! i wanna show you off because i… i love you, y/n…”

jimin shakes his head in disappointment when your only response is to stand there, staring at him with wide, trembling eyes

he waits one, two, three seconds for you to say something, to say literally anything and he hates that you still have nothing to say to him

even if you said you didn’t want to be with him, that would be a better response than you just standing there staring at him

forget it

obviously you’ve made your answer clear, and now he knows that he was 100% more invested in you than you were in him

if you want him to pretend like he doesn’t care about you and that you’re just another one of his students, he’s perfectly capable of doing that

he was a little out of control today, but he’ll be able to manage it in future classes

the thought of transferring you to another teacher’s class briefly flits through his mind but he’s reminded by the fact that he’d have to talk to the dean about that and then the dean would have to ask why jimin wants to transfer you and that’d just be a whole thing

plus, the semester’s nearly over so pretty soon jimin won’t have to be forced to be in the same room with the woman he loves but he can’t say he loves

it’s going to fine

everything is going to be fine

he’s been broken up with before, and he’s picked himself up and has moved on

he can do this

“fine, y/n.” he scoffs to himself, turning on his heel to head back towards the building, “if that’s what you want, i can’t change your mind. i’m sorry. i won’t push it any further.”

“i was gonna talk to the dean!”

jimin stops in his tracks when you finally speak up, and he turns to look over his shoulder to see that you’ve taken one step forward but hesitating to come any closer to him like a scared baby deer

he doesn’t move, afraid that if he moves too quickly he might scare you off and stop you from what you’re about to say

“what?” he asks quietly, turning around to face you and relieved to see that you don’t seem like you’re about to take off again

“i was- i was gonna talk to the dean.” you repeat quietly before averting your gaze, “i’d made an appointment and everything, i was gonna talk to the dean about us because i- i love you… too.” you blurt out, looking back up at him, “i love you too, but i’m… scared.”

“scared of someone finding out?”

“well, that’s a pretty big chunk of it because i could get expelled and you could get fired, but i’m also scared because… the last time i felt this way about someone, they left me for their ex six months after we said i love you to each other.” you swallow thickly, feeling slightly ashamed and embarrassed to admit that about yourself since it’s not something you like to bring up, “i… if there is even a 1% chance of you and nayeon getting back together, i don’t want any part of it. and i know that’s unfair of me to say because life happens and i get it but-” you whimper, feeling your heart splinter at the reminder of how broken up you were over your previous relationship, “as much as i love you and i want to work on things with you, i don’t wanna be hurt again-“

“you won’t be, y/n-“

“you don’t know that-“

“but i do!” jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you from the ground as he keeps his hands firm on the sides of your thighs, “baby, i do know that- i don’t know what crazy rumour you guys cooked up but i’m not secretly in love with nayeon- i wanna be with you, please, please just give us a chance to make it work-“

“i’m still your student, jimin…” you sniffle, reaching up to wipe at your red eyes, “all of this doesn’t change the fact that you are my teacher and i am your student, and the both of us never should’ve started doing this in the first place-“

“i’ll talk to the dean about getting you transferred to another class, or- or i can transfer to another class- i will make it work, y/n, we can make this work.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as you look down at jimin, jimin who you’re hopelessly in love with, jimin who you love waking up next to and falling asleep beside, jimin who wakes you up with kisses on the face and a mug of tea (you hate tea, you just drink it because it’s him), jimin who you know you want to be with because it’s been so long since you’ve felt so strongly and so surely about someone and… well, it’s jimin.

“okay.” you nod slowly, reaching down to cup his cheek gently before swiping your thumb against his skin, “okay, we can make it work. i wanna make this work, but i think the first thing we have to do is talk to the dean because i don’t know how much longer i can hide it from everyone-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before jimin’s shooting up from the ground, pulling you in for a kiss as your duffle bag drops to the ground

“oh my god, i missed you so much, you have no idea how much-“ jimin murmurs against your lips, his arm looping around your waist to pull you in closer, while your arms sling around his neck and your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head

“i missed you too-“ you laugh lightly, heart thrumming happily in your chest as you find yourself pressing closer into jimin’s familiar warmth, “we can make this work.”

»»————- 🥀 ————-««

(“are we going to talk about how you were basically bullying me and jungkook?” “…no comment.”)

🎙️ ask y/n where she gets her leg warmers (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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btskitty17 · 22 days ago

Text

Object of Curiosity (Park Jimin X Fem! Reader One-Shot)

Please Read: Park Jimin BTS one shot, flirty dance teacher Jimin, shy and slightly awkward fem! character (insert any name of your choice in the blanks), smutty conclusion (oral, fem! receiving), mutual crush, sensual tension and yearning, strangers-to-friends-to-fling-to-relationship word count: 4.4k

"No amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now."

Park Jimin is so charming that it is almost obscene.

The silver-hued tassels of a pair of long earrings twinkled on his shoulder as he swerved from side to side in front of the mirror with his eyes narrowed in concentration. Both the men and women in the studio watched, enraptured by his lithe movements.

Park Jimin’s Contemporary Dance Class started off in a somewhat shabby basement as a no-name establishment, however, it had grown into a formidable performing arts institution over the course of five years, certainly in a league of its own and it seemed to embrace and attract people from all walks of life.

Jimin’s rhythmic dance videos had become an internet sensation, broadcasting his delicate yet masterful moves to the world. In the practice videos, he seemed hypnotic, kneeling on an oakwood dance platform, performing the floor-work part of the routine or showcasing his command over body-rolls as a slew of layered necklaces clattered atop his collarbones.

On the subway back home, as ___ mindlessly scrolled through her explore feed, a reel, posted by a local dance academy, caught her attention, bringing her doom-scrolling to an abrupt halt. She did not want to lose the video in a sea of algorithm-pushed content so she saved it before watching it. And she watched it again. And yet again. The raven-haired man in the video, had her wrapped around his bejewelled finger, all in sixty seconds as she stopped herself from hitting replay yet again and explored the page that had posted the video, brimming with the novel temptation of more unwatched videos of that man’s graceful swaying: from stage performances to practice routines, these videos were watched late into the night as ___ pored over her laptop for a better, more focused view, especially that of his elusive abs. Park Jimin was his name.

___ decided to channel her obsession with Jimin into a hobby. Her nightly routine of binging Jimin’s dance videos could be more than just her eyeing him while munching on spicy potato crisps, spilling crumbs on the couch’s armrest. She ended up signing up for the weekend classes, the ones for lesser technical dancers, a euphemism for those amateurs who could not possibly fathom the mid-air flips that Jimin and his disciples perform with ease.

___ had been feeling a sense of mundanity, stemming from her quotidian routine of working at her job and then coming home to a soupy bowl of ramyeon, slurped alongside a loud sitcom blaring on the television, which is the sound that she fell asleep to on most nights; she goes on to perform the very same activities the next day, with a mind-numbingly boring accuracy. Perhaps a dance class could help her feel a spark. And the prospect of a handsome teacher certainly does strengthen her case: someone that she now had a full-blown crush on, albeit she had only met him virtually.

On an Autumn Saturday, the evening batch of dance students, comprising of about fifty individuals, a relatively smaller group from the other ones learning ballet and hip-hop, gathered before the majestic Park Jimin. So did Y/N.

“Fledglings!” Jimin clasped his hands together. “I understand that you are all just starting out! We shall begin by doing some stretches and jumping jacks to loosen up,” his feather-light voice splashed across the dance studio, like an oncoming oceanic wave as he looked at each and every participant of the class, attempting to register their unfamiliar faces. ___ felt that Jimin’s eyes sauntered their way over and across her body for a suspiciously long amount of time. Or she could have been mistaken. The curve of Jimin’s plush lips seemed to carry a bit of interest and inquisitiveness.

Clad in her black tank-top, ___ attempted to stretch as decently as she could while the hem of her barely-there clothing started to inch upwards her waistline, unveiling a smidgen of skin. Jimin surveyed the room, comically scolding anyone whose stretching was not fulfilling his standards. Y/N felt his warm presence situating itself behind herself as she continued her exercise.

“The bouncing, the shaking,” Jimin clicked his tongue, “this is not the apt time and place for that.”

___ was suddenly conscious of her body in the impossibly smallest of ways, the slightest sheen of sweat on her forearms, the way the strands of her unruly hair were scattered across her forehead and the unintentional quivering of her limbs, caused by her erratic, almost non-existent workout schedule. If only she had been more regular! She halted her stretching and sheepishly peered over shoulder at Jimin.

___ could feel her mouth dampen from the slightest eye contact with him. Jimin wore a playful half-smile, and he moved forward to place a hand on the small of her back to guide her movements, with his eyes showcasing amusement. ___ nearly shuddered at his touch: the cold metal of his ring was seeping through the waify fabric of her top. Jimin’s nimble fingers deftly clasped her wrists, now taking charge of her workout and, her sanity, too.

“You are too stiff. You need to gradually ease into it,” Jimin whispered into her ear, aligning his chest with her back, assisting her in stretching. Was a dance teacher supposed to be this touchy? Jimin’s breathing seemed surprisingly irregular, especially for someone who is a dancer and very much in control of these tendencies during performances; she could hear the hitches in his breath and the gasps that he was swallowing as her head was synced with his chest, while stretching upwards. ___ felt as if the warmup section of the class would exhaust all of her energy. It wasn’t the workout that was draining her: it was the red-hot proximity of Park Jimin that made her feel like she was under a constant gaze of burning scrutiny. Jimin’s subtle woody cologne swirled throughout her senses, creating an odd sensation of intoxication. All because the man was helping her stretch.

“Do you think you could reach the climax part on your own, or do you need me to hold your hand through this,” Jimin asked in a sing-song teasing voice, setting ___’s cheeks on fire.

Jimin’s memory pulsed with the close-ups of ____’s curves; since the moment she had stepped foot into his dance class, he had been …distracted to say the least. He did not want to be inappropriate by any means, he had of course maintained decorum, however, what he had developed was a symptom of an instant crush. ___’s deer-alert eyes as she attempted to follow along his dance-steps nearly pierced his heart because of how adorable they made her seem: she was a strange mixture of charm and clumsiness. Her nonchalant walk somehow captured his attention; she possessed an unmistakable air of purity and had the sort of unassuming beauty that Jimin deems to be as the archetype of the kind of woman he finds attractive.

As several weekends went by, Jimin found himself peculiarly obsessed with ___ and he started looking forward to the Saturday and Sunday classes, nearly waiting by the door like an expectant pet and being both relieved and exhilarated to see that she had not dropped out of his institute, despite the monstrosity that her dancing was. But that was his job, he was supposed to teach her to relax and to stop her body from being so hardened. If only he could stop being hard in places he shouldn’t be when he sees her. Sometimes it was her floral scent, sometimes it was her wide-eyed stare, her evident nervousness or her giggles at her own silliness: Jimin could not afford to peel his eyes off her.

Electric, it felt. Jimin sensed tiny eruptions throughout his veins if their hands grazed each other while dancing or when the ice broke between them and they conversed about the weather and politics, gradually familiarising themselves with the other, or when she stopped to sip from her bubble-pink metallic water bottle and the tiniest of drops raced from her strawberry-hued lips, down her swanlike neck, towards her ample cleavage: oh, how he envied that wicked drop of water!

While Jimin sassily snaps at students for showcasing lacklustre pirouettes in his ballet classes, he pardons the ungraceful stumbling of ____’s feet during steps that involve turning; what a gorgeous little klutz, Jimin laughed quietly to himself. The songs ___ had suggested made their way to his playlist: a string of songs that he played at midnight and believed that although ___’s dancing was questionable, her music taste certainly wasn’t something to be gawked at. After sharing music, they followed each other on social media, (initiated by Jimin, given his curiosity about her life) leading up to an innocuous exchange of humorous memes. Despite being an introvert, ___ had opened up to Jimin.

Jimin realised that he had been hawk-eyed in monitoring all her moves on the ‘gram, although she barely posted any pictures of herself: it was all pictures of annotated stacks of books, the horizon at sunrise and stray cats. Mysterious vibe, I like it, he thought.

___ had discovered that there was so much more to Jimin than his looks, albeit his looks alone brought a lot of the footfall to the dance classes. He was not a shallow person; there was a latent passion in his heart to change things for better, evidenced by his charitable educational projects for children in the vicinity, which he had spearheaded since the very year that his institute came into being. Jimin was also quite the conversationalist: he could be talking about the global political economy at one minute and expressing his thoughts on Sabrina Carpenter’s new album in the very next breath. ___ admired how his social butterfly self was the total opposite of her wallflower demeanour; he could slither his way into any discussion in the world, just about as smoothly as he moved.

mature content ahead: NSFW, description of physical intimacy

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Jimin drawled into her ears, his palms firmly planted on either side of her head, as he angled his face downwards to capture her expression with his ravenous eyes.

The studio was empty. The last batch of students had hurriedly scuttered away, given that it was a Saturday night. ___ stuck around just to watch him. Over the past six months, which seemed to fly by, their connection had deepened.

“I really don’t. I feel like I come off as clumsy,” ___ said, her cheeks flustered by the undivided attention that Jimin was bestowing upon her.

“You are,” he sniggered. “But there’s also something that calls out to me. The vocabulary of your body language is quite flirtatious, maybe you are unaware of it; it is the kind of subtle, repressed sexiness that pulls me in. It is innate. One cannot just put on that front and you have that… if I may say so,” After giving it a light nibble, Jimin left the ghost of his lips on the tip of her now reddened right ear and flashed an elusive smile her way.

“Well, I have a confession to make,” ___ choked out, somehow, befuddled by the intensity of Jimin’s nearness and her own wildly thrumming heart. Jimin expressed his interest with his eyebrows raised, his eyes still fixed on her form.

“I joined these classes because of my initial fascination with you, after seeing you on social media.”

“And? You are not fascinated by me anymore? Apologies for shattering your beautiful illusions,” Jimin broke into a teasing laugh, taking back a few steps.

“No! But that was, purely because of your outer beauty. I am trying to say that after getting to know you, there are many more reasons that I like keeping you company. Reasons that are not at all superficial.”

“So you like me,” Jimin said in a hushed voice, as if their clandestine meeting could be interrupted any moment by an intruder who may have been eavesdropping on them. Even though they were all by themselves in the studio; the ferocity of their solitude was just too much.

___ gazed at him, lulled by his presence, unable to do anything but take in the magnificence of Park Jimin who was now stretching his arms, looking like a nymph under a waterfall and heading dangerously close towards her very own self.

Jimin’s beautiful fingers reached out to caress ___’s cheek while reading the emotion encased behind her eyes. Anticipation? Love? Lust? Or all three of them? He was awfully eager to find out, so he dipped his head to the level of her height and delicately enveloped his lips with hers, as soft and sweet as he could be. ___ fervently kissed him back with Jimin snaking his hands around her waist, not even leaving an infinitesimal speck of distance between them. As Jimin stirred for a second in order to give her space and time to breathe, ___ released a groan of disapproval, resenting even a moment of separation from Jimin: a gesture that made him smile.

As he continued kissing downwards her neck, Jimin nudged her towards the couch, guiding her face-first, with an abundant amount of kissing of course. ___ nearly tripped over her feet as she landed on the couch with a squeak escaping her lips, making Jimin simper into the still unbroken kiss as he continued to hold her. Jimin’s fingertips lightly fluttered over the straps of her summer dress, as if seeking permission. ___ longingly stared at him from beneath her eyelashes, and coyly nodded.

The fabric of her dress was peeled off her skin by Jimin with the utmost care as he took it off her frame and flung it sideways. He took a few steps back, and with his eyes gleaming, Jimin looked at ___ from head to toe, as if she were an artwork showcased at a museum, much like the very first day that he had seen her.

“What?” ___ stuttered shyly shielding her almost-bare self with her arms from his wild eyes.

“Exquisite. The pink lace. Of course. Pretty like you.”

Jimin knelt on his knees on the oakwood floor, and deftly placed an open-mouthed kiss on her now exposed stomach, leaving behind a hot patch of wetness as his intrepid fingers began to fiddle with the hook of her rose-coloured bralette, undoing it in no time. Jimin’s eyes had now lost their earlier mischievous glint, they acquired a darker, more sensuous hue as he took in the mouthwatering sight before him.

The unrestrained galore of ___’s breasts made his breathing inconsistent and his mouth salivate… which was something that he put to good use; he plopped his watery mouth on her right nipple, making ___ gasp in surprise while his other hand fondled the left one (which would soon receive the same amount of affection as the other one), the pads of his fingers heatedly felt each and every inch of her skin. With wetness pooling between her thighs unchecked, ___ trembled from Jimin’s brazen devotion to her chest; she felt as if several jolts of electricity were running through her veins at once.

“The bedframe. I need to pull that out… from beneath the couch. Wait. We are going to need it,” Jimin huffed, momentarily stepping away from their rendezvous to make it more comfortable for them: he had one of those sofa-beds in his personal room at the studio… couches that transform into beds for the evenings that he may be too tired after dancing.

Jimin dragged ___ by her arms to the front of the bed and picked up exactly where he left of. He kissed her chest once again before placing his palms flat against her thighs, which felt warm and buttery soft. Jimin watched her face intently for a reaction when he began to circle ___’s inner thigh with his index finger, lingering dangerously close to her pretty pink panties with the light colour doing nothing to conceal the speckle of dampness smackdab in the centre, begging for Jimin to pay heed to it. ___ bit back her pathetic mewling which was about to spill from her lips.

___’s hands found their way to Jimin’s stylish suspenders, but they lacked the sophisticated restraint of Park Jimin; she was famished for some form of contact with his skin. She tugged at the back yoke of the suspenders’ braces in anguish, looking at Jimin’s clouded eyes; Jimin assisted her in snapping them off as they fell slackened around his waist, his eyes not leaving ___’s alluring bosom.

After painfully forsaking her unimaginably doughy thighs, Jimin’s elegant fingers flitted over the middle of her panties, feeling up their way over her sopping slit, making Jimin scrunch up his eyes and groan at the its drenched state. ___was a blushing mess, mumbling his name out of surprise. His hands tenderly shed the last piece of clothing on her body: Jimin hooked both of his hands at the sides of her thighs and stripped her underwear off her which had grown quite stubborn, owing to the oozing pond of desire surrounding it. After undressing her, Jimin examined her panty, placed daintily on his palm. ___ was flabbergasted to witness what occurred right after. He brought the fabric close to his nose and inhaled her sweet scent, almost as if it was his life-source, with his tongue sticking out.

“What are you doing,” ___ said, with an arm outstretched to grab her panty back and shielding her bare breasts with another.

“This belongs to me now,” Jimin snickered, clutching the lacey number tightly in hand and twirling it with his fingers like a newfound jewel; the core of the underwear was exposed to his nose yet again, as his eyelashes fluttered shut, and a hungry whiff passed through his lungs; ___ was certainly delectable to taste, he mused.

___ succumbed to the discomfiture creeping up on her cheeks in the form of a raging blush and staggered backwards onto the sofa-bed with Jimin’s unforgiving gaze taking in every single movement of hers. Jimin neatly tucked her shell-pink panty into the drawer beside him, securely locking it behind himself as if that piece of underclothing was the kind of treasure that numerous people would covet.

