#park jimin x oc

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

❝ ʙɪɢ ꜰᴀɴ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 3.8k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, public displays of affection

↣ notes :: welcome to the first chapter! 💕 I hope you guys already for the rollercoaster between these two.

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ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you see my thick thighs, lost when you look into my brown eyes, see my little waist can make you switch sides. you've never seen the devil in disguise."

- be honest, jorja smith-

ｗｉｎｔｅｒ

A low hum of people chatting over the Lo-Fi beats filled the area. Glasses clinking, some munching, all sounds that Kiara Smith grew familiar with. Though the crowd was more significant than the last exhibition she attended, it was starting to become all the same. 

She could remember the very first exhibit she went to and all the nerves it brought. She was a bumbling mess—sweaty palms constantly being wiped on her dress that she may have also used as her prom dress while her stomach frequently threatened to release her breakfast all over the floor—as she watched the few people who also attended like hawks. So insecure about the words those people chose not to share. So insecure about their lips pressed into taught smiles. Were they being genuine or just keeping up appearances? Was her art worth anything, or was she going to flop and end up having to get a shitty job just to make ends meet? Those same nerves would never fade, holding onto her like some clingy child desperately needing attention. But they became less apparent whenever her boyfriend was around. The heaven-sent angel would always know the right thing to say and make the world melt away. Though he would never miss an event, it was very seldom that he was on time. She never stressed his whereabouts, knowing he'd arrive eventually.

The 24-year-old continued to walk around, partially eavesdropping as she passed couples and groups of people. Occasionally, she would take a sip of the bubbly gold in her glass to appease that child named Nerves tugging on her leg. She slowed to a stop once a particular piece caught her eye. It was two separate canvases placed at equal heights. One canvas had a bright figure colored in hues of pink and blue, while the other was dark. Shades of black and grey bled from one canvas to the other as if it was trying to overcome the figure itself. The darkness had enough space on their canvas, though, at least a third remaining untouched, but it wanted the colors. It wanted to possess them, spread its darkness to them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" blurted a voice near her. Despite the voice being calm and inviting, it startled her. She quickly turned to the side, not realizing a man joined her. His side profile was magnificent — features that were immaculately sculpted from his eyebrows, down his straight nose bridge leading to a button tip, to where his rose-shaded lips took center stage, frozen in a pout. His light blonde hair with dark roots made his olive skin stand out. It looked natural on him. The man was attractive, and Kiara couldn't deny that. His aura alone was almost as intoxicating as the drink in her hand. It pulled her in and wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She nodded, humming in agreement with his question. She faced ahead again.

The man stole another glance at her, eyes slowly glazing over her features. "It's so rare nowadays to find someone who could capture so much without saying a word. It's almost godly."

The more he talked, the nicer his voice sounded. It had an excellent depth, low and appealing even in his hushed tone. Kiara was into what he was saying, continuing to nod until the last comment. She had to sip her drink to subdue the urge to giggle.

"But you know what you and this painting have in common?"

She turned to look at the man, their eyes meeting for the first time tonight. And boy, how he could get lost in those pools of amber. She raised an eyebrow curiously, her glass still resting on her lips as she silently urged him to continue.

"You both were crafted with the same care, holding a beauty one could only dream of containing."

Kiara almost spat out her drink, startling the man before her. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, holding back the remainder of the liquid behind her taut lips. The man's eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed slightly. His expression then dropped to a neutral state once he realized she was chuckling at what he said.

Once she swallowed the liquid, she turned to face him completely. She took a moment to graze over his appearance fully. He was well dressed, wearing a black blazer, white crew neck underneath, and dark-wash skinny jeans. Silver earrings dangled from his earlobes to match the silver chain around his neck and the wristwatch. 

"Damn," she commented, a grin growing on her full glossed lips, "you're really laying it on thick for someone you don't know." Her voice was nothing he expected. She seemed like one of those Hamptons girls, playing in New York City with daddy's money. Her voice was light and smooth like silk fabric, but her accent was hard like a concrete wall. She was either from Queens or Brooklyn, syllables being dropped or stretched at a whim. Something about the way her words blended was incredibly sexy. 

The man quirked a brow, intrigued as the corner of his lips pulled into a half smile. "You tryna say I'm out of practice?"

"Precisely." She answered quickly and confidently as she gazed up at him. "I expect that kind of line from someone twice your age."

"Well, ouch." He chuckled, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as his eyes glanced downward at the girl. "My job requires me to be blunt, so I call it like I see it."

"And you're saying I'm as beautiful as this painting?"

He grabbed a glass off the tray of a passing waiter. "Your beauty surpasses it." It was true. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her golden honey skin practically glowed under the cool white fluorescent lights. Her hair was dark brown and long, pulled back into a sleek high ponytail with two strands framing her face. Her black satin dress hugged every curve in her body with grace, and there were plenty of them. The material looked soft to the touch, gently reflecting the light. He'd be lying if he said her looks weren't the reason why he approached. And on top of all the looks, she smelled phenomenal—warm and sweet, like a freshly baked sugar cookie with a dash of cinnamon on top, making him want to relive through the holiday season that just passed.

Kiara let out a soft scoff. "Thank you, but that's not as much of a compliment as you may think." She suddenly spun on her stiletto heels, turning her back to the man as she walked away.

He quickly followed, catching up in a few steps to join her by her side. "Do explain."

"Beauty has, and always will be, skin deep." She circled the champagne in her glass while looking out into the crowd. "Looks fade over time. Trends come and go faster than the seasons. So if you really wanna wow a girl…." She stopped at another painting that grabbed her attention before looking at him. "Compliment the things you can't see." The two stopped to gaze at the artwork in front of them. The man thought over her words while admiring the piece. The canvas before them had various hues of green splashed about, but shades of purple peeked through upon closer inspection. It mimicked little flowers blooming through a field of wild grass. She managed to lead him to the only painting that mirrored their conversation.

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "You're completely right. And to think I almost missed out on how intelligent you are."

She smiled, soft and genuine. "Thank you."

The man stayed by her side as Kiara floated, offering his opinions on whichever piece they stopped in front of. She really appreciated being able to receive unbiased feedback on her work. He didn't know he was chatting with the artist. No one in the room knew. The name signed at the bottom of each canvas was Luna, a faceless painter. It's been that way since the beginning, and she intended it to stay that way. Only her close friends, family, and people she hired knew of her secret.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to lunch tomorrow." The man asked at their fourth or so painting.

"I see you don't waste any time."

"Correct. Time is limited, after all."

She looked up at him, his perfect lips pulled into a soft smile. Maybe in another lifetime, she thought as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Flattered, but I can't."

His brows furrowed. He thought that the conversation they were having was great, so what was with the rejection? "May I ask why?"

"I have a boyfriend," she said with a wide smile.

He suddenly scoffed, causing her to tilt her head to the side slightly. "I haven't seen anyone on your arm the whole night." The first thing the man hated the most was being lied to.

Her brows then lowered while her eyes narrowed. "He's just late."

The second thing was excuses.

"Tsk," he shook his head before downing his drink. "Committed to a man with no time management? Red flag."

"And somehow that's better than a man who can't take rejection?" She shot back as she quickly matched his energy. They had a peaceful conversation only moments before, and now the energy between them had grown negative.

"Oh, I can take rejection," he stated with a chuckle as he put his glass down. "But only when I'm being told the truth."

"It is—"

"Hey, darling." And finally, the deep and butter-smooth voice appeared, melting away the anger that was bubbling inside Kiara. As he approached her side, he placed his large hand on the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry I'm late."

The blonde in front of them eyed the man from his tan skin and wavy ebony hair to his solid-colored turtle neck and long coat. Something about the dark-haired man seemed familiar to the blonde. Then it hit him like a freight train. "Well, isn't it Mr. Kim Taehyung?" He smiled widely, glancing up at the slightly taller man.

Taehyung's brows furrowed momentarily before grinning. "Holy shit, Park Jimin!" He stepped forward, leaving Kiara's side to wrap his arms around the blonde. "What are you doing here?" He asked as he pulled away from the man. "I never would've thought that you'd be into art."

He chuckled softly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It's just a little appreciation I picked up from Spain." He shrugged casually.

Taehyung's jaw clenched briefly, his smile slipping for a moment. For as long as he's known Jimin, he always had to slip in a way to brag about his accomplishments. It was sad that he still hasn't grown out of that trait yet. "Ah yeah," he responded, playing cool, "I forgot you traveled there. How was it?"

Jimin shrugged again. "It was Spain," he said, glazing over the topic. "But me and—shit, I'm sorry." His attention shifted from Taehyung to the woman. "I never asked for your name."

"I'm Kiara," she said softly. Her arms folded over her chest as she watched the two men converse. She didn't mind a bit since Taehyung was the most extroverted of the two.

"Kiara," Jimin repeated to himself, his eyes trailing down her appearance briefly. He tried to pin the name to the face, especially if she was Taehyung's. His eyes finally returned to the other man. "Kiara and I were discussing some of the pieces earlier. I've been a huge fan of Luna for years now." He tried to be calm about the subject of Luna, but it made excitement course through his veins. He was among the first few to learn about the mysterious artist who abruptly appeared on the scene. Everyone wanted one of their pieces overnight, and Jimin was obviously at the very top of that list. Every brushstroke left was a paragraph, speaking a language only artists could understand. 

"I don't even wanna talk about how hard it was to get in here," he chuckled, a faint flush spreading over his cheeks. A Luna Eclipse had a longer wait list than some Michelin-star restaurants. Luckily for him, he was able to pull a few strings. A few phone calls here, some embarrassing promises there, and he was in.

Kiara couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips as she eyed the man. The smirk on Taehyung's lips was full of pride, almost conceited, as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Oh, you don't say?" For once in the pair's life, it felt like Taehyung had a one-up on Jimin. "How does it feel to—"

"My love," Kiara interjected, voice just as sweet, yet bitter, like honey as she placed her hand on Taehyung's chest. She looked up at him, and Jimin could see her pupils dilated, swirling with love. He chewed on his lower lip gently. He barely knew this woman, but why did he want her to look at him like that? "I have to talk to you about something."

Taehyung stared at his partner with furrowed brows before looking at Jimin. "Um, alright. I'll catch up with you later then."

She looked at Jimin, and that love dissipated instantly. Such a look was only reserved for Taehyung, making a heaviness grow in his abdomen. "If you would excuse us."

The blonde couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Kiara. "Of course," he finally said, grinning at the man. "Don't be a stranger!"

The two waved at each other before Kiara led him away. Her arm wrapped around his, holding him close to her. She glanced back at Jimin one last time before pulling Taehyung to a quiet section of the event. He leaned against the pillar while Kiara stood before him, gazing up at him.

"Why did you cut me off?" Taehyung asked, keeping his voice calm.

"Because you almost name-dropped me," she said, her arms folding over her chest. 

The 26-year-old's lips turned into a small o shape before forming a sheepish smile. "You're right. I'm sorry. I completely forgot for a second. It's just so hard not to brag about you when you always look so good." He reached out and touched her waist, pulling her into him.

She couldn't stop her lips from forming a smile as he buried his face into her neck. She giggled quietly, her hands placed on his chest. "Stop it," she whined, not wanting him to do such a thing.

Taehyung inhaled deeply, the notes of her sweet perfume entering his nostrils. "Mm, and you're wearing my favorite perfume too?" He mumbled against her skin, placing gentle kisses randomly. "You just wanted me to be on you."

The girl laughed before gasping when she felt his large hand fully palm her ass. She pulled away from him just enough to slap him in the chest playfully. "We're in public!"

His eyes locked with hers, with a smirk playing on his lips. "So?" He questioned as he pulled her close again, resuming to litter her neck with kisses. "No one's looking anyway. They're too distracted by your beautiful art." 

He continued until he reached her favorite spot, a moan parting from her smiling lips. His hands couldn't get enough of her, feeling her up as if it was the first time. Kiara's eyes fluttered shut, biting back moans that wanted to escape her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Taehyung," she whined again, partially out of want. It started to feel so good that the world began to melt away. "Someone will see."

Someone cleared their throat. "That's true."

Kiara's eyes shot open, quickly pushing the man in the midst of giving her a hickey off of her. He groaned as his back hit the pillar wall while she turned around. Her cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassment promptly replacing the arousal. She saw familiar ice-blue eyes playfully glaring at her. The petite woman pushed her long, ginger hair off her shoulders as she cocked an eyebrow at the two—disapproval flooding her features.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Hello, Aimee," he said, greeting the woman for both of them.

Aimee huffed, glancing at the man. "Taehyung."

He stood up from the wall, kissing Kiara's temple. "Lemme get us something to drink." He shot one last glare to Aimee before walking off.

Aimee shook her head. "I don't know how you put up with him and all the PDA." She grumbled, her heavy New Jersey accent ringing through Kiara's ears while she glared a hole into the back of Taehyung's head.

Kiara straightened out the smooth material of her dress. "You get used to it," she smiled softly to herself. "Plus, I kinda like it."

"Ugh," Aimee rolled her eyes as she folded her arms over her chest. "Seems like he'd fuck ya right there with an audience." The girl pointed her index finger to her open mouth, making a gagging sound while Kiara laughed.

"You're so dramatic," Kiara smiled while shaking her head. "But what's up? Is everything going OK?" Aimee was at every event Kiara held. She was her art dealer, providing guests with the information needed to purchase a piece. She would only come up to the artist if something were awry.

"Oh! Everything is fucking fantastic, honestly." Her eyes lit up with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her heels. "I think this might be your best collection yet."

Kiara sighed in relief, placing her hand on her chest as it fell. "Thank you. If we can get everything sold tonight, I'll be set." Aimee looked at the girl, her brows furrowing momentarily before releasing. "Taehyung and I have been looking for a bigger place."

Aimee's lips turned down into a slight frown. "A bigger house? Has he even talked about getting a ring yet?"

Kiara's shoulders dropped, her hand pinching and rubbing at her fingers. She sounded just like her best friends and every other friend in Kiara's life. "I know," she sighed. She glanced down at her left hand, where her ring finger was aching to be adorned with something. "It's so backward, but a one-bedroom isn't enough. He needs an office space for work. So, I'm hoping the ring will come soon after once we settle into a new place."

She looked at the girl, a sad smile replacing her frown. "Well, it's only been four years, right?"

Only. That word ran circles in Kiara's head. 

It's only been for years. 

You've only just moved in with each other. 

You've only just started dating.

The word was growing tiresome, especially in the conversations about Taehyung. Everyone had an opinion about her and her relationship, but no one dared to say anything straightforward about it. She was sick of only.

Kiara nodded slowly, which only caused Aimee to sigh. "He'll come around, doll, don't stress it." She assured with a soft smile, gently patting the woman's shoulder. "Lemme get back to my job so you can get that house." After Kiara gave Aimee a small smile, she walked off. She almost bumped into Taehyung on the way out, the two quietly cursing at each other before continuing their path.

He returned to Kiara with a smile, handing her a glass of champagne. "All good news?"

She grinned at the man, feeling warm despite not sipping her drink yet. "Amazing news."

As the night continued, the two walked around together. They always had a hand on each other somehow, whether it was Taehyung's on the small of her back or Kiara's hand being swallowed by his. She adored this. It made her feel safe—feel wanted. He had to let everyone know she was off the market and was his. As if a shiny diamond ring resting upon her left finger wouldn't have done the same. Taehyung struck up conversations with random people, small-talking them like the extrovert he was. During each conversation, she would glance around, finding something to fill her attention while they spoke of things that didn't matter. Every time, her gaze would meet the blonde.

Their eyes lingered for longer than what was appropriate. Why was he looking at me? She thought while she fidgeted with her fingers. Or was he staring at Taehyung?

"Love," she said as she turned her gaze to Taehyung. He has just finished up a conversation with an elderly couple. "How long have you known Jimin?"

"We grew up together, and were best friends."

The girl's eyes went wide. Despite four years together, Taehyung rarely talked about anything before his college years. It was optional to dwell on past things, even though Kiara would've loved to know everything, from how he scraped his knees while learning to ride a bike to his first love.

"We even went to college together, out here," he continued. "But our crowds were completely different. He got along with the nepo babies since he basically is one, and I got along with the art kids. I remember us bumping heads quite a bit." He let out an amused chuckle.

"Oh," she frowned slightly.

"Like he didn't have to brag about going to Spain," he blurted out. "Not all of us can drop our responsibilities and take off on vacation for a year."

"A year?!" She repeated as her jaw dropped.

"Mhm, basically had his parents pay for the whole trip." There was a fire behind his words. He's been tight-lipped about his friendship with Jimin, and finally, it felt amazing to let it out. "I'm surprised he's not rotting from the inside out."

Kiara pouted a bit, never hearing Taehyung speak so harshly about another. "Well, maybe it was a birthday gift?" The blonde couldn't be that bad, even if she got a taste of that quick-witted mouth earlier. He could've just been having a bad day after all.

"He left in March, babe, and his birthday is in October."

Her mouth formed a small o before she chewed on her lower lip gently. "So you're not gonna catch up with him?"

He looked ahead before glancing down at the girl. "I am," he said with a shrug, "I would rather hang out with a nepo baby than my coworkers." Kiara let out a half-hearted snicker as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "It would be a good opportunity to get out of the house since someone says I need to make friends."

"You do!" She looked at him, brows furrowed and nose slightly scrunched. "I feel bad leaving you home every girls' night. I want to know you're having fun and not rewatching the same three movies."

"They're good movies!" He argued with a smile as the girl shot him a glare. "But I hear you," she stretched out the last syllable as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "So I will try for you, OK?"

The girl smiled, leaning up to touch their lips together briefly. "Thank you." She hoped they could work past their differences and become friends. She knew the man wanted to go out and experience things, but he longed for a set group to do that with. Sometimes, rekindling a relationship was more manageable than starting a new one.

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[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause (Ch. 2)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment

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Hudu was licking his feet so noisily Hanbyul was positive her sister Sobyul would be able to hear it over the phone. Not to mention it was annoying. She hated that wet sound. She threw a pillow at Hudu, who completely ignored it, so instead she got up from the couch and wandered towards her bedroom. 

“Well if the new company has the same position there or here, did you think about applying to the one heer?”

Hudu followed her into the bedroom anyway but at least the sound was disrupted. Hanbyul fell backwards onto her bed.

“Sorry, what?”

“If you’re going to apply for a new job–”

“I didn’t say I was going to apply for it.”

“Since you should apply for the job, have you thought about applying to the one that’s here? It would be nice to have you home.”

“I… didn’t think about that.” Hanbyul sat up again and spaced out staring at the garland of fake pink flowers draped around her doorway, a memento from her sister’s wedding two years ago. She didn’t get home as often as she used to. She didn’t have a good reason. It wasn’t that far a drive, but enough that by the time the weekend rolled around, she was usually too tired from putting in the hours at work to feel like packing Hudu up and making it. Not to mention weekends carried the strong possibility of her crossing paths just in time for dinner with Jimin and Sun-young–

“What do you mean, you didn’t think about it? You found this job that’s perfect for you, that gets you out of your current shitty place and gives you more money and you noticed they have a local branch near home but you didn’t think about applying to it? You just noticed those things without any thought?”

“Ah, be nice. I’m tired,” Hanbyul complained to her sister, though it wasn’t really true. She was restless, not tired. The part about not thinking about it was true though. It hadn’t occurred to her at all to move home.

“Why? Some hottie neighbor boy keeping you up all night–”

“So!”

“That’s a no,” Sobyul sighed noisily. “Any progress at all?”

“What do you mean by progress–”

“Another no. Han…”

Hanbyul’s skin prickled with displeasure at her sister’s disappointed sigh. She regretted having told her about Jimin now, though the thought she could have avoided it all these years was laughable. Of course she’d told her sister about Jimin and Sun-young. She’d told her parents too. They’d even met when her parents had come to visit and Jimin had stopped them in the hall to say how wonderful their daughter was and she’d embarrassingly had to explain to her mother that night no, we aren’t dating, he didn’t mean anything by it, he was just being kind.

“There’s not anything to progress. We’re just neighbors. We’re friend…ly. We’re friends.”

“You don’t want to go for the job even though you found it and want it. You don’t want to go for the man even though you found him and want him.”

“He’s grieving!”

“Forever?”

“It’s only been a few years. How long do you think it would take you to get over losing–”

“Ok, fair, I don’t want to think about it. But it’s happened for him and it’s awful, and you are right there willing to soothe his heart–”

“He’s not interested in that with me,” Hanbyul insisted, feeling certain of it down to her bones. “I don’t think he dates at all but even if he did, I don’t think I’m his type.” She was certainly nothing like the fit dancer Ga Subin had been with her light brown eyes and thick black hair and that statuesque face. Hanbyul was lanky and tall, possibly taller than Jimin though they’d never stood close enough to say for sure. She certainly wasn’t fit, despite a brief attempt at teaching Hudu to go for runs with her (they both failed.) Her face was round and average and her hair was… fine. A little on the thin side so she couldn’t spare any for bangs which meant her big forehead was always on display. Honestly she wasn’t too miserable about her appearance usually but when it came to assessing Jimin’s type, she was clearly not it.

“Then how long are you going to pine for him?”

The question was a direct shot to her heart. Damn Sobyul for always being so beautifully direct. 

“Ugh, forever probably,” she sighed.

“But–”

“No, I know, I know I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.” Maybe if she said it enough, she’d remember it this time. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked herself that question, but always quickly brushed it away because it didn’t matter. Jimin was handsome and kind and impossible to forget. And it’s not like men were lining up to date her and she was missing out on something else. It’s not like longing was even the only thing driving her neighborship with Jimin and Sun-young. It wasn’t! She wasn’t holding onto some hope that Jimin would notice her as a romantic partner someday. She was just around them because she loved them and–

“Is that why you didn’t think about applying to the one here?” Sobyul continued, as if she hadn’t driven her point home enough. 

“No–” Hanbyul started, not sure it was true.

“Because honestly what else is keeping you there? You graduated a long time ago. You don’t have a boyfriend. You don’t have many friends–”

“I have friends!”

“Worth staying away from your family for? I don’t mean to hurt. If you’re happy there, so be it, I just don’t want you to sit around waiting for a man who doesn’t notice you. You’re a catch, Han. Find someone who notices that right away.”

Her sister’s kind conclusion softened the blows delivered by the rest of her words. 

“I… I like living in the city. It’s so quiet where we grew up…”

“Sure but we’re here. Your family is here. Soon your nephew will be here too.Shouldn’t you think about that? I know you adore Park Sun-young, but she isn’t yours.”

“Ok, So. I get it. You’ve said enough.”

There was a beat over the line, and then, “Sorry. But sometimes you need to hear it from someone who loves you.”

The conversation didn’t last long after that. Hanbyul needed to lick her wounds and her sister needed to go eat something “immediately.” Apparently pregnancy was like that. Hanbyul didn’t know. Hanbyul would never know because…

Because she was hung up on a guy who didn’t even see her like that. 

“Damnit,” she sighed and stretched her arms and legs across the bed. It was embarrassing. It was pitiful. It was tragic. But it was true that when Sobyul had asked why she didn’t apply to the office close to her parents, Hanbyul’s heart had quickly interjected because I can’t leave them, they need me.

“They don’t need you, idiot, you’re just there.” Even in the early months after he’d lost his wife, Jimin had other friends he’d been able to rely on. Hanbyul had never been essential, she was just closest in proximity. He let her watch Sun-young sometimes only because she insisted on it, because she genuinely enjoyed it. She wasn’t even the only woman he knew, he was surrounded by them thanks to his profession. And probably they were all in love with them, because who wouldn’t be? His smiles had grown less rare over the years and each time it made the clouds clear and the sun shine. His laugh was infectious. The care he injected into his interactions with people, even after such great loss, spoke to what an incredibly warm person he was. He loved his daughter with everything he had, and he’d loved Ga Subin the same way, and Habyul was such a fool to grasp for whatever small corner of that might grow in him over time to let someone else in. It might never. And if it did, she wasn’t his type.

She let out a deep breath. She deserved better. She deserved her own Park Jimin and her own Park Sun-young. She wanted to be on the inside of a warm family, not just watering the plants and occasionally cooking dinner for someone else’s.

She sat up as Hudu flopped down on the rug beside her bed and began to lick his ass again, as if personally determined to ruin the last shreds of her peace. 

Two paths were before her:

One, apply to the job closer to her family, move there, and see who her parents or sister introduced her to.

Two, meet someone here who gave her a reason to stay in the city she loved; maybe apply to the new job here, maybe not. 

“It’s time to open my heart to something new,” she told Hudu. “No excuses. No dragging my feet. No more pining for Park Jimin–”

Hudu stopped licking and looked at her with big, soulful eyes. He dipped his nose and kept watching her. “No, he’s not coming over… We aren’t seeing him today.” Hudu gave a single bark. “No, I’m not giving you a treat! We have to get used to not seeing him and if I don’t get a treat for growing up about it, you don’t either! I–” At ‘treat’ his ears perked up and he jumped up. “No… no, Hudu, I– fine. Fine, let’s get you a treat and then I guess I will be setting up a dating profile. Is that what people do now? There’s nobody to meet at work… Don’t run off, you’re going to be in my photo too, we’re a package deal, aren’t we? Hudu? Don’t get into the cabinet until I’m there! Hudu!”

Jimin broke the boundary line. He’d waited and waited for Sun-young to come out. Ginam and Boyeon claimed to not know where Sun-young was or what was taking so long. When Tomi’s parents walked by and offered to walk the girls home, they both leapt at the opportunity, as if eager to get away from Jimin. Maybe his pacing seemed too intense? He was hardly a threatening person, but Sun-young’s class started soon and Jimin had a class to teach and where was his daughter?!

He checked the date on his phone just to make sure, but she’d stayed late for the catalyst science-y thing on Tuesday. It was Thursday, and this was more than a few minutes late. And if even her friends didn’t know where she was…

A flash of panic roiled through his stomach. What if something had happened? He didn’t have any missed calls from the school, but after Subin died, it had taken months to get all the emergency contacts for Sun-young changed to him. A full year after, the school had still called Subin’s old number instead of his when she’d started a fever and thrown up at school. It was just a stomach bug, but by the time they’d called him it was late afternoon, Sun-young was sick, and the school was angry with him. Even though the contact information was updated! The new secretary had just defaulted to calling the mother’s phone number over the father’s. Jimin and Sun-young had both had a teary afternoon –and Jimin had needed to find a sub for his classes at the last minute. Stress on top of stress.

So he crossed the boundary line and headed into the school, right for the front office.

“Ah, good afternoon Mr. Park.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Choi. Is Park Sun-young here?”

“Here in the office? No. Oh perhaps she is in Miss Kwan’s Science Club again, I believe they were making a volcano today.” Mr. Choi’s face lit up as he came around the long desk of the front office. “Park Sun-young was one of the most vocal students in bringing back the Science Club this year. Quite an enterprising young woman, your daughter is! She had many suggestions for fundraisers and explained the ones that have worked the best for her dance school.”

Jimin’s face grew tighter and tighter. Science Club? Fundraisers? What the fuck was Mr. Choi talking about?

“It’s a  club?” Jimin clarified. “Sun-young told me Miss Kwan did an after-school experiment for extra credit on Tuesday and that was all. I haven’t heard of a club.”

“Oh but you signed the…” Mr. Choi trailed off, seeing by Jimin’s face he had signed nothing. “I see. I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding… we believed we had the permission slip signed by you to allow Sun-young to join in the club, including after school activities several days a week.”

“She has dance four days a week,” Jimin corrected. “And the fifth day I have my own rehearsal so I can’t pick her up at a delayed hour. I didn’t sign anything. I will have a talk with my daughter but please strike her name from the club list.”

He didn’t miss the way Mr. Choi’s face fell, but Jimin’s insides were too much a mixture of stalled panic, annoyance at being late, and embarrassment. It was mortifying to speak with the vice principal and admit you didn’t know where your daughter was or why. To admit she hadn’t said anything about this Science Club and just ignored their schedule requirements so disobediently. A mother would know where her child was, is that was Mr. Choi was thinking? If Sun-young had two parents at home, she wouldn’t forge a permission slip.

Mr. Choi offered to escort him right to the science class, concerned now about this misunderstanding with a child’s parent. Jimin drew a deep breath as they moved through the school. He didn’t want to be a tough dad. He wanted to be an understanding dad. He didn’t want to blow up just because Sun-young had lied to him and embarrassed him and also they were late for dance now so it was a strike against him professionally. She was a child. A child without a mother, with only him, and clearly he wasn’t hacking it if she was going to lie, but also lying about a science club was such a weird thing to lie about… not even theft or drugs or something? Science? Unless she wanted to make drugs– ok no, even in his panic he knew that was ridiculous.

Sun-young huddled around a table in the science classroom with four other students, all wearing goggles and white lab coats and watching closely as Miss Kwan demonstrated something in a beaker. Jimin didn’t see what because as soon as he and Mr. Choi stepped into the room, Sun-young leapt away and pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“Appa, what are you doing here?!”

“What are you doing here, Sun-young? You’re late for dance and you didn’t discuss staying late again with me.”

“I… I did… you…” She looked nervously between Mr. Choi and Miss Kwan as the science teacher quickly set the dropper aside and motioned to the children to wait. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Park, is there an issue? Science Club meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays–”

“My daughter isn’t in Science Club, she has dance class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“But the paper you signed–”

Sun-young motioned frantically for Miss Kwan to stop talking and then covered her face again as her mistake caught up to her. Miss Kwan’s face lifted into surprise and then settled into a blank mask.

“I see. I’m very sorry for the misunderstanding, Mr. Park. Perhaps we can discuss your daughter’s involvement in the Science Club–”

On another day, Jimin might have noticed more that Sun-young was on the verge of tears, or that the other kids were staring at his daughter, or even that Miss Kwan was pretty and passionate and dedicated to her students. But right now he couldn’t see beyond his own embarrassment and the stress of being late and the frustration of being very confused in a bad way about what was going on. What was Sun-young doing, suddenly blowing off dance rehearsal and forging his signature? Had she really not expected him to notice when she simply didn’t show up to meet him after school?!

“I thought you were smarter than this,” he said to Sun-young doing his best to hold his surging emotions in check. “We’re late–”

“Your daughter is a very curious, bright girl–” Miss Kwan began.

“Yes, I know, thank you, Miss Kwan. She’s also very talented in dance and has a solo coming up, she’s late for a class she elected to take, and I’m late for work, which I need to do to fund that dance passion of hers. If you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Sun-young’s backpack up, only to shove it down and grab the correct one when Sun-young murmured that it wasn’t hers.

“I’ll reach out,” Miss Kwan called after them as Jimin put his hand on Sun-young’s back to lead her quickly from the classroom. Sun-young recoiled from his touch but scurried along anyway, her face a vision of misery.

Jimin had never been a parent who yelled. He didn’t want to be a dad who yelled even before he became the only parent in Sun-young’s life. His family was only loud in joy. Subin’s family had been quiet in all things. He wanted to raise Sun-young to be a peaceful person, one who knew she could go to her father for anything and never be yelled at.

But the lying. The embarrassment. The disregard for these expensive and advanced dance classes she’d worked so hard to get into. The disrespect for his own professional time and the money he needed to earn so they could live.

So he didn’t lie that things were fine on the way to dance class, he just set his jaw and said nothing. It was a quiet, tense walk. Neither said a word. Not until he led her to her hiphop class with Hoseok –the one she had begged to take even though Jimin didn’t think it was the style that best suited her, but she was interested so he encouraged it!-- and told her,

“Bow and apologize for being late.” And then “She can work hard to make up the time she missed.”

Hoseok tilted his head, clearly confused by what exactly was going on, but he just nodded and sent Sun-young to warm up on her own and then catch up with the choreography everyone else was learning. Jimin gave him an I’ll tell you later shake of his head and hurried off to his own rehearsal, to make his own bow and formal apology. Didn’t Sun-young understand that it wasn’t only herself she inconvenienced, lying like this?!

His own class as a student was a welcome escape. He preferred dancing to teaching, though dancing alone didn’t pay enough to give Sun-young the life he wanted for her. The modern dance class was a welcome relief for him, allowing him to step outside his anger and frustration and find peace through motion directed by a rotating roster of incredibly talented choreographers.

He hoped Sun-young was moved to understand the gravity of her actions without further lecturing and looked for signs of it when her class ended and she came to sit in the corner of his studio to watch the tail end of his longer class. If so, she didn’t say anything when they moved together to a different studio to the Contemporary class he taught. She just settled in a corner to do her homework in the break she had until Yoongi came by with dinner, after which she’d have her extra rehearsal with Hoseok to work on her solo while Jimin taught a conditioning class. They’d get home around 9 and then right to bed because Friday was another school day, and Jimin’s longest rehearsal and work day. 

He’d noticed Hoseok standing by the door as Jimin’s Contemporary class wrapped up, but he thought Yoongi might have just sent the takeout up with him, as he often did if he managed to catch someone outside while delivering their standing Thursday evening takeout order.

“Good work, dancers, see you all next week,” Jimin called, high-fiving students as they bustled past him to grab their bags and head home to the parents lining the halls. Sun-young was gone from her corner and Hoseok was still by the door, motioning Jimin over.

“Did she already head up?” Jimin asked Hoseok. 

Hoseok gave him a pained expression and admitted, “I don’t think I’ll be able to work with her tonight.”

“Why? Something came up?”

Hoseok clearly braced himself, leaning close as he explained, “Sun-young didn’t feel like participating in the hiphop class today–”

“Wait, what?”

“Ah, she said she wasn’t feel well and sat on the sidelines–”

Jimin felt that anger bubble up in his chest again. What? He looked around for his daughter but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything all right?” Hoseok asked.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Jimin groaned. “I don’t understand… she feels fine and she loves your class!”

“Well–”

“If she think she’s can just disrespect your time, hyung, and blow off her solo practice–”

Hoseok gestured gently with his hands, “It’s all right to have an off day. She dances a lot.”

Jimin’s head tilted at what instantly felt like criticism and from an unexpected source. Hoseok and Jimin had grown up dancing together. At Sun-young’s age they’d been taking just as many classes, both of their families working extra hours to raise the tuition for it so that their children could pursue their dreams of dance. He was doing exactly the same for Sun-young. She’d wanted to take these classes! She’d wanted to be a dancer since she was a toddler!

“Because she begged to,” Jimin reminded him. “Probably she’s just tired from doing this extra credit thing at school she doesn’t even need to be doing.”

“If she’s not feeling well, I don’t think dancing is a good idea anyway.”

Jimin bristled. It wasn’t like Hoseok to give him unsolicited parenting advice like this. Was everyone going crazy today? 

Jimin bit back his annoyance because Hoseok was, after all, his closest friend and he didn’t feel like having more apologies to make if he let loose the things in his mind right now. Instead he clapped Hoseok on the arm and agreed,

“You’re right, she can just rest during my class. She and I could clearly use a talk.”

“Sure. I can make up the rehearsal another night once she’s feeling better.”

“Great, thanks.” Jimin wasn’t even consciously aware what he was thanking Hoseok for; he just wanted him to go away. He wanted everyone to go away. He didn’t know what was happening with his daughter but now the students for his last class were filing in and he had to plaster on a smile as he greeted them, greeted their parents.

Sun-young slunk back into the room just as the music started. Obviously she had known Hoseok was coming to rat her out. A few minutes later the food from Yoongi arrived and she scurried away with the bag to eat in the back office. 

Jimin kept up the act for his class. Maybe he was a little sharper with his corrections, but in general he thought he did a good job of compartmentalizing. He’d had to perfect that skill over time. He’d had to figure out how to push through when his wife was dying, because someone still had to pay the bills, and someone still had to raise their daughter, and someone still had to do the dishes, and that was the whole problem, it was only him now. Him and whatever help he could solicit from friends or family, but even that came at a cost: admission of failure, admission of weakness, intrusion on their time and energy. He didn’t want to have to rely on others so much. He felt like losing his wife was a consequence of some bad choice he’d made, some mistake of his own, and only a very good therapist and his desire to keep Sun-young’s suffering to a minimum had enabled him to accept the help he already relied on.

Afterwards Sun-young had her things ready to go. They were twin storm clouds for the bus ride home, faces set at the same glower, eyes narrowed the same degree, occasional sigh the same weight. He didn’t want a public discussion anymore than she did. Their feet were heavy on the stairs, the elevator ride tense between them in opposite corners. 

Inside their home, they set their bags down, Jimin hung his keys and slipped his wallet into the bowl by the door, and then began,

“What made you decide to just not participate–”

“How could you come into my classroom to get me?!” she immediately interrupted, whirling on him with unexpected fury for a nine year old. 

“Excuse me? I’m your father! I can go to your school–”

“We agreed on the bike rack!”

“That was before you lied to me and forged my signature on a club form!”

“But you wouldn’t have signed it!”

He brushed past her in the apartment, picking up coats and hats that had slipped from the hooks just to have something to do with his hands as he argued, “That doesn’t mean you just sign it. Forging a signature is a felony!”

“No… no it’s not, you’re just my dad,” she stammered.

He regretted that angle and quickly corrected, “I’m not saying you’re going to jail, I’m saying that it’s wrong. And what, you didn’t think I’d notice that you would be an hour late to meet me twice a week?!”

“I lost track of time…”

“You can’t lose track of time. We go to the studio the same time every day–”

“Well I don’t want to go to the studio,” Sun-young shouted, crossing her arms, then instead throwing her hands to the side. “I don’t want to do hiphop or ballet or my solo or anything. I hate dance! I don’t ever want to dance again!”

It felt like she’d slapped him. It was counter to everything he’d ever known about his daughter. He didn’t know which was more shocking, that she would shout at him like this, or that she’d say she hated the thing that had been a driving shared passion for them both since she could walk. 

“You don’t mean that,” he said more gently.

“Yes I do! I’m sick of dance! Everything we do is dance! Every day we dance and I’m tired of it, maybe I want to do other things!”

“Everything worth doing is hard,” he corrected. “You can’t just quit because it’s hard. Are you worried about your solo?”

“NO.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about your grade, your science grade isn’t a problem. Do you know how many kids would love for their parents to tell them that? Not to worry about their science grade? You’re lucky and you shouldn’t forget that. You have no right to be so disrespectful to me or to Hobi or Miss Kwan or Mr.--”

“Lucky?” Sun-young repeated. “Lucky?! I don’t have a mom and everyone thinks you’re gay because you dye your hair and wear too much jewelry and you don’t even date, all you do is dance. You don’t even care about me, all you care about is dance! Eomma’s the only one who loved me!”

“Park Sun-young! That isn’t true. That’s not true!” he shouted, following after her as she fled to her room. She slammed the door years before he was prepared to deal with door slamming. 

He felt like he was losing control of this situation. He’d already lost control. This was supposed to be about her lying and forgery, not about dance and certainly not about whether she was loved. They were both too upset to be talking about anything right now though. He needed to find the inner peace Subin would have brought to a situation like this but he couldn’t find it right now, as he let his forehead rest against her door, hand on the knob, and drew in deep, jagged breaths. 

Where had all this anger come from in his daughter?! Where had his sweet little daddy’s girl gone?! Sun-young had been pulling away from him for a while and Hanbyul had reassured him it was ok but this didn’t feel ok.

“Sunnie,” he said, trying to keep the tremble from his voice. He needed to be strong here. Firm. Fatherly. “That’s not true, what you said. I love you more than anything and anyone in the entire world.” Silence met him through the door. Belatedly the things she’d said started to poke through his anger: everyone thinks you’re gay because you dye your hair… What the fuck? Where was this coming from? How the hell was he supposed to talk to her about masculinity and… and what the patriarchy? He wasn’t gay but if he was, there was nothing wrong with that, so why did it matter anyway? Why had that suddenly come up in the middle of this? Who was even saying that? He was overwhelmed not only by this new feeling that he couldn’t understand her daughter, but also that he did not understand the world of her day at school, her social life, her inner mind. He used to know everything…

“Sunnie, can I come in?” he asked, letting more of his anger ride the hot breath out of his flared nostrils. Calm calm find your calm, she’s your daughter, let love override the anger and confusion. 

“No.”

He gritted his teeth. It was hard, in a moment like this. He wanted to barge in and make her listen. But that had never worked with Subin, it didn’t work with him, and he knew in his heart it wouldn’t work with Sun-young either. He didn’t know what would work, but he could at least hold himself enough through his anger to respect this boundary. He hoped it was the right thing to do.

“All right. I’m here to talk when you’re ready.”

He stepped back and waited. He expected her to creep towards the door and peek out within a couple of seconds. Minutes at most. 

She didn’t. 

Instead he heard her turn on music, one of those idol groups she liked so much, and he felt effectively walled off. 

Well fine, he had his own coping mechanisms. Sort of. Not alcohol, he’d sworn that off when Subin died, too afraid of sinking into that relief when his daughter needed him. And not dance right now since their apartment was too small. It would have been nice if he could meet Jungkook at the gym but that would mean he needed someone to watch Sun-young –

Ah, would it be bad if he asked Hanbyul? He just needed to get out and cool down for a little bit. Get his head on straight so he could figure out how to get to the bottom of this with Sun-young. Clearly something was up with her. Maybe he ought to reach out to her old counselor again, see if they should start meeting again. Maybe he ought to look into joint therapy? A parental counselor? God, wasn’t there someone who could just come in and tell him what was going wrong and how to fix it?! 

Well, Hanbyul had said to come by any time, and she’d never seemed to resent him for a last minute favor, bless her. It made him feel better already to pull on his gym shoes and grab his bag and shoot Jungkook a text about meeting up. 

He knocked at Sun-young’s door and called, “Hey, sweetheart, I’m going to go to the gym for a bit, ok? I’m going to have Hanbyul come sit with you for a while. Ok? You know you can talk to her too if you want.” Silence. “I just need to move a bit, ok? But we can talk when I get home.” Silence. “I need you to answer so I know you’re ok in there or I’ll come in.”