“I have, in this very room, often fantasised about having you unclothed, I must admit. I have pictured it one too many times. And so much more,” Jimin backed ___ into the mattress, crawling up on the sofa-bed with his knees bent and cornering his very dear and very naked ___. Jimin hastily unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, watching ___’s shy eyes every second and how they flickered rapidly as his toned chest was unravelled before her, wherein the unclicking of each button heightened the delicious ache between her legs.

___ extended her hand to discern a sensation of Jimin’s bare chest; her palms were itching to do so. She explored the expanse of his shirtless torso, gingerly abandoning her bashfulness. Jimin kissed her once again, loosely lacing his forearms around her shoulders; the kiss was unhurried and it was Park Jimin at his best, he could hear her suppressed whimpers from their hot-mouthed smooch alone.

“Jimin-n-n,” ___ sputtered, her voice livid with need when Jimin pulled away from the kiss.

“I know, I know.”

The innermost crevice of her thighs glistened with the dewdrops of her craving and those drove Jimin into a stuporous daze wherein the only thing he knew that he was being devoured by his all-consuming thirst and ___ was spurting like a delicious fountain. Jimin bowed down on the bed to be eye-level with her pitifully wet pussy, providing ___ a glorious panorama of the series of Moon phase tattoos scrolled from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.

As ___ drooled over Jimin’s body art, she felt a tug at both her feet with Jimin striving to spread her legs; ___ unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, strained by her shyness once again. Jimin clicked his tongue, and this time, with more determination, forked her legs; he anchored both her lower limbs on each side of his shoulders as he greedily observed the congealed strings of juices that swirled in her cunt, freefalling onto the bedsheet. The glimpses of partially-clad Jimin's taut abs and the patchwork of his veins protruding from his forearms could almost propel ___ into a blinding orgasm, untouched.

Kisses were peppered on the undersides of her thighs as Jimin started to salivate, rapturous to follow the enticing trail of aroma being emitted from ___’s weeping centre.

"You are going to make the floorboard leak, running like a faucet," Jimin growled lowly, smacking his lips.

When Jimin leant closer to her pussy, ___ whined, crossing her legs on his bare back out of sheer habit, however, Jimin smirked at the undeniable closeness of her cunt: no amount of her coquette tantrums could deprive him of his lavish meal now.

“Look at you. I had no idea you could be this filthy. Your fucking pussy is overflowing right in front of my eyes and I haven’t even touched you,” upon hearing the so very refined Park Jimin’s extremely lewd choice of words reverberating through her skin, for the first time in her life, ___ almost sensed another tidal wave of wetness gush through her cunt, her breasts heaving up and down with her saliva-slicked nipples glimmering pertly.

Jimin’s leather pants seemed to have deflated, closing in on tightly on his dick, painfully smothering it; but it was his member that was soaked in precum and had burgeoned in size, owing to the starkly naked visual of his crush splayed out before him, moaning with her pussy pleasurably bubbling: the scene sparked a fire at the pit of his stomach, making him needier by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to shimmy off the waistband of his briefs and pants and fuck her mercilessly right into her creaming cunt but, he was aware that that had to wait and he had to practise some restraint; they had a longer way to go for that to happen, at least for now.

Jimin traced the glossy flower-bud of her cunt with his finger, inciting a shocked, incisive intake of breath from ___ and then plopped his mouth on her clit, sucking it with his lips as ___ breathlessly thrashed about, her legs squeezing Jimin’s torso between themselves. One of his hands solidly grasped her left thigh in its place, and another situated itself at her glossily wet entrance as his index finger toyed with the tight trench of her pussy, eliciting a panting chorus of his name from her lips. He inserted a dexterous finger into her most intimate cavity and the midriff of ___’s body rose up from the sofa-bed, as if levitating. Jimin, unfrazzled by her explosive reaction and with a one track-mind to finally relish his personal delicacy, leapt forward with his mouth puckered and settled an open-lipped kiss on her cunt, the sap of her pussy glazing his lush lips.

Jimin’s girthy finger soon acquired a maddening pace as it vanished inside her pussy and then exited and he repeated these motions as ____’s pleading grew louder with each moment. She cleaved around his mouth which was afflicting an unrelenting force on her cunt, licking, lightly biting and mouthing all over it. His skilfull tongue worked in tandem with and seemed to be just as agile as his finger as he rolled her bud around in his mouth with a spinning whirl. The onslaught of Jimin’s tongue had ___ convulsing and scampering to clench his hair in her hands as his head bobbled between her legs.

"I want this taste on my tongue forever. You are so enjoyable; you have no clue," Jimin muttered hoarsely while coming up for air before diving face-first into her pussy once again.

"Jimin, fuck.... I-really, I really need you Jim..." ___ was interrupted by a strangled moan hurtling from her own throat as she felt Jimin's finger traverse through a particularly sensitive spot, and upon reading her bodily reaction, Jimin thrust his tongue in the same area, making ___ quiver and shriek his full name.

"Damn, do you want people to think that I am running a torturous dungeon rather than a dance studio in here, screaming like that," Jimin smirked, pleased with himself as he persistently fingered her right where she needed it the most, with his tongue lapping up all of her seductive juices.

___ started to shiver as a deluge of sensations begin to take over her consciousness; Jimin was ceaseless with his mouth attacking every inch of her cunt, exploring pleasurable places that she did not even know existed as his fingers fucked her into a delirium. His now sweat-streaked hair was plastered across her thighs, tickling her with each rise and fall of his head between her legs as he kept making his craving for her well-known through his dirty monologues.

___ grabbed Jimin's bare biceps to steady herself as he noisily slurped on her clit, drool pouring from his mouth to the shiny folds of her pussy, foreseeing a strong climax coming. She felt a colossal flare forming in her belly, desperate to be released as her moans created even more clamour; in her head, a montage of the vulgar yet beautiful things that shirtless Jimin had said to her played on loop, sending her over the edge. In a hot flash, she orgasmed as Jimin's tongue gave her one final flick and then, after having depleted all her strength, her limbs drooped around him, her eyes closing.

Jimin, with his measured movements, brought ___ an orgasm that would forever be indelible in her mind; it would be the yardstick for the other ones in the future. After she came, Jimin sincerely cleaned her up between her inner thighs with his tongue as she hissed because of her recent climax and oversensitivity in the zone.

"Let me bring you some warm water and a fresh washcloth, I have some supplies in a cabinet right here," Jimin said, walking up to the studio's corridor, while licking his lips, seeking the sweet and briny aftertaste of ___.

"Wait. Jimin. What about you," ___ said groggily, with her eyes half-shut, referring to his evident full-on boner.

"Uh, I will take care of that... later."

"No. I want you."

"It is not the time for that yet. Let me take you to dinner first. Also, have you seen yourself? You will pass out from round two, my pillow princess," Jimin laughed, handing her the rumpled dress that he had discarded off her body a while ago.

A month later

"I could never move like you in a thousand years. I had thought about getting another dancing tutorial class before coming to yours in order to impress you and not be so inelegant in front of you," ___ reminisced about the early days of getting to know her now-boyfriend Jimin.

"Even though your bodily coordination while dancing is reproachable, I must say that I was already quite impressed after holding a few conversations with you, my smarty-pants. Not to mention I was bowled over by your beauty," Jimin affectionately pecked her forehead, cuddling her under a soft duvet as they both drifted off to sleep.

a/n: my first time ever writing smut and all my knowledge about it comes from books and movies...not me trying to avoid writing it in this one-shot for the longest time possible, because you know, context is important. lol.

DISCLAIMER This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

54 notes · View notes

doodlekoo · 1 year ago

Text

OUCH | pjm

Summary: you hurt your foot and Jimin thinks your gonna die

Pairing: boyfriend!jimin x fem?reader (mentions pronouns a few times)

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: PG

Genre/Warnings: established relationship, injury, pain, implied?verbal abuse, explicit language, kissing, FLUFF HEH (my favourite), oc is so in love with Jimin

Note: hello fellow fluff lovers, i’m so sorry i’ve been ia for 10 months i was focusing on finishing my final year for college. tbh creative writing isn't my strong point it’s more of a side hobby so please understand i won’t be updating regularly i’ll probably be posting more so when I'm bored and feel like it ahahaha. I do want to point out thanks to all those who liked my previous stories. I really do appreciate it it’s great motivation!! anywho this story was based on when i hurt my foot (it was a more gross story but still hurt like a bitch) i tried limping home but the entire time i wished someone would carry me and care for me the way jimin does in the ff (sad i know). i originally wanted it to be longer going into detail about Jimin’s backstory but i thought short and sweet was better SO ENJOY i hope you all like it :)

and as always please let me know what you guys think and if you want more stories like this! please also leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed reading! :D

A warm sensation spreads through your body, engulfing you in a comforting embrace. You couldn't help but smile as a sense of contentment washed over you. The day had been a success. You followed every command and every instruction that your superiors had asked you to follow. Starting a new job was a challenging experience, one you hadn’t gone through before. The memory of your previous employment still haunts you, the echoes of your coworkers' voices reverberating in your mind as they berated you for the slightest of missteps. Not only was it stressful to deal with that every day, but you would also feel even more drained coming home after the endless regrets ran through your mind.

The more you worked at that god-awful place, the more your thoughts grew—were these issues truly insignificant, or were they looming large and you simply lacked the perspective to see them?

Your boyfriend, Jimin, was constantly begging you to quit the job since the sight of you so wrapped up in absolute guilt crushed him every day. Jimin only wanted what was best for you. The stubbornness he had over you was often a hard take but it was only ever going to be beneficial. As the begs increased in volume, your guilt scaled high, resulting in an endless cycle.

You knew you had to do it. Gathering yourself mentally and emotionally to utter those two liberating words took a great deal of courage.

"I quit."

You said it slightly quietly, still unsure. but you were stern about it with an attempt at a demeaning stare. In your head, you felt pretty confident with the way you delivered it, only to have that confidence descend with the sudden scoffs followed by the classic response, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Perhaps Jimin was right. The testosterone in the room was unbearable at this point, and that slow, excruciating deterioration of your brain was just really not worth it. Staring back at your manager, you remained undeterred.

"I'll be handing in my notice tomorrow."

It was never worth creating an argument with your manager or anyone who lacked basic brain cells, in fact. That simple interaction only changed you for the better, and slowly but surely you felt you had a little more respect for yourself.

As you navigate the bustling street after your third shift, a palpable aura of rejuvenation surrounds you, causing your steps to take on a playful bounce. The faint aroma of coffee lingers on your clothes. The joy felt completely surreal, almost like time and space had been warped. Though the relentless bombardment of verbal abuse made your mind gradually deteriorate, it now made even the most challenging tasks a mere cakewalk.

The rain had been hammering down on the cafe windows for most of the day, so when you were met with the fortunate sun slowly peeking out from the clouds, you felt enveloped with its warmth, feeling it gradually filling your mind up with a little extra dose of serotonin.

Several metres or so away from your workplace, in a small back alley, you could smell the damp brick encroaching on your senses. Looking farther ahead, you saw the recent confrontation you were only slowly getting used to. It was amusing to you that a couple of steps were the only thing you had to worry about in your new day-to-day life. It was a sign that you were at least doing something right. You braced yourself for the steep steps that lay ahead while keeping in mind the wet, slick concrete.

And at that moment, the serotonin vanished. As the calmness of the moment dissipated, a surge of anxiety and adrenaline took over. Your heart plummeted as you failed to catch those final steps. Your foot barely brushes the step's edge. As you stumbled, your ankle gave way beneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You squealed, trying not to make any noise, as a wave of pain shot from your foot up through your body when the weight followed.

"Ouch,"

You hissed in pain as you sat at the foot of the steps. Looking absolutely helpless. The surrealness seemed to slip away as the situation unfolded before your eyes. Your mind wandered in silence. As you glanced around, a wave of relief washed over you as you realised that no one had witnessed your mortifying disaster.

I'm fine. I'm fine. You managed to convince yourself that you could make it home since the distance to your house was less than a mile. I can limp; it's fine. You reached for the railing and attempted to pull yourself up, only to be reacquainted with the searing pain you'd felt before.

Fuck.

You personally don't like to worry excessively about pain and injuries because you've always considered it a waste of time to acknowledge the warnings your body gave you. As the numbness set in, you realised that the situation was far worse than you had initially thought. Your body lay still and unresponsive, leaving you with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Along with the overwhelming urge to get up and leave, you also had the nagging fear that someone could hear a small person yelping at the bottom of the steps and decide to make a huge deal out of it. You know one person, Jimin, who would take his time over an insignificant issue. He would be the one to hire a golden carriage and transport you in grandeur, as the conclusion to convincing you that you needed to rescue yourself from those said scary steps. That was the worst-case scenario in your mind. However, it reached the point where you would rather have him make this big of a deal than a complete stranger who would have thought you were weak, whereas Jimin was certain that you are not.

A soft, sad sigh escapes your lips as your hand instinctively reaches for the back pocket of your jeans. With fingers trembling in anticipation, you searched for Jimin's name. As you raised your phone to your ear, you sensed your heart rate accelerating. Your nerves were on edge, and you did not want to burden Jimin with any additional worries. Making Jimin anxious was punishment enough. Every day, catching a glimpse of Jimin's radiant smile was like a burst of sunshine, flooding your world with a second dose of serotonin. But the thought of not being able to bring that smile to his face or turn it into a beaming grin was gnawing at your insides.

"Hey, ___, I’m so sorry. I’ll be home soon! I’m just out with Namjoon and Hobi!" Jimins' amplified voice, together with the distant chatter in the background, echoed through the alleyway. "No, Jimin i-"

"It was just- Hobi wanted us to come see designs after work, and naturally we all piled into the bar! We are finishing up now!"

"Jimin, that's not why I'm calling…" You replied with a low tone.

"Huh?? Sorry babe, I can't hear you that well!" You chuckled to yourself at the agonising situation. Oh Jimin..

"Jimin, I fell.."

"Sorry, what was that??"

"I don’t know Jimin. I fell down these steps, and I can't get up. It's so embarrassing. I don't know what to do.."

"Shit. Stay there. I'm coming now. Where are you?" The way Jimin's entire demeanour shifts over the phone, it intimidates the hell out of you.

"I’m just outside that alleyway from my work... Do you know the one?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll be there in five minutes." And with that, Jimin ends the call.

"Fuck. That was my girlfriend. I’m so sorry guys, I have to go" Jimin, on the other hand, was shitting it. Hearing your frightened voice over the phone was enough for him to travel day and night to you.

"Is something wrong?" Namjoon asked, apprehensive. He'd only see Jimin's expression like this when something was seriously wrong.

"I'm not sure, I think she’s hurt. I'll see you guys soon." Jimin said, frantically stuffing all his things in his bag. "Aw, alright, I hope she’s okay," Hoseok chirped.

"I hope so too. Bye!!" And just like that, Jimin literally flew outside the bar door. Foot harsh on the pedal. On his way: to you.

You kept your eyes on the cracks along the walls, waiting for Jimin. In the end, a few people did come by, but you covered it up by sitting on the floor and talking on your phone, and they didn't seem to notice. It's currently quiet as the sun is descending. But eventually you could hear faint, sporadic panting in the distance. It was the said saviour of the day.

"___!! Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay?? What happened?!?" Jimin gasped, looking at you like a precious gem that had cracked.

"I’m alright, just a little stumble. But I can't stand up, and it’s annoying." With a faint chuckle, you replied. You looked up at him, hoping to see his gaze soften and persuade him that it wasn't such a major issue, but his anxious expression didn't fade.

Scrambling towards you, he examined your ankle carefully, gently touching it in the process.

"Hm, I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe you sprained it. We should go to the hospital." He announced it sincerely.

"NO. I mean- no Jimin, no hospital, please; it’s not a big deal."

"Are you sure? I mean, you said you couldn’t even stand up?" It was endearing that Jimin tried to convince you, but because you didn't want to feel even more embarrassed, you simply scowled at him and hoped he understood what you were trying to imply.

"Okay, okay, let’s go home then." Jimin let out a little giggle at your silliness. But he now knew it was time for him to take on the doctor role and oh how Jimin would take that role very seriously. "Right, I need to carry you to the car then, can you try and get on my back?"

Jimin crouched in front of you after turning around. You used your entire upper-body strength to push yourself onto Jimin's back by reaching for his shoulders. His arms came back around and supported you from behind before he stood up and repositioned you.

"You okay?" Jimin asks once again. "Yes. Thank you, Jimin."

You scoot closer to his back, not just so he can carry you, but also so you can embrace him. Jimin carefully made his way back up the steps and onto the busy street, attempting to find his way back to the car park. You felt embarrassed by the many stares so you cuddled your face closer into the back of Jimin's neck.

It felt safe there, and you could smell his perfume's mild flowery scent mingled with the peppermint notes of his shampoo. Oh, how he always smelled so good. You smiled into his neck and pecked him lightly. This elicited a slight chuckle from him.

Jimin gently places you in the passenger seat and carefully rearranges your legs. He tightens the seatbelt and ensures you're safe and secure. You glance up at him, speechless. After the manner in which he's been treating you, the decision to call him for assistance felt extremely justifiable. As your gaze lingers on Jimin, he catches your eye, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips once more.

"Is this okay?" Jimin asked with a grin. "Yes, Jimin, this is perfect." As your gaze met his, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. The way he looked at you with such tenderness and affection was a feeling beyond words. To have someone who cherished you so deeply was truly a gift beyond measure. A rosy hue crept up Jimin's cheeks, causing his smile to widen even further.

Closing your door and driving back to the house was quite quiet, but it also felt soothing and safe at the same time. Jimin carried you on his back once again while fumbling to retrieve his keys from his pocket to open the door. Making his way to the sofa, he plopped you down softly.

"Okay, wait there. Don't go anywhere; I’m going to find a bandage." You laughed and shook your head at his stupid yet endearing joke.

When Jimin returned 10 minutes later, he did not only return with a bandage but also with half the house. Blankets, pillows, comfy clothes, a big bowl of snacks, and on top, the said bandage. You couldn’t even see his concentrated face through the massive mountain of love.

Your laughs echoed throughout the room once again while Jimin dumped everything beside you. He then carefully helps you undress into your loungewear and, following a YouTube tutorial, attempts to wrap the bandage around your foot. Watching him all focused on you made your heart flip around the room. He is so adorable.

"Okay, I think that’s good. Now do you want a pillow under your foot as well?" Jimin asked you politely. "I think it’s alright like this." You look at him, smiling.

"Hm, scratch that, I’m getting you a pillow."

When Jimin returns from getting a pillow, he gently lifts your feet to place it beneath them. He then throws various fluffy blankets over you while tucking in the sides, making sure once again that you don’t go anywhere. Looking back at you, he moves in close, giving you a soft peck on your forehead. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he momentarily retreats before leaning back in, peppering your face with a flurry of playful kisses. The two of you erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, your heads thrown back in pure love and joy.

"Now what should I put on the TV for you?" Jimin sits beside you after grabbing the TV remote. "Anything I don’t mind."

Jimin then proceeds to put on your favourite film. Pressing play; he looks at you with a soft smile. "Please be more careful; I hate seeing you hurt like this." He pats your head gently while wrapping his arm around you.

"I’ll try not to Jimin ''. You say as you move closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Paying close attention to the rest of the movie, your sixth sense tells you Jimin isn't watching it at all; he's staring at your ankle, hoping nothing will hurt it any further.

#bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts ff #bts fluff #bts #kpop #bts one shot #jimin #park jimin #jimin x you #jimin x reader #bts jimn #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #fluff #pjm #bts fanfic

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hoseoksluna · 2 months ago

Text

THE FUN DAY, pt. II. | kth

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, a little angst

word count: 5.0k

summary: you didn't prepare a fun day this time, but it became more than that.

pin: tba. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

note: this was the first fic, during which i absolutely sobbed my heart out. i never had this happen to me and i'm sure you'll feel it as you read. please, show me your love. enjoy. <3

An abandoned woman can weep, but an abandoned boy can weep not. Uncried affliction pains the most, even love, when seven mountains repose between it, the seven mountains of hard rocks.

I have two small windows, I have two big eyes, but writings I have none that would drift, at dusk, upon my table, reminiscent of an ivory cloud, and that would say: people love each other, man!

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — The Evening by Jiří Wolker

Paris was chilled to the marrow, yet embraced by winter. Dotted with mute stars and coruscating lights, life and poetry that were missing syllables—as if it were trying to speak, trying to converse, but something was prying its fingers inside their mouth, not allowing them to let out a sound.

That’s precisely how you felt within the depth of your afternoon nap.

The Eiffel Tower tried with all its monumental might to say something. The cafés with their myriads of intellectual words, glasses of wine and desserts strained their throats much to their dismay. You gazed upon it all—and you felt it deeply, their forced inability that wasn’t theirs at all. You wore nothing but a flimsy, tattered white T-shirt that has seen its better days, an item of cotton that belonged to Taehyung, and your feet were bare on the cobblestones, scratched and raw, though not cold. In spite of it, you feared for your baby. Feared the cold, that you did not sense, would touch it and bring something unfortunate to its developing body. And you drifted like this through your dream, carrying fear and pity. For the whole vastness of Paris, forbidden to speak; and for the smallest of Paris inside your belly, unable to speak yet.

You drifted and stood, gazing and gazing. Wanted to leave. Wanted to go back to your apartment, but you couldn’t. Your guilt kept you in your place while your fear strangled you until you were blue.

No people in sight and you were dying. Blue and pregnant, blue and abandoned. Blue and maddened—within the realm of dreams, that is.

And then just as you internally reach for Jimin, as you have many times since October, a hand is brushing through your hair, stirring you awake, stealing you away from the tragedy of it all. And the sensation of iciness prickling the tips of your toes is what you feel first, the heft of the large palm on the crown on your head second.

A tearful whimper gushes out of your throat, the awareness that you’re no longer rooted in your dream making your body squirm under the fleece blanket. The fear punctures through the flesh of your heart one more time before it escapes through the crooked center of your shoulder blades.

And there’s a figure sitting by the edge of your bed, nestled in the arc of your folded legs and rounded form.

And it’s no longer afternoon.

You blink in the dark, try to make out what is happening and before your sleepy brain comprehends who that large figure is, your heart knows.

Your heart smells the autumn spices of his being. Apples, pumpkin and cinnamon, despite being clouded by the wintry air. It hasn’t seen him in three months, but it knows him.

It knows him intimately.

“Taehyung?” your heart whispers, the sound coming out of your throat loosely, yet with a piercing pain that is greater than the fear you felt.

The autumn boy sighs, enveloping you in the homely snugness that you missed, that you lacked all this time. You reach for his hand, blindly, finding it somewhere on his lap, and upon that first contact, he speaks.

“Hi, baby,” he croaks out, the words new and untouched by this strange reality—as if he saved them for this very moment, keeping them deep in his clavicles all those months. “I’m home.”

The noise that leaves you could be mistaken for a saddened sob, but it’s one of such absolute joy. The autumn boy coos, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. The yellow light shows him to you and you discover that the autumn boy isn’t a boy at all.

Taehyung is a man.

Short, black hair decorates his forehead in a sweet, seemingly youthful way that is painstakingly oxymoronic. His bulbous cheeks are pallid, carrying the weight of the winter in them—new, new winter that you barely even recall basking in with him. They hold up his boxy smile, though, something that you never shall forget. And lingering your eyes there, the sight is surreal.

So surreal that you lift a hand and caress that meaningful cheek, coloring it in a rose tint that grows warm in your palm.

A man of all rose gardens and sculptures that are alive.

And when he tilts his face into your touch, your heart swells to such an extent that you spring up into a sitting position and melt into him within a clasp. A warm, a real clasp.

He’s real.

He’s here.

His hair is silkily soft, the tresses of an angel that takes care of flowers such as these. The skin upon the nape of his neck is feverish, as is the torso of his body that you half press up against. He didn’t feel this warm when you were wandering unknowingly in your imagination. And when you pull back to make sure that what you’re seeing isn’t that figment of that damned imagination of yours, he ascertains to you that he is real by letting his boxy smile quiver.

It quivers; it is not frozen in place. Beautiful still, but not frozen. Quivering with the heft of all the emotions due to your reunion.

And when you slide your palm down his chest, his two perfect lungs lift to kiss it, just to fall and kiss it again. Over and over again.

Large chest. Large shoulders. Large biceps.

And large eyes that melt into chocolate pools as he deepens your shared gaze, studying the way you’re comprehending his presence. He gives you all the time in the world, as if understanding that his absence was too long and, tenderly, you break.

Tears rush to your irises while you acknowledge your soul with the principle of it all by tracing his body with your fingers. The veins of his hand, thumping under your touch, that are the roots of the trees that watch over the roses in his garden. So full of life and present time. The forearms that aren’t hidden by the tweed of his usual suits, but clothed in the plush of an off-white zipper jacket that your heart mourns. A clash of what you’re used to and the reality.

He must have gotten off the plane at this hour. His duffel bag must be somewhere in the living room, abandoned now in place of you.

You’re no longer abandoned. He’s here.

You’re no longer delirious. He’s here.

He was supposed to come in the morning. That’s what he said in your last phone call, where he let you in on what Jimin had done for the both of you. Your response to his promise in October manifested in the following months, but Jimin fought against it. Knelt before the feet of the man he’s afraid of and begged. Begged the Sergeant to make that call and allow Taehyung to have his vacation. Begged until his knees bruised and his hands left a wet print on the dirty floor.

And the Sergeant softened, impressed by his strong will and the respect he showed him. Nodded his head and made it so Taehyung leaves by the end of the year. Did so well in North Korea, protected his military brothers before himself, the Sergeant interceded with those facts and off Taehyung went.

Off to catch a plane in December.

I’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, Taehyung said over the phone to you, and somehow he must’ve seen the pout that was forming on your mouth because he added a reassuring I know right after.

You didn’t understand why he couldn’t have come a day earlier, but now you see that you didn’t have to understand it.

Because Taehyung made it.

He came home on his birthday.

You press your face against the side of his, your arms back around his neck. “My love,” you whisper and gently squirm, for you feel a movement in your belly. You open your eyes, brushing your lashes across his rose petal cheek, smiling a smile that quivers just like his. That is first movement of your baby that you ever felt. The tears pour out, watering the soft skin. You kiss the pathway it created, only to stray away and go up, nudging your nose against his. Let out breaths of your overwhelmingness against him like this. Feel that your baby spoke to you, spoke in the only way it can, telling you to tell him. And you do. Finally, you do—after nearly six months. “I have a gift for you.”

Humming, his long fingers find the back of your head, his arm caging you in as he buries his digits into the waterfall of your tousled hair, grown thicker now due to your pregnancy.

You didn’t make any plans for tomorrow, fearful it would turn misfortunate like it did in October. And because his return is so sudden, so unexpected, telling him now feels more than right. Feels divine, feels memorable, the destiny propelled by your baby.

Within the snug atmosphere of your embrace, you travel with your hand on a journey across his back far longer than it used to be, down his strong arm until you wind up at his fingers. You take them and place them on your swollen belly, bigger now than it used to be as well.

Both of you changed in different ways.

“Happy birthday,” you breathe out, the words accompanied by your strangled sobs, and just like the cafés, the Eiffel Tower and the life and the poetry of Paris in your drowsy, afternoon dream, Taehyung doesn’t say anything.

Not for a while.

His lungs pause. The moisture of his lips crumbles into dryness like a withering blossom. His eyelids remain unmoving, irises fixed on a spot you cannot see because you cannot stop gazing at his evident shock.

One he begins to wake up from when the baby kicks against his hand.

He blinks, a heavy breath gusts out of his lips, upon which he runs his tongue. He turns his head to face you, no longer smiling, but trembling. A film of wetness clouds his sparkling eyes and you think the wholeness of the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower is in them, perhaps even greater than it. And against the place the baby kicked, it rests with their small body, drawn to their Daddy’s warmth. And it is only then that your tears and his, at last and in tandem, fall out. And along with it—every stress you ever felt regarding not being able to conceive.

“We did it?” he asks, carefully, his voice raspy, quiet and deep, wanting to hear it from you first before he looks down, and you can merely nod. He whimpers, sniffling, glancing into your eyes with such depth that it moves through you, sealing something within you. Perhaps joy, perhaps satisfaction with life, perhaps the boundless love that you feel for him, and you want to stay in this moment for far longer than time allows you. But it is foolish, this want of yours. Because when Taehyung finally looks down at your belly, it is a moment that is slowly and surely carving itself into your skin, your flesh and your bloodline. For your baby to see in the future. He fondles the rounded valley of their little body and comes to terms with it, vividly. His sobs stream out, pained but ebullient, and there his mouth cracks that boxy smile. Real, colorful, shining. “We did it.”

You nod again, the warmth of his hand boiling, homely, so right. “We did it, Taehyung.”

His eyes flick to yours and as they close, he closes his fingers around the back of your neck as well and kisses you. Boiling, homely, right and real.

Not a figment of your imagination. Not your delirium, caused by your abandonment, by the other end of your love that missed him.

This is reality. This is the present moment.

Taehyung deepens the kiss and in it you feel the gladness of his being, the words ‘finally’ that begin to unfold down your throat, hasty to meet your baby in your belly.

And Taehyung is hasty, too.

Breaking the kiss, he leans down and presses his lips against that rounded valley. Peppers a hundred, a thousand, a million kisses against that part of the baby’s body. Lingers there, cheek against it, head on your thigh, and breathes.

You let him bask in it for as long as he needs, raking your fingers through his short hair. And your teardrops fall onto his colored cheek when he begins to talk to his baby.

“Daddy’s here, little one,” he says, his tone mellifluous, his lips brushing against their body with each pronounced word—just like Jimin’s thumb brushed against your small belly at the time when he held your hand outside of the jazz club. “Daddy loves you so much. He can’t wait to meet you, but he has to finish his military service first and then he’ll be home for good. With you and Mommy. I’ll take care of you both. I’ll never leave again.”

You swipe away your tears from his cheek and Taehyung straightens. Kisses your lips. Kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and hugs you as if he never hugged you before, three hearts connected in that embrace when he pulls you onto his lap and holds you.

He inhales your scent, your hair, the sleep you emerged out of, tracing patterns on your back. And then the sweetest form of interrogation happens.

He brushes your hair back with both hands, keeping it in place behind your ears. “How far along are you?”

You can’t halt the bloom of the grin on your face, the question reminding you of Jimin. “Five months. Six next week.”

He reciprocates the smile, but as he begins to do the math, it withers. “So your due date is in May?”

The corners of your mouth downturn. You haven’t allowed yourself to fully think about the time in the near future in terms of you giving birth, knowing the pain it would bring. You’re aware you should prepare yourself for it, so the worst doesn’t happen, but you also don’t want to prematurely cause harm to your baby with that stress.

Your emotions are in shambles. They are a threat and you wish they weren’t.

“May 30th is my due date, but it doesn’t mean I give birth on that day. I can give birth in June, too. It depends on the baby.” You laugh, softly and shortly. “Can you take a leave?”

You can see him racking his brain, his features solemn and tense. “I get discharged on June 10th and I don’t know if the commander will allow me…” he trails off, briefly looking away before finding his way back to your eyes. “Don’t worry about that. It’s my responsibility. I’ll be here. You won’t be alone during your first childbirth, I promise you that. I’ll be here. Do you trust me?”

Without a shadow of doubt, you do, and so you don’t hesitate to nod your head and express it through your own words. “I do, Taehyung. I trust you.”

He smiles, the blush in his cheeks deepening its hue. “Good.”

He kisses you, gently, and it’s a kiss of such romantic affection that you forget about the threat of the stress, the threat of him not being here during your childbirth. You melt into him, basking in the demonstration of his love for you, of the pride he feels because of the way you trust in him. You can enormously feel it all, as if it was written on his lips and you could read it.

He’s daubed in this resplendent romance as he withdraws. Coated in sweat, he’s so refulgent that you dissolve, falling in love with him all over again. Your inner child swoons and you sense her emotions, as though you were her in the autumn of your childhood, being caught by him during a chase, surrounded by pumpkins and apples. The emotions she felt when she looked at him more differently than she ever did in her lifetime and realized that she wants to marry him and have a baby with him.

That undreamed dream came true. And somehow that is healing her. Somehow, that allows her to rest peacefully, having drawn her last breath.

Taehyung kisses your chin. And kisses her goodbye at the same time. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

You shake your head. “The doctor asks you at the five month check-up if you want to know the gender, but because you weren’t with me, I didn’t want to. My next check-up is next week, though. We can find out together.”

You expect him to smile at that, but Taehyung frowns, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry you had to go to these check-ups all alone. I’ll go with you this time, baby.”

The anguish you had buried in yourself deep resurfaces. Maybe that is one of the reasons why you were so delirious in October. You had to go through the final stage to adulthood all by yourself, abandoned.

Something tells you to tell him, but shame holds you back, twisting your tongue. You furrow your brows, breaking free of the amorous eye contact you had with Taehyung, and he immediately catches onto the shadowed side of your emotions.

He grasps it into his hand, like he so very often grips your hair. “What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, still looking away. “Did Jimin tell you anything about the day you were supposed to have your vacation?”

There’s an interlude between his response and you glance at him to see him drifting through the library of his memories. With furrowed brows, just like your own.

“I only spoke to Jimin once and he asked me if my commander allowed me to have his vacation. That’s how I found out he was willing to give it up for me, but I didn’t know why,” he says, lifting his head from the myriads of life-records, uncertainty and confusion covering his eyes. “But I didn’t get his vacation. My commander gave me a reward vacation because of what I did in the north. Why did Jimin want to give up his vacation for me?”

The shame inches closer, scratching your back, but for your baby, you shake it away. Decide to tell him because you trust him and because you can tell him anything without the fear of prejudice.

“Because I went mad on that day,” you start, straight and flat. Taehyung widens his eyes, but then his brows lower down, as if they were saying, excuse me? Anger eclipses his face, one that feels safe, though. “I imagined you being here with me. I planned this fun day with you and Jimin, taking you on a walk through the park on the way to the jazz club, where you kissed me for the first time. I wanted to tell you about the baby. Jimin was supposed to honor you for your mission in the north by singing, but I ruined everything. Nobody saw you when I saw you very clearly… until I didn’t.”

Pensiveness smooths out over his anger that boils, quietly. And once again, like Paris in your dream, he doesn’t say anything at all. He contemplates the information you’ve given him and the patterns he’d been engraving into your back reach their end, no longer circling on their own without his assistance.

“Why didn’t he tell me any of this?” he asks, keeping his voice low, so his anger doesn’t touch you. “I should've known…”

There was no contact between you and him for the two months he was on his mission, and phone calls were forbidden. It seems as though he’s dwelling on this fact as he doesn’t finish his sentence, rooting his eyesight on your lips, absentmindedly.

Jimin said one month, but he was wrong.

North is brutal. Too, too brutal.

Thank God Taehyung came out unscathed.

Another interlude of foreign, but not entirely uncanny silence settles in between and, blinking rapidly, Taehyung sighs. Brushes your hair back one last time before he takes your hands in his. A gesture of absolute genuineness, a foreshadowing to his following words.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice throaty. “I’m sorry for not being here. I’m sorry for being so far away. And I’m sorry our dream came true when I have to be away.”

His pity cuts through you, reminiscent of your dream, and you realize that the pity you felt in that other world wasn’t yours. It was his, and the element of the inability to speak was the principle of him not being here and not being able to react. It’s all connected—your dream told you about his return and about his feelings. And you felt them because you’re a part of him, carrying his child.

You soften, seized by it all, and you hide your face in his neck, fading into him. “It’s okay. You’re here now. Maybe it was supposed to happen now. We both changed, didn’t we? We grew up.”

He forces you to look at him and the pity on his face breaks you. The rose petals in his cheeks died, the smooth surface now swirls with pallidness once again. His brown pools are glossy with the depth of that emotion, millions of words swimming in them. He can’t say them, he can’t catch up to them, and when he closes his eyes, presses his forehead against yours and sighs, you’re aware of how hard this is for him.

You had five months to come to terms with this star-crossed situation. He’s barely had an hour.

“I want to be here for you. I want to help you. I don’t want to leave you alone with the baby,” he murmurs against you, squeezing your hands to make you understand how much this means to him, and you allow the wall, which you had built up along with Jimin to keep your mind and your emotions safe, to collapse, completely. Fresh tears drip down your cheeks, your chin trembling. “Have you had any morning sickness?”

You nod, recollecting your first nausea in the first trimester when Jimin was still around. “Yes, it started when Jimin was here. He was there for me. Until he had to go back to Korea.”

A war flashes on his face and, right away, he lets you know which side has won. “I want to be here for you, not Jimin. Do you understand me?”

You open your mouth in shock because you still, faithfully, remember the words he spoke to you in your imagination. Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone. And with shock comes the realization that the chapter ends. It is the final puzzle piece, the last enlightenment you needed—because in reality, Taehyung didn’t say those words. Taehyung didn’t give his blessing for Jimin to take care of you in his absence. Your own ego did.

Taehyung mistakens your silence and your comprehension of that for displeasure, and he clicks his tongue in regret, sighing your name.

“I’m glad Jimin was there for you, don’t get me wrong, but I just wish it was me. Who knows if I ever get a chance to be your partner in this again,” he spills out, truthfully, and watches as another rivulet of tears trickles down your face. He wipes them away, blinking his own away, too. “I want to rub your back, baby. I want to watch your belly grow big. I want to tie your shoes, bring you food and buy baby clothes with you. I don’t want Jimin to do that because it’s my job. It’s my duty.”

You understood him then and you understand him now. Agree with him as that truth anchors in your heart. Jimin was kind to do what he did and you’re grateful for it. Without him, you’d be roaming in your delusions. And Taehyung needs to know that he helped you with that first and foremost.