“Fine.”

He sighed at her terse response and felt his frustration bubble again. Back on mission for his gym date with Jungkook, he slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left his apartment door open so Sun-young wouldn’t be totally alone as he knocked on Hanbyu’s door.

Oddly, she opened the door only a second later, like she’d predicted he was on his way. Jimin stepped back and began,

“Hey, Hanbyul, would it be all right if…” 

He trailed off, gaze raking down her body. Hanbyul was most definitely not in her normal Thursday evening attire. It was almost nine, which for Hanbyul usually meant her business clothes were traded for casual, usually lounge pants and a t-shirt, sometimes a cardigan, every once in a while a sundress over a t shirt. Hanbyul wasn’t very fashion-conscious which gave her style a sweet sincerity to it; she seemed to just buy and wear what she liked. One of a hundred reasons Jimin felt like she was a great role model to have in Sun-young’s life.

Right now though, Hanbyul was dressed very differently. She was just pulling on a light pink coat over a fitted black dress riding up her thighs with the lift of her arms. Her jewelry was simple but the dangling earrings caught the light with her hair pulled back into a low bun except for a couple tendrils around her face with more makeup than he was used to seeing her wear.

“Uh…” 

She blinked at him, then nudged Hudu back into the apartment as he tried to sneak by. Belatedly Jimin realized he should have crouched down to say hello to his favorite boy but he was too shocked at seeing Hanbyul so unlike her usual self. 

“Jimin-ssi?” she pressed when he just blinked at her. 

“Oh, yeah, um… are you going somewhere?” he asked as she pulled the door shut with a click. She had a little purse in her arm. He didn’t even know she owned a little purse; she’d always seemed more like the “practical bag” sort of woman. She even had on heels, which put her just above him heightwise, an excellent angle to see how extra warm her brown eyes looked in the yellowish hallway lighting.

Hanbyul looked sheepish, endearingly nervous, before she gave a decisive nod, “Yes, I have a date.”

“Oh!” Jimin took a step backwards as though he’d been infringing on her date by his presence. “Oh, um… wow. A Thursday night, huh? Must be serious?”

“It’s just late dinner and drinks…”

“Very late,” he mused, looking at his wrist, but he didn’t have a watch on. Realizing how stuffy and old he sounded, he quickly amended, “I mean, that’s great though! Thursday night! Sorry, some of us are old and tired, can’t keep up with um, youth.”

“You’re not old and tired,” she smiled. Ah, he felt very old and tired suddenly, standing in front of her in his gym clothes with his ratty bag and a daughter who was pissed at him. The fight with Sun-young felt like a ball of spikes in his stomach now. Something about Hanbyul looking so nice heading out on a Thursday night date made him feel so…

“Ah, I am. Ok, well have a good time! I hope it, uh, goes well! A new guy or– I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything,” he laughed. “I’m just a neighbor!”

Hanbyul had mercy and gave him that polite smile again, because she was always so polite, and assured him, “Second date. Wish me luck!”

“Yeah, good luck!”

“Oh but did you need something?”

“No no. Um… no, nothing important. Maybe Sun-young and I can– no, later, I don’t want to make you late. Have fun! Stay safe! Be careful, ok? Call me if you need a rescue!”

Hanbyul smiled and waved her hand, “He’s a friend of a friend, I think I’ll be all right.”

Jimin didn’t know what to say to that. Just gave her an awkward wave and glanced over his shoulder as she headed for the elevator. He didn’t miss her little smile as the doors opened, as if she expected her date to be waiting for her inside. She had a little skip in her step.

Well. Good for her! Hanbyul was obviously an incredible woman and she deserved a great date. A great relationship! Jimin had never known her to go on a date before! He thought she was just career focused or something but good for her!

Less good for him. As he closed his door and let his gym bag drop to the floor, he recalled why he’d gone there in the first place. She couldn’t help him solve his problems –not that they were her problems to help with anyway. Probably it was better she’d had something to remind him that he couldn’t just go running to dump on her and drag her into this mess every time something went wrong. His daughter, his family, his deal to figure out.

“Unnie?”

Jimin looked up with surprise as Sun-young came around the corner, clearly expecting Hanbyul to be the one here. Jimin wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Sun-young call Hanbyul ‘Unnie’ before. The disappointment was clear on Sun-young’s face though when she saw her father standing there.

“She can’t come over after all. Just me,” he said.

Without a word, Sun-young turned on her heel. Her door closed a moment later. Yeah, great, what other ways could Jimin disappoint his daughter?

So who… who should he talk to? Who could he talk to? He felt so hopeless in that moment, not sure how to figure out what was going on, not sure how to be the father Sun-young needed, not even sure how to soothe himself in the moment. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier as Sun-young got older? He felt like his family was crumbling all over again. 

He should call his parents. He’d call them tomorrow. He felt like something was dangling, he couldn’t explain it any differently, and it left him not sure what to say to anyone, even his own sweet parents. They’d just worry. Probably they’d tell him to move home again. 

Jimin checked his phone. Jungkook had answered saying he couldn’t go to the gym anyway. He had a message from Hobi asking if he and Sun-young were ok and Jimin didn’t know how to respond. His email had some messages from parents about classes, about the recital, about the dress rehearsal or the costumes. There was an email from Miss Kwan with information about the Science Club –the last thing Jimin wanted to think about right now.

Life was a flurry of activity and sometimes he felt like he was standing still in the middle of it. Sometimes Sun-young stood with him but she wasn’t right now, she was in motion, and he wasn’t sure how to catch her as she moved further and further away and he just stood there, alone. It wasn’t his daughter’s job to keep him from feeling alone, he knew that. But it wasn’t anyone’s job. 

Should he date?

The thought of meeting anyone new and introducing them into his family sounded god-awful. No. No no. That was a worse suggestion than moving home to his parents. Besides, it wouldn’t be just dating, it would be finding a second mother for Sun-young… she wouldn’t want another mother. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make Sun-young feel like Subin had been erased.

Jimin’s thoughts were a jumble. Without knowing what else to do, he stalked to his room, closed the door, and turned on music, each Park bubbled in their own preferred genre.

Hanbyul’s date had gone shockingly well. So well, in fact, that as she fell asleep grinning that night, it was only the tiniest bit because of the shocked way Jimin had looked at her wearing that dress. It wasn’t even anything that fancy. She’d had it for a long time and was surprised to find it even still fit. She’d felt pretty. Her date had thought she looked pretty, and been very openly appreciative of it, but in a polite way. Maybe Jimin had too, he’d looked like he wanted to ask her something and then forgotten–

No. Jimin didn’t matter. They were just neighbors, like he’d said! This Kim Namjoon guy seemed incredible and Hanbyul looked forward to finding out if he was too good to be true. They already had a second date set for Saturday evening, “So I can take you to dinner at a more reasonable hour, I swear I don’t make a habit of this, I just thought it would be fun to have our first date at this restaurant opening –the head chef is a friend of mine.”

He was right, it was fun. Great view. Hanbyul looked forward to seeing the same view again soon. 

Could she really have looked so good in such a simple dress that she flustered him? 

Namjoon, not Jimin, obviously. Obviously!

“Don’t worry, Hudu,” she whispered, pulling the snoring pup closer. “I already asked right away. Namjoon loves dogs too. I think our luck might be finally changing!”

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[phenomenalgirl9]

Idol! Jimin x Reader: Scars (Yoongi's sister au)

Summary: Growing up in a strict household is difficult. Especially when your elder brother is in a place doing something your parents strongly disapprove. Their eyes are always on you. Your brother saves you from them, but you caught the eye of a certain fluffy cheeked member.

A/n: This idea has been sitting in my head for a long time so I finally decided to write it down. There are discussions about mental health, abuse, self harm, so if any of that makes you uncomfortable read at your own discretion.

Also THIS

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"Why can't you be better? You're a worse disappointment than your brother"

"You're worthless"

"Why couldn't you have been born smarter?"

Once again your cries were heard to be echoed in the flat. The pin to your door being put in a hurry, not that you could hear it beyond your own sobs. A warm embrace held you, as you sobbed.

"It's okay. It's okay, they can't get you" Your brother said.

It's been the same for the past week, since he brought you away from your parents. You have been living with your parents for the past 16 years, they were always disappointed in your siblings. They wanted you to follow the family steps to be lawyers, it's a family legacy. But neither of you did, and you had to face years of verbal abuse and mistreatment. Until your brother pulled you out of that hell-hole.

Yoongi cradled you in his arms as another pair wrapped around you. He rubbed comforting circles on your back.

"It's okay Y/n. You have all of us" you heard Jimin's calming voice say. You took a few shaky breaths, until they got steady.

"I'm so sorry to bother you guys" you said. You knew Yoongi's sleep was important to him and his health.

"Oh please. Just lie down." Yoongi said with a smile "And you, back to the room" he motioned towards Jimin, who pouted and went back.

That's how your life in Seoul started. Soon you got enrolled into SNU and moved to a different living space.

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

"You're not eating enough, again" Yuna, your roommate said.

"It's okay! I'm not that hungry" you said.

"It's okay. She's a grown up, She knows what she's doing" Nancy said.

"Thanks Nana" you said.

You just rushed out of the house and made your way to the book store when you passed by two girls gossiping when a name caught you attend "Park Jimin"

You heard them say "I don't think he could date Seulgi. She's not even that pretty" and the two laughed.

You felt a very well known tug at your heart and you sped up your pace to not listen to any of that. You entered the cafe/restaurant you work in and took on the apron.

"Hello Y/n did you eat? How has your day been so far" you boss asked

"It was good maam" you said bowing.

"Aigoo, how many times have I told you to call me eomoni. Don't be so formal. You are just like my daughter" she said. You started your daily chores and rode through the busiest timing of the day. As you were leaving you noticed a well known car by the back exit of the restaurant and ran to it. Seeing you Jimin rushed out of the car and pulled you in a hug, you found your brother beside him and hugged him tight as he patted you head.

"You're still not eating well are you?" Jimin questioned.

"It's nothing I'm just a bit stressed with studies" you said.

"How many times have I told you to stop working and concentrate on studies only" Yoongi chided.

"I told you Ms. Hong, needs me and I like working here" you said, and Jimin nodded.

The three of you grabbed dinner at a restaurant and caught up with the past activities. It was regular for you and your brother to meet and catch up once in a while, one of the maknaes, specially Jimin or Jungkook or even Hobi at times accompanied him, but that was rare.

Jimin was jumpy today and Yoongi noticed that. He always seemed to want to say something but he was hesitant. Until you asked "What have you been up to Jimin?"

"Just busy shaking rumours. Things get out of hand at times" he said. And just like that the dread you were feeling since the morning faded away. You three talked a bit more and then they dropped you at your apartment and left. You felt happy, it had actually been some time since you just saw Yoongi and you felt happy.

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

"You could have done that on the phone," Yoongi said to Jimin after they dropped his sister at her apartment.

"I have no idea what you are talking about" Jimin said not meeting his Hyung's gaze.

"It's futile to try to lie to me" Yoongi said.

"I needed to see her. OKAY! What do you want to know? You've already known that I was in love with her since I first saw here when we went to Daegu. That I was so glad when you brought her to us and wanted to drag her back when she decided to move out. That I keep trying to drop hints but she never picks any of them up!" Jimin ranted in frustration.

"Woah! Calm down Jimini, she's not used to this stuff" He said

"I know and I'm willing to wait as long as she needs," Jimin said

"You should start by making her feel better about herself" Yoongi said "Like you always do"

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

"Y/nie, where were you?" Nancy asked as you entered

"I was out with my brother and his friend" you said softly.

"Is it the same friend you have a crush on?" Yuna asked with a naughty smile.

You simply shook your head and went inside your room. "Why have you never confessed to him?" Nancy asked

"Because I am me? I'm too ordinary for him" you said

"Look, Y/n not everyone can be special, it doesn't mean you don't deserve love" Nancy said giving you a smile, and left your room. She was right, but it still hurt to think. What's the use of telling if you're gonna get rejected anyway.

"Don't listen to her" Yuna told you "She's just-"

"Very truthful?" You cut her and said

"Rude" Yuna said "You're too special, you're smart and sensible and funny and a really good painter. Jimin would be stupid to not like you"

Yes, Yuna knew, she was the only one who knew outside the company, that Yoongi is your brother. Nancy just knows a random name you came up with and stuck with as your brother. Yoongi had taken one look at her photo and told you to never tell her. You never knew why.

A few days later you received an invitation to go watch an award show and watch the new debut group. You thought it would be fun as the boys were around your age so you decided to go anyway. A company car picked you up and you joined the audience. You were once again amazed at the performance that BTS put up, growing up you've always heard Yoongi play but watching him rap and dance live always made you so proud. You blushed at the intense steps when Jimin was in the center. You also watched the 5 member group called Tomorrow by Together. You actually found all 5 of them so cute.

You were escorted to backstage to the BTS greenroom where all the members greeted you with warm hugs. Jimin's hug anyhow felt warmer and you lingered on a bit, but he didn't seem to mind.

Later the members of TxT members came to greet their sunbaes, You were about to leave but Yoongi held you to stay. They all greeted each other and Yoongi introduced you as his sister. They all waved at you as you blushed and waved back.

"She really looks like you Yoongi sunbae, so pretty" Beomgyu said.

Jimin looked at him with a smile, his smile got wider when he found you blushing and thanked Beomgyu mentally. No, he didn't feel jealous he loved it when people liked you and gived you attention and compliments. He almost feels proud of the way you carry yourself. And at that moment he felt that he should tell you, not ask you anything in return, but just let you know of his feeling.

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

You were really nervous when jimin called you oustide "to Talk". Jimin was more nervous though.

"Y/n I want to tell you something" Jimin said and he took a step towards you. He took your hand in his. You didn't really know what to say so you decided to remain silent.

"Y/nie, I really like you," he said, with a smile that engulfed his eyes. "I know it's sudden and I don't expect you to reciprocate or even say something. I just wanna let you know that I have feelings for you".

You were in shock you pulled your hand away from him.

"What do you mean you like me? Don't you know who and what I am?" you asked and Jimin was taken aback. It was okay if you didn't have feelings for him, but on earth was this supposed to mean?

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You can't have feelings for me. You simply can't come up to me and make me feel like you like me back. I am ME! I am a Nobody, I have nothing. YOU! You're too good for someone like me Jimin. Please get out of this misconception of yours" you said and ran away, as it was getting impossible to keep the tears at bay. NO, HE CAN"T LIKE YOU! THAT WILL RUIN HIS CAREER!! NO! YOU AND HIM CAN NEVER HAPPEN.

You rushed to the nearest bus stand and took a ride home, meanwhile BTS were totally shocked. "Wait, wait she said You simply can't come up to me and make me feel like you like me back." Hoseok repeated and Jimin went wide-eyed. That was when he realized that she liked him. Then what the hell was all that she said for?

"Don't worry. I will talk to her tomorrow" Yoongi said, saving the day.

So, here you were sitting in the genius lab waiting for your brother 4 days after the show, you will have lunch together. You didn't want to come but your brother threatened you with the same"If you don't come, I'll go to you" after you ignored him for straight 3 days, you didn't want that so you had to comply.

"Why did you do that?" Yoongi asked

"What? I did nothing" you said confused, you were just sitting.

"Why did you reject Jimin, when you clearly like him too?" Yoongi asked, keeping his headphones aside.

"It doesn't matter! Have all of you gone crazy?" You asked. "What will happen if dispatch finds out?!" you added.

"I will not let myself ruin him!" You said. Yoongi stood up and shook you by your shoulders. "Who told these things to you? If anything, Jimin would be lucky to have you!" you sighed.

"Do you really believe that?" you asked

"I know that!" Yoongi said "Do you know Jimin didn't have a blink of sleep he has been working and dancing day and night for the last days! Eat and then go see him"

You thought back to what Yuna said that day, to trust the process and take chances. Well, she was asking you to confess but now you know how Jimin feels. Should you may be, take a chance? What if-

Your thoughts were interupted by Yoongi who said "Stop overthinking the situation. Just go see him"

After lunch and some more encouraging words you finally set off towards the dance studios when you heard his new unreleased song being played in one of the room. You entered listening to the lyrics:

"The cosmos moved for us

was nothing slightly out of place

Our happiness was expected

Cuz you love me And I love you"

And his eyes met you, you could swear you felt like time had stopped and Jimin stood still in the position of the step he was doing last. You waved and Jimin almost lost balance as he sped up to come to stand infront of you, you thought he would hug you. He thought that too though, but he controlled himself. He didn't know if he should and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. You didn't know how to feel. You felt bad and hence you closed the gap and hugged him tightly. His arms instantly wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer.

"I'm so sorry. I was scared" you say

"Don't worry, we'll take it slow" he said, as he pulled your hand to sit at a corner. You told him your concerns and he told you what he sees in you. How he feels he doesn't deserve you and how he'd be glad if you'd date him. Even you were surprised when you nodded your head yes, he almost squashed you in a hug. It was around 6 when you finally left, and you had to complete a few assignments.

When you left that day, you felt a bit better, actually a hell lot better, when you waved a hand from the cab to your boyfriend standing on the curb. You felt so good that you didn't notice two eyes looking at you from far with shock and disdain. You wanted to reach home quick to tell Yuna but then you remembered how she said she had a deadline today and would be home late. Well, you'll tell her tomorrow morning.

You entered your house to find it dark and quiet, you took two steps towards the switchboard when you felt a hard strike on the back of your head and everything went dark.

You felt a slap on your cheek and hissed, your vision was hazy, you tried to move but you could not, you were tied to a chair. You could finally see and the face you saw scared you.

"Finally, you're awake, took you one and a half hours? I almost thought you were dead" You heard, the words, they sounded venoumous.

"NANCY! WHAT THE FUCK?!" you asked "LET ME GO!"

"You WHORE!" *SLAP* "YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD LIE TO ME!" *SLAP* "yOU THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE HIM FROM ME!" *SLAP*

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN!" you screamed "AND LET ME GO! UNTIE ME!"

"Oh I know how you meet up with MY JIMINIE OPPA! HE"S YOUR BROTHER! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!" *SLAP*

"You're making a mistake Nancy. You got it all wrong! Let me go! Let me go!" You tried to move and get yourself free but it was useless. If you move more then the ropes might bruise you instead so you stayed still.

"Poor Y/nie, did you think that just because you have a hot popular brother that you're better than the rest of us? THAN ME!" she said. "Gimme his number, TELL ME YOUR PASSWORD!" she suddenly said.

"What no! Nancy stay away! LEMME GO!" you said, almost close to tears, the ropes are hurting your wrist. She was about to smack you when suddenly she fell on the ground. You found Yuna behind her, with a vase in her hand.

"Y/n!!" a worried Jimin rushed to you, with Suga on the other side.

"Are you okay?!" Your brother asked. As soon as your wrists were free Jimin was about to engulf you in a hug but Yoongi bet him to it.

"You worried us so bad" He said, Jimin inspected your cheeks that was red and swollen a bit.

"The police are here" Yuna said

"You guys! HOW?!" you asked.

"Remember I told you to text me once you reach home? well, when you didn't I got a bit worried because the sasaeng problems have increased recently, they even followed and attacked a staff last day and weren't caught. So, Yoongi hyung contacted Yoona, who was already on her way back and we heard the conversation and understood the situation. It was Yoongi hyung's idea to use the fire exit as if we used the door that maniac would have gotten a heads up" he said now hugging you.

Soon the police came and restrained her movement, she cursed and shouted all the way as Yoongi and Jimin were hiding in your room.

As soon as they went, Jimin rushed outside to hold you in a tight hug again, you looked up at him and he was staring into your eyes, Yoongi and Yuna decided to leave the room as your faces drew closer.

Yoongi knew you were in safe hands.

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

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[chimini3]

MAKEUP THE BREAK UP

Park Jimin | Chapter 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Park Jimin x OC

Synopsis: What happens when Park Jimin’s biggest what if comes back into his life? His friendly neighbor, childhood best friend, high school lover, and now his makeup artist?! Amidst the 2020 outbreak, the last thing he needed was Seong Areum making his heart skip a beat and fill his stomach with air. What will he do when unspoken words threaten to slip past his tongue? Would he take the chance of ruining a healing past? Or would he let her slip away once more and let himself get lost in the lights?

Warnings: Some teenager angst, not beta read, (We finally finished the three chapter long prologue!!)

Word Count: 1.7k words

The Year You Broke Me

[2012]

Everything had gone down so quickly. 

When December was spent with the complete family, smiles, and memorable moments. January had taken the opposite path and was fast-paced, hectic, and unknowingly to us was life-changing.

Jimin had told his parents about his desire to try what his Hagwon had recommended for him. In the first months of the year, he auditioned for a few companies that went to scout in Busan. Jimin’s Hagwon knew a few people before he was acquainted with someone from a company in Seoul. I wasn’t well informed on the details of that company, though all I knew was that they were trusted and were looking for talented artists that I knew Jimin was a part of.