“Jimin wasn’t my partner in that, Taehyung,” you croak out, inhaling deeply so your sentences flow out better. “I agree with you that it’s your job and I also want it to be you. But what Jimin did was save me from my own mind. I was lost without you, pregnant and alone, and he kept those delusions far away from me. I needed that. I needed a friend.”

Taehyung nods, understanding, caressing your tear-stained face. The color percolates back to his cheeks, little by little. And you can see a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

Calmness expands in your sternum.

“I will give him my thanks for that,” he settles, kissing your temple, leaving his lips there, against that intimate place. “You won’t be left alone with your mind again. I’ll try my hardest to be there for you, to keep in touch. I’ll talk to my commander. I’ll do anything. But I promise you won’t have those delusions again because you’ll be busy with me.”

The last tears that surge out are of relief and you hug him, squeeze him in gratitude. “Thank you, Taehyung. I love you.”

He sinks his fingers into the patterns he engraved into your back, rocking you side to side in that embrace, his lips by your ear. “I love you, baby. I’ll buy you a big house. We’ll go on a shopping spree next week and get all the things the little one needs. I’ll take care of you both.”

You kiss him and in the middle of that expression of affection, the baby kicks again. Taehyung feels it against his own tummy and he grins and laughs into the kiss, lifting you up with utmost ease and setting your feet down on the carpet near the record player by the wall.

And the music he begins to play isn’t of the jazz kind he loves so much. He put down a vinyl that bears Billie Eilish’s face and when Halley’s Comet sounds out throughout the bedroom, he takes your hand and drifts on the carpet with you.

Not under the brown, dimmed lights of the jazz club, but under the yellow lights of the bedroom where you reached the beginning journey of your adulthood. And now as you dance with him, pregnant with his baby, you feel as much as an adult as a human can possibly feel like one.

The final stage.

Everything changes with this song.

Halley’s Comet comes around more than I do…

Taehyung doesn’t come often, but he’s here now. Big and buff, cinnamon, apples and pumpkin. The boy you loved turned into a man that you love even more.

From a baby boy friend to a baby Daddy.

And as he looks down into your eyes, he asks you what names you want to give to the baby. And you whisper it to him, letting yourself be led into a dance of adulthood.

“Perfect,” he whispers back, kissing you and staying there for as long as he needs, for as long as you need because you grip his shoulder with all your might, afraid to let him go.

Because after he piles up your apartment with the crib, the stroller, the high chair, the diapers and so many non-colorful baby clothes that you need another set of furniture, he has to leave again. And you cry so hard that you can’t get any words out. But Taehyung hears them. He hears them in the hundreds of kisses you exchange and he hears them in the last hug you give him and in the last goodbye you say to him.

And he comes back on May 29th, bigger and more buff than he was, prepared to be a Daddy. Spends the day moving into the new house he bought you with Jimin as his help and no one else. Paints the baby’s room pink because you’re having a baby girl that he grew his muscles for to protect her.

His commander gave him a special leave and forbade him from coming back and finishing his service. Apparently, the man himself has five children and four grandchildren. Is a softie when it comes to them.

And when Taehyung is done with the house and sits with you on your new couch, he announces it to the baby girl. Your home is ready, little one. You can come out now. And he laughs so hard that the delightful sound pulses through the walls, taking a sip of his soda.

And she does come out the next day, sharing the same number of her birth date with her Daddy. Taehyung holds your hand, as calm as the spring wind, as you push her out. Breathes with you, guides you, controls your inhales and exhales. Keeps his lips pressed against your temple—and he purses his lips against the same spot on the baby girl’s head once he holds her.

And Taehyung looks at you, and you look at him. Joyful tears fall, in tandem, with his.

And the happy event repeats two years later. What Taehyung feared the most didn’t come true. He watched your belly grow with his second child while holding the hand of the first. He rubbed your back while you threw up the breakfast he had learned to make for you. He tied your shoes when you couldn’t bend down due to your large bump, his daughter standing beside him, watching his every move, learning about love from him. And he bought colorful clothes for the baby with its gender already in mind.

Blue, brown, green and beige.

A baby boy for the baby girl. A reversed picture of you and him, growing together.

And as your babies grow together, you grow old with Taehyung, too.

And he never leaves. Never again.

And he buys you tulips of all colors every single week, whose sweet scent the children inhale and whose pink hues color their cheeks. And they play with Uncle Jimin until he brings them cousins to utterly fall in love with.

BACK to masterlist | read part one

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sopejinsunflower · 2 years ago

Text

a/n: so this was stuck too long in my WIP it might feel a little rushed at the end but I’ve been in a slump for awhile so this is a small win to be able to finished. I hope you like demon Jimin.

Warning: 18+, minors DNI, virgin reader, deception, a little Stockholm Syndrome-ish, death/suicide insinuated (this one’s dark, so please be caution before reading)

Summary: Having an imaginary friend is normal for most kids. What’s not normal is when you don’t outgrow it well in your teens. He’s persistent and possessive but when you meet who you thought was the love of your life, can you really deny your own heart? Even when he’s a demon lord?

Pairing: Park Jimin x you, Kim Taehyung, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin

Tags: Demon Jimin! Yandere Jimin! Penetrative sex, controlling partner, deception, dom Jimin ofc because obviously this is supposed to be Set Me Free inspired.

Word count: 14k

FIVE

The small hand wrapped around the pencil made the stationery look twice its usual size, gliding over the white paper as the little girl scribbled, forehead creasing in concentration, tongue sticking out.

“What are you drawing?” her mother asked, leaning over to see the purple drawing. It’s a little difficult to make out but she can see two stick figures, one sitting down at a table with pigtails, drawing something, the other hunched down in the corner of the room. The woman pointed to the figure with pigtails. “Is that you, sweetie?”

The little girl nodded, pigtails flying into her face.

“And who’s this?” her mother pointed to the figure in the corner.

Without looking up, the pencil still moving over the paper as she added in more details, she answered, “Jimin.”

“Who’s Jimin? Is he your new friend from kindergarten?”

The girl shook her head.

Her mother frowned, a little confused. “Oh? Is he one of the Kim boys? I forgot their names.”

Again, the girl shook her head. She finally stopped drawing and looked up to her mother, sighing as if annoyed she had to explain this simple thing. “No. Jimin lives in my closet, mummy. He doesn’t go outside.”

Her mother’s blood ran cold, the words stuck in her throat. She watched her daughter go back to drawing, not even realising the way her mother’s heart was going wild. She licked her lips and tried to calm herself. An imaginary friend. That’s all, she thought. “I see. I didn’t know you have a friend in your closet. Is he a little boy?”

The girl sighed. “Of course. He’s my age.” She paused, putting the end tip of the pencil to her lips. “I think.”

The mother breathed a sigh of relief. She stood up and ruffled the little girl’s head. “Okay. Well, make sure you two play nicely, okay? And clean up after you’re done playing. Got it?”

“Okay, mummy,” the girl said, going back to her little art. Just as her mother was about to leave the room, the woman heard the girl continue to talk. “Did you hear that, Minnie? We can’t make any messes, okay? Or I’ll get in trouble.”

The woman smiled bitterly to herself. Being a single mother is hard enough and her daughter having an imaginary friend only further proves how lonely she was. She just hopes the Kim boys will be good friends with her, enough so that she won’t need an imaginary friend anymore. New place, new possibility, right?

Sighing, she disappeared into the kitchen. “Honey, we're leaving in ten minutes. I need you to be ready by then,” she shouted over her shoulder as she prepared the girl’s overnight bag for the Kim’s household.

THIRTEEN

“Give it back, Taehyung! Give it back!”

You chase the laughing boy around the kitchen island, grabbing an apple from the bowl, ready to lug it at his head when Jin appears around the corner and easily plucks the ribbon from Taehyung’s hand. He gestures for the apple instead and you exchange the items; throwing the apple his way as he slides the ribbon across the island. “Thanks,” you say to him as Taehyung sulks. “It’s good to know not all of you are jackasses.”

Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you before going upstairs to his room, leaving you with the eldest. Munching on the apple, Jin points to the ribbon. “Another award?”

You nod, suddenly shy. “Yeah.”

“Oh, which one?” he asks, intrigues.

“Jimin.”

Jin chuckles. “Don’t you draw anything else?”

“I do,” you snap, the shyness quickly replaced with annoyance. “But the Jimin ones always come out the best. And why is everyone so pressed about what I paint?”

“Because,” Jin says, taking another bite of the apple, “you’re literally drawing a ghost. He doesn’t exist yet he’s so,” he waves his hand around, “vivid. Enough for you to paint him like that. You’re obsessed with him.”

“I’m not obsessed!” you retort. “And he’s not a ghost.”

“Right. Your imaginary friend when you were five,” Jin adds. “That you keep drawing even until today. It is a little weird considering the fact that you’re drawing him the same age as you.”

You shoot him a dirty look. “Aren’t you going to class or something?”

Jin laughs. “I am.” He picks up his bag and slung it over one shoulder. “And this is my house, by the way.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Fine. I’m leaving anyway.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Jin offers.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk. I don’t want to meet your college friends,” you say, hurrying out the back door before he can protest. You stuff the blue ribbon into your bag and briskly walk up the street to your place.

“You’re angry. Why?”

“I’m not,” you huff out, keeping your eyes up front.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying to me.”

At the change of Jimin’s tone of voice, you finally turn around to look at him. His eyes have grown darker, pupils dilating to the point that the whites of his eyes are gone. The stormy look on his face is enough to scare you to admit the truth. “I don’t like it when people talk about you like I’m crazy.”

“Why do you care what others think?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

You don’t answer, looking down at your feet sullenly as you walk.

“And what’s with Jin, huh?” he prods, leaning close to your face. “I told you to keep away from him. I told you to keep away from all of them.”

“They’re nice,” you say lamely. “I don’t know what your problem is with them.”

“They’re always trying to break us apart. I don’t like anyone who tries to break us apart.”

You remain quiet the rest of the way home because arguing with him is futile. He always gets his way, you think, as Jimin places a cold hand on your shoulder, his fingertips sinking into your flesh.

TWENTY

The world is spinning a mile a minute and the arm wrapped around your middle is only making you want to puke even more.

Namjoon slowly places you across the sofa, making sure both your feet are up before he finally fully lets you go; gently, of course. He rushes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and an ibuprofen for when you wake up just as Taehyung emerges from the bathroom with a bucket to place by your side.

You’re murmuring something, your words slurred, making it hard for Taehyung to understand. He puts his ear close to your mouth, listening hard in case you’re telling him something important.

“What’s she saying?” Namjoon asks as he comes back in. He places the glass of water on the coffee table and the painkiller tablet next to it. “Damn, maybe we should’ve gone easy for her first time drinking.”

Taehyung shrugs, motioning for him to stay quiet.

“Jimin,” you mumble through barely opened lips. “Don’t hurt them.”

Taehyung backs away, eyebrows raised all the way up. He turns to his older brother. “She’s calling for Jimin.”

Namjoon’s face clouds over, frowning in concern. “I thought she'd gotten over that phase years ago.”

“Jimin, Jimin,” you call out, your voice growing louder, somewhat distraught. Taehyung and Namjoon exchange glances, unsure of what to do. Just as it suddenly started, you become quiet, breathing evens out as you sleep. Occasionally, your forehead creases over like you’re having a bad dream but the two brothers are just relieved that you’re passed out.

“That was” Namjoon says, “unnerving.”

Taehyung gently pushes back your hair from your face, subtly caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He thinks Namjoon doesn’t see it but if he did the older one remains quiet. Taehyung stands up. “I’ve texted her mum. She’ll be home soon. Let’s go.”

“You sure we can leave her alone?” Namjoon looks unsure about leaving but he also can’t deny the unsettling feeling creeping down his back, like he’s being watched.

Taehyung hesitates before answering, “She’s sleeping now. Should be fine. Come on.”

In the old leather armchair in the corner of the room, Jimin watches as the two Kim brothers walk out of the house, not missing the way Taehyung looks back at you before closing the door behind him. He had seen the way that boy touched you, had seen the way he had pined over you all these years yet you never listen.

Jimin squats down next to your head, one finger tracing the outline of your face. “I told you to stay away from those boys but you never listen to me,” he whispers, his words piercing straight into your dreams. “And here you are, drunk from your first time drinking. Twentieth birthday and you spent it with them.” You moan, turning your head away. Jimin smiles but there’s no tenderness in his face.

When you open your eyes, the room is pitch black, so dark that even the bed underneath you is invisible. You turn your head, trying to look around but one movement makes you realise that both your wrists are shackled to the bedposts, or what looks like the direction of where the bedposts are supposed to be. The iron chains clang noisily as you pull on them. Immediately, your heart drops.

“Jimin,” you call out, your voice coming out weak. “Jimin, please. Where are you? You know I don’t like being here alone.”

“I know, my sweetness,” comes his voice from within the darkness. He materialises in front of you, standing at the foot of what is supposed to be the bed in his usual all black leather pants and boots. He’s bare from the waist up, his toned body on full display; something that’s never happened before. “It’s amusing that after all this time, you still haven’t gotten used to this place.”

“Get these chains off, please,” you say, doing your best to keep your voice soft despite the panic rising in your chest. Yes, you’ve been in this space before but never like this. Something is different. “My wrists hurt.”

Jimin tuts, shaking his head. “Not yet. They need to be on for now.”

“What’s going on? Why is it different this time?”

“Because, my love,” he says, walking over to your side, the echoes of the heels of his shoes loud in your ears, “today’s your twentieth birthday. It’s time for your initiation.”

“Initiation?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Yes, love. Have you forgotten?” He places a hand on your head, the icy cold of his skin making you shiver to the bones.

“For what?”

Jimin smiles widen, something that has never offered warmth for as long as you’ve known him. Something inside you withers in fear but you can’t deny the other sensation starting up like a fire being lit up at the sight of his beautiful face split by that awful, awful smile. Jimin kneels down on one knee, bringing his face close to yours. “To entwine your soul with mine.”

A dry chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop yourself. “ You’d have to be real to have a soul, Minnnie. You’re just a…”

The look on Jimin’s face takes away the words from your tongue. He knows something you don’t, something you’ve had a hunch about all these years yet had been too stubborn or too scared to actually make yourself face it. With a blink, Jimin’s eyes turn jet black and your breath is stuck in your throat. “What are you?”

Jimin lets out a laugh, a loud belly-aching, rumbling laugh that seems to echo all around the space as he throws his head back. It’s not a nice sound and yet he never ceases to look just as mesmerising as always. The contradiction is throwing you off.

“Fifteen years and only now you’re asking,” says Jimin when he finally stops, looking down at you with such pity. “I think it’s too little too late, my sweetness.”

You gulp tightly around the lump in your throat. “And what if I refuse? To do the initiation?”

The smile is quickly wiped off his face and suddenly he’s on top of you, straddling your chest but not really sitting. He leans his arms over the wall behind you, sneering down at you in a way that strikes both fear and anticipation of what he can and will do, making your stomach turn in a somersault. “It’s not a choice, love,” he hisses, his breath hot on your cheek. “I will have you, one way or the other.”

The menacing tone of his voice makes your heart beat faster. “Wh-what do you mean? Jimin, you’re scaring me,” you stutter out, the chains around your wrists rattling ominously. “I want to go back. Take me back, Minnie.”

“I will, just not right now,” he purrs into your ears. “Honestly, I’m hurt. Your twentieth and you celebrated with others, the Kim brothers no less. And you ignored me the whole night.”

“They threw me a surprise birthday party,” you counter, pleading. “How can I just walk away? They’ve been nothing but nice to me. They’re like my own brothers. They took care of me when my mother wasn’t around.”

“I took care of you!” he bellows, his eyes burning red this time. “I kept you company all of those times you’d cry yourself to sleep missing your dear mummy. I chased away all the bad dreams at night, I stayed with you every night when you couldn’t sleep without a night light on. Not them! They just swoop in when you move into a new place, free babysitting for your neglectful mother. They did all the easy work.”

You can’t help the way your throat constricts from being yelled at, something Jimin, in all his sadistic traits, had never actually done. Jimin sees the way your face crumples as you bite on your upper lip to keep them from wobbling and he cools off a little. He leans his forehead against yours, his dark fringe falling over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. You ignored me at the party.”

Your heart jumps at the sight of him sad. You try to touch him but your wrists are still bound, clanging the chains noisily when you move. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I- I got carried away. I was overwhelmed. There were so many people. You know I won’t ignore you on purpose, Minnie.”

Jimin stares into your eyes, that same puppy-like look still swimming in his gaze, the kind of look that melts you so easily. It effectively wrecks you with guilt whenever you do something he doesn’t approve of, an ammo he’s used over and over again throughout the years. You lean into him as best you can with the chains’ restriction. “You believe me, right? Minnie? You know I need you.”

“Do you? After all these years, I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten that promise you made me,” he says, visibly pouting, sounding the saddest he had ever been. “You promised me that you won’t ever leave me if I keep the monsters away.”

You lick your lips and nod. Yes, you remember that promise, made when you were five, that first night he climbed out of your closet last, after all the other shadows came out first. In return to keep you safe from the others, you made that promise that only a child could.

“I’ve kept the monsters away, haven’t I?”

You nod.

“I’ve kept you safe every night from then on, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

“And so why do you choose the brothers over me?”

You swallow, shaking your head. “I don’t. I choose you.”

The corner of Jimin’s lips twitch. “You do?”

You give a small nod.

“Really? I’m not convinced,” he states, readjusting his position, sitting a bit lower so that he rests on your pelvic bone.

“I do,” you whisper out, feeling the heat creeping up from your waist down. It’s an odd feeling, something that has never happened before.

Jimin’s more of a childhood friend, imaginary as he is. You both grew up together, just you and him against the world when your world had been so dark and so lonely, back when your mother would leave for work before the sun had even risen and come home when you’re already asleep. He was your saviour first then a friend, a protector and a companion but somewhere between being a tween and when puberty hits, he became a deep, dark secret.

No one could see him and after enduring being called a liar and ostracised in the first grade, you learnt the hard way to keep your mouth shut and pretend he wasn’t there following you everywhere you go when in public. You told everyone that Jimin had disappeared, that you had outgrown him just as any children with their own imaginary friends. Only the paintings remain. In truth, you’re not even sure why you painted him in the first place but those paintings are the only times when people would actually listen when you talk about him. In the past tense, of course.

Jimin is beautiful. He’s ethereal and your paintings of him were haunting. They evoke emotions from those who see them, making them pause and stare and weep if they look too long. You don’t paint him a lot, only five among the hundreds of canvases, one for each time Jimin had brought you into this dark space you don’t have a name for, yet they attracted the most attention, so much so that you got a full ride to the Royal College of Art. But Jimin won’t let you go.

Jimin grinds onto you, leaning over so his face is inches from yours. “You do what? Give me the full sentence, love.”

Your throat is dry but you force your voice out anyway. “I choose you, Jimin.”

“Always?”

You whimper as he presses his crotch against yours, the sneer back on his face. “Always.”