I still supported Jimin as I often saw him smile behind an exhausted and sweat-filled face after practice and auditions. I could tell he wanted this, and I wanted nothing more than to make him happy. I felt as though he deserved an admission, so when it finally came it was only a matter of time for Jimin to grow more occupied in his passion.

It was usually me who accompanied JiHyun to Kendo, and it would be us studying together and having fun whilst we waited for Jimin. We shared this understanding of hoping Jimin succeeded though missing his company and unwarranted full attention. 

Jimin moved to Seoul on the 15th of May and my parents had started talking about moving Eomma, Ahnna, and me to the States. Apparently, their visit to Busan had made them realize just how much they missed us and Appa had quickly sorted a few files and started paperwork to rent out a bigger apartment. 

Everything was moving too quickly. I was scared and I had no one. 

I always went with the flow, but the stream went in multiple directions and I couldn’t keep track of where everything was. 

Sure, Jimin and I called frequently but it was usually abrupt and cut short as he was too tired from training and school. However, I still had the chance to meet a few of his new friends in Seoul. 

Jungkook was also from Busan so I hoped they understood each other well. Taehyung was also only a few months younger than Jimin and they didn’t seem to get along too well, but I’m still glad Jimin had people looking after him in Seoul. 

We had built up this routine of calling every Sunday as they usually got off training earlier. When I say ‘earlier’ I mean they get out of their studio at around eleven in the evening but that’s fine. 

I could stay up all night just to listen to Jimin’s voice. He usually hummed me to sleep in their living room before he’d hang up and go inside their room to sleep. He said it might bother his hyungs if he hummed in their shared bedroom. 

It was when Summer vacation started that my parents had set the date for our departure from South Korea. 

We’d leave for America in December. 

I had to make a decision by then. Whether I’d go with my family or I stayed with… no one.

I couldn’t possibly ask the Parks to take care of me. Jimin was in Seoul and despite practically living with the Parks for the majority of my life. They were what they were. They were my boyfriend’s family, and living with them was simply taking advantage of that fact.

I had to make up my mind. I had to find the right flow to follow in the stream, but I was always terrible at making decisions for myself. 

So I went to Seoul. I went to get an understanding of what the stream with Jimin had in store and I soon got my answer.

“Let’s break up.” 

His voice felt foreign. His tone was flat and even, almost as if saying it was something he could say any other day. His face stayed stoic against the winds. The little light that was left in the sky illuminated the pupils who couldn’t look at mine. He had his hands in his coat pockets, a cap that covered his black hair, and a posture that was too straight to be comfortable. 

I was ready to listen to his reasons. Reasons that I already knew. Reasons that I knew I could do little but comfort and remind him how much I adored his commitment to his passion, but that doesn’t mean he had to throw his personal life away. He couldn’t possibly throw me away just like that.

“Can’t you explain? Let’s talk—“

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” 

His accent was thick as he cut me off. Hangul syllables sliding off his tongue and sharpened by his teeth before they come piercing toward me. His cold eyes finally landed on mine and what I saw from the man in front of me scared me. 

“Jimin.”

“Areum.”

He was growing irritated but I still wanted to fight, even though that’s all we do in the few moments we see each other with his tight schedule of work, school, work, school, work. Gone was the Jimin that specifically left his schedule on the weekends empty just to let himself rest and spend time with his loved ones.

I rented out a place for a month in Seoul funded by my savings and was just a block down from his apartment, yet he barely came to see me. I’d wait day and night, text him about inviting his friends over so we could order some Jjajangmyeon, though he always said that they already had a meal from the restaurant above their dance studio.

Though I knew of his insecurities. I knew his worries about his Busan accent earlier when he arrived in Seoul. I would be stupid to not understand that he was probably also embarrassed about his Busan friends, like me.

“Talk to me, Jimin.”

He heaved a heavy sigh as he tapped his foot on the concrete brick pathway we stood on. The surrounding park was far from empty, yet to me all that mattered was in the hands of the man in front of me. 

I knew he wanted me to accept it and stop pushing him to explain, but I needed to fight. I needed to feel like I did something to stop this. I needed closure from him. A reason for me to leave South Korea and close this chapter of my life.

“Please.”

My voice broke and my eyes brimmed with tears as I desperately tried to keep myself composed. 

“Don’t cry. We knew this was going to happen.” 

Jimin freed his hands from his pockets as he reached his arms out to me. I didn’t want his hugs. I didn’t want his pitiful warmth and comfort, but oh how weak I was when it came to this man. 

“We’re not happy.”

“We can work it out.” 

I spoke against the fabric on his chest. As I held onto his coat tighter, not willing to let him go.

“I’m not treating you how you deserve to be treated.”

His voice was warmer than before as his hand reached to pat the top of my head.

“I don’t care. We can work past this. I can stay behind and Appa will send me money from America… We can go back to being friends. I just— I just need you…”

He sighed at my desperation and I couldn’t help but let a few tears escape my eyes. The warmth his body radiated did nothing to stop a shiver from crawling up my spine as I basked in what possibly could be the last moments I could fight for us.

“It still won’t work. I need to focus on debuting. I have six other members and a company relying on us to financially save them. I go to the Korean Arts Highschool now, I seriously need to focus, I can’t mess this up.”

“You won’t mess it up.” 

“But you need to be loved. You can’t keep supporting me. You need support too and I can’t give you that. You deserve better.”

“You are better.”

I answered without missing a beat but he only pushed me away and the warmth he provided was gone.

“Areum, don’t make this difficult.”

The cold and flat tone in his voice was back now, and I knew that this time I wouldn’t be able to bring it back to its melodiously warm comforting tone. I closed my eyes to stop my tears from flowing, though my body would still jolt with a sniff from time to time.

“Let’s stop. It’s better for both of us.”

I can softly make out his whisper in the air and I can feel the tears slipping past my closed lids. Nothing stopped my emotions from escaping me as I brought my hand to my face to wipe my tears. Though I focused more on not letting the sound of the sobs that wanted to rip through my chest out.

They told me turning a friend into a lover wasn’t one for the faint-hearted. You'd not only lose a relationship, but you’d lose a friend too, and you’ll have no one else to blame but yourself. Because why would you break something that was well off, to begin with? 

Worst than that, I hadn’t only lost my friend but I also lost a second family. In no world can I come back and ask the Parks to help. JiHyun wasn’t my childhood friend anymore… he was merely my ex’s brother. 

The reasons why I wanted to stay ten years ago are all gone.

Busan was no longer home. Not when I was alone.

We had already stopped our contract in paying for the apartment and it would only be ours to live in by the end of the year. 

School to me was a nightmare when I didn’t know anyone from Seoul especially because it was known that I’d probably only be there for a maximum of three months before switching schools to America.

I lost my friends.

I lost the Parks.

I didn’t know how much time had gone by as I stood still with tears on my cheeks, but once I opened my eyes there was nothing in front of me but the lights of the Hangang Bridge and the trees of the Riverside Park.

It was over.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Dangerous | Chapter 9: Brisé

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Bad Boy!Jimin, Bartender!Reader College AU

Pairing: Jimin/Named Reader

Rating: M | Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: references to sexual assault and past injury, cursing

2 weeks later (Audition in one week)

Jimin (9:22 am): Can we please talk? Please stop ignoring me.

Jimin (9:22 am): I'm worried about you.

You locked your phone and walked up the stairs to the library. Over the past few weeks, you'd neglected your other classes because you rehearsed for the audition day and night. While that did not change, it also meant that your normal end of the semester tests were coming up. And, even if you passed the audition and got into the dance program, they wouldn't accept you without satisfactory grades in your other classes.

Making your way to your favorite corner of the library, you took out your textbooks and laptop, hoping to finish your assignments before dance class in the early afternoon. It was easier to through yourself into your schoolwork than answer your texts or face Jimin.

You'd only seen him at dance class since he left your apartment the morning after everything went down. When you woke up the next morning, you emerged from your bedroom with a headache and to the smell of eggs cooking on the stove. The darkness under his eyes told you that he stayed awake all night.

"You need to eat well this morning. Your body went through a lot." He sat down the breakfast in front of you. "I Googled everything and the drug should be out of your system soon, but eating a lot will help."

He'd practically begged to stay with you, his brown eyes matching the kitten you shared. Yet. you still forced him to leave after breakfast, not able to meet his eyes again. You spent the rest of the day in bed, sleeping off the headache and trying to prevent the memories of that night from coming back.

"Hey, stranger," someone said, taking a seat across from you. You looked up from your textbook and saw Namjoon's dimpled smile. It caused you to smile you too.

"Hey, it's been a while," you said. Namjoon didn't come to the club as much as the rest of Jimin's friends. They all said it was because he was too busy juggling making his own music and being one of the top students in the entire university. "How have you been?"

"Fine," he said, relaxing back against his seat. "Everything going okay? You seemed kinda stressed looking down at your anthropology book."

You immediately put on a smile, even though you could tell by his look that he didn't believe it. "Oh, it's fine. The audition is in a week, so I've just got a lot on my plate right now."

"You know, you should talk to Jimin about it. He went through this already, he could probably offer you some good advice."

You lowered your laptop screen halfway. "Oh, uh, yeah," you said.

"Why haven't you talked to him lately?"

"He's told you?"

"Of course," Namjoon said, taking out textbooks from his backpack. "He's worried about you and wanted my advice." Namjoon paused and looked up at you. "He, uh, didn't go into detail about what happened. Just that it was something bad--"

You nodded, seeing from the sincerity in his eyes that he had a good idea of what happened. "If I tell you why I've been avoiding him, do you promise not to tell Jimin?"

Namjoon's expression hardly changed, unfazed by your request. He gave a short nod. "So, this whole thing kinda started as a way to get back at him for everything that happened in high school. But, after everything, I don't know, I think I'm starting to like him." You felt the rock that fell into the pit of your stomach roll away when you said those words out loud. "It's not just cause of what happened a couple weeks ago, he just--he's changed."

You closed your anthropology textbook, knowing no homework was going to get done. Folding your arms over the book, you rested your chin on top of them.

"I'm glad you're starting to figure out how you feel," Namjoon said. "You know, I think Jimin would accept you if you told him."

Your gaze wandered over to the other tables where students worked with headphones in or discussed group projects. "I'm not ready to do anything about it. I want to remember how it feels to be alone for a little while." Sighing, you looked back at Namjoon. "Plus, I'm starting my new job soon and the audition is soon. It's not the best time to start something like that anyway."

Your phone alarm went off. "I need to get to dance class," you said, packing up your things. "Mind if I walk with you?"

You shook your head, smiling at the way he seemed to just want to keep you company. Walking out of the library, you headed for the Dance building.

"I'm glad we got the chance to talk," Namjoon said. "I'll let Jimin know you're doing okay, but I won't give him any of the details." The two of you stopped outside the Dance building. "Do you want to go for lunch after you audition? My treat and maybe it will calm your nerves to have plans afterward."

"Okay," you said, giggling at his obvious concern. "It's a date."

The doors to the building opened and another student nearly ran into you. When you made eye contact, you barely had time to react before Jimin gave you a curt nod and an apologetic smile before propping open the door and heading back to the classroom.

[][][]

1 week later

Nobody talked. Yet, the sounds in the room echoed off the walls. The sound of tapping feet, beats counted under breath, and the lacing up of shoes again and again. You'd considered buying new slippers for the occasion, but you had not tied them in so long, you were afraid you would forget.

"Kim Inna."

You stood and walked into the auditorium. The seats were empty except for the first row where a handful of professors sat and the three Dance major TAs. Trying not to look at Jimin, you climbed on stage, feeling the muscles in your shoulders tense. The lights prevented you from making out faces totally, but you felt Jimin's gaze on you.

You introduced yourself and got into position at center stage. The muscles in the back of your neck tensed as the music started up. Trying to relax, you began the performance, letting your body steer you in time with the music.

The first part was a mix of hip hop with a little contemporary mixed in. Nothing that would stand out. About a minute into the song, it shifts and so does our body. Your calf tenses as you move to stand on one leg, bringing your stance to balance on your toes, distributing the weight evenly across your body. Your arms straighten outwards and you extend the other leg.

It was a simple move that you practiced hundreds of times. The position didn't hurt too much, but as began twirling, you feel the familiar pull in your heel, shooting down your foot. The choreography planned for the pain and you plummeted towards the ground, catching yourself with the palms of your hands and bringing your chest to the ground.

The position mimicked the way you'd laid on stage after you Achilles snapped. Despite the pain in your ankle, your arms had given out too. Rolling over onto your back, you got up with your good leg and the strength of your core. The move had taken countless tries to perfect, your head coming up from the ground last.

The rest of the performance went by in a blur. The pain clouded your vision towards the end and when the music stopped, you looked up, only barely making out the figures of the judges. You could feel your limbs throbbing with pain.

"Thank you," you said, bowing and walking off stage. You knew Jimin would know the story you were telling. As you walked off the stage and your view of the lights shifted, you saw Jimin's Adam's apple bob with worry. You didn't have to meet his eyes to feel their worry.

[][][]

You fell to your knees once you made it backstage. Breaths tumbled from your mouth and you tried to catch them. Your eyes watered at the ache in your muscles and a sharp vein of worry stabbed you that you might have injured yourself again.

You couldn't even think about what the judges thought or if you were going to make it through. Running your hands through your hair, you tried to stand up, looking around and hoping no one was around to see you like this.

"Inna," Jimin said, his soft footsteps coming from deeper backstage. He must've come around.

You looked up at him. "What are you doing? You can't just leave being a judge--"

"The TAs are switching off," he said. "I've been there all morning."

Somehow, the conversation brought back some of the feeling in your legs and you managed to stand up, walking over to a chair nearby. Jimin pushed a wooden crate belonging to the drama department under your feet. Grabbing a folding chair, he sat down in front of the box, spreading his legs around it.

His hand came to hover over your legs. Jimin looked up at you, meeting your eyes. Lines formed on his forehead and his fingers floated in midair.

"Can I touch you?" he asked, keeping eye contact.

You nodded, allowing yourself to release your posture and slide down in the chair. Jimin's hands gently massaged your calves, working from the knees down and back up again. When he reached your ankle, he carefully took two of his fingers, gently rubbing them over the Achille's tendon.

The throbbing in your muscles dulled. The feeling of Jimin's fingers against your skin made you try to stifle the moan that left your lips.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I'm a double major in kinesiology."

His voice sounded curt, so matter of fact. It alerted you to the way Jimin had thrown up his guard around you. Was he scared of kissing you only for you to go make out with one of his friends? Of reaching out to brush his hand against yours only to watch you flirt with another guy?

It should feel like a victory. A lift in your chest. This was exactly what you wanted, for Jimin to dance around you, feel the way you did all those years ago. But, now, you just feel like a half-rotten apple under a tree.

"Oh," you said, thinking back to when Jimin had tried to get you to dance ballet again. The way he carefully watched the way your leg shook and how he held you when you tumbled down.

"You think it's psychological too, huh?"

Jimin's hands left your skin and the air almost felt cold, empty. He stood up, holding out his hand to help you up as the music for the next audition started. You took his hand and carefully stood up, feeling steadier and the pain subsided to just a dull throb in the back of your ankles and knees.

"Pain is pain, Inna. It doesn't matter where it comes from or what causes it."

[][][]

It was 7 pm when you reached the cafe where Namjoon wanted to meet. You'd never been to this cafe before, but it was cute and had a book exchange bookshelf. It seemed exactly like the kind of place that Namjoon would invite you.

You didn't see Namjoon yet, so you ordered a bubble tea and sat down in one of the booths. You scrolled through Instagram, seeing all the gorgeous photos taken during the auditions. It broke your heart knowing that only about half of those who auditioned would get in. Many dance majors at your school auditioned multiple times before getting their spot.

The bell on the door dings and you look up, expecting to see the tall lanky man who invited you here. Instead, it was a teenage girl and her mother, who didn't notice your disappointed look as they approached the counter.

Namjoon made your stomach flip in knots in a way you hadn't experienced for years. You weren't attracted to him until he approached you in the library two weeks before. His hair laying a little haphazardly and the way his eyes smiled before his lips.

You weren't sure if you truly liked him or not and you were not ready to jump into a relationship after Chul-soo. Yet, as you unlocked your phone and saw a screen blank of texts, or any notifications at all. Your heart sunk.

The bell rings again. This time you look up and meet the eyes of Jimin, who looks as confused as you imagine you look. He runs a hand through his hair and sits down across from you.

"Have you seen Namjoon?" Jimin asked, looking around the cafe.

Your phone dinged as your lips parted to reply. Jimin's followed suit.

Namjoon (7:25 pm): You need to talk to him, Inna. I'm sorry I had to force it this way, but I know you miss him. Take advantage of this time.

Jimin looked up from his phone, his gaze looking everywhere but at you. "I-I have been wanting to talk to you, Inna," he said. You'd never heard his voice shake like that like he was about to break out into tears. "Are you doing okay after--?

You stayed silent. You weren't okay, hadn't been for the past month since that night at the club. You'd had to quit your job and find a new one, were in the process of getting a restraining order against Chul-soo, and you felt bubbling in your stomach at the thought of meeting Jimin's eyes. Things were far from okay.

You tried to hide the tears, taking a sip of your bubble tea. The sweet honeydew flavored tea and boba providing momentary relief from the sour taste of anxiety on your tongue.

"I've been worried about you. Every time you didn't respond to a text, I just worried you were in trouble. And I wouldn't be there to help you."

"Jimin, don't try to guilt me into responding to you. I want to be left alone." Jimin sighed. "I know that's not true. But, I understand if you don't want to talk to me. I just hate having to check Instagram or text Namjoon to make sure you're okay."

"I don't owe you anything just because you helped me. You know I'm thankful, Jimin. But, I-I can't trust you again after our history. I know it's stupid. It was years ago and it shouldn't matter. But, it does, Jimin." You paused, your fingers collecting the condensation from the plastic cup. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. I know you can deal with douchebags at the bar on your own. And watching you perform today, it was amazing, Inna. You're amazing. And I know you can do all that on your own. But that doesn't mean you have to."

You look down at the boba in your cup and stir it around, hoping it would somehow spell out what you should say or do. Looking back up, you met his eyes, feeling like you kicked a puppy.

"I don't want to do it with you, Jimin."

Throwing your bag over your shoulder and scooting out of the booth, you made your way out onto the street. You wonder if this was how Jimin felt when he embarrassed you that night. If it felt like his heart was shattering when he met your eyes. Getting home, you collapsed on the couch falling asleep with Jackson purring on your chest.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[sodascherrycola]

Jack Carter Park (@thejackpark)

DOB: May 17th 2014 Age: 21 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Jay, Jackie S/O: Luna Lee Kids: None Best Friend(s): Chandler Kim, Joshua Min, Mateo and Alejandro Kim Aesthetic: Jack was his parents translator. At the time he was born Jimin and Sabrina had only been seeing each other for a little less than a year and still had a hard time communicating. Jack thought it was his responsibility to explain what the other was saying, growing to learn both English and Korean as his first language. It got tiring at times, but his parents never noticed it happening as often as it did. Until one day, the two parents were fighting, but growing increasinly frustrated with the fact that the other had no clue what they were saying, Jack intervined and tried to translate in the middile of the argument. That's when the two looked at their little boy and realised what he was doing and how exhausted he was with translating back and forth being the messanger in his parents relationship. They had sat their son done to talk to him, explaining that he didn't have to do that, that there were other ways they could get through to each other, talking not needed. Jack learned what it meant to say something without saying anything at all. He had always been a pretty quiet boy, and this helped him express his feelings without getting too much into it. He was very popular at school, teaching the other kids English was something he was good at. He would see his friend Alejandro at school, but people didn't think he was cool because he was mixed. This is when he first learned racism. When Alejandro's family moved to Canada he cried. His friend's had left him and he didn't know why. Jimin had explained to him that he would still see Alejandro and Mateo because he worked with their father, Namjoon. It was hard on the kid but he understood. When his little sister was born he was estatic. He watched his parents take care of her and tried to join in. He was very kind and careful with everyone, but especially with baby Gwen. They grew up to be extremely close and are literally best friends now.

Gwendoline Analise Park (@gwennygwen)

DOB: November 8th 2019 Age: 16 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Gwen, Gweny, Gigi S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Atticus Min and Ara Jeong Aesthetic: The only way to describe what Gwendoline Park was when she was a child is happy. She was always laughing, usually at her Appa and Oppa's silly antics. She was very kind and rarely got upset with anyone. She was known to wear pretty dresses with matching sun hats, and her hair tied into plats or pigtails. Speaking of her Oppa, she absolutely adored Jack. He was her favourite person in the whole world. When she went to school she always tried looking for him, and normally got lost and asked for his classroom number. Jack didn't mind this one bit, loving his little sister just as much, however once he got older he started to get embarrassed. He started pushing her away a bit, little by little. It was hard for Gwen, but in a way she understood. She learned to keep her distance, teenage boys can be mean, and she started filling her days with other things. They got much closer as she got older, and once Jack started to drive. The two would go out for drives late at night for food, or simply just to drive around listening to music and gossiping. Gwen and Jack were definitely the reasons why Jimin and Sabrina wanted more kids. They were absolute angels and rarely ever fought with each other. Then Harrison came along when Gwendoline was three years old. She hated him. Maybe it was Jack's helpfulness toward Harry, maybe it was her parent's direct need to be with the baby constantly. No one knows, but Gwen hated it. She started to lash out more, get sent home from school more, and even fight with her parent's on silly things like bedtime and dinner items. God forbid she has broccoli instead of rice pudding. Her Appa gave into that one a bit too many times. Jimin hated seeing his princess cry, more than anything, so he usually was the one to calm her down. He was good at that, but not so good at talking about her feelings. That was where Sabrina and Jack would come in. The two would talk to Gwen one on one, and that's when they came to that conclusion that she was jealous of her little brother. Now that they know, Jimin started getting off work early or if he couldn't bring her with him to the studio, Sabrina took up baking again and included her daughter in the process, and Jack started teaching Gwen how to help take care of Harrison, that he would grow on her. And he did. She was very protective over Harrison, to a point where she wouldn't even let her Uncles hold him. That was her baby and everyone was just glad she came around.

Harrison Levi Park (@harrypark)

DOB: August 11th 2022 Age: 13 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Harry, Hare, Hazzy S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Nora Kim Aesthetic: The most energetic little boy known to man. Harrison was very hyper since he was still his mother's stomach. He was constantly kicking Jimin in the face and jumping on Sabrina's bladder. When he came out into this world, he was kicking. You could lay him on his back and he would just start motoring like he was on a bike. Safe to say, when he started walking, it was every man for his own. Harrison loved to run away from whoever he was with in public, the amount of news headlines he had about him toddling away in a store without his parent's knowing was plentiful. Harry struggled a lot in school, never having the longest attention span to last the period, instead of reaching to be the smartest, he decided to be the funniest. Haz was the class clown and everyone loved him. He was never afraid to embarrass himself, but it never worked like that. He was very handsome, being the best mix between his parents, girls didn't find his antics embarrassing, they found it charming. Harrison was the star baseball player at his school and went on to win them their first championship in 13 years, an achievement both his parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, plus cousins were there to watch and celebrate. In fact, they took up a whole stand of bleachers, which in turn created a new rule on how many people a player could invite to a game. He was more swift and sporty than the rest of his family, but they encouraged him from a young age to get his energy out through something productive and that's when Sabrina placed him in baseball. Jimin was leaning towards putting him into dance, but it never stuck with Harry. Jimin was upset but got over it quickly after become a baseball dad, carrying his son and his equipment back to the car after a particularly long practice.

Rosalie Beth Park (@rosiebpark)

DOB: August 26th 2024 Age: 11 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Rose, Rosie, Alie S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Malik Min, Julien Jeon, and Samara Lee Aesthetic: Rosie was a very quiet child. She learned to just sit back and watch everyone else. She loved following Jimin and the boys to the studio, sit on her Uncle Yoongi's lap and just enjoy the music and process of the making of her favourite songs. Rosalie was her father's pride and joy, but she loved her Uncle Jungkook the best. It pained Jimin to get off a flight and see his little girl run to his best friend and not him. It got so bad that he cut Jungkook off for a while, try and wean Rosie off him for a little bit. It worked, however it went right back to usual afterwards. The only thing Jungkook thought of was to ignore the mini Park. She lost her shit when she realised. Rosalie would act out and speak out of turn, and it made Jimin have to parent her properly. She got sad about all of this and would race over to Jimin when it would occur. Biggest daughter's man he was. He took this time to embrace his baby girl. As she grew older, she got more into the music her father was making. She was obsessed with how it was made, the whole shebang of it all. She started taking music lessons and learning how to produce with her Uncle Yoongi. She actually became really good, and is still practising now.

Benjamin Ryan Park

DOB: April 22nd 2026 Age: 9 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Ben, Benji S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Noah Kim, Madeleine and Leo Jeon Aesthetic: Jimin finally got his dancer in the family and it only took five tries. Benjamin was a mover. Not as aggressively as his older brother Harrison, but still one nonetheless. Ben adored dancing like his father. He learned how to walk with his appa, and how to dance from his appa. Jimin placed him in dance classes as soon as his son could bounce along to a tune. Sabrina couldn't help knowing how cute her baby looked on stage with his toddler friends bopping around to some pop song. Every single performance was recorded by his parents and passed around to every single family member. Benjamin Park was supposed to be the last child, the end of Jimin and Sabrina's line, but that all changed when his eomma found out she was pregnant when he was five years old. Ben was extremely gentle with his baby sister, learning how fragile she was from Jack and Gwen. He loved to help out with her and helped her walk and talk. Her first word was actually Ben. Well sort of. It was a variation of his name he was certain. He even brought her along to his kindergarten show and tell with the help of his father. They were very close, and he was very protective, barely letting anyone else touch his baby. Benji was determined to teach her how to dance, and would constantly play upbeat music and dance around her in hopes that she would join in. She didn't until she was two, but that was a very special day in the Park household. He was Everly's biggest supporter in everything she did.

Everly Joy Park

DOB: December 16th 2031 Age: 4 years old Hometown: Seoul, South Korea Nicknames: Ev, Evvy, Eva S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Daisy Kim and Olivia Jeon Aesthetic: Everly was just the light of everyone's life. She is still young enough to have the naive charm children have, and was a miracle child to her family. She was not planned in fact, protected against, but a blessing anyways. Her older siblings had her back always and forever, especially Benjamin. When Everly came home crying from a play date with the Kim Twins, Ben was ready to get to the bottom of it. When Benji found out that 3 year old William Kim was pulling his sister's hair, he was ready to pound him, which shocked his parents, being the gentle child he was. They calmed both him and Everly down and found it quite endearing actually. Everly was very lively and bright for her age. She loved to dance and sing, loved learning too. Ev was extremely smart for her age and suppressed even her Uncle Joonie in her findings.

[plumiechim]

Fuck the pain out [JJK] [m]

PAIRING: Jungkook x female reader

GENRE: Halloween party, smut, angst if you consider, pwp

WARNING: masked shit (ghostface), he is masked, unprotected sex, oc is js sad, he likes her, blowjob, lil fluff talk and blah blah

SUMMARY: Maybe ghostface will fuck your sadness away tonight.

W.C: 1.3k

A/N : Halloween and yet no man masked as ghostface to fuck me so why not write about it. Enjoy!

I was so broken by that point I didn't even give a fuck who the man kissing my neck was. He told me he'll make me feel good, treat me good tonight, maybe help me forget that I'm a fucking shattered piece of soul.

I can't even tell how he looks because his face is concealed by an intimidating mask. "I'm ghostface." was how he'd introduced himself to me while I was alone by myself smoking a joint at this halloween party my friends brought me to.

Having to see a person you've always loved deep down in your heart for years with another girl feels like shit even though I know I have no right to feel that way.

We're in the dark, now that his mask is off, I can't really see his face but I can feel the jewel on his lip momentarily graze my neck-

Wait.

I know who that jewel belongs to.

My eyes shoot open and my hands slide to his shoulders. I croaked, "Are you sure you wanna-." His lips shut me off before I speak any further.

A soft whimper leaves my mouth as his lips delve deeper into my mouth, "So broken, so needy." His lips graze against mine. "It's okay baby, I'll make you forget him tonight."

The way he assured me, gosh. I softly slipped my hands cupping the girth of his neck, I could feel him looking at me. I took my lips down his jaw as I slipped my palm to the back of his head and trailed kisses up to the corner of his lips.

"Kiss me." His whispers were all that I needed to press my lips against his. His hand roughly grabbed me by my neck as he hungrily devoured my lips.

His passionate kiss kept me busy as he slowly lowered us onto the mattress, him nestled between my legs as he trailed kisses from my lips to my chin, my jaw down to my cleavage.

"You need someone to worship you." His murmur tickles my skin and I suck in a sharp breath. "Understand you." A stinging sensation of his teeth slightly nipping on my skin, yet I love it. "Validate you." He continues his abuse on my skin. "Love you." Maybe its the joint that's heightening my senses and making me extremely sensitive to everything I was feeling. I wanted him. Bad. "You need commitment." He tugs onto my pants.

Oh my.

I push him off of me as he stands at the edge of the bed. Even though I can't really see I can sense him. I can sense him looking at me. A little surprised, confused at the same time. I can feel his chest raising and falling rhythmically with his loud erratic breaths.

I undid the buttons of his shirt one by one ascending, while his fingers tangled and played with my hair.

It was as if he was sculpted, body so perfect, muscles in right places. My tongue brushed over his abs leaving wet kisses as I went lower and tugged on the band of his Calvin Kleins.

As I pulled down his boxers, I could feel him tightening his grip on my locks. I get off the bed down on my knees as I spit on his cock and sensually lick the tip then proceed to slowly put him in my mouth.

His tatted arm fists my hair. His girth barely fitting into my mouth, but I still make an attempt to bob my head. His moans were so pretty, so hot, made me wanna go deeper and harder. The vibrations of his vocalization revert to the back of my throat.

I'm loving the fact that I'm making him feel good. I slowly get used to his girth and start working my mouth on him in all the ways I can. The way he's tugging on my hair kinda stings but that is something I can easily overlook.

"Fuck, you're so good." I can feel my own arousal spasming through my insides as i can feel him twitching in my mouth. "I'm not gonna last much." He moans as he pulls out of my mouth and grabs my hair, not by extreme but strong enough to yank me to the bed. He crawls, spreading my legs open and resting between my thighs.

I let out a small whimper as my back meets the surface of the mattress. He wastes' no time in ripping me off of my clothes and throwing them across the room. "I'm not going soft on you." He whispers as his thumb plays with my lower lip. I gently wrap my lips around his finger and flick it out. "I don't want that either." I breathe out.

"Baby, I wanna fuck you mad. Like an animal."

"You better do."

I physically jerk at the feeling of his fingers grazing my glistening cunt. I bite my lips as he slides his hand up my folds and slowly inserts his finger in me.

He goes slow at first but then shows no mercy, plunging his fingers in and out of me. His lips press against mine as he swallows my moans.

"I want you. Please." I breathe out and that's all he needed to pull his fingers out of me and reach out for the piece of latex.

I stop him. "I want you raw in me."

"If you do that then I can't fucking pull out-"

"I want you to not." I cut him off and I can see his silhouette, his neck cranking sideways putting on the mask he possessed, and I feel his girth in me and his tatted arm presses me down to the pillow by my neck.

"Baby you feel so good." He reaches down to kiss my thigh from under the mask as he starts with his thrusts.

Divine is what I would like to call this feeling. He felt so good I couldn't help but let out obscene noises. He felt divine. His moans, his breath, his thrusts, him inside me. It was all so hot.

My back arched as his thrusts got insanely deep and hard. His grip on my neck tightens and I feel our arousal dripping down my thighs.

"Mine." he grunts. "You're mine."

This was unusual for me. Cumming so fast like this. But I could already feel the tightening sensation and I can no longer assure that I am sane. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I take full pleasure of the feeling of him inside me, shaking vigorously underneath him syncing with his animalistic thrusts. As he leans down, I lift his mask a little to let him peck my neck. I can see veins popping on his neck, from the illumination from the window. His face and neck flushed pink.

"Baby you gonna cum?" I nod. He slows down. I whimper. "I need words, love." He smirks on my skin. "I'm gonna cum." I blurt out, my hips desperately trying to create some sort of stimulation.

But my pathetic attempt fails as he grabs my hips, restoring his thrusts. And I no longer am able to hold it in me. I unfold shaking under him, clenching hard. "Yeah baby, come all over my cock." He coos, his thrusts again going gentle.

But that was short lasted as he started chasing his own orgasm. Overstimulating but I loved the way he was desperately snapping his hips against mine. "Fuck if you clench on me like this- fuck." and with the hottest moan, he cums in me. His mask now off of him, hot sweaty body pressed against mine, his wet strands tickling my breasts. and his lips on my skin.

He takes a few minutes to regain his breath. "So you staying for the night or not." He says as he turns on the dim lamp from the nightstand.

His expression soon turns into a slight disappointment seeing the uncertainty in my face.

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! (OUT NOW) || jjk.

SERIES MASTERLIST

❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader

❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+

❥description: How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! A guide of what you shouldn't do in the first 30 days of a relationship if you don't want him running for the hills! You get to see my experiment with the things I did wrong in the first 30 days of a brand new relationship.

You have just received your first opportunity to write your own column at Composure Magazine. This is everything that you have ever dreamed of and should be simple enough, drive a guy away in 30 days. Across town Jungkook, who hasn't committed to anyone in years, is issued a bet that he can stay with the same person for one month. Both of you being so head strong to achieve your goals cause a myriad of hilariously disastrous dates, unexpected sparks, and a countdown that neither is ready for. 30 days to fall in love or fall apart. After all, all is fair in love and war.

❥warnings: set in the universe of How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days, comedy, sort of a crack fic???, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, eventual smut, some angst, Y/N is a love girl (sigh), Jungkook used to be a playboy (heavier sigh), fluff, Y/N basically torturing Jungkook, Jungkook will never surrender lmao, I watched the movie recently and I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head (like seriously I plotted out the entire fic in like three hours), you don't have to have seen the movie to get this fic.

❥disclaimer: Might be a bit before I start this fic, I want to get Wounds We Never Show a little further along before I decide to juggle two Jungkook fics (sigh). (Also sort of want to get an interest check on this fic hehe)

CHAPTER ONE

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[itssunshinetoday]

~ the boyfriend pictures series

boyfriend pictures

[kingofbodyrolls]

To Catch a Merman (m) | pjm

You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romance / tiny angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 17.7k → Warnings (general) + triggers: multiple povs (I tried to keep them apart, but there’s some sections where they mix), a shitty ex (not Jimin or one of the tannies), blackmail (because of said stupid ex), low female rage (it’s very minor, but let me just say that reader can defend herself if need be 🤭). → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, fingering, oral (male receiving), biting/marking, merfolk intercourse (it’s like a mating dance, lol), dirty talk. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: I’m baaaaack 🥳 I really love how this one turned out and I hope you love it as much as I do! And now there’s only two more mermaid stories left 🥹 This has truly been special, and i’m so glad I stuck with it and didn’t abandon it like I feared at one moment… Anyway, any kind of feedback will be very much appreciated—it fuels my inspiration, you know? Like just one single comment or reblog can make my heart soar, make me smile and feel like ‘yeah, someone on the internet likes my writing and stories as much as I do’ and it truly helps me to keep going, especially at times where I second guess myself (happens rather often I’m afraid). Please let me know okay? And happy reading ✨ 

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

“Don’t you think we’ve gone too far out?” Jungkook’s voice wavers, uncertainty woven into each syllable. His dark eyes dart toward the fading silhouette of home, but Jimin doesn’t pause, doesn’t even glance back. His golden tail gleams like sunlight trapped in the sea, cutting through the azure depths with an effortless sway.

“Nah, don’t be such a guppy!” Jimin laughs, his voice buoyant with adventure, rippling through the water as he propels himself faster. Each stroke carries him farther into the unknown, where the current whispers secrets only the bold dare to uncover.

Jungkook lingers, his chest tight with unease. “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he calls, the words almost swallowed by the vastness. “We’re so far from home…”

Jimin suddenly halts mid-stroke, his brown eyes narrowing. Above them, a shadow looms, dark and colossal, breaking the soft shimmer of sunlight on the waves. The water feels heavier now, the salty tang sharper. 

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, dread curling in his gut.

“It’s a big boat,” Jimin murmurs, the words bubbling to the surface as if reluctant to leave his lips. His curiosity pulls him forward, closer to the shadow that stretches like a specter above them.

“Yeah, and we should stay away,” Jungkook snaps, his hand darting out to grab Jimin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.” 

But Jimin shrugs him off, slipping through his grip like quicksilver. His golden tail fans wide, propelling him onward, closer to the unknown.

“Just a little closer!” Jimin calls, his voice light, but his gaze locked on the shadow overhead.

“Jimin!” Jungkook shouts, the name tumbling from his mouth like a plea. He spins in the water, struggling against the tide—and his rising anger. His voice cuts through the deep with raw emotion. “You’re going to get us killed!”

But Jimin only laughs again, a sound like the tinkling of glass against the endless blue, as the shadow above deepens, and the world below seems to hold its breath.

“It’s okay!” Jimin calls, his voice barely rising above the whispering waves. He hovers just beneath the surface, closer to danger than Jungkook would ever allow if he had his way. But Jimin’s curiosity burns brighter than his caution. The lure of the unknown pulls at him like a tide. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifts his head above the water, the ocean’s surface breaking around him in ripples of light.

His breath catches. The boat looms above him—a hulking beast of wood and iron, its hull painted in hues of brown and white, weathered by years of salt and sun. Massive cranes stretch skyward like skeletal arms, and heavy nets drape across its deck, glinting faintly under the midday sun. It is not beautiful, but it is powerful, a thing of human hands and ambition, utterly foreign to the delicate harmony of the sea.

Jungkook materializes silently at Jimin’s side, his presence a sudden ripple in the water that startles the older merman. Jimin glances at him, guilt flickering briefly in his wide eyes before giving way to fascination again. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses, his voice sharp, his gaze sharper still, like an anchor seeking to tether him. “Turn back.”

But Jimin doesn’t move. His voice trembles, not with fear but with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes dart to the figures moving along the deck, their shadows shifting like specters against the glare of sunlight. “There are people up there.”

“Hide!” Jungkook snaps, grabbing Jimin’s arm and pulling him sharply downward. The sea envelops them both again, cool and heavy, muffling the world above. “That’s a trawler,” Jungkook says, his voice low and urgent, every word a warning. “They catch fish, Jimin. You shouldn’t go near it.”

Jimin nods absently, his head bobbing like seaweed caught in the current, but his thoughts are far away, drifting beyond Jungkook’s grasp. The boat has hooked his curiosity like a lure, and no amount of scolding can break its hold.

Jungkook sighs, frustration etching lines into his usually calm expression. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s tail and tugging him backward with a determined kick of his fins. Jimin lets out a half-hearted protest but doesn’t fight him, his gaze lingering on the shadow of the boat until it fades into the distance.

As they swim back to Naraeum, Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his unease like a weight dragging him down. The ocean feels too still, too silent, as if even it is holding its breath. Beside him, Jimin smiles faintly, his mind adrift in a sea of wonder. 

Days have passed, yet Jimin cannot shake the image of the trawler from his mind. The boat lingers in his thoughts like a siren’s call—an enigma draped in nets and cranes. He remembers the humans, their shadows etched against the light, and wonders what it would feel like to stand among them, to know the world above the waves. His curiosity churns like the tide, restless and unyielding.

Which is why, against better judgment, his whimsical heart leads him back to where he last saw it. Alone, this time. Jungkook’s warnings echo faintly in his memory, but he brushes them aside like grains of sand. Jungkook doesn’t understand—how could he? To Jimin, the pull of discovery is stronger than fear.

The sun is high, its warmth seeping through the water’s surface as he breaks through the shimmering line between ocean and air. The trawler looms in the distance, its silhouette stark against the azure sky. No voices, no footsteps. The deck looks empty, silent. Safe. 

Jimin swims closer, his golden tail cutting through the waves with an eager flick. He dips beneath the surface again, the water cool against his skin as he circles to the far side of the vessel. His heart flutters with anticipation, the world narrowing to this single moment, this single mystery.

But as he moves to rise once more, something catches. A sudden, taut pressure coils around him—a net, rough and unyielding, tangling his tail and pinning his arms to his sides. Panic flares. He thrashes, but the more he struggles, the tighter the net pulls. The world tips and tilts as he’s dragged upward, the ocean slipping away below him, the sun blinding above.

When he finally breaks the surface, it is not in freedom but captivity. He is hoisted into the air, suspended with a writhing chaos of silver-scaled fish. Their bodies slap and squirm against him, cold and frantic. Jimin grunts, his pride stinging almost as much as his skin. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course I’d get caught. He’s the kind of merman who can’t even balance on a rock without sliding off. Clumsy to his core. Jungkook had warned him—warned him with exasperation and those sharp, knowing eyes—but he hadn’t listened.

Now, he lies in a heap on the deck, the net a coarse prison pressing against his skin. The trawler’s wood feels foreign beneath him, its surface warm from the sun. For a moment, there is no movement, no sound but the rhythmic creak of the boat and the faint slap of water against its hull.

No humans. Not yet. He exhales shakily, a flicker of relief warming him. Lucky, for now. But luck is fleeting, and the net is unrelenting. He twists and pulls, his tail flicking in frustration, yet the woven threads refuse to yield. 

As he struggles, the vastness of his predicament begins to sink in. The boat, the net, the world of humans looming just beyond the corner of his vision—all of it feels too big, too foreign. Yet, even in the face of danger, a part of him remains defiant, his curiosity undimmed. I’ll get out of this, he thinks. I have to.

But the trawler sways beneath him, a silent giant, and the horizon stretches wide and uncaring. The sun blazes overhead, and the sea he loves feels suddenly, painfully far away.