The first time Jimin brought you into this space, you were six. It was an escape, a quiet safe space from the raging storm outside and your mother was still not home. You two had huddled together. The second time was at twelve, when your mother’s boyfriend of 6-months kept creeping into your room at night. Jimin had been furious then and while you hid in this space, Jimin promised you he would tell the man to stay away. He never returned to the house since and though your mother cried for his disappearance, claiming that she’d been ghosted, whatever that meant, you had been the happiest.

At fourteen, when the boy you thought you liked, asked you out as a prank for the whole class to laugh at you, the dark space was where you ran to hide, sobbing into Jimin’s embrace. It had been at the end of the school year but when the new semester started, the boy and his family had left town so suddenly that people only heard about it two weeks after. Taehyung had said, “Good riddance,” and even though you were relieved, it had felt too coincidental.

It was at sixteen when the hunch came about, growing in the pit of your stomach like some kind of fungus. A family had just moved in next door and they had a son, Adam, a year older than you; shy and sweet-seeming the first time he came around with his parents, exchanging pleasantries and jokes with your mum at the front door. They moved in the middle of the year and your mum had assured Adam that you would show him the ropes at school, to which you had obliged. Both you and Taehyung had gladly taken him under your wings, including him into your fold of friend group (which included only you and the Kim brothers, really).

It took him less than three months to finally show his true colours. He had broken into your house when nobody was home and when you came back from your part-time job at the yoghurt shop, he had sprang out from the closet and pinned you to the bed. You don’t remember the rest of the details, except seeing Jimin looming behind him. You blinked and you were in the dark space, away and safe from danger. The next morning, his parents found him hanging in his closet, stiff and blue. They moved away shortly after that.

“I prefer you being here with me, mind, body and soul,” drawls Jimin, pulling you back to the now. “Where did you go?”

You’re pulled away from your train of thoughts and see Jimin leaning over you, eyes black, anger written all over his face. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“You’ve chosen me,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Act like it.”

He grabs your sides, nails digging into your flesh and you wince in pain. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I’m here. With you.” You take a deep breath. “Mind, body and soul.”

“As you should,” he says, his voice softening. He nuzzles your neck and you feel his teeth nip just along the collarbone. “Tonight, you will officially be mine.”

You feel his hands move slowly to your chest, softly kneading your breasts while his mouth never leaves your neck. You feel him press himself flat against you, the bulge in his pants so prominent you can feel the shape of him. You lay there, frozen, unable to say no nor even move away. Your heart is in your mouth and you’re too afraid that if you say something, it’s going to jump out and you’ll be dead.

Jimin pulls away, staring directly into your eyes. The jet black orbs in his sockets reflect back your fear-stricken face but he isn’t fazed. He smiles and your stomach twists and before you can do anything (not that you are capable anyway), his lips are on yours and it feels like your whole body is on fire, and not the good kind either. Your lips feel like someone had stuck live wires directly to them and the burning pain makes you scream out, muffled by his mouth. Tears pool in your eyes.

Then you feel his tongue snake in and your eyes widen in surprise: a forked tongue. You struggle to get away but Jimin holds the back of your head in place, grabbing a fistful of your hair. The chains around your wrists clang noisily next to your ears as you start to squirm under him. Squirm as you are, your mouth seems to be reacting the opposite way; moulding with his like they want to be fused together; you both want him and are disgusted by him, lips pulling him in, body resisting. He finally pulls back, displeased.

“I want to go back. Please,” you sob, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

“We’re not done yet,” he says, forked tongue catching the tears. “I haven’t even started, my sweetness.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Start?”

“The initiation, you silly goose.” He continues to lick down your neck, catching your earlobe in between his teeth.

You swallow hard. “Jimin, what is the initiation?”

“You have to give me something you’ve never given anyone else before,” he whispers into your ear and the hairs on your neck and arms stand on end. He moves to the other ear to add, “Your virginity, my love. Your one and only. It shall be mine.”

Jimin’s fingers unbutton your jeans and just as he’s about to shimmy it down, your brain clicks and you finally yell out, “Wait!”

Jimin lets out a growl, raising only his ember eyes to glare at you. “What?”

You’re breathing hard as your mind races to try and find a good excuse. You’ve never even had a boyfriend, never even got the chance to go on a first date. While your female friends, limited in number as they are, gushed about their partners, about the things they would do, about the sweet little gifts they’d get on Valentine’s, you had smiled and been happy for them, doing your best to ignore the bitter feelings clawing at the back of your throat.

You’ve had suitors, of course, but for some reason they never stick around. They’d ask you out but then stood you up when you arrived with not even a text to explain or apologise. If they managed to get past the first date, you never hear from them again after it ends. You’re only twenty, your whole life is ahead of you. It’s stupid but you want your first time with a man to be special. You want to be loved up, taken out on dates, wooed off your feet and be promised the world even if it’s all a lie.

Jimin is looking at you, head tilted to the side. “You want all that?”

You stare at him. “Huh?”

Jimin frowns. “All the things you were thinking about just now. You want all that?”

“How-”

“Just answer the question,” he snaps impatiently.

You nod, unable to say the words. Jimin sighs, tilting his head upwards like he’s facing with a minor inconvenience. “But why? It’s such a waste of time.”

“I-,” you stutter but clear your throat and try again, although your voice comes out small. “I’ve never experienced it. I want to know what it feels like. All this time I’ve only ever seen others go through it and I just…I just want to know what it feels like. To fall in love and to be loved.”

When Jimin doesn’t say anything, you quickly add, “I won’t…I won’t have to sleep with the person. I can tell them I’m waiting for marriage.” At this Jimin snorts but you ignore him. “Just…just let me experience all that and then you…you can have my…my everything.”

You’re not sure what Jimin will say but he looks like he’s actually thinking about it. “I promise,” you say, just to convince him.

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes going back to normal. “Okay, fine.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “Really?”

He nods, almost excitedly. “Sure. Anything for you, my love.” He leans down once again, caressing your forehead. “I’ll let you have all that. And after that, I’ll take what’s mine.”

“Thank you,” you whisper out, feeling elated. “Thank you, Minnie. I promise I’m yours.”

Jimin smiles. “That you are.”

You’re back in the real world, already in your own bed. Jimin is nowhere to be seen and he’s still not around the next day. A week passed by and you haven’t seen any sights of him anywhere, like he’s just gone. Like he was never there. It’s strange to suddenly be alone, truly alone for the first time in years but it’s also liberating. You’re free.

A month later, you’re starting to believe that it had all been your imagination after all, that maybe you believed in him so much so that you made him real. You spend more time with the Kim brothers, even get to travel to Europe to visit the Royal College of Arts with Taehyung to see if you’d like the place. You do, so you take up the scholarship and move abroad with him, although he goes to a different school.

You made a lot of friends, went to a lot of parties and art shows. You painted a lot, too, and none of them of the man that haunted your youth. Even his face is a blur, memories that seem to be fading faster than normal and by your sophomore year, you’ve forgotten all about him.

You travelled a lot, mostly around Europe, with different friend groups as well as the Kim brothers whenever your holidays aligned. You met a lot of people, went out on a million dates, experimented with different genders and even had a short fling with an up-and-coming actor, but the one thing you could never do was fall completely in love.

You’d meet someone you think will be the one but nothing ever survived past the third month. This time, it’s not them; it’s you. You just can’t seem to give them your all, pulling away the moment they fall. You don’t know why either and you have no intention of hurting people. So you stop, telling people you no longer have any interest, that you’re asexual, that you’re anything but normal so that people will leave you alone instead of trying to set you up or ask you out.

You miss the connection, you miss having someone to come home to, someone to be there when you wake up from another nightmare. But if you can’t give it your all, it’s only fair you don’t give anything at all. Thus, your purity remains.

TWENTY-SEVEN

You finish applying the fresh coat of lipstick in the mirror, standing back and admiring the view, making sure that not a hair is out of place and your makeup is perfect. Satisfied, you give yourself a nod.

“Let’s do this,” you say to yourself, snapping your purse shut and fixing your skirt. You exit the ladies’ room and make your way to the meeting room. A new partner is coming on board and you, being one of the leading managers for the big project next month, will have to give a presentation to the man, a briefing to bring him up to speed. You take a deep breath and enter.

Your team and your boss, Martin, are all sitting around the big oval table. They look up and visibly relax when they see it’s you. You look around the room. “He’s not here yet?”

“He’s coming up now,” Martin answers, pulling out the chair next to him for you. He leans in to whisper, “Everything ready?”

You nod and smile. “Yes. Everything’s taken care of, don’t worry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “We need to make sure he’s happy with this. He’s bringing in a lot of money.”

You bend down to retrieve the folio that you’ll be using when the door opens and everybody stands up. You’re still trying to pull out the thick papers from your bag as you hear a new voice greet the room. You freeze, confident you’ve heard it before. You pull out your materials and look up, seeing the new partner for the first time.

He’s handsome, dark hair with a middle parting to his fringe giving him a boyish look. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his grey slacks as he makes his way around the table towards your boss. He extends one hand and then turns to you, the smile never leaving his lips. You take his hand and jump a little at how cold his skin is. “Jimin Park,” he says, his voice velvety pleasant, “Pleasure to meet you, y/n.”

The way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine for what reason you’re not sure. Have you met him somewhere before? Everybody takes a seat and the meeting begins. You speak for most of the time and Martin beams at you proudly at how well your presentation is. All the while, Jimin only watches intently, listening and nodding but not saying anything more than a few clarification questions here and there. He never stops smiling.

When you reach the end of the presentation, the room gives a round of applause, and so does he, eyes never leaving you, that same smile constantly on his lips. You should be happy, you should feel accomplished that he seems happy, too, but a nagging feeling tells you that something isn’t right. As everyone gets ready to go for a team lunch, Jimin included, you finally realise what it was that bothers you so much.

He’s smiling but it never reaches his eyes; there’s no warmth in them.

***

“So, how long have you been working here?”

Jimin sits across from you, casually leaning back against his chair like he’s very comfortable, monolid eyes sharp on you.

You clear your throat, shifting in your seat like you’re uncomfortable under his gaze. “A little over five years now,” you say with a polite smile. “Got in right after graduation and never left. They’ve taken great care of me.” You turn to Martin who puffs out his chest proudly.

“One of my best, that one,” your boss chimes in, pointing at you while your coworkers chuckle lightly.

“I bet,” Jimin mutters, eyes still on you, but you think you’re the only one who caught it. “Well,” he says, louder now, turning to your boss, “you have me on board. Just let me know what support you need and,” he turns back to you, “I’ll do my best to give it my all.”

The table cheered and everyone fell into light conversation all around. All except you and Jimin, staring at each other, him looking like he knows things you don’t, a smug little smile on his lips, you, a little put off by how much attention he’s giving you. You think about telling your boss of how uncomfortable Jimin makes you feel but you’re a little hesitant that it might backfire since Martin is awfully fond of him. You wrench your gaze away from Jimin, finally, focusing on your food, doing your best to ignore the fact that you can feel he’s still watching.

Weeks go by and you’re thrown into one of the most hectic phases of the project, launching in a couple of months. This is when your phones won’t stop ringing, business people coming and going from your office in constant streams and a lot of fuck ups with orders. You’re running around everyday, barely even sitting down, never mind to eat and it’s starting to show by the slight gaunt look on your face and how your skirt is barely hanging on your hips. But you love what you do so you power through.

You’re on your hands and knees in your office, going through the white blueprint of the event hall spread over the floor in front of your desk, checking every minute details to correct before you send off copies to the vendors when a voice from behind you makes you visibly jump. “Nice view.”

You turn around to see Jimin leaning against the doorframe of your office,a coffee cup in each of his hands and a white paper bag tucked under his arm. You scowl at him, wondering what he meant because your ass would have been pointing in his direction when he said those words. You sit up on your knees. “That’s sexual harassment,” you say, your voice curt.

Jimin’s lips twitch but his eyes widen in surprise, whether genuine or not, you can’t tell. “I was talking about the venue. I’ve been there and those wide windows at the back will give a really great view of the city. The clients will love it.”

The scowl remains on your face but you move sideways so you can bend over the blueprint again, but this time, not ass presenting him. You hope he goes away, taking the hint that you’re busy.

“Here. I brought you coffee and some sandwiches,” Jimin says, entering your office without asking for permission and placing the paper bag on your desk. The coffee cup, he holds it out for you.

You glance at the cup briefly before nodding to your desk. “Thanks. Just leave it there. I need to finish this.”

“No.”

You pause, looking up at him in surprise and confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I said, no,” Jimin repeats; the same easygoing smile on his face, the same cold look in his eyes. “You need to take a break or you’re going to collapse before this project even finishes.”

You stare at him, contemplating on not satisfying him because who the hell is he to tell you what to do? But a steaming cup of coffee sounds so good while it’s still hot, rather than later when it’s lukewarm. You sigh and take the cup from him, standing up as you do. “Thanks,” you say again, much softer this time and almost shyly, mostly for being told off. You take a sip and immediately feel the tension melt away. You sigh heavily, tilting your neck this and that way, cracking them to relieve the stiffness.

“Do you always throw yourself into work like this?” Jimin leans against your desk, the rim of the cup at his lips but eyes looking down at the spread out blueprints and other papers all over the floor. And yet, it feels like he’s watching you anyway, from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s a busy time.”

“Really?” he asks, looking sideways at you. “You sure you’re not running away from something? Distracting yourself with work?”

You turn to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

He meets your gaze. “Oh, just wondering.”

You stare at him, incredulous, but decide not to answer him. “You should go.”

“Don’t you paint anymore?”

You freeze, looking at him like he’d just grown another head. Your heart rate spikes a little as you comb back through your memories, trying to think if you told him anything about your past hobbies. No, you don’t think so. No one in this office knows that you come from an art background, only assuming that you had graduated from the business school of RCA. You swallow thickly, subconsciously backing away from him. “How do you know I even paint?”

Jimin looks at you calmly, letting five seconds pass by before moving away from the desk to point at a picture frame set on it. It’s a picture of you and Taehyung on your graduation day, the Royal College of Arts main building in the back. “Oh, I just assumed that from that picture.”

“Most people assumed I came from the business school,” you say, your voice a tad bit shaky.

Again, Jimin looks slightly alarmed. “Oh, I didn’t even know they had a business school.”

Bullshit, you wanted to say but your mind is reeling.

“Well, from your reaction, I’m guessing I was right,” Jimin continues, languidly relaxing back against your desk. “So, my question still stands. You don’t paint anymore?”

You don’t like his tone of voice; condescending and smug, like he knows more than he lets on. You find yourself answering, “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t.” Then, on second thought, you add, “I can’t.”

Jimin tilts his head. “Why?”

Your forehead creases over as your eyebrows stitch together, struggling to keep your emotions in check because you hate it when someone questions your past. It’s always been one of the problems with prospective partners; they always want to know everything. And then get hurt when they do. But to Jimin, you square your shoulders and the look on your face hardens. “None of your business,” you snap, a little too harshly before regretting it. He is your boss after all. Sort of.

“Is that how you talk to me?” His voice is low and cold, devoid of any of the friendliness he had earlier.

You gulp. “Sorry, sir. I’m just- I’m a little stressed out right now,” you confess, not even sure why you are.

“Go home,” he says, his voice back to normal. “Take a rest.”

“But I have to get this-”

“I’ll handle it,” he promises, pushing off the desk and coming over to you. In a few steps, he’s standing in front of you, toe to toe, too close for personal space, looking down his nose at you. He’s even more handsome up close, breathing down on you like you’re nothing but a child that needs to be put in place. “Go.”

You give him one last look before gathering your things, including the sandwiches he brought, and leaving out the door. You glance back only once at the elevator, looking at him looking at you, sipping on his coffee casually, one hand in his pocket.

- - -

You remember going to bed. You remember falling asleep. But you don’t remember waking up and being…here.

Where am I? What is this place? Everything feels so real, so vivid that you’re very sure you’re awake instead of dreaming. But there’s nothing here, just pitch black. You can’t see anything except for yourself, like a game character in a glitch where the world didn’t render correctly. You walk around but no matter how long and how far, there’s still nothing, making you feel like you probably didn’t move at all.

If this is a dream, how do you wake up? Because this darkness and nothingness is unsettling, even more so when you can feel the cool linoleum feel under your bare feet but can’t see it. You stop moving, feeling defeated, hoping you’d wake up soon.

“Hello, my sweetness.”

You jolt, turning around towards the cool voice and seeing the silhouette of a man a little further away. You squint, trying to see better who it is, stepping closer. “Who are you?”

“You know exactly who I am,” comes the voice and then, like a lighting on stage, his whole feature grows more visible. Jimin Park, your second boss.

“What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing in my dreams?”

Jimin’s mouth perks up. “You think this is a dream?”

You look around. “It’s the only explanation.”

You blink and suddenly Jimin is right in front of you, looming so close you have to look up to look at his face. You teeter and step back a pace. Like usual, he has that same smile on his face but his eyes, his eyes are different. They are jet black. “Still think this is a dream?”

You nod but hesitantly. You notice then that he’s bare from the waist up, toned muscles on full display and you think, So this is what he looks like under the suit. You can’t help but stare, unable to deny to yourself the arousing interest in your chest. A wet dream, you think, that’s why he’s here.

Jimin laughs lightly, like he can read your mind. He leans closer and you half close your eyes, expecting his lips on yours. When it doesn’t happen, you blink your eyes open again to see a smirking Jimin. “Were you expecting something?”

You pull away, huffing. “No.”

A finger catches your chin, holding it in place as he makes you look at him. “You’re lying to me,” he says, his voice threatening and your heart races. There’s something familiar about his words, something familiar in the way you feel in his presence. The more you think about it, the more you realise that there’s a subtle fear of him. You wonder why because these past months, Jimin had been nothing but nice and a fair new boss to everyone.

Nice. But not warm. There’s always a cold edge to his demeanour, like everything is an act. Like he’s only pretending.

The look in those jet black eyes is heavy and almost searing at the same time. You want to say no again, but something in the back of your mind warns you that he won’t take another lie and you wouldn’t like the consequences. “Yes,” you breathe out in a whisper.

“Yes what, my sweetness?”

Your mouth is dry but you force yourself to speak. “Yes, I was expecting something.”

“Good girl,” he coos and you feel his cold hand settle on your side, pulling you closer. “See, wasn’t so hard to admit it, was it?”

You don’t answer, feeling his fingers trace up and down your side, sneaking under your pyjama shirt and grazing your skin, making you shiver from the coldness and the anticipation. It’s a dream anyway, right? You can do anything in a dream. You tilt your chin up, looking at him through puppy-eyes and pouty lips. “Well?”

Jimin smirks again, only one side of his lips turning up. “As you wish.” He leans down and connects your lips to his and the searing pain shoots through your lips and down to your toes, making you moan into his mouth. Your eyes shoot open and you’re suddenly back in your bed, staring at your ceiling, breathing like you’ve run a marathon.