You hate this job. The endless hours, the stench of fish, the grinding noise of the trawler’s machinery—it all gnaws at your soul. But the money is good, and good money keeps you coming back. Still, as you stretch awake in the middle of the day, the remnants of last night’s shift clinging to you like a haze, you can’t shake the feeling that you’d rather be anywhere else. 

Weird noises from the deck break through your grogginess, jarring and unfamiliar. You yawn, dragging yourself from the cocoon of your cramped bed, the lazy heat of the cabin making every step feel like a chore. Rubbing your eyes, you shuffle to investigate, the bright daylight spilling through the doorway catching you off guard.

The moment you step outside, the world hits you. The sun blazes mercilessly above, its golden rays turning the sea into a blinding mosaic of light. The air hangs heavy, hot and thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. And then you see him.  

A man—no, an angel—caught in the center of the deck, tangled in the coarse weave of a fishing net. Blonde hair gleams like spun sunlight, cascading over his shoulders. His chest is sculpted, every curve and ridge kissed by the sun, tapering to a tiny waist. Your gaze falters at sturdy thighs, only for your brain to screech to a halt at his dick. Completely naked. Utterly surreal.

His head jerks up, startled brown eyes locking with yours. A loud, high-pitched shriek escapes him, the sound jarring and almost inhuman. He thrashes in the net, his movements frantic as the silver-scaled fish trapped with him flop and slide against his skin. You freeze, your breath caught in your throat, every nerve firing in chaotic confusion.

What the hell is happening? You want to ask something—anything. Maybe ‘do you need help?’ or ‘who are you?’ or even the more pressing ‘how the hell did you get here?’ But your words die on your lips as he suddenly wriggles free of the net. For a moment, he’s all unsteady limbs, rising awkwardly to his feet. Then, like a fleeting mirage, he dashes for the edge of the boat, his movements fluid and oddly graceful despite his wobbling steps.

He pauses just long enough to clap his hands together in a makeshift diving pose. And then he leaps. Quick, but slow enough that you catch a glimpse of a tattoo of moon phases down his spine. 

Time slows as he arcs through the air, a golden blur against the deep blue horizon. The water accepts him in a shimmering burst, and he’s gone. You gape, your voice finally finding freedom in a startled yell. Heart pounding, you rush to the edge of the boat, gripping the sun-warmed railing as you peer over. The ocean is calm, indifferent, save for a few bubbles breaking its surface.  

You scan the water, searching, your eyes desperate to confirm what you just saw—or to convince yourself it was some kind of sun-soaked fever dream. But there’s nothing. The waves ripple serenely, as if mocking your bewilderment. 

No man. No trace. Just the endless expanse of sea, stretching into oblivion.

You stand there, stunned, the net still lying in a crumpled heap behind you, its captured fish glinting in the sunlight. The deck creaks beneath your feet, but the rest of the world seems to hold its breath. Who—or what—was that? And where did he go?  

The sea offers no answers. Only silence.

The whole day, he lingers in your mind like a shadow you can’t shake. The golden-haired man, tangled in the net, his brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. Questions churn in your head, relentless as the tide. Is he okay? Did he make it? Why was he there in the first place? And the one you don’t want to ask but can’t silence—Did he drown after he leapt into the sea?  

He hadn’t said a word, only that strange startled cry when your eyes met. The sound was raw, unguarded, like something wild caught between fight and flight. You replay it over and over, a haunting echo, as you try to piece him together from fragments: golden hair, sun-bronzed skin, a fleeting presence that disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. And those eyes—terrified, searching. You wonder what they saw in you.

A sudden hand at the small of your back drags you out of your thoughts, the warmth unwelcome and invasive. Riley. You shrug him off sharply, your frown a warning, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“What happened out there?” he asks, curiosity lacing his tone. He must have heard the ruckus earlier, but you’re in no mood to indulge him. “Nothing,” you snap, turning away. “And don’t touch me again. Ever.”

His hand retreats, but his presence lingers like a bad smell. Riley—your ex, your mistake. You curse the naïveté that led you to take this job, blind to the fact he’d be working here too. It felt like fate mocking you, trapping you on this swaying tin can with someone you can’t stand. Every day, you question your sanity for staying. But the paycheck binds you like chains, and so you endure.

Riley’s voice follows you, slick with false concern. “I can protect you, if you’re scared.” The words slither through the air, leaving a sickly taste in your mouth. You stiffen, his tone stirring something sharp and defensive in your chest.

You turn, arms crossing tightly over your body, your voice colder than the ocean below. “I don’t need your protection, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.” Each word is clipped, deliberate, your disdain evident.

He smirks, like your anger is a game he enjoys playing. It makes your stomach churn, and you glare at him before storming away, needing space, needing air.  

Your thoughts drift again as you retreat to the edge of the boat, eyes scanning the endless sea. The sunlight dances on the waves, golden and playful, as if mocking your mood. But no matter how far you look, there’s no sign of him—the man who consumed your every thought today. Just water stretching endlessly, as inscrutable as it is vast.

A few days later, the quiet of dawn is shattered by a strange, rhythmic banging that echoes against the hull of the boat. The sound pulls you from sleep like a siren’s call, and before you can think, you’re on your feet, racing out in nothing but your pajamas, the early chill biting at your skin. The sky is a delicate canvas of pale pink and gold, the sea beneath it still dark and restless.  

The deck is empty, the vast stretch of wood as silent as the horizon. But the sound persists—low, insistent, coming from the side of the boat. Heart thudding, you approach the railing, peering over cautiously. 

And there he is.  

Your breath hitches. For a moment, all you can do is stare, your mouth falling open as if to match the endless gape of the sea below. Caught in the coarse weave of the net, a merman thrashes against his bindings. Half of his shimmering tail—gold and flecked with iridescent yellows—remains submerged in the water, while his torso, lean and sunlit, glistens with droplets that catch the dawn light like scattered jewels. His blonde hair, unruly and windblown, clings to his face in wild streaks. 

Familiar blonde hair. A face you’ve seen before.  

He struggles, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, the net tangling tighter with every thrash. “Help!” he cries, his voice raw and desperate, carried over the waves to no one in particular. His gaze hasn’t found you yet, but his fear is palpable, written in every line of his body.  

“I can help you!” you call out, your voice breaking through the morning stillness like a splash of cold water. 

He freezes, flinching at the sound. Slowly, as if time itself has slowed, he turns his head. His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, the fight drains from his limbs. Shock overtakes him, his expression teetering between recognition and disbelief. 

For a long moment, neither of you move. The sea murmurs below, the net creaks with the sway of the boat, and still, his gaze holds yours, weighing something unseen, something fragile. 

“Can you help me out of this net?” he asks at last, his voice low, wary, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty.

You nod, steadying yourself against the railing. “I can,” you reply, your words measured, reassuring. “But I’ll need to raise you onto the deck first. The net—it’s too heavy to untangle in the water.”

His lips press into a thin line, his reluctance plain, but he nods, a flicker of trust crossing his features. The moment feels precarious, like balancing on the edge of a wave.  

“All right,” he murmurs. “Just... be quick.”

You grip the railing tighter, your heart pounding as you prepare to pull him aboard. The world feels charged, like the air before a storm, and the sea watches silently, its secrets just beneath the surface.

You hear him sigh, a soft, defeated sound that seems to blend with the whisper of the waves against the hull. Slowly, he relents, letting you take control. With a steady pull, you drag him and the heavy net out of the water, your muscles straining as the glistening form of the merman rises onto the deck.  

There he lays, sprawled and still, water pooling beneath him as it drips from his sleek, otherworldly form. You step closer, and for the first time, you truly see him. He isn’t just beautiful—he’s ethereal, like something conjured from the dreams of gods. His face is serene yet haunting, framed by unruly blonde locks that cling to his skin, while his shimmering tail catches the sun, reflecting colors that defy description.  

Your breath hitches. It’s him. The man who has haunted your thoughts for days, the one you feared might have been claimed by the sea. Relief floods through you, mingled with awe. He didn’t drown. He didn’t vanish. He’s here—and he’s a merman.  

Shaking off your daze, you kneel beside him, your hands working to untangle the net from his glistening body. Each movement feels surreal, your fingers sliding over the slick scales as you free him inch by inch. When the last knot falls away, you can’t help but linger, your gaze tracing the curve of his tail. It’s a masterpiece of nature, wet and scaly, each iridescent hue shimmering like molten gold under the light. Without thinking, your hand reaches out, brushing against it.  

The texture is mesmerizing—cool, smooth, and alien. But then, just as you’re about to marvel aloud, a flicker of light catches your eye. Tiny sparkles dart around him, a strange, magical shimmer that dances like fireflies in the dawn. You blink, and suddenly, his tail isn’t there anymore.  

Your heart stops. What you’re touching now isn’t a tail—it’s skin. Wet, firm, human skin. Your hand rests high on his thigh, alarmingly close to…  

You jerk back as though scalded, a startled shriek escaping your lips. Heat rises to your cheeks as your mind spirals, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he curls into himself, folding his arms and drawing his knees up, his entire form radiating vulnerability. His golden hair falls over his face like a curtain, shielding him from your gaze, as if the transformation has stolen some vital part of him.  

Snapping yourself out of it, you scramble to your feet, casting about for something to cover him. A roll of tarp catches your eye, and you grab it, moving swiftly to drape it over his body. His wide, questioning eyes follow your hurried movements, but before you can say anything, footsteps echo from behind.  

“Hide,” you hiss under your breath, pulling the tarp snugly around him. He doesn’t protest, just shifts deeper into the shadows, his presence shrinking to near invisibility.

Riley strides onto the deck, his boots thudding against the wood with deliberate weight. His face is unreadable, but his gaze sweeps the space like a predator searching for prey. “What’s going on out here?” he asks, his tone sharp and suspicious.

“Nothing,” you blurt, your voice an octave too high. You shift your body subtly, blocking Riley’s view of the tarp-covered figure behind you. The air between you crackles with tension as you force yourself to meet his eyes, willing him to believe your lie.  

“Hmm… okay,” Riley says, lingering just long enough to set your teeth on edge. “I heard you scream, so if you need me, just let me know.” His gaze sweeps the boat once more, like he’s searching for the ghost of your secrets.  

You scowl, crossing your arms as a shield. “Fuck off,” you snap, the words sharp as broken glass.  

Finally, he shrugs and turns, his heavy footsteps receding into the distance. The tension eases its grip on your chest, and you let out a shaky breath, relief rushing in like a tide. Only when he’s gone do you feel like you can truly breathe again.  

Turning back, you kneel by the tarp, fingers trembling slightly as you lift its edge. Beneath it, the man—if you can call him that—sits curled in on himself, his golden hair a wild halo around his wary eyes. Those eyes fix on you, wide and mistrusting, their depths dark as uncharted waters.  

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, your voice gentle as the breeze over calm seas. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But you’re human,” he replies, his voice low, tinged with fear and something unnameable. He shifts back instinctively, his posture guarded, keeping a cautious distance as if you might sprout claws at any moment.

You hesitate, not wanting to push him further into his shell. “Are you hungry?” you ask instead, steering the conversation into safer waters. You don’t press him; instead, you keep still, aware of the fragile balance between his fear and your curiosity.

His stomach answers for him, the loud, unmistakable growl breaking the tension. A blush colors his cheeks, and to your surprise, he giggles—a light, melodic sound that’s startlingly human.  

“Do you have tang?” he asks, his eyes brightening for the briefest moment, curiosity peeking through his fear.  

Tang. The word catches you off guard, but you quickly realize what he means. A smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I think I have some tangy snacks in my room. Hold on.”  

You pause, glancing at his dripping figure, and add, “And I’ll get you some clothes too.”

His gaze softens, just a little, as if he’s starting to believe you might not be a threat after all.  

Rising quickly, you dart into your small cabin, rifling through drawers until you find a bag of snacks that might fit the bill. Then, with a surge of boldness, you sneak into one of your coworker’s rooms. Borrowing—stealing, really—a pair of pants and a shirt, you mutter an apology under your breath. It’ll have to do.  

When you return, he’s still seated where you left him, his form a quiet figure against the chaos of the sea around you. You hand him the clothes, and he takes them with a hesitant nod. Watching him dress is like watching a bird try to walk—awkward, unnatural, his movements jerky and unsure, as though his body resists this strange, human choreography.  

But eventually, the oversized shirt hangs from his shoulders, the borrowed pants bunched awkwardly around his waist. He adjusts the fabric with a distracted frown before shifting his focus to the snacks you’ve brought. The tangy treats vanish quickly, his hands moving with an efficiency born of hunger, though he pauses occasionally to eye the brightly colored packaging like it’s something from another world.  

You hand him a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, his throat working rhythmically, the sound amplified in the stillness between you. Finally, you settle across from him, your knees tucked close as you take him in—not just his appearance, but his presence, the way he seems both fragile and powerful, like something caught between two worlds.  

“What’s your name?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.  

He pauses, lowering the bottle, then meets your gaze. “Jimin,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret.  

You nod, offering him a small, warm smile, hoping it will ease the wariness in his expression. “Hi, Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the ocean filling the space between your words. But curiosity pushes forward, unbidden. “What are you doing here?”  

Jimin chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with frustration as he pops another snack into his mouth. “I just wanted to see the boat again,” he admits, shaking his head. “And I got caught in that stupid net again…” He rolls his eyes, the gesture so human it catches you off guard, deflating with a sigh that seems to sink into the deck beneath him.  

But then his gaze sharpens, flicking around the empty deck as if he senses unseen eyes. “Why are you hushing and hiding me like I’m some sort of secret?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity but not without suspicion.  

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Do you really want my coworkers to find you? To know that you’re a merman?” you counter, your tone cautious but earnest.  

He considers this for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he exhales. “I guess not,” he mutters, the words laced with a resigned wisdom. “Humans aren’t trustworthy.” His tone is matter-of-fact, not cruel, but unyielding, as though he’s learned this lesson too many times before.  

You flinch inwardly at the generalization, but you let it pass. “I’m trustworthy,” you say, your smile growing as you try to project a confidence you’re not sure you feel.  

He tilts his head, his sharp eyes searching yours, and it’s clear he isn’t convinced. The wall of mistrust between you is a thick one, forged not in a moment, but over years, perhaps even centuries, of caution bred into his kind.  

But that’s okay, you think. You didn’t expect trust to come easily.  

“I swear, I mean you no harm,” you add, leaning back slightly, your voice quieter now, as though softer words might slip past his defenses.  

Maybe it’s all the fantasy novels you’ve devoured recently, their tales of impossible creatures and fragile bonds, but a strange determination takes root in your chest: you have to protect him. At least from Riley and the rest of your coworkers. You can already picture the chaos that would erupt if they discovered mermaids were more than just stories. The scandal. The cruelty. No—if nothing else, you owe him safe passage back to his home.  

“Have you ever been out of the ocean before? Or… on land?” you ask, your voice soft, as if you’re afraid to disturb the fragile magic of the moment.  

He shakes his head, though his posture eases, his body less coiled now. “I’ve never been to land before,” he says, his voice carrying a wistful undercurrent. “But plenty of my friends have.”  

As he speaks, his gaze drifts far away, as if caught on a tide only he can see. There’s a dreamy quality to his expression, a flicker of longing that glows like sunlight beneath the waves. “I really want to see land,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with wonder. But then it dips, quiet and heavy, as he fidgets with his hands. “But...”  

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out of your mouth like a pebble skipping across water. “I can show you, if you want to!”  

He blinks, startled, and his head tilts slightly, those deep eyes locking onto yours. “You would?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid the offer might vanish if he speaks too loudly.  

“Yeah, sure,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual. But your smile is warm, gentle, and you hope it will soothe his lingering doubt. “You seem nice. And curious. I can show you my world.”  

Your heart flutters at the absurdity of it all—you, befriending a merman. A mythical creature. The stuff of bedtime stories and legends. If your coworkers knew, they’d call you crazy. But you’d rather be crazy than let this moment slip through your fingers. Your parents always taught you to be kind, and if kindness means helping a creature from the deep see a dream made real, then so be it.  

His honeyed skin flushes faintly, the blush soft as a sunrise, and he murmurs, “Okay.” But then his smile falters, his hands folding together. “But I have to go back home now. My friends… they’ll worry about me if I’m gone too long.”  

The spell breaks as he rises to his feet, and you follow him to the boat’s edge. The sea stretches below, glittering and endless, waiting to welcome him back.  

He turns to you one last time, his golden hair haloed by the sunlight, and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he dives. The splash sends ripples across the surface, but before you can process his departure, the clothes he was wearing resurface, bobbing lazily in the water.  

A second later, his head pops up, grinning. “Oops,” he says, his voice bright with laughter, and he gathers the floating garments, tossing them up to you with surprising precision.  

He waves, and with a flick of his magnificent tail—shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight—he disappears into the depths. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the water, the echo of his presence lingering like the last note of a song.  

You sigh, shaking your head. Maybe you have been reading too many fantasy novels. But as you fold his clothes, still damp and salty, you know one thing for sure: you’ll see him again.  

Jimin has never truly met a human before. He’s always kept his distance, heeding the Elders’ grim warnings—dark tales of cruelty and greed. Stories of merfolk snared in nets, dragged from the waves to live as captives behind glass walls, their freedom traded for fleeting human fascination. The thought of such confinement has always chilled him. The ocean, vast and endless, is his sanctuary—a realm where he can stretch his fins and feel the infinite embrace of freedom.  

But then he met you.  

You’re not what he expected, not at all. You’re not cruel or cold, not the predator the stories painted. You’re warm, kind, and impossibly gentle—like a rare current that carries him somewhere new. And though his heart whispers caution, he can’t help but lean closer, drawn to your presence like sunlight breaking through the water’s surface.  

There’s something about you that stirs a curiosity he’s long tried to ignore. He’s always been intrigued by the human world, yes—but not enough to chase it. Not like Jungkook, who used to live on land as a child, or Yoongi, with his endless fascination for women, or Hoseok, with his relentless fascination for breaking rules.  

Jimin has always been curious and daring, but only in measured strokes—never quite brave enough to venture beyond the safety of the waves. Until now.  

Now, he finds himself wondering. About you. About the strange life you lead aboard that towering vessel. Are you like the others, here to strip the sea of its bounty? Or is there something more to your story, something deeper? He wonders what your world is like—on land, where the tides are invisible and the air doesn’t shimmer.  

How different it must be from Naraeum, his underwater home, where coral spires rise like cathedrals and the water sings with life.  

And yet, for all his questions, one thought rises above the rest, startling in its clarity: You don’t seem bad at all.  

In fact, he thinks, you might just be good.  

Jimin knows well—thanks to Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s tales—that fish don’t swim on land, and that humans experience intimacy in ways unlike his kind. It fascinates him, though he would never admit it outright. Not that he’s thinking about you like that. No, it’s just curiosity, an innocent hunger to understand the unknown.  

He’s heard Yoongi’s endless stories of wild escapades on land, tales laced with laughter and mischief. They always stir an uproar—especially from Seokjin, whose words crash like waves against Yoongi’s tide, insisting that not all humans are like the ones his friend indulges in, fleeting and shallow. Jimin has always stayed quiet during those heated debates. He isn’t like Yoongi, reckless and bold, and he isn’t like Seokjin, careful and measured. He’s just… himself.  

Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what he wants from life, other than the life he already has. For years, he’s floated along, content to be a merman in the vast embrace of the sea. No mate has caught his eye, no grand ambition has stirred his soul. His parents, thankfully, don’t push—they let him be. But sometimes, late at night, he wonders if that’s enough.  

Lately, his thoughts have been restless, swimming further than his fins ever could. What else is out there? What experiences are waiting to be tasted, untried and undiscovered? Perhaps that’s why he’s drawn to you—not just because you freed him, not just because you’re kind. It’s something deeper, something he can’t quite name.  

And yes, you’re beautiful too. Not in the obvious, dazzling way of a siren’s song, but in a quiet, understated way that feels honest and real. He thinks of your smile, the way it tilted the edges of the moment into something softer, and he wonders if he’ll ever see it again.  

As the sun dips low, sending shards of gold skimming the water’s surface, Jimin darts through the waves, leaving the coral towers of Naraeum behind. The ocean stretches endlessly before him, but his destination is clear—your boat. It’s been days since he last saw you, days since you freed him from the trap of that cursed net.  

And yet, he feels it still—a strange pull in his chest, like a current drawing him toward the unknown. Toward you. He doesn’t know why he feels it, doesn’t know what he’s chasing. He only knows that he wants to see you again, to hear your voice ripple through the air like a melody he’s only just learned to love.  

He lifts his head above the water, careful to keep his distance from the boat, his gaze sweeping its silhouette until it lands on you. You’re leaning over the bow, framed by the soft gold of the setting sun. The light dances on your skin, lending it an ethereal shimmer, as though you belong more to the heavens than the earth. But your face tells another story—it’s etched with sorrow, your gaze heavy as it clings to the horizon.  

Something tugs at Jimin’s heart, an ache he can’t quite place. You don’t look like you belong on this boat, amidst the steel and salt and nets. It doesn’t seem to fit you, this life. He wonders, briefly, if you’re trapped in your own kind of net, caught in something you didn’t choose.  

The sun dips lower, casting a burning amber trail across the water, and you remain there, lost in thought. Unable to bear the weight of your sadness, Jimin swims closer, circling around the front of the boat. He keeps his movements light, the water rippling gently around him as he glides into your view.  

When your eyes finally find him, the change is instant. The sorrow lifts from your face like the breaking of a storm, and the softness of your smile is like the first light of dawn. It stirs something deep within him—a warmth that bubbles to the surface like the sea kissed by sunlight.  

He smiles back, instinctively, his heart fluttering in a way he doesn’t quite understand.  

You make your way to the side of the boat, where the nets hang ominously. He notices and keeps his distance, wary of the tangling web that had once ensnared him.  

“Hi, Jimin,” you call, your voice carrying across the water, warm and soothing like a lullaby. You wave, a gesture so simple yet disarming, your smile soft and genuine.  

“Hi!” he replies, his voice tinged with joy, his hand breaking the surface of the water in a wave. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face—it feels so natural now that he knows you mean him no harm.  

“Do you want to come onto land with me tomorrow?” you ask, your voice gentle, yet carrying a spark of excitement. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a kind of light that makes Jimin’s heart skip in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying.

He nods shyly, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft but brimming with eagerness. A giddy kind of warmth rises in his chest, the thrill of the unknown pulling him forward even as fear tugs at his edges. The thought of stepping onto land—foreign and solid and utterly unyielding—is daunting. But he figures, with you by his side, the leap might not feel so far.

“Cool,” you say with a grin that makes him feel a little braver. You glance out toward the endless expanse of ocean, the breeze teasing at your hair. “What have you been up to?” you ask, leaning onto the edge again, mirroring the easy way he found you.

Jimin hesitates for just a moment before diving into his thoughts. “Not much,” he says, though the memories bubble up quickly, bright and alive. “Just hanging out with my friends. Taehyung and I found this lake—it’s tucked away, surrounded by these beautiful willow trees, their branches dipping right into the water. It felt... magical.” He smiles as he speaks, the memory playing vividly in his mind like sunlight glinting through leaves. “And then I went with Namjoon to collect gems. He’s so good at finding the rare ones—ruby reds, deep blues... like pieces of the sky trapped underwater.”

He notices the way your face softens as you listen, the way your focus seems entirely on him, and it fills him with a kind of happiness he didn’t know he was searching for. Maybe, just maybe, you’re as curious about his world as he is about yours.

“That sounds amazing! Maybe you could show me that lake sometime... or even introduce me to your friends?” you ask, your voice carrying a playful lilt, but there’s a softness beneath it—a quiet yearning that Jimin can’t quite place. 

“You want to meet my friends?” he giggles, his laughter as light as the waves that lap against the boat. His tail shimmers beneath the surface, wiggling playfully, sending ripples out into the vast blue.

“Yeah,” you reply, a mock pout gracing your lips, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “If that sort of thing is allowed?” 

The sight of your expression tugs a laugh from him, warm and unguarded. It’s the kind of laugh that bubbles up from the depths of his chest, spilling out like sunlight breaking through water. You’re pouting, and it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, it’s okay and I’ll ask my friends,” he says, still smiling, though his words carry the weight of quiet rebellion. He doesn’t tell you the whole truth—that the Elders would frown at the idea, their endless warnings about humans ringing in his mind like a distant current. But rules have always felt like suggestions to him and his friends, currents to swim against rather than be swept away by. Besides, you don’t seem like the humans in the stories—how could you be? 

“Thank you,” you say, your smile brightening like the morning sun cresting over the horizon, chasing away shadows. It’s a smile that lingers, and it strikes something in him—a mix of excitement and trepidation, a feeling that maybe showing you his world might not be such a risk after all.

“Do you like working on that boat?” he asks, his voice slipping out before he has a chance to second-guess it. The question has lingered at the back of his mind ever since he first saw you on deck, that distant, wistful look in your eyes that seemed to carry a quiet sadness.

For a moment, your face falters, your gaze slipping away as if the weight of his question pulls something heavy from inside you. A soft sigh escapes your lips, deflated, like the last breath of air from a slowly sinking balloon. “No, not really,” you confess, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He tilts his head, genuinely puzzled, unable to grasp the why. “Then why do it?” he asks, as if the concept of choosing something without passion is entirely foreign to him.

You lower your gaze, shoulders slumping in surrender. A groan slips from your throat, a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I guess I only do it for the money,” you murmur, the words heavy in the quiet space between you. “I know, it sounds super lame... But it pays really well. It pays my rent, keeps me afloat, you know?” You trail off, uncertainty flickering across your features. “I don’t know if you have money and rent down there…”

“We do, so I get it,” he says, his voice soft but steady, an unspoken understanding passing between you. His gaze is warm, like a patch of sunlight breaking through the clouds, reassuring you without judgment. “It still sucks though,” he adds, a quiet sympathy in his tone. “Sounds kinda soulless.”

You let out a long, weary exhale, the weight of the words settling deep inside. “It is,” you agree, the truth hanging in the air like a shadow that refuses to leave.

“I’d love to do something else, but I don’t really know what,” you admit, your voice heavy with frustration. “I’ve always felt a connection to the sea, to everything in it—but catching all these fish, it’s like my soul is slowly being chipped away.” You let out a deep sigh, your eyes distant, haunted by the sight of the ocean’s wounds. “And the plastic... it’s everywhere. It clogs the water, suffocates the life. It’s maddening, you know? People are stupid,” you mutter, the anger in your chest bubbling over.

Jimin’s soft laugh cuts through the tension, and it takes you by surprise. His eyes, full of warmth, reflect the same frustration. “I agree,” he says, voice laced with quiet conviction. “The plastic—it’s everywhere. I’ve had to help so many fish and turtles get out of plastic bottles and containers. It’s heartbreaking.” His lips curl into a gentle scowl. 

Then, a smile breaks across his face, soft but genuine, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “But hey, I can help you brainstorm alternatives to catching fish on that boat,” he offers, the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You laugh, the tension easing in your chest, your heart fluttering at the simplicity of the moment. “Yeah, we can do that tomorrow. I’d love to hear your ideas,” you say, a sense of ease settling between you. 

Jimin smiles, his heart racing slightly at the thought of tomorrow. As you talk, the conversation flows easily—your questions about his home, Naraeum, the life he leads there. He tells you that there’s no ‘work’ in the way you understand it, that their society values freedom above all else. Merfolk can take on roles if they choose, but many, like him, simply exist, untethered by obligation.

The sun begins to dip, casting its final, golden light over the water. You glance at the sky and realize it’s time to go. “I should head inside to get some dinner,” you say reluctantly, feeling the pull of the boat’s steady rhythm, but also the weight of your own hunger. 

Jimin nods, though a twinge of regret flickers in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, his voice soft, filled with something unspoken.

He waves you a quiet goodbye, and with a flick of his tail, he dives into the water, his figure disappearing as he swims toward home—his heart a mix of eager excitement and a flutter of nerves, knowing tomorrow will bring him closer to a world he’s never truly known.  

The next day, Jimin glides through the dawn-touched water, the ocean aglow with soft gold as the rising sun kisses its surface. He reaches your boat just as the world begins to wake, his heart thudding with a mix of trepidation and anticipation. You greet him with a gentle smile, helping him aboard with the net he so despises. It entangles him briefly, like a stubborn remnant of the sea reluctant to let him go, but it’s the easiest way to bring him aboard without a fuss.

“You can hide in my room until we reach shore,” you whisper, your voice low and soothing, like the calm of the ocean before a storm. You hand him clothes—simple, unfamiliar garments—and he places them carefully on the wooden planks. He waits in silence, his shimmering tail already beginning to fade as the magic of transformation takes hold. When his legs return, he moves with an endearing awkwardness, pulling on the human clothes with clumsy hands before following you below deck. 

Your room is small, a haven carved out of the ship’s heart, yet it feels barren, like a place you exist in but do not truly inhabit. The walls are plain wood, the cream linens unremarkable, and the single duffel bag on the floor overflows with your life in disarray. Clothes spill out like secrets, but nothing in the space speaks of who you are. Jimin scans for something personal—a photograph, a trinket, a scrap of you—but finds nothing. It feels like a shell, a husk waiting to be filled, and he wonders if it mirrors how you feel here, adrift and longing.

As he settles into the quiet, he can’t help but wonder about the place you call home. Is it warm, filled with mismatched pieces of you—a kaleidoscope of colors and memories—or is it restrained, earthy and neutral, a sanctuary of simplicity? The thought lingers as he sits alone in your absence, his curiosity pulling him further into your world, one question at a time.

Jimin flinches slightly when you step through the door, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the quiet. You’re holding a plate in your hands, the aroma wafting toward him like a gentle invitation. His wide eyes soften as you pass him the food, and he takes a tentative bite. The flavors bloom on his tongue, unfamiliar yet comforting, like the memory of a warm embrace he didn’t know he’d missed.

“You made this?” he asks, glancing up at you, his eyes bright with curiosity and quiet admiration.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I did.”

“It’s really good!” he exclaims, his grin unguarded as he dives back into the meal. The crisp, vibrant vegetables catch his attention—they taste fresh and alive, reminding him of the sea’s bounty.

You smile, a mix of relief and pride lighting your expression. “I’m glad you like it. We’re sailing back to land now, but it’ll take a while before we arrive. I need to go prepare for docking. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He nods, his confidence warm and reassuring. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” he says easily, though his eyes flit around the room, seeking distraction. Then, something catches his attention—a book perched on your nightstand, its pages slightly curled from wear. “Can I read that?” he asks, pointing.

You follow his gaze and nod, a little surprised but pleased. “Sure,” you say, stepping out, leaving him with the quiet hum of the boat and his newfound curiosity.

The book feels delicate in his hands, its cover smooth and inviting. He opens it to find himself drawn into a tale of tangled fates: a woman, lost in the vast embrace of the woods, stumbles upon a brooding stranger whose silence hides his own scars. Jimin reads with rapt attention, imagining the dappled forest light and the quiet intimacy of strangers finding solace in each other. The words seem to pulse with life, vivid as seafoam and just as transient.

He’s just beginning to sense an undercurrent of tension—something deeper stirring between the characters—when the door swings open, and your voice pulls him back to the present. “We’ve docked,” you announce, your excitement barely masked under a layer of calm. 

Jimin sets the book down reluctantly, his mind lingering on the unfinished story. But then he looks at you, and it occurs to him that perhaps he’s stepped into a story of his own.

Jimin closes the book with a quiet snap, trailing after you as you reach for his hand. Your fingers intertwine with his, and he follows you onto the deck, his heart racing—not with fear, but with anticipation. The morning air greets him with familiar scents of salt and brine, mingled with the faintest trace of diesel and earth. Above, seagulls carve arcs against the blue sky, their cries a lilting symphony of the shore. 

The harbor is alive with motion with workers hefting crates, passengers milling about, and the rhythmic creak of moored boats swaying in the gentle tide. Jimin’s wide eyes take it all in as you weave through the crowd, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrant chaos. The sunlight gleams on water-slicked wood, and the reflections from the sea ripple across the hulls of nearby ships—small fishing boats and grand yachts alike. He stumbles once, distracted by the sheer newness of it all, but your hand steadies him, your warmth anchoring him amidst the tide of humanity.

“I want to show you my favorite place,” you muse, your voice lilting with quiet excitement. You glance over your shoulder at him, a teasing glint in your eyes that sparks his curiosity. 

“What’s your favorite place?” he asks, tilting his head to study you. His voice is quiet, though he can’t hide the wonder in it.  

“You’ll see soon,” you reply, your smile playful and soft. The secret wraps itself around the moment, and Jimin can’t help but feel giddy anticipation thrumming in his chest. Your hand fits so naturally in his, and the simple gesture sends a warmth through him, like the sun spilling over the waves.

As the crowd thins, you lead him down a quieter street lined with colorful storefronts and weathered cobblestones. The sounds of the harbor fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of life in this quaint corner of the world. Jimin moves to walk beside you now, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. 

Then, you stop before a tall, gleaming structure—its glass facade catching the morning light and scattering rainbows across the pavement. Above the entrance, bold letters spell out Ocean Wonders. Jimin freezes, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the irony strikes him.

“This is your favorite place?” he asks, turning to you with amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“It is,” you say, grinning as you squeeze his hand. “You’ll see why.” There’s a spark of pride in your voice, and Jimin doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up as you lead him toward the entrance. The glass doors slide open with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the heart of your secret place. As you step inside to purchase tickets, Jimin feels the excitement settle in his bones, like the pull of a current. If this place is a reflection of you, he knows it will be something truly extraordinary.

“Don’t you find it ironic, taking a merman to an aquarium?” Jimin chuckles as you hand over the money for your tickets. His tone is light, teasing, but his gaze carries the flicker of genuine amusement. You nudge him with your shoulder, a playful smirk gracing your lips.  

“Maybe, but you’re the best tour guide I could ask for,” you quip, stepping into the cavernous space.  

The air inside feels cool and alive with an undercurrent of the sea’s presence, the walls painted in deep blues and verdant greens. Overhead, glass ceilings allow rays of sunlight to dapple through, casting shifting patterns of light on the floors below. Jimin’s gaze drifts upward to the massive windows that frame the ocean in the distance, the waves visible beyond the aquarium’s curated worlds. 

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach a shallow touch pool filled with flat fish, their mottled skins blending with the sandy bottom. You lean over, rolling up your sleeve as you extend your fingers into the water, but the slippery creatures evade your touch with a practiced finesse. Jimin watches, amusement flickering in his eyes, and when he speaks, it’s not to mock, but to marvel.

“Flatfish have a trick,” he begins, his voice gentle but sure, “when they’re scared, they bury themselves under the sand, leaving only their eyes exposed. But they’re not just hiding; they’re watching, waiting.”  

His words captivate you as much as the fish do, and you glance up at him, intrigued. The informational placard nearby doesn’t say a word about this, but of course, Jimin would know. These creatures are his neighbors, after all. His world brims with secrets science has yet to uncover, and you realize, once again, how little humans know about the depths beneath the waves.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice laced with wonder. Jimin grins, launching into more facts about the sea life before you, his knowledge as endless as the ocean itself.  

The two of you meander deeper into the exhibit, passing a chilly enclosure where penguins waddle and dive with unbridled joy. The cold air nips at your skin, and you instinctively press closer to Jimin, your arms brushing against his. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then relaxes, leaning into your warmth as if drawn by a tide he can’t resist.  

“Warmer now?” he murmurs, a hint of a laugh in his voice.  

“Much,” you reply, tilting your head to smile up at him before continuing toward the heart of the aquarium.  

You find yourselves before the massive central tank—a sprawling, shimmering pool alive with schools of fish, sleek rays, and prowling sharks. From the upper level, you both peer down, watching as a keeper tosses food into the water. The sharks move with a lethargic grace, their power undeniable but softened by the dreamy quality of the water. Jimin stands close, silent, observing not the animals but the awe on your face as you take it all in. 

When you venture below to the tunnel beneath the tank, the world transforms into an underwater cathedral. Light dances through the glass, rippling across your faces as the sharks glide overhead. Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours as you marvel at the creatures, your expression one of pure wonder.  

“It’s funny,” he says softly, his voice breaking the spell of silence. “I see this every day, but through your eyes, it feels…different. More magical.”  

You glance at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. A blush colors your cheeks, but you quickly deflect, pointing toward a particularly vibrant fish darting by.  

Jimin laughs, his chest rumbling lightly as he shares personal anecdotes about the creatures you pass. Stories about turtles he’s untangled from nets, rays he’s raced through coral canyons, and even sharks who’ve stubbornly refused to move from his favorite sunning rock. His tales are sprinkled with humor and affection, each one painting the ocean as not just a habitat, but a home.  

You listen, enraptured, giggling at his antics and marveling at his world. And as you walk together through the aquarium, you realize that this day isn’t just a glimpse into your favorite place—it’s a bridge between your worlds, built with each shared story, each laugh, and each lingering look.  

You guide him to the large pool that stretches before a neat row of seats—a shimmering expanse of water where visitors can slip beneath the surface and swim with the fish. This is your favorite place, a sanctuary of dreams just beyond your reach. “I’ve always wanted to dive with the fish,” you muse softly, your voice carrying a wistful longing as you gesture toward the glass, where iridescent fish dart and glide in hypnotic rhythms.  

Jimin watches you, a gentle smile gracing his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels your yearning as if it’s a song only he can hear. Swimming has always been second nature to him, as essential as breathing, and for the first time, he considers what it might mean to long for something so ordinary to him, yet so extraordinary to you.  

As you wander further, voices drift toward you—animated chatter about seals and feeding time. Jimin’s ears perk up, curiosity lighting his features. “I think they’re going to feed the seals,” he says, turning to you with a spark of childlike wonder in his eyes. “Can we go see?”  

“Of course,” you reply, unable to resist his enthusiasm. You take his hand and weave through the crowd, stepping out of the building and into the golden warmth of summer.  

The sun kisses your skin as you approach a stone-encased inlet, a small haven of water bordered by a bridge. Beyond the enclosure, the ocean stretches endlessly, a liquid mirror reflecting the azure sky. On a central platform, three seals lounge in anticipation, their sleek bodies gleaming under the sunlight. Jimin’s eyes widen as employees emerge with buckets of fish, tossing them to the eager creatures.  

The seals move with a playful grace, leaping and spinning for their rewards, drawing delighted gasps and cheers from the gathered crowd. Children press against the rails, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while elderly onlookers smile with quiet contentment. Jimin takes it all in—the shared joy, the simplicity of this moment, and the warmth of humanity’s connection to the creatures of his world.  

When the feeding ends, the crowd disperses, leaving only you and him. Hand in hand, you wander to the edge of the bridge, the faint murmur of the sea your only companion. The breeze is soft, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of freedom, and it stirs your hair like a whisper. The horizon glows faintly, the sun beginning its slow descent, painting the world in hues of gold and peach.  

You stand there, side by side, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you. Jimin feels the rhythmic pulse of the waves as if they’re beating in time with his heart. He glances at you, your gaze fixed on the water, your expression peaceful yet contemplative. The salt clings to your skin, the light dances in your eyes, and Jimin thinks there’s something magical about the way you fit into this moment—part of his world, yet entirely your own.  

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a ripple in the air between you.  

You turn to him, your smile soft, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  

Jimin doesn’t reply right away, his thoughts caught between the beauty of the view and the person standing beside him. Finally, he nods, a faint blush warming his cheeks as he looks back to the sea.  

And as the waves lap gently against the stones, and the breeze carries the songs of the ocean to your ears, you stand there together, two worlds colliding in the quiet hush of twilight.

“You know, I’ve always loved the smell of salt in the air. There’s something about it—about the sea—that pulls at me,” you confess softly, your voice carrying a note of wistfulness, as though the waves have always whispered secrets only you can hear.  

Jimin nods, his expression warm with understanding. “I get it,” he replies, his voice as calm as the tide. But before you can say anything more, he begins to shrug off his clothes.  

Your eyes widen in alarm, your voice faltering. “Jimin, what are you doing?”  

He doesn’t answer, only grins mischievously before leaping into the pool with a joyful laugh, his golden tail flashing into existence as he hits the water.  

“Jimin!” you hiss, leaning over the railing, your hands clutching his abandoned clothes. “Someone is going to see you!”  

But Jimin only pops his head above the surface, his wet blonde hair plastered against his forehead, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The seals gather around him, chattering and circling like old friends. They nuzzle him playfully, their sleek bodies weaving through the water as though they’ve found one of their own.  

He laughs—a sound so free and unguarded that it momentarily quiets your worry. He dives beneath the surface, the faint sunlight catching the shimmering scales of his tail as he glides effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other. The seals follow, mirroring his playful energy, leaping, spinning, and splashing around him. It’s as if the world has turned into a living watercolor, the water glittering in shades of gold and sapphire under the afternoon sun.  

You watch, caught between panic and awe. Jimin looks so at home in the water, so alive. The grin on his face is radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen it, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.  

Finally, when his energy wanes, Jimin pulls himself up onto the platform in the center of the pool. His golden tail glimmers briefly before vanishing, leaving him human again. You rush forward, his clothes clutched tightly in your hands, the edges of your worry returning.  

“Here,” you whisper urgently, holding the bundle out to him. He dresses quickly, the playful grin still lingering on his lips as you hover, scanning the area nervously.  

“Someone could have seen you,” you scold gently, your voice low but firm as you glance around to ensure the coast is clear.  

“But no one did,” he says, his voice brimming with unrepentant glee. “And I’ve never swum with seals before. It was amazing!”  

His smile is infectious—big and bright and full of a joy that feels like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Despite yourself, you let out a breath of laughter, shaking your head.  

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though the corners of your lips betray you with the faintest hint of a smile.  