You sit up, looking around the room but everything looks in place. The clock on your bedside table shows it’s three in the morning and you have to be awake in another three hours. You lay back onto your pillow but you’re too worked up to go back to sleep. Your lips are still tingling and you touch it gingerly with the tips of your fingers. You recall the dream, seeing your half-naked boss standing in front of you and you shake your head.

Ugh, you think, I have to get that image out of my head.

The next day at work, you’re barely able to look Jimin in the eyes. You can’t help the image that keeps popping at the front of your mind every time you see him so you avoid him at all cost, leaving a room when he comes in, looking away when he’s talking to you. This continues on until the next week to the point that everyone else is starting to notice. Martin finally pulls you aside into his office one day.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, steepling his fingers together on his desk.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, feigning ignorance. “Is something wrong?”

He sighs. “You’ve been avoiding Jimin and even I can see it. Did something happen between the two of you?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. In truth, you’re replaying all of the dreams you’ve been having the past week. Every night, without fail, your second boss, Jimin, has been visiting you in your dreams, doing things you only wish he would do in real life, things you don’t even dare to admit to wanting. Every spot he lays his lips on burns like he’s made of fire and yet you crave it every time you wake up. “No, nothing happened,” you reiterate.

“Are you sure?” he prods. “I thought you two were getting on well. He speaks highly of you, too.”

“He does?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah. It’s starting to make me a little jealous,” Martin says with a chuckle. “I brought him in but it feels like he’s stealing away my best worker.”

You shift in your seat, ignoring the unsettling feeling in your chest. You laugh lightly along with him. “Don’t worry about it. He’s not stealing me away from you. I’m all yours, boss.”

“Really?”

His tone of voice shifts and dread fills your lungs. No, please no. He’s been so good to you and you have loved this job. Please don’t. Martin stands up and walks over the desk to stand in front of you, his crotch rightly aligned in front of your face as you sit there. You push back the chair a little bit.

“You’re an amazing employee, y/n,” he says, his voice low and soft. “And I would like to make sure that you’re loyal to me.”

“Of course I am,” you say with a smile. “I’ve been here for a long time, haven’t I? I love my job and I would like to stay here as long as I can. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, but I do.” He leans his hands on both the arms of your chair. “And with a new, young partner in the picture, I’m worried that he’s going to get all of your attention.”

Your throat is tight and swallowing is painful. “He’s-he won’t. I mean, you’re both my bosses so I don’t really have the power to say no if he has other projects for me when this one finishes.”

“Well then, prove it,” he purrs, his face up close to yours. “Show me how loyal you’ll be to me.”

You lick your lips. “But- but I have. All these years I’ve-”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says, his eyes darkening.

“Then what do you mean?”

Martin smiles and steps back. His hands go to the fly of his pants and you think you’re going to throw up. Your skin feels clammy and cold and there’s a ringing in your ears. The office door bangs open, slamming against the wall and both of you look around to see in shock.

“Sorry to interrupt,” says Jimin in a serious tone. If he knew what was happening, he didn’t show it. “But we have a problem with one of the vendors. I need y/n to help me smoothen things out.”

You spring up to your feet and excuse yourself, hurrying out of the door with Jimin behind you. You make a beeline for the ladies’ and shut yourself in a cubicle, breathing heavily, leaning against the door as if Martin might just burst right in. You lean your head against your arm, pressing against your eyes to kind of shake yourself out of the panic that’s building.

“My sweetness.”

You look up, blinking at the sudden change of environment. The cubicle you locked yourself in has disappeared, replaced with nothing. Nothing but darkness. The voice that calls for you isn’t the usual flirt; it’s serious, solemn, commanding. You turn around to find Jimin standing there, this time, for the first time, fully clothed in all black. His eyes, though, are fiery red.

You don’t know why you did what you did next but it felt like the right thing at that moment. You sob, running into his arms as he catches you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He lets you cry into his shirt, caressing your hair and holding you quietly as your body shakes with every weep. It takes a while until you’re finally calm enough to step back, wiping at your face with the back of your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “I just- I didn’t know what came over me.”

Jimin watches you, quiet, not saying a word until you finally look at him. “It’s not the first time you’ve run to me when someone’s hurt you, my love.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”

The fire in his eyes dim a little as he tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re always so stubborn. You never listen. So even if I tell you, you won’t believe me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin sighs but the kind of sighs that tired people let out when dealing with annoying situations. “Still so stubborn. Never mind. What shall we do about him?”

Your eyes widen. Does he know after all? Or is this just your subconscious making him know what had transpired in Martin’s office? The latter, of course. It’s the only explanation. You’re dreaming again. Or hallucinating. The thought of what Martin had done resurfaces and suddenly you’re angry; angry at him but also at yourself for being such a fool for not seeing it for what it is even when he has been hinting at it for all these years. But why now? Why only now showing his true colours?

You bark out a bitter laugh. “There’s nothing I can do. He’s the boss. He’ll get away with it or I’ll be asked to move away.” Then you start to nod your head. “Yeah, maybe it’s time for something new.”

“Go back to painting?”

You glare at him. “Why are you so obsessed with that?”

Jimin chuckles and changes the subject. “Well, if you want I can make him go away.”

You wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks but the anger is still there. “Yeah, sure. Do that.” You press your palms to your eyes, an act to rub out all the crying you did earlier but when you open your eyes again, you’re back in the cubicle.

You step outside and wash your face, steeling yourself to leave the ladies’ room to face whatever or whoever is outside. You take a deep breath and open the door and Jimin is waiting on the other side, leaning sideways against a wall.

“You okay?” he asks, approaching you. “Did something happen with Martin?”

You stare at him blankly, thinking back to that conversation, although imaginary, you just had with him in that other place. Thinking of what Martin did to you, or almost did to you, and the fact that you had been dreaming of your other boss nearly every day this week feels hypocritical. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Nothing happened. You said something happened with a client?”

“Vendors,” he corrected, eyes as cool and calculating as they always are, looking at you as if he’s trying to figure out why you’re lying, not that he knows that. Does he? “It’s fine. I took care of it while you were in there.”

You raise your watch to your face. “That soon? Are you sure? I can call them up again just to ensure everything is good.”

Jimin gives you a small shake of his head, a small hint of a smile on his lips. “Nope. It’s fine. All taken care of.” Something in the way he says the last part gives you a strange vibe, like he wasn’t talking about the vendor problem entirely.

It doesn’t take long until news reaches you, literally on the 8PM broadcast on TV while you are eating dinner of microwaved pasta. The picture splashed on the screen is one you recognise well, having seen the man for the past five years or so everyday at work. The news talks about how, with the help of an anonymous tip, Martin J. Russell of Rocket Media Ltd has been arrested for multiple sexual offences, spanning years of sexual assaults of past coworkers with pictures and videos found on both his work and personal devices.

Your fork drops into the container as you stare, mouth agape, at the TV. What in the-

As much as a part of you is singing with relief, another part of you can’t completely dismiss the persistent notion that whatever happened to Martin wasn’t coincidence, that it didn’t just happened right after he tried it with you and you had-

You stop thinking, standing up abruptly that your chair scuttles backward noisily. Jimin. Something about Jimin is squirming at the back of your mind but you can’t quite put a finger on it. Not a minute later, you receive an email from HR, blasted to all employees, requesting that if you need to speak to someone, you may contact HR representatives or a mental health hotline, as well as the office will be closed for a week due to the current investigation ongoing. All employees will have the option whether to take days off during the week or work remotely and either choice will have you be paid like normal.

There is more to the email, including a subtle request for employees to keep their mouths shut except to authorities or HR and it makes you think about earlier today. Bile rises to your throat at the idea of having to admit what had happened today when you just want to forget about it all. Your phone rings.

It’s Jimin, now the one and only boss.

You take a deep breath and answer it.

“If you’ve heard the news then you know why I’m calling,” says Jimin over the phone, his voice sullen. “I’m asking you again, did something happen between you and him today in his office?”

You’re quiet, your voice stuck in your throat.

“Y/n,” he calls, a warning tone. “I don’t want to have to ask twice.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answer, your voice sounding breathy. “He’s caught. It’s done.”

There’s a brief pause before he finally speaks. “So something did happen.” When you don’t respond, he takes that as an affirmative. He lets go of a deep breath. “Take the week off.”

“But the project, we’re already behind on-”

“Fuck, y/n,” he snaps. “We have worse issues on our hands right now. Take the week off. I’ll deal with things here and the clients.” Then he sighs. “Have you spoken to the authorities yet? About what happened today? They would want to hear about it.”

“No. I don’t intend to,” you reply shortly.

“Why? You’re protecting him?”

“I’m not!” Your blood boils at the accusation, your free hand in a tight fist on your side. “I just want to forget all about it. Nothing actually happened. He…he didn’t manage to do anything before you came in.”

“I see,” he replies softly. “Are you okay?”

You want to tell him yes, of course you are, nothing happened, right? You should be okay, you should be fine because you were luckier than his other victims, people you worked with and who you were completely oblivious to the suffering they were going through right under your nose. You were so ignorant of what was happening around you that you had respected the man, and had even admired him as an amazing boss. How many times have you gushed about the man? How many of those times had it been to a victim?

Fuck.

Before you even realise it, the tears are already spilling, big, fat pearls crawling down your cheeks. You don’t manage to say anything when Jimin says, “I’m coming over,” and the line cuts. You’re not sure how long you remain on the floor crying, hugging your legs close to you when there’s a loud knock on your door. You can’t seem to get up, the few steps to the entrance area seem too much for you.

You hear some shuffling around outside, hear the person lift up a flower pot and retrieve the spare key you hid there. You hear the sound of the key in the lock and doorknob turning. You see Jimin standing in the doorway, his eyes easily zoning in on you huddled on the kitchen floor. You watch as he strides over and picks you up so effortlessly and carries you to the sofa. He places you down gently and goes back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he’s back with a cup of tea for you.

He makes you drink it, sitting next to you without saying anything much, letting you cry it out. He remains quiet even when you’re hiccuping through leftover sobs, sitting there leaning on his knees, his fingers locked together, staring down at the floor. He only finally looks up when you make no more sound except for the occasional sniffles. “Better?”

You nod, taking a tissue to blow your nose.

“Hungry?”

You shake your head but your stomach betrays you, sounding out like a dying whale at sea. He smiles softly, pulling out his phone. “Does Thai sound good to you?”

This time, you nod happily, eyelashes still glistening with tears.

You both only start to talk after dinner is finished and pushed aside, when Jimin, his coat jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, had offered to do the dishes. You stand next to him to do the drying, making small talk, exchanging little information about each other’s lives.

“You’re from Busan?” your eyebrows go up in surprise. “I’m from there, too.”

“I know,” he replies. “I read all the staff’s profiles.”

“I see.”

“Have you been back?”

You shake your head. “Not really. There’s nothing left for me there. My mum has remarried and the only family I have left are actually here.”

“Oh?”

You smile. “Yeah. Well, we’re not related by blood but I practically grew up with them.”

You don’t see it but Jimin’s eyes flash dangerously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say, “the guy you saw in the picture? That’s Taehyung. Him and his brothers are like brothers to me. Growing up with a single parent is hard and I was always stuck with them when she had to go to work. And she worked a lot.”

“So just them then? No one else?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. Just them.” When Jimin doesn’t respond, you ask, “What about you? Any families around here?”

“Just one,” he says, eyes on his hands washing the forks and spoons. “We grew up together. I was always the one she runs to when she has problems and I make them go away.”

“Oh. That’s interesting.” You take the fork from him, drying it in between your fingers. “What’s she like?”

“Clingy and a crybaby.” He chuckles softly. “But I love that about her. I love being needed and I know she needs me.”

“She lives with you?”

“Not yet.” Jimin finishes the washing and dries his hands. “If you’re feeling better, I should get going. But…”

“But?” you look up at him.

“I know it’s weird timing but,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Would you, um, want to grab lunch tomorrow? Or not, if you don’t want to.”

You’re not sure about going on a date with him for two reasons: one, he’s your boss and two, well, with the whole shitshow happening at the office, it’s hardly a good time for a date.

“Um, sure. I guess,” you answer, feeling a little shy. “If it’s just lunch.”

Jimin’s lips twitch upward. “Sure. I’ll pick you up around noon?”

- - -

That lunch turned out to be more than just lunch.

Jimin is funny and makes you laugh with his deadpan jokes and ridiculous punchlines. Underneath that cold and aloof demeanour, he’s actually sweet and caring. He plans things, takes you out on surprise dates, cooks meals for you and even gives you little gifts on random days, things that made him think of you. He makes playlists for you and even one of those classic mixtapes on CDs when he finds out your car has a CD player. He gathers small bunches of daisies when he finds out you love them more than roses. He surprises you with little things like your favourite tea or your favourite snack and takes candid photos of you to share with you later at the end of the day.

On days when you are watching movies together at your place, he would rub your feet and make cups of tea for you. He would listen to you vent or tell stories about your day. He’s your biggest cheerleader with work, walking that thin line between being a fair boss and a good friend and flourishing at it. When the relationship passed three months, you both decided to report it to HR. You were moved to a different department but you both go out for lunch together almost everyday.

You are completely and madly in love, for the first time ever at twenty-seven. He’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed of even as a young girl. He sweeps you off your feet and makes you feel the most comfortable. He respects your wish of waiting a little bit more the night he sleeps over that first time, ending up just cuddling the whole night. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t make you feel guilty about it. You do a lot of the other things, kissing and going even as far as third base and not once did he ever try to push your limit.

By the time you hit six months, he surprises you with a promise ring and you think it’s time to introduce him to Taehyung and the others.

“What’s his name again?” Taehyung asks over the phone as you get ready for the meeting tonight. Both Namjoon and Jin will also be there, excited to meet your first serious boyfriend.

“Jimin,” you quip, the phone pinned in between your shoulder and ear, hopping on one foot to pull up the stocking over your knees.

“What?” Taehyung’s voice comes out a little too loud, a little too panicky.

“I said, his name is Jimin,” you repeat. “Look, I got to finish getting ready. You can ask all the questions later at the restaurant, Tae. I’ll see you guys there.”

“You ready, babe?” Jimin’s head pops in.

“Yes,” you answer, getting your handbag and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m a little nervous. It’s the first time I’m bringing a boyfriend to meet them.”

Jimin laughs, pulling you by the waist. “Wait, you’ve never introduced anyone before me?”

You shake your head, pouting. “No. Nothing ever lasted long enough for me to do that.”

“I see.” Jimin twirls you around. “I’m honoured.” He gives you a little bow and you giggle. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll be on my best behaviour tonight. I promise.”

***

“This is Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jin.”

“Jimin, my brothers.”

The four of them exchange handshakes all around before finally sitting down, Jimin pulling out your chair, of course. The dinner starts with small talk, mainly the brothers asking you and Jimin the typical questions: how did you two meet? How did you guys get together? How did the company react to the news of the relationship?

When the main course arrives, Namjoon switches gears by focusing the questions on only Jimin, asking his background, interests and his work. Jin adds in here and there but Taehyung remains quiet the whole time. He would stare intently at Jimin, frown and then look away. He would give you the same look, too, but he’s sitting too far away to actually ask you anything quietly.

During dessert, Jin stares at Jimin for long enough that the other man notices. “Do I have something on my face?”

Jin shakes his head. “No. You just look familiar.”

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Jimin chuckles.

“Yeah, but I can’t shake this feeling off like I’ve seen you somewhere.” Jin tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Hmm. I wonder where.”

“Me, too, hyung,” pipes in Taehyung, surprising you slightly since he’s been quiet this whole time. “The name, too. I’ve heard it somewhere.”

Jimin smiles politely. “My name is very common, especially for girls, actually.” He gives a lighthearted laugh, squeezing your hand under the table, a signal for you to say something.

“So, how long will you be in town, Jin?” you ask, diverting the group’s attention and it was enough to move away from the topic of Jimin. The rest of the night goes well and the both of you arrive at your place giddy with happiness.

Jimin heaves a relief sigh. “Well, I guess that went well.”

You beam up at him, both hands in his as you stop in front of the front door. “I think it did.”

He nods, gazing lovingly into your eyes. He pecks a kiss on the tip of your nose and you scrunch it up, giggling at him. He pecks another kiss to your forehead and you lean into him. Your heart is beating a little bit faster than usual, both nervous and excited for what’s to come next, what you will ask him for. You know he won’t, but you will. You think it’s time.

“Jimin,” you call him softly and he catches your lips in between his. You moan into him, feeling yourself melting into his front, his arms strong around your waist. He feels safe, like home.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he murmurs against your lips. “What was it you wanted to say, hm?”

“Well,” you say, suddenly shy, suddenly looking down at both of yours and his feet but you steel yourself and put on a brave front. He’s been so patient for you, you can do this for him. “Do you want to go inside for a cup of tea?”

Jimin smiles, his eyes giving you a knowing look. “I would love that.”

Inside, he insists on making the tea, telling you that he knows how to make it just the way you like it. You both sip the tea in silence at the kitchen island, exchanging glances over the rim of your cups like some kind of young teenagers flirting across the hall when you’re only sitting opposite each other. His eyes turn into little half-moons and you know he’s smiling behind the cup, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up a storm. Oh, you are very much in love and for a person at your age to feel like this for the first time, you think it was worth the wait.

You both finish the tea and you take the cups and saucers to the sink. You can feel yourself vibrating with nerves, your hands shaking a little making the cups rattle against the saucers. You place them in the sink and wonder about how to go about it. Do you outrightly ask him? Do you bring him up to the bedroom without saying anything? Do you invite him as a heads up? Ugh, how come there’s no manual for these things.

Your hand reaches for the faucet but Jimin’s hand catches your arm and you feel him press up behind you, warm and strong. With his other hand, he gently pulls back your hair from your shoulder and pins a kiss at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Leave it, my sweetness,” he says into your ear. “We’ll think about the dishes later, why don’t we?”

You hum in response, closing your eyes and leaning your head back onto him, letting him kiss up your neck. You turn yourself around, placing your hands on his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against your fingers. You look up at him through your lashes, heart in your throat, shaking so bad from…you’re not sure which, excitement or anxiety. He seems to know what you wanted to say by the small smile on his lips but he’s letting you take the lead.

“Do you…” you trail off, not even sure what to ask. You try again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to head upstairs?”

Jimin’s smiles widen. “Only if you take me there.”

A strong sudden urge to kiss him overwhelms you and you crash your lips onto his, roughly, desperately, wanting nothing more than to taste him more than you ever had. Your hands go everywhere; around his waist, around his neck, his chest, his arms while he holds you steady, moving backwards and somewhat blindly out of the kitchen with the two of you connected at the lips. When you pull apart to breathe, you’re already in the middle of your bedroom. Wow, that was fast. When did we climb up the stairs?

The bed is right behind you. Jimin leans his forehead against yours. “Are you sure about this?”

Your heart flutters, the anxiety now pushed aside by the anticipation building up from a place you’ve never truly explored. You nod your head once, breathing hard, your fingers fidgeting with a button on his shirt. Gently, ever so gently, Jimin lowers you to the bed, you in between his legs. You continue to make out, suddenly so very hungry for him, catching his tongue with yours everytime it slips in.

You undress him, plucking at one button at a time, your fingers clumsy. He does the same for your dress, pulling it off little by little until you’re in nothing but your underwear and him with his chest bare.

Jimin takes you in, nose flaring at the sight of you. You feel yourself shrink, making yourself smaller because no other man has ever seen you like this before. It’s daunting. Exciting, but scary.

Jimin buries his face in your neck, his hands gently caressing your bra strap and then your side. “White lace,” he breathes. “Did you put these on especially for me?”

You don’t answer, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks. And other places. Jimin pulls back, sitting on his knees, looking down at you, raking his eyes from your head down to your toes. There’s a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite read but it makes you shiver. “You know,” Jimin says, eyes locked on yours, “some people say you wear white for your first time.” He chuckles, coming back down for your lips.

“I know,” you mumble. Jimin pauses to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Because it is. My first time,” you say bashfully. “I…I hope that’s okay. For you.”

Jimin’s lips twitch upwards and you see a sort of change in his eyes. But it’s dark so you’re not sure. “Of course, my sweetness. Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

The words sounded odd to your ears, a little too commanding, a little too smug. But the moment Jimin’s lips are back on yours, his hands roaming your body, touching in places no one has ever touched before, your head goes completely blank except for thoughts of him, of Jimin, your lover, the one you’re finally sure of surrendering yourself fully; mind, body and soul.

You’re lost in the throes of heated passion, unaware that downstairs, inside your handbag where you left on the kitchen island, your phone is ringing for the third time in a row. Taehyung’s face is flashing across the screen because back at his place not thirty minutes away, while he lays across the sofa, wracking his brains about where Jimin seems awfully familiar, he had to scroll through his phone gallery. It had taken some time, going back years of pictures until he finally found it: the last photo of you standing in your childhood bedroom, leaving for the last time.

There in the background, placed on its side, is the forty by thirty painting of your imaginary friend, a blue ribbon tacked on one corner.

- - -

The room is filled with your loud moans, unable and probably don’t even care to keep your voice down because, fuck, his tongue feels so goddamn good.

You fist the sheets on either side of you, legs spread open by Jimin’s hands on your thighs, keeping them from closing around his head. He has two fingers in your cunt, pumping hard, in time with the flick of his tongue against your very swollen clit. You can hear how wet you are by the sloshing sound his fingers make and that alone is arousing to you. You alternate between moaning with your mouth clamped shut but when it gets too much, your mouth will fall open and the room echoes your voice back at you.

Jimin’s fingers feel so good, enough to make you feel full. In the back of your mind, you’re a little worried about when he finally enters you. How much would that hurt? He clamps down your clit and all thoughts escape through your ears, desperate to clamp your thighs shut but unable to.

With his fingers still jammed inside you, Jimin crawls up, trailing wet kisses up your torso and then letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “So sweet for me,” he coos, licking his lips. He curls his fingers upward, feeling your walls squeezing his digits. “And so tight.”

You mewl, squirming under him. You fumble for his fly, pulling the zipper down and hooking your fingers around the waistband of his pants, along with his boxers. He helps you pull them off of him, wiggling himself to let the materials fall loosely to his ankles. You sit up on your elbows and Jimin brings his hip to your face. Your eyes bulge at the sight of him; thick and long, precum leaking from the tip, sticking straight against his stomach.

“Open your mouth, sweetness,” he says, guiding your head with the back of his hand, sliding himself onto your tongue, hissing at the contact. “There you go, just like that. That’s a good girl.”

You place your hands on his thighs for support, eager to please. You may be a virgin but oral sex is something you enjoy giving. You start slow, teasing him with your tongue against his tip and only focusing on the head, sucking on it like your favourite lollipop. Jimin watches you through hooded eyes, hands on your shoulders. He lets out a muffled grunt as you flick your tongue against his frenulum, feeling the way his cock jumps from the pleasure.

You push yourself down his length, slowly, gauging how much you can take him without gagging. Adjusted, you start to bob your head. Jimin holds your head, both guiding and sometimes pushing your face as low as possible before you start to protest, gagging and slobbering all over his length. You can’t see it but he’s grinning ear to ear.

When he’s had enough, he pulls you up to kiss you, noticing how red your cheeks are, how your eyes see only him, and how your body is reacting to him. He gently pushes you down to the mattress, one hand behind your head. He leans backward to look at you. “How are you feeling?” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you whisper back, squirming under him, arms around his waist. “I want you, Jimin.”

He smirks but in your haze, you barely recognise it for what it is. “I know. I’ve been wanting you, too. For a long time.”

You nod, thinking that he had meant these past six months. You’re clawing at him, lightly scratching at his skin as he kisses your face, lowering himself down onto you. You’re so sensitive that at the touch of his pubic bone against yours, you gasp.

“Shh,” he says gently, thumb rubbing your temple. “Look at you. You’re shivering, baby. It’s okay. Relax. I’ll take good care of you.”

Something about his smile sends a shiver down your spine and instead of feeling comforted, panic bells have started ringing in the distance. Your heart rate spikes and suddenly you’re having second thoughts. You quell them down, fighting against yourself to backtrack now. No, he’s been patient enough. He deserves it. He’s the love of my life, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just nerves. Relax. Calm down. I want this. I want this. Right? You breathe slowly, nodding into his hand, desperate to find the solace you always feel when in Jimin’s presence. Where is it now?

“Jimin,” you squeak as he positions himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs, massaging lightly as he presses your legs apart. You raise your head to look at him and in the dim light, Jimin’s eyes are so dark they’re like abysses as he looks back at you, a soft smile on his lips.

You feel him pressing against your hole and slowly pushes in. It stings and you throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut. Jimin stretches you out and it burns so much it feels like you are being torn open from the inside out and yet…yet it feels so excruciatingly delicious. All these years of holding back, of never finding the right person to give yourself fully to, and Jimin feels both like a reward and a punishment, like it’s both wrong and coming home at the same time your brain is going fuzzy. You feel him bottom out but the pain isn’t going away and at the same time a tingle is starting from somewhere deep within you.

Jimin remains unmoving, letting you adjust. The burning dulls a little bit but a fire has been lit up in the pit of your stomach. You wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close. You blink your eyes open and gasp. You blink a few more times but the sight that greets you never changes. Everything is dark. There’s nothing. You see nothing.

You look down towards where Jimin is in a panic but finds him grinning at you in a way that doesn't feel friendly. He starts laughing.

“Finally!” he exclaims, running a hand through his hair, pushing his hair back. “Years of waiting and it finally pays off. Patience is a virtue.”

“Wh- what’s going on?” your voice is shaking. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? What’s happening?”

Jimin leans down, arms on both sides of your head. His eyes are like two coals staring straight into your wet ones. “Oh, my sweetness. I let you have a little bit of freedom and you forget about me. But don’t worry. We’ll have all night to catch up.” He kisses you and your lips burn, moaning into him but he doesn’t relent. You feel his tongue licking inside your mouth and your eyes shoot open in alarm at the realisation that it’s a forked tongue. Just like that, the box of suppressed memories springs open and it all comes flooding in.

Pulling back, the same smug grin still on his face, Jimin whispers close to your face, “Do you remember now?”

Your eyes are like two saucers, staring back at him in horror. “No,” you shake your head, the tears creeping slowly down into your hairline. “No.”

Jimin’s lips spread wider. “Oh, yes, my sweetness.” He pulls out of you and starts to gently rock back and forth, ignoring your silent cries. The faster he moves, the more your body reacts, so much so that you pause in between the tears, confused. Your heart rejects him yet your body yearns for him, needs him to keep moving or you might wither away and die if he doesn’t. Your fists tightens around his upper arms, both in anger at the long deception as well as the desperation to let him know that you want more; more of him and more of what he can give.

It doesn’t take much for Jimin to get the message, the latter one, the grin only growing bigger, the satisfaction palpable even in his two obsidian eyes. He leans down to your face, fingers softly combing back your hair. “I know you’re angry at me, baby, but you can’t deny me either. You’ve promised me yourself.” He kisses your cheek and the spot feels like your skin might melt away. “I’ve only come to collect what’s mine. Heart, body and soul. Well, maybe not the heart. Not yet anyway. But all in due time, my sweetness. I’m a very patient man.”

“You’re not a man,” you gasp in between strokes, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from letting him know how good he’s making you feel. You can feel the girth of him, the length of him every time he buries deep, can feel the delicious stretch of your walls hugging him. Jimin only laughs, a deep rumbling that vibrates straight to your core and with that, you release your lip to let Jimin hear you.

- - -

When Taehyung arrived at your place at three in the morning, out of breath from cycling like hell, he was already too late.

The house was empty, void of anything that ever proved that you lived there; no clothes, no photos on the wall, no shoes and definitely no you. Only furniture left behind and food abandoned in the fridge. The police insisted that you must have run away with your lover and your workplace had no clue who Taehyung was talking about when he mentioned Park Jimin, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

“She quit,” the receptionist told him with an incredulous look, turning the PC monitor his way. “See? She sent this email talking about finding something new. It’s all a bit sudden and the boss is pissed. If you hear from her, tell her never to come around here unless she wants her head on a platter. Personally, for me though, I think she got balls of steel. You go, girl.”

Namjoon told him to quit worrying, that you’re an adult that can make your own life choices and take care of yourself. Jin just laughed when Taehyung showed him the photo of the painting from long ago, shaking his head and telling him he needs to get his eyes checked. Neither of them had any recollection of that dinner with Jimin. Except for him.

It took him six months to finally calm down enough for his brothers to stop worrying that he might need some serious intervention in the form of hospitalisation. He spent his days at work, pretending to be fine while at night he scoured the internet and the dark web for any signs of you, barely sleeping, one wall of the spare bedroom at his place covered with any clues and hints and circled maps of places he’s searched in.

- - -

On the other side of the veil, you watch your childhood best friend struggle to find you to death, sitting next to Jimin on the throne, your hand in his as his underlings worship his feet.

As the dark lord of the underworld, Jimin lavishes you with anything and everything your heart desires, loves you like no man ever could and satisfies you every night like gods themselves are pounding into you. You smile when he kisses you, look demurely as he holds you and pulls him closer each night under the cover.

You see Jimin in all his underworld glory; a king with a black heart, tattered black wings that spans six feet on either side when he’s enraged, eyes like the abyss when he’s staring deep into your claimed soul. You’re his; mind, body and soul, as promised.

And yet…

Each night, you realise you’re getting better and better at slipping away without him noticing, coming back into the human world, into Taehyung’s spare room with the maze of threads all over one wall. You’re getting good at moving small objects, like a pen or a pencil. And even that marker Taehyung uses to circle cut up articles and places on the map.

One day, you’ll be able to send him an SOS, a message for him to help you cut yourself free. But in the meantime, you’ll sit quietly in Jimin’s arms, pretending like you hate where you are, pretending like you’re not in love.

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

#bts jimin #jimin x you #park jimin #park jimin x reader #bts one shot #jimin one shot #jimin smut #bts pjm #jimin fanfic #bts fic #yandere jimin

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mapofthesea · 2 years ago

Text

forward!jimin x social media manager!fem!reader

hockey!au

genre: smut, fluff, porn with a hint of plot!

word count: 5.8k

summary: star forward Park Jimin is not only good at the game of hockey, but the game of life. He’s rarely faced with adversity and enjoys the perks of being admired by millions of fans between his sporting and modeling endeavors. To you, he’s nothing but a massive thorn in your side: a reminder of your past life as a puck bunny and your biggest challenge in landing your next promotion. He’s damn lucky he’s handsome.

warnings: arguing, tension from past relationship (they were never Together but they did fuck), swearing, jimin is a smug little shit, jimin with a lip piercing (!!!), hockey talk but no actual game time action, they have Feelings for each other, kind of enemies to lovers but lowkey, specific smut warnings include: penetrative unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dom!jimin x sub!reader, slightly bratty reader, degradation (he calls her a slut, she likes it though) and praise, making out/sloppy kissing, fingering (f receiving) oral (f receiving), handjob, hair pulling, hickeys/marking, multiple orgasms, coming inside, slight overstimulation, aftercare ofc

a/n: as always my work is not proof read or edited so there may be some mistakes! Also this is clearly smut so please do not go below the cut if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable with the content noted above. Happy reading!

The warmth of the hotel sheets engulfs you, the expensive feeling silk rubbing gently against your freshly washed skin. You barely know what time it is, but the sleep weighing down your eyelids negates any logic.

An involuntary sigh passes your lips as you feel your spine decompress from the cramped position you had to assume on the plane ride here. Your phone vibrates on the beside table but you skillfully ignore it, snuggling further into the comforter. A sweet lull of sleep starts to envelope you- and then your phone vibrates again. Once, twice, three times, and then the barrage of texts turns into a full blown call, rattling your phone violently.

"Fuck, what?" You yell, throwing the covers off and snatch the phone off of the bedside table. The brightness makes you squint, answering the call without seeing who it is.

"Hello?"

"Oh Thank God, Y/N. I need you to-" the sound of your boss's voice sends anger through your veins. It was his idea for you to travel to this tournament, and now he has the audacity to call you after working hours?

"No, please, Ken. It's late and I'm tired. Whatever the issue is it can wait until the morning."

"It really can't, Y/N. I need you to go talk to Park. Now." You still, heart hammering at the name. You can't imagine what the fuck he would need at this hour, but you're not a babysitter and you certainly aren't giving up your rest for him.

"No, I'm just here to do media for the games. It's not my problem if he needs a handler tonight." Ken sighs and the tension is palpable through the phone line. The silence buzzes through you like a live wire.

"If you don't go talk to him now, your job is gonna be a lot harder than it needs to be in the morning. Please, Y/N. I need someone with boots on the ground to help me. If you get it solved I'll fast track your application for the promotion." Ken's offer hangs over your head. Fuck this capitalist system and the fact that whoever takes the promotion is based more on connection than talent. As much as you despise having to continue to climb the ladder after years of hard work in college and the office, the perks of better health insurance glimmer in your mind.

"Okay, fine. I'm going." Anxiety spikes in your chest as Ken thanks you and hangs up. You vividly remember the last time you were one on one with Park Jimin, and the thought makes your cheeks flame. Suddenly your breezy pajamas feel too warm, and the slightly damp strands of your hair at the nape of your neck itch.

When you started your career in sports media, you never saw yourself working for the same hockey team he plays for. You always saw it as a near impossibility when you moved away from your hometown for the degree- but the universe works in weird and cruel ways that happen to force you into close quarters with a whole gaggle of professional hockey players. You really tried your very hardest to avoid interacting with any of the players on the team outside of working hours, not just Jimin. Although several of them had also flew in today and settled in the same hotel, you made sure to book with a separate airline and get a hotel room on a separate floor. You had no interest in mixing your business with your personal life; it’s nothing but an irresponsible risk.

But here you are now, embarrassing yourself by applying a fresh layer of deodorant before you leave your hotel room. The lavish hallways are luckily empty, and the cool elevator shaft eases the heat crawling up your neck. It’s incredibly nerve-wracking to imagine why you needed to have this intervention, and the idea of how he may answer the door makes you dizzy.

Maybe he’d injured himself? But surely you wouldn’t be the one called to his room in that case. There was always the possibility that he did something to cause a media storm- got into a fight, was spotted robbing a store, maybe it was reported that he did cocaine in a bathroom- but it had only been a few hours since their plane landed, so would he have had time for any of that? And wouldn't covering up a personal blunder be up to his personal manager, not you? Your palms slick with sweat at the possibilities of the mess you’re going to find behind his door.

You hover outside it, staring at the gold plated numbers illuminated by the nearby sconces. It's oddly intimidating to know he's just on the other side of the door; living and breathing and simply existing- perhaps making some kind of erroneous mistake that could ruin his career or basking in the aftermath of that. The wood of the door feels thick and expensive under your fingers as you knock, and it’s so feeble that you can almost guarantee he didn’t hear it. You swear and try again, knocking harder despite your shaking knuckles.

“Coming!” His voice sounds light and airy but it makes lead drop through your stomach. The urge to run away overtakes you and just as you make the decision that no, this isn’t worth the possibility of a promotion, the door swings open.

Park Jimin has no right looking this handsome at whatever ungodly hour you had knocked on his door. His black hair is mussed at the back of his head as if he had just been laying in bed. The softness of his hair is almost enough to weaken you, but the familiar narrowed cut of his eyes runs ice through you. Heat blooms in your cheeks as you blush and internally chastise yourself for the stupid reaction; you were here for a professional reason, so why the fuck was your heart hammering in your chest at a million miles an hour?

"What can I do for you, Y/N?" Jimin's silky voice filters through your hazy mind and you startle, shaking your head to clear the suffocation surrounding you. Alarm bells ring at the familiar cadence of his voice, the way he perfectly crafts the syllables that make up your name.

"Um, I-" your eyes flit around his face; the tempting golden sheen of his skin under the gold casted hallway lighting, the fullness of his cheeks and his pretty lashes and the silver gleam of his lip-ring...

"What the fuck is that?" You practically yell, pulled out of your reverence at his handsomeness as the lip ring registers. It's a bold silver curve, resting temptingly in the middle of his plush bottom lip. It shines as if tempting you to look closer, to touch it, to feel it. Your stomach stirs at the fleeting thought of how the cold metal would pull an addicting contrast between the heated press of his lips.

"This?" He licks at the metal with his tongue and you suddenly feel the need to take a seat. "Got it a while ago, honestly. Off season stuff." He waves his hand nonchalantly as if you'd asked him if he wanted chocolate or vanilla cake. "You like it?" He arches a perfectly shaped brow and leans casually on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He's small and lithe for a hockey player, but you know that he has intimidating strength corded through his arms and the stamina to match.

Dumbly, you nod at his question. You like it a lot. Jimin lets out a heady laugh and you can only imagine how fucking stupid you look right now; slightly damp hair and a flushed bare face, mismatched sleep socks and these stupid lamb pajamas your mom got you for Christmas. Your face blanches at the sudden realization that the shorts were certainly too small for standing in a hotel hallway under Park Jimin's gaze.

"Wait, no, I'm here because Ken told me to come down and talk to you!" You backtrack quickly, pulling at the bottom hem of your t-shirt.

"Awe, come on Y/N, you mean you didn't want to come visit me for old times sake?" His electric eyes travel your bare legs. You grit your teeth and try to find the fire of anger in your stomach-the shield that's allowed you to ward off your feelings for him for so many years- but it's been replaced by the quivering attraction that never quite left.

"N-no, Jimin." You plant your hands on your hips; hoping to instill some of the social media manager persona back into your conversation. "That thing is a liability for you, and for me, it sounds like, because Ken sent me down here to take care of it. You'll have to get rid of it. It's out of regulations for the games." Jimin blinks owlishly, as if he had never considered that the piercing would be out of regulations.

"Really?" He licks the damn piercing again and your greedy eyes soak up every part; the perfect pinkness of his tongue and the way he maneuvers it around the metal in a tantalizing circle that's much too familiar. Your stomach simmers with arousal.