Jimin only chuckles, his gaze soft as he looks at you. “You should try it sometime,” he says, his tone playful but sincere. “You’d love it.”  

The seals bob in the water behind him, their curious eyes following his every move, and you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he’s right.  

You huff softly, the sound tinged with reluctant amusement, before grabbing his hand and tugging him back inside. Together, you explore every pool, tank, and glowing monitor, each filled with vibrant tales of the underwater world. Time slips through your fingers like grains of sand as you wander, sharing smiles, laughter, and awe over the secrets of the sea.  

When the day finally gives way to night, the two of you make your way toward the beach, the cool evening air laced with the scent of salt and the soft murmur of waves. The moon, a luminous pearl in the sky, casts its silver light across the water, while the stars sparkle like scattered diamonds above.  

You hold his hand a little tighter, reluctant to let go, your footsteps slow and lingering as you near the shore. The rhythm of the ocean mirrors the quiet thrum of your heart.  

“Today was really fun,” you murmur, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes shimmering under the moonlight.  

Jimin gazes at you, warmth spreading across his chest. “It was. Thank you for sharing it with me,” he replies, his voice gentle, the sincerity in it as deep as the ocean he calls home.  

“And thank you for all the extra details I never would’ve known,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand lightly. “You made it even better.”  

He pauses, hope glimmering in his eyes as he asks, “Can we do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, like a wish spoken to the wind, but his expression holds the weight of his yearning.  

Your face brightens, a joyful laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I’d love that,” you answer, and the simple promise sends a warmth rippling through him.  

For a moment, the world feels infinite—just the two of you beneath the starlit sky, the waves singing softly in the background. Jimin can’t help but think how much lighter he feels in your company, like the pull of the tides no longer weighs him down.  

Boldly, he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your skin, his touch reverent, his gaze lingering. You let out a small, melodic giggle, and the sound feels like sunlight breaking through the night.  

With a smile that’s both tender and bittersweet, Jimin takes a step back. “Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice like the whisper of waves upon the shore.  

Then, as if the ocean itself is calling him home, he sheds his clothes and steps into the cool embrace of the water. His golden tail flashes in the moonlight before he dives beneath the surface, becoming one with the deep blue expanse.  

You stand there for a moment longer, the sea breeze tousling your hair, your heart warm despite the night’s chill. Above you, the stars seem to shine a little brighter, as though echoing the promise of another day, another adventure, together.  

“Can I talk to you?” Riley’s voice cuts through the ambient hum of the trawler, low and serious. The weight in his tone drags at your thoughts like an anchor, and a heavy sense of foreboding blooms in your chest. It’s been days since you last had peace, days since the ocean felt like a friend and not a prison.  

“Yeah?” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists like a knotted rope.  

“Come to my room in five minutes,” he says curtly, his words sharp and clipped. He turns on his heel before you can respond, leaving you alone with the pounding of your pulse and a growing sense of unease.  

The minutes crawl, each one heavier than the last, and yet curiosity tugs at you as strongly as dread. You follow the path to his room, the confined corridors of the ship feeling tighter with each step. When you enter, you find him waiting—arms crossed, his frame rigid, his expression unreadable but intense.  

“What is this about?” you ask, though your voice wavers, your throat tightening as the walls seem to press closer around you.  

“I saw you,” Riley says, the words sharp and deliberate, laden with something that feels more like a trap than an explanation.  

“Saw me?” you repeat, your confusion laced with a thread of panic.  

“With the merman,” he declares, his lips curling into a wicked smile that makes your blood run cold. The way he says it—like he’s just unearthed treasure or a weapon—sends a shiver down your spine.  

Your breath catches. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide. You know, with unshakable certainty, that this is bad—very, very bad.  

“I saw him—your little merman—at the aquarium,” Riley sneers, his voice a venomous whisper that slithers through the room. He pulls out his phone with a flourish, the screen lighting up to show a video. Jimin, bare and vulnerable, diving gracefully into the seal pool, his golden tail shimmering like sunlight dancing on the waves. He’s laughing, carefree, playing with the seals. It’s beautiful—and damning. Your stomach drops like an anchor.  

“I’ve got a neat little video right here,” Riley continues smugly, shoving the screen closer to your face, his words dripping with malice.  

Your heart sinks, the weight of dread pressing down on your chest—until it’s eclipsed by a sudden, white-hot fury.  

“You followed us?” you snap, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Are you stalking me?”  

Riley doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t deny it. He just keeps playing the video, his grin as sharp as broken glass. “I’m going to send this to every news outlet,” he says, his tone oozing malice. “Expose your little fish boy for what he is.”  

Rage boils inside you, threatening to erupt. God, you hate him. Hate that you ever let him close enough to your life, close enough to know you. Four years since you’d broken up, and yet he lingers like a storm cloud, his presence heavy, suffocating, and vile.  

Without thinking, your hand darts out, snatching the phone from his grasp. Your fingers move with precision, deleting the video in seconds. You shove the phone back into his chest, glaring daggers.  

“I’ve got backups,” he sneers, his voice sickly sweet, like poison laced with honey.  

Your vision tunnels. Fury burns brighter, hotter, until it takes over, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “If you so much as breathe that video to anyone—hell, even your mother—I swear to God, I’ll cut off your dick with a fishing wire.”  

Your hand clenches into a fist, trembling at your side as you glare at him. His smugness falters for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. You don’t give him a chance to respond.  

You step closer, the gap between you closing in an instant. Your hand drops to his groin, your grip ruthless and unyielding. He yelps, his smirk shattering into something closer to panic. Your voice is a venomous whisper as you lean in, your eyes locked on his.  

“I’m not afraid to use force. And you know I’ll do it.” Your grip tightens, his breath hitches, and you feel your anger seeping into every word. “Stop being a pathetic, jealous little fuck who follows me around like a lovesick puppy. We’re not together, Riley. We never will be. Dating you was the dumbest mistake of my life.”  

You release him with a shove, and he stumbles back, the air between you thick with tension. Every nerve in your body is alight with fury, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing any more. Instead, you don’t look back as you storm off, your footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards, your breath shallow and sharp. The sea air greets you outside, but even its salty balm can’t soothe the fiery knot in your chest. You hate him. You hate the fact that you’re trapped on this godforsaken trawler with him for two more endless days, the horizon a prison of water. The thought of jumping ship flickers through your mind—a tempting escape—but the anchor of practicality holds you steady, bitterly tethered to this floating hell.  

When the morning sun rises, painting the waves in gold, Jimin surfaces beside the boat, his arrival like a breath of fresh air. His golden hair gleams in the light, and when he spots you, his eyes soften with concern. You crouch by the edge, confiding in him the storm Riley brewed the night before. You tell him how you’ve been scouring job boards, eager to chart a new course in life, and how you’ve managed to secure an interview when you return to land.  

Jimin listens intently, his tail glimmering beneath the water as he leans closer, the faint scent of the sea clinging to him. “I’m happy for you,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute. “Not about Riley, but about the job. You deserve to find something better.”  

You smile softly. “I’ll handle Riley. I always do.”  

Two nights later, under a canopy of stars and the watchful gaze of the moon, you meet Jimin by the beach. The waves kiss the shore in gentle whispers as you kick off your shoes and settle into the cool sand, the world feeling softer here, freer. Jimin lingers in the water, his tail flicking languidly beneath the surface, the golden scales catching the moonlight like shards of starlight scattered across the ocean.  

“I’ve got good news,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face, warm and radiant.  

“Oh?” His eyes brighten with curiosity, his tail swishing with anticipation.  

“I got a new job,” you announce, pride coloring your voice.  

His grin matches yours, wide and full of delight, as his tail flicks with an excited splash. “That’s amazing! What is it?”  

“At the aquarium!” you beam, your excitement spilling out like the tide.  

“That’s perfect for you,” he says, his delight as luminous as the moonlight on the water. His tail wiggles with unrestrained joy, sending ripples across the ocean’s surface.  

You nod, your heart full. “It really is. No more trawlers, no more Riley.” The mention of his name makes your expression harden for a moment, but it passes quickly. “I reported him to the police and got a restraining order.”  

Jimin’s gaze sharpens briefly, but he nods in approval, his protective instincts tempered by the knowledge that you can handle yourself.  

“And now,” you add, your smile returning, “you can come visit me there. We can hang out at the aquarium—or here at the beach. Wherever you like.”  

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm like waves lapping against the shore. “I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes reflecting the stars as he looks at you.  

For a moment, the world feels perfect, the night serene and endless. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, glimmers with possibilities as vast as the ocean itself.  

The past two months with Jimin have felt like a dream spun from sea foam and starlight. Every date has been a treasure, each moment with him brimming with charm and sweetness that leaves you glowing for hours afterward. He took you to meet his friends, and you remember that day because it was filled with so much laughter your stomach hurt. Or that time he took you snorkeling still lingers vividly in your mind—the feel of his hand warm in yours as you glided through the cool water, the sunlight rippling across the ocean floor, revealing patches of vibrant plants and curious little fish. His laughter, soft and soothing, danced through the water, carrying with it a joy you’ve never known before.

Tonight is another of those magical nights. Jimin insisted on coming to your place alone this time, so you’ve been pacing slightly, anticipation coiling in your chest like the rising tide. When a knock finally echoes through your apartment, your heart leaps.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by the sight of Jimin in a simple gray t-shirt and black sweatpants—nothing flashy, yet somehow, he looks devastatingly perfect. His soft smile lights up the hallway, and your knees weaken beneath its warmth. He’s holding something in his hands, and as he steps forward, he reveals it—a beautiful seashell, its surface polished smooth by the tides and dappled with shades of ivory and blush.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice soft yet earnest, his cheeks dusted with a bashful pink as he extends the shell toward you.

“For me?” you ask, cradling it gently in your palms as though it were the most delicate treasure. You run your fingers over its grooves, marveling at its beauty.

“I found it when I was with my friend Taehyung on one of his treasure hunts,” Jimin explains, glancing down shyly. “It reminded me of you.”

Your heart swells, full to bursting with affection. Without a second thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around him. His scent—clean, with a faint trace of salt and something uniquely Jimin—wraps around you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you so much, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love it.” You guide him inside, carefully placing the seashell in a special spot on your display cabinet. The cabinet gleams under the soft light, filled with your collection of oceanic treasures, and now this—this piece that feels more precious than all the others combined.

“Come in, sit down,” you say, turning back to him with a bright smile. “I’ve made dinner.”

You gesture toward the sofa, where the table is already set, the aroma of the food filling the room with warmth and comfort. Jimin follows your lead, his eyes softening as he watches you, and you can’t help but think that tonight is just another reminder that sometimes, life’s greatest treasures aren’t found in the depths of the ocean—but in the small, quiet moments shared with someone you love.

He settles onto the sofa, and the two of you begin to eat, the soft glow of the television bathing the room in flickering hues. A documentary on the ocean plays, its serene narration filling the air. But it’s Jimin’s quiet interjections that captivate you most—he leans closer, offering rich, vivid details about the creatures on screen, things the narrator doesn’t know, weaving a story of his own. His voice is soft yet full of life, making you smile between bites.

When the documentary ends, you find yourselves drawing closer, as if by an invisible thread pulling you together. His warmth envelops you, steady and calming, and the rhythmic beat of his heart becomes a lullaby against your senses.

His gaze meets yours, deep and earnest, the kind that seems to hold unspoken worlds within. “I’m really grateful to have met you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, carrying the weight of emotion unhidden.

You hum in response, your fingers brushing over his hand, a small but comforting gesture.

“I used to think humans were… bad,” he admits, his words tinged with vulnerability. “But you’ve only shown me kindness. You’re so nice, so sweet, and I…” His other hand reaches up, tenderly combing through your hair, his fingers a soothing presence.

You’re sitting in his lap now, his arms wrapping around you in a cocoon of comfort. His frame surrounds you, a perfect shield against the world. “All this time we’ve spent together,” he continues, his voice softening like the tide pulling back, “it’s only made me realize how much I like you.”

You feel the curve of his smile against your temple, a quiet and unspoken joy radiating from him.

“Well, I like you too, Jimin,” you say, your voice a gentle melody as you nuzzle deeper into his embrace. His hold on you tightens, protective yet tender, and he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I want to do something for you,” he murmurs, his voice brushing against your skin like a warm breeze. “Repay the favor, or… something.”

You shake your head softly, a smile spreading across your lips. “You’ve done plenty, Jimin. You don’t have to do anything more than simply be here.” Your words are quiet but firm, carrying the truth of how much his presence alone means to you.

He hums in thought, the sound resonant and deep, as though he’s weighing something in his mind. “Can I…” he starts, but hesitates, biting his bottom lip as uncertainty flickers in his expression.

Your gaze tilts up to meet his. “What is it?” you ask, chuckling lightly, your voice teasing and warm. “What’s on your mind?”

His eyes drop for a moment before returning to yours, nervous yet earnest. “I was wondering if I could touch you?” His voice is almost a whisper, laced with vulnerability, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

“You are touching me,” you reply, playful but soft, a knowing smile curving your lips. Still, there’s a glimmer in your eyes, a gentle understanding of the deeper meaning behind his words.

“That’s not what I mean,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, as if he’s holding something back. He exhales, a hint of frustration slipping through as his lips hover near your ear. “I want to have… you,” he finally admits, his tone steady, yet laced with yearning.

You can’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and inviting, as your body instinctively shifts against him. His hardening cock behind you responds immediately, pressing into your back. Turning your head slightly, you meet his gaze with a mischievous smile. “I want you too, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice dripping with warmth. “You can touch me.”

Your words barely leave your lips before you press them to his, drawing him into a kiss that’s tender yet electric. His lips part, and the moment deepens—a dance of warmth and hunger. Your moans, soft and unrestrained, spill into his mouth, and he swallows each sound as if it were a secret meant only for him.

His hand trails downward, slow and deliberate, the pads of his fingers grazing your bare thigh before finding the waistband of your shorts. With a deft motion, his hand slips beneath the fabric, venturing under the delicate lace of your panties. His touch sends a shiver cascading through you, and you exhale sharply, arching your back into him as anticipation coils tight in your belly.

When his fingers find the sensitive bud of your clit, already slick with arousal, your breath hitches. He moves carefully at first, testing, his touch featherlight. His lips graze your cheek as he whispers into your ear, “Like this?” His voice is low, smoky, and devastatingly intimate.

“Yes—” The word escapes you on a shaky breath, your hips shifting to meet his hand as his fingers begin their deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. He circles your clit with just the right pressure, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that radiate through you.

His lips find your ear, teasing it with gentle nibbles, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into a groan as he feels you respond to his touch, your body soft and pliant against his.

As his other hand joins in the exploration, it trails lower, fingers slipping between your folds. You’re soaked now, your arousal coating his fingers as they explore your entrance. One finger slides in, slow and deliberate, sending a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“Ahh—” Your breath catches, and your words come out in a broken plea. “You can add another finger.”

He obliges, his movements careful, his second finger pressing in to join the first. He curls them inside you with precision, brushing against that soft, perfect spot that has your back arching and your voice spilling over in desperate cries of his name.

The heat between you intensifies as you grind back into him, feeling the hard length of him against you, evidence of his own growing need. He moans your name into your ear, his voice a heady mix of reverence and desire, the sound sending a rush of heat through your veins.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice shaky, his control slipping as his fingers continue their exquisite work, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembles as the crest of your climax surges through you, a tidal wave of euphoria unleashed by his touch. When his fingers pinch your clit, it’s the final spark that ignites you, and your voice breaks in a desperate cry of his name. “Ah, Jimin!” you groan, your body thrashing in his arms as pleasure consumes you. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and he doesn’t stop, coaxing you through the high with ease, his voice a soothing hum of reassurance.

When the aftershocks make you hypersensitive, you shift off his lap, your chest heaving as you fight for air. The room feels electric, charged with the heat of your shared intimacy. Your hands tremble slightly as you strip away your shorts and panties, baring yourself fully to him. “I need you,” you murmur, voice breathless but determined. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, his pupils blown with lust, dark as the midnight sea. His arousal is evident, straining against the fabric of his black sweatpants. When you tug them down, revealing his dick—he’s bare beneath them, as always—you bite your lip at the sight. It’s a fact that never fails to make your pulse race.

“You’re never wearing underwear,” you whisper, your voice tinged with amusement and heat.

His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before your fingers wrap around him. He hisses through his teeth, his hips twitching forward as if drawn to your touch by magnetic force. “Your dick is so pretty,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

“T-thanks,” he chokes out, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and restraint. You smile softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his flushed tip, tasting the salt of him. His groan is low and guttural, a sound that vibrates through your core as you take him into your mouth.

You tease him with languid, deliberate movements, your lips sliding over his cock while your tongue flicks against the sensitive underside. His hands tangle in the fabric of the couch, his breath coming in sharp gasps as you explore him. But just as he begins to unravel, you pull away with a soft, wet pop, leaving him trembling beneath you.

“Maybe I’ll give you a proper taste another time,” you tease, your voice thick with desire. “Right now, I need you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s head falls back, and he releases a shaky laugh, his hands flexing at his sides as though grounding himself. “Yeah, sounds good,” he stammers, his voice hoarse with want.

You climb onto his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushion on either side of his powerful thighs. Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a sensation that has you throwing your head back with a moan. “God, Jimin,” you breathe, your fingers clutching his shoulders as you take him fully inside you.

He groans, deep and guttural, his head tipping forward to rest against your collarbone. “So tight,” he pants, his grip firm on your hips, as though anchoring himself in the moment.

You chuckle softly, rolling your hips experimentally, savoring the way he fills you. “It’s good, isn’t it?” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Better than good,” he grunts, his voice rough as the sea during a storm. His hands guide you, encouraging your movements as you begin to ride him, your bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as the tides.

A playful smile curls your lips as you lean closer, your voice light with mischief. “Better than merfolk sex?”

His laughter is strained but genuine, a sound that melts into a groan as your pace quickens. “It’s… different,” he manages, his words punctuated by the hitch in his breath.

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his as your movements slow, rolling your hips languidly to draw out every sensation. “Good different?” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breathing.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, and in that moment, you know he means it. It sends shivers down your spine as you pick up the pace. You ride him with a ferocity that leaves no room for restraint, your body taking what it craves as his dick fills you perfectly, over and over again.

Jimin’s head falls back, his golden hair cascading around his face like a halo, shimmering even in the dim light. His beauty is almost otherworldly, but it’s the raw humanity of his reactions—his moans, his gasps, the way his lips part in ecstasy—that makes your heart race even faster.

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, and you lean in to kiss him, pouring every ounce of your desire into the connection. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, and the sound of your shared groans fills the air like a symphony. When his hips begin to rise and meet yours, thrusting into you with a powerful rhythm, you cry out.

“There!” you scream, your voice trembling with bliss as he strikes that perfect spot deep inside you, sending your mind spiraling into chaos.

He laughs breathlessly against your lips, his tone tinged with mischief and triumph. His fingers grip your hips firmly, his touch possessive as though anchoring you to him. He kisses you again, slower this time, his lips devouring yours with unspoken promises.

“I want to have merfolk sex with you too,” you pant, the words spilling from you unbidden as your eyes lock onto his, searching for… something. Something intangible, something only he can give you.

Jimin’s breath hitches, his smile faint but wicked. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice strained yet teasing. “Right now, I just want to feel this.”

You groan, your chest pressing against his as his hips surge upward, faster and harder, the rhythm pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck,” you gasp, feeling the heat coil tight and hot in your core. “I’m going to come again soon.”

His response is a low, broken moan, his lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your lips finding the tender skin there. You kiss him softly, your teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp, and when he mirrors your actions, nibbling at your neck, goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Your breath catches, your body shuddering as his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, each one stoking the fire inside you until it finally erupts. “Jimin…,” you cry out, his name a prayer on your lips as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you tremble through the aftershocks, your walls squeezing him tight.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice cracking as he feels the way you pulse around him. “I didn’t think it could get tighter. Fuck.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound breathy and light, which only makes him groan louder, his hips faltering. His need is palpable, every thrust a desperate chase toward his own release.

“God, it feels so good,” he pants, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“It does,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair as you murmur in his ear, “Now come inside me. Fill me up.”

Your hips move together in a rhythm that feels almost sacred, each motion drawing you closer, tethering you in a shared moment of bliss. Jimin throws his head back, his golden hair glistening with a faint sheen of sweat as he gasps your name, the sound reverberating like music in your ears. His body shudders beneath yours, his release spilling into you as his breaths come in ragged pants.

“Holy—,” he starts, his voice cracking with the remnants of his climax, but you smile, running your fingers through his tousled locks, grounding him.

“It was amazing,” you finish softly, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is languid, unhurried, your lips brushing his with the tenderness of someone who knows this moment will linger in your memory forever.

You remain still, savoring the aftershocks coursing through both your bodies, the quiet intimacy of him still buried within you. His cock twitches faintly, and you giggle as you feel the first trickles of his release slipping out of you, warm and unhurried, down to his thighs.

“Maybe we should clean up,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, his laughter soft and warm, “it’s definitely sticky.”

“Come take a bath with me,” you suggest