"Fuck, Jimin, yes. It really is out of regulations, and I would assume Ken saw some picture of you with it, and he's pissed and made it my problem because he isn't here yet. So please, for me, take it out for the games." When is this guy ever going to give you a break? You spent your entire teenage years pining for him and half of your college visits home tangled in his bedsheets, and now as a full fledged adult you're begging him to get his shit together so you can get considered for a promotion. "Please, Jimin, can you just do this one thing for me?" The exasperation of the night makes your voice whiny even to your own ears, and you can practically see Jimin's ears perk at the sound. A cheeky grin overtakes his features.

"If I remember correctly, I've done lots of things for you." You don't miss the shift in his voice; the darkened tone that haunted your dreams for months after you vowed to never speak to him again. Suddenly your throat feels dry and you choke on your rebuttal as he takes a confident stride into the hallway. You can smell the clean linen of his cologne and you instinctively close your eyes and take an inhale. Your nose flares and you swallow your impure thoughts.

"Listen." You poke a finger into his chest and immediately regret it; the firmness of his well toned muscles rejecting your jab. "Come on, Jimin. I'm begging you."

His chest shudders under your finger, and he's so close you can feel the exhale of his breath against your hair. You're frozen as he moves, clasping one of your shoulders with strong fingers. His grip makes your skin tingle as he lowers himself to match your stare.

"I seem to remember you being much better at begging, Y/N. Hmm? Want to try that again?"

Arousal lights your veins and your brain whirs into overdrive, screaming at you to follow the animal instinct clawing inside your gut. Unbidden flashes of your past with Jimin run through your mind: the grip of his hands on your plush hips as he drives himself into you, the paths of bruised kisses he left on your tits after hours of teasing them, the reddened claw marks you left on the bronzed skin of his back.

The current of dominance in his words sparks something dormant inside of you; the slumbering brattiness that you had converted into tenacity reborn. You surge up against him, closing the gap with a bruising kiss. He stumbles slightly in surprise but easily recovers, capturing you around the waist as you devour his mouth. The cool metal of the lip ring is just as addicting as you imagined it to be, wedged between the unending warmth of his plush lips. It's fucking addicting to be kissing him again as he pulls you against the hard planes of his body. There's no hesitation in his actions as he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you nipples pebble in response to the liquid heat he elicits in you.

Oxygen becomes useless to you the longer you kiss him. All that matters is the connection of your bodies, the slip of your tongues against one another. Your heart stutters with yearning as Jimin helps himself to a handful of your ass cheeks and you nip at his piercing playfully. A moan reverberates through him and he uses his grip on you to pull you impossibly closer, walking your bodies backward into his hotel room.

The change of scenery shocks you enough that you finally break from the kiss, panting from the exertion. The heavy door slams shut behind you as Jimin pushes it, perhaps a bit too hard. To your wild satisfaction Jimin looks just as winded as you feel. “Fuck,” he croaks the word and you smile, unable to hold back anymore. Something in your mind loosens, and you surge forward to fumble with the tie of his sweatpants. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and for a second you’re sure that the control he never gave you had become yours: that in the years you’d been apart he had shifted into a man who let you take. After so long of playing the sexy and mysterious playboy, Jimin had finally unraveled for you.

But his sudden strength re-emerges just as you begin to wiggle the fabric down his hips, and he captures your wrists under his palm. Forcing your wandering hands away, a familiar gleam of delight at your pliancy shadows his eyes.

“Oh, little girl, you know better than that, don’t you? Or did you forget how this goes for us?” He tuts dismissively but the passion on his face makes your knees weak. “You-“ he shuffles you closer to the king sized bed, “do what I want you to, isn’t that right, Y/N?” Arrogance colors his tone, and you have half a mind to tell him to shove it, but he guides your hands back to his cock and your brain shorts.

He’s hard, twitching under your touch as he holds your hands there, controlling the pressure of your touch. From your seated position on the bed you get a glorious view of the vein in his neck throbbing, and you regret not plastering any bruises onto his neck earlier. “You always were so good with your hands, Y/N. Fuck. Used to drive me crazy thinking about your hands on my dick.” The husk of his voice makes wetness pool between your thighs. It had been so long since you heard him like this but it was just as delicious as before. The pressure he holds on your hands relinquishes but it’s clear what he expects of you so you snake your hands under the layers of fabric dutifully.

You can’t help but tease him a bit, tracing the curve of his balls through the fabric of his expensive boxers. His hips jump forward and he bites out a warning that has you eager to feel the firm hotness of his bare cock in your hand. You shift forward to pull him free, and you keen at the sight of his cock.

A thatch of welcoming dark hair at the base, the length that puts your last boyfriend to shame, the pretty red-tinged head pulsing with a pearlescent shine of precum. Suddenly, you feel extremely empty.

The seam of your pajama shorts presses right where you need it, so you settle for rubbing your thighs together subtly for now. Your hand encases his length, starting with small gentle strokes that you know are doing nothing but driving him crazy. His stomach clenches and trembles as you start pumping him faster, relishing in the little jumps of his cock as your grip gets firmer.

“Feels so good,” the praise falls from him without thought and strikes a hot iron in your stomach, thighs rubbing together without much thought. “Pretty little hand on me like that, fuckin missed that.” The haze of arousal occupies you enough that you don’t allow yourself to overthink anything: instead taking the liberty to rub your thumb firmly over the tip of his cock. The precum aids your glide but you feel a devious idea sneak up on you and you promptly lean forward to spit directly onto his cock. The sound he makes is inhumane and you adore it, gobbling up the strained whimper of your name as he grasps your hair, hard.

Pleasure shoots down your spine at his grip and he grins slyly, calculating eyes shooting down to the quivering of your thighs. You don’t cease your hands, only adding the second to cup at his balls again while he appraises you. “My pretty little slut, spitting on my cock without me even asking.” He holds your hair harder, cocking your head just enough that you can’t look away from his smoldering eyes. “Are you my pretty little slut?”

You were expecting the question: a relic of your college aged trysts, but it still bowls you over like a semi truck.

“Y-yes, Jimin. ‘M your pretty little slut.” He grins so hard that his eyes scrunch and an approving sound rolls out of him. Your pussy throbs at that, hips canting forward as you mindlessly work your hands over his cock. “Do you need some help?” The grip on your hair disappears and you immediately miss it, the sting of your scalp serving as a beautiful reminder. It takes you a minute to decipher what he means, but the way his penetrating stare flickers between your eyes and your center clues you in. The seam of your shorts had been consistently stimulating you but not nearly enough for any kind of relief: you had soaked through them and your panties while Jimin spoke to you.

You pout at him and nod even though he really didn't need more persuasion. Jimin's quick to cup your pussy in his hand, rubbing his palm over the soaked fabric. Your grip on his cock tightens at his touch and he hisses approvingly, pressing harder against your pussy. You grind your hips upward in a bid to get him closer to your clit. The dull pressure of him cupping you entirely only heightens the neediness in your veins.

"Please, Jimin," you whine and petulantly drop your hands from him when he doesn't get the hint fast enough. Jimin arches a brow at you.

"Is this the game you wanna play, Y/N?" Only now do you realize that his hand has stilled as well, the heat of his palm radiating against your wetness. You shake your head, unable to bear the idea of being denied his touch any longer. "That's what I thought," he tuts. "Now be a good girl and keep touching me, and maybe I'll return the favor."

You immediately grasp for him again, making quick work of thumbing the vein running on the underside of his cock. Jimin returns the favor by honing in on your clit through the fabric of your shorts. You work each other in a lustful tandem, sharing moans until Jimin slips his fingers underneath the soaked layers of fabric on you. The feeling of his fingers on your bare pussy sends you reeling, hands doubling their work on him as he circles your clit with a nimble index finger.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're gonna make me fucking cum," his hips stutter wildly under your grip and you smile, dopey on the satisfaction and the energy building in your core.

"Wanna make you cum," you supply, squeezing the head of his cock lightly. Jimin grunts heartily, head tipping back against his shoulders and you know you have him right there. Triumph squeezes your heart as you make quick deliberate strokes across his cock.

You hear him cum before you feel it, the beautiful tone of his voice husked with arousal. His hips stutter and buck against your hand as his cum paints your top and your palm, the sticky wetness oddly satisfying to your lust addled brain. A laugh of disbelief leaves him as your hand finally loosens. His own hand comes back to life and you gasp; surprised by his renewed energy so soon after coming.

His chest heaves as he bares down over you, leaning your body back onto the plush mattress. His eyes skate down to the mess he made of your shirt and a devious smirk decorates his face.

"Hmm, maybe we should get you out of this messy shirt?" His voice is invariably playful again and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

"Oh, I guess if you insist..." you bat your eyes playfully as he dislodges his hand from your pussy. It leaves you feeling oddly cold, but the gentle tug at the bottom of your shirt distracts you.

"Can I?" The sheepish look on his face stuns you. After everything that had happened tonight, and all of the times he had taken the liberty of stripping you naked before, you're surprised to see the hesitation on his face.

"Yes, Jimin, if you're sure." You cup his face gently, thumbing the delicate metal of his lip ring. He nips at your fingertip and laves at the spot with his sinful tongue. The flush that stains your face is blocked by the fabric of your shirt as he shucks it off; and Jimin's gaze finds your tits immediately.

"So pretty," he pinches a nipple in reverence. "I missed these tits, Y/N. Missed you." You can't be sure if he meant to admit the last part, but hope strikes your heart regardless. He squishes your tits together and jiggles them, and for a second he's transformed back to the boyish college freshman he was when you first started to hook up; high on his new career as an athlete and the fame that came with it.

His tongue laves across the curves of your breasts, biting a bruise into the supple flesh right above your nipple. The pain transforms into arousal in a second, and your hips buck against him in silent question.

"Oh, can't have just half the outfit on, can we?" He dances his calloused fingers along the waistband of your tiny shorts before yanking them clean off, underwear easily going along with them. The rush of cool air that meets your pussy raises goosebumps along your skin.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll get you nice and warmed up again." Jimin cracks a feline smile and settles comfortably on his knees before parting your thighs. Wetness slicks between them and he hums in satisfaction.

His long hair tickles your legs and you already feel so overwhelmed that by the time he puts his mouth on you, your back is arching toward the ceiling. He presses a kiss to your pussy and the cold sting of his lip ring brings tears to your eyes. Jimin parts your lips with his fingers and allows himself to feast, licking you so thoroughly that you think this must be a holy experience.

Surely this is what divine intervention feels like: Park Jimin feasting on your pussy like a man starved, circling your clit with his tongue and teasing your throbbing entrance with his deft fingers. Your body is honed into every move he makes, and each twitch of his tongue and push of his fingers brings you closer to the sweet, blinding edge. Your hips squirm at the overwhelming sensations and Jimin nips at your clit in retaliation, throwing a strong arm over your lower stomach. Effectively holding you in place, he redoubles his efforts and slides two fingers home, stretching your walls at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

The hot wetness of your arousal, his mouth, the slip of his tongue against you, and the shockingly chilled press of that god damn lip ring send you into happy oblivion. An inhumane string of noises rips from your throat as you come, writhing against the sheets as white heat flashes behind your eyelids. You vaguely register Jimin's fingers pushing you through the high as he laps the last bits of arousal out of you.

"There's my pretty little slut," he purrs as you settle. Your thighs twitch as he pulls his hand away to smooth down the hairs sticking to your face. It takes you a few blinks to register the pretty grin on his face, but you return it with ease.

"Never get rid of that thing." You gesture vaguely to his mouth and a puff of laughter runs across your face. He tongues at it thoughtfully, and even though you had just come, your pussy throbs again.

"Funny, about an hour ago you were begging me to take it out."

You slap his chest noncommittally, still weakened from your explosive orgasm. Jimin pecks your forehead and you keen. A softness appears around his edges as he looks down on you; and even in your bare faced, sweaty state you feel adored.

"I missed you too," the words burst forward before you can rethink it. It'd been swimming around in your mind since you accepted your job offer and caught sight of him for the first time in years. Although neither of you were ever bold enough to make it official, there was no denying the magnetic attraction you shared.

"Fuck, I'm so glad you said that. I have so much I wanna talk to you about-" he presses another delicate kiss to the corner of your lips and you grin. "But I am so hard right now, can we please talk later?" He rolls his hips against you and the evidence is clear. Your brain blanks, replacing the fuzzy adoration with sharp, demanding need.

"Uh huh, talk later. Need you now." Jimin makes short work of his shirt at your approval. His instagram modeling presence has made you no stranger to the sight of his bared chest; but the toned muscles of his pecs and abs scramble your mind. His skin nearly twinkles under the light, and whether its a trick of your mind or the evidence of a very fancy moisturizer, you're just happy to be in his presence.

"Flip," he orders, voice devoid of the sweetness it held just moments before. A shiver wracks your spine as you follow his instructions, flipping onto your hands and knees and obediently curving your back. Jimin hums in praise and you feel renewed energy course through your veins.

He traces the curve of your ass, ghosting his touch around the sensitive skin. You can't see him but you can picture the self satisfied grin on his face as he relishes in the smooth skin. The touch of his lips against your full cheek shocks you and you rock forward into the bed. Jimin bites into the flesh firmly and you moan at the feeling of his sharp canines. You can imagine the blooming bruise that will be there by the morning, and the mere idea of the sore reminder of this night makes your core throb.

"Do you-" Jimin's words die in this throat. "Do you have any condoms?" The punch of reality has you sagging into the sheets. Of course you didn't. The last thing you expected was for this night to unfold like it did. Heavy disappointment weighs your heart.

"I didn't bring any, I haven't..." he trails off again and you wait a few breathless seconds for his words before you twist your upper body so you can see his face. His cheeks are flushed a rosy red that's so endearing your heart squeezes. If it weren't for his evident arousal you would think he had just woken up from a long, restful sleep.

"I haven't been with anyone in a while." He gives you a sheepish smile and you nod in understanding.

"Me either." The admission passes between the two of you like calm water, cooling the tension until a storm whips up in Jimin's eyes. His cocky grin returns as he palms himself.

"I'm clean, are you?" You nod, body reacting to his insinuation before your mind can fully catch up.

"I'm on the pill," you breathe the words as if you can't believe them, and Jimin looks absolutely ravenous. He runs two thick fingers up your pussy, gathering the heady arousal that already has you slippery and stretched for him.

"Gonna let me get in you raw, huh?" He shuffles forward until you can feel the tip of his cock pressed against your folds. He holds his cock against you with his thumb as he glides, careful not to enter you prematurely.

"If I woulda known all it took was a few years apart..." you huff a rueful laugh that transforms into a moan as he slips the head of his cock into you.

"Oh fuck-" Jimin wastes no time in sliding in until he is seated fully inside of you. Your walls pulse around him and you can feel drool pooling in your mouth. He takes a handful of each of your asscheeks and pulls your body against his own, a little experiment to see just how greedy your pussy is for him.

An obscene squelch sounds between your bodies and it only spurs Jimin into further action.

"Fucking perfect little ass and pussy swallowing me up." Jimin moves impossibly fast, taking care to sheath his entire cock inside of you hard before pulling out. Your finger nails rake through the comforter as the waves of pleasure ripple through you. Jimin's body encases your own, trapping you under the strength of his muscles and heat of his sweaty skin. With his chest pressed to your back, his cock drives into you at a brand new angle that makes your toes curl with delight. Jimin's sinful lips find a home at the juncture of your neck and he seems more than happy to decorate you with hickeys to match the one on your ass. The addicting drag of his cock pairs with the tickling cold of his lip ring each time his mouth lands on you, and the sensory overload has your stomach clenching.

You have completely lost control of your mouth and allowed the animalistic sector of your brain to take over as Jimin fucks you stupid. His own incoherent grunts vibrate against your neck in fragments. "Pretty...good little slut...fuck..."

Your eyes roll as he slows his thrusts, aiming for the perfect spot that makes your legs jelly. It only takes him a few moments to find it, and the world quickly becomes washed with tears.

You hiccup his name as he steadies a hand around your abdomen, sneakily playing with your clit.

"You gonna come for me, Y/N? Get my cock all nice and wet just like you're supposed to?" He braces his unoccupied hand overtop of you, clutching the headboard with flexing muscles. His presence is suffocating in the best possible way and you feel like you're drowning in Jimin.

"Such a perfect little pussy. So hot and wet for me all the time." His voice wavers and his thumb catches your clit just right. A dark chuckle graces your senses just as you tip into oblivion.

Your entire body contracts and shivers under him as you cum, Jimin's hips driving you forward until you collapse into the comforter in a fit of cries. It feels like you come forever, leaking waves of arousal around Jimin as his hips slap against your own.

"Good job, baby. I-I'm gonna come, you feel so good." You whine and plead for him, ready for the electric feeling of him filling you with his cum. You're still feeling shaky when he comes, driving his hips as far forward as possible as he fills you. Beautiful airy moans leave him as he grinds against you, relishing in the sloppy warmth of your mixed cum.

His hips slow their movement but his mouth never ceases, spilling praise and planting kisses along your back until he's spent. When he pulls out you instantly feel empty, whining as his cum slides out with him. Both of you are too spent to do anything about it, but Jimin watches with hooded eyes from beside you as it leaks onto the comforter. It's scary how suddenly the sleepiness hits you, and you reach near blindly for the man next to you.

You must look exhausted because he coos and pecks a kiss over your nose. "You can sleep here." You giggle and crack your eyes open and find him so close that you can see the irregularities of his teeth as he grins.

"Good, cause I'm not walkin' back to my room now. Even if I could walk, my clothes are ruined." His face flushes at the reminder of your debauchery. He licks his lips and your eyes catch on that damned lip ring again.

"You really will have to take that out for the games," you run your thumb across it again, obsessed with the feeling.

"I know," he whispers, and then his lips are ghosting over your own for permission. This kiss is nothing like the one you shared at the top of the night. It's gentle and slow and punctuated with a deep connection that runs years deep. Despite how much you had done tonight, this kiss feels the most intimate of all.

No more words need to be exchanged as he helps you sit up and walks you to the bathroom with some pajamas from his bag. He patiently waits outside as you pee-both of you agreeing that you weren't quite ready to be that available with one another- and he lends you a bit of his face wash in earnest.

The comforter is stripped from the bed by the time you're back, and he's pulled the extra pillows from the linen closet to accommodate for you. You shuffle under the sheets and are happy to find them just as silky as your own were. Jimin slips in next to you, fully clothed again, and promptly kills the bedside lamp.

Sleepiness overtakes you almost instantly then, and it's so dark that you rely on the pattern of his breath to gauge if Jimin is still awake.

"I'm sorry if I made things weird for all that time, I- I was just scared that I would say the wrong thing." You speak to the surrounding darkness, and for a minute you think that maybe you missed the short window of opportunity. But then Jimin gives a thoughtful hum, shuffling so that he can tuck your body against his chest. His response is muffled by your hair.

"It's okay. We were young and stupid last time. I hope you'll let us try again." Your heart swells and you hum in affirmation and snuggle back against him. "Tomorrow?" You offer, the hazy edge of sleep just seconds away.

"Tomorrow." Jimin agrees before your consciousness drops easily into dreamland.

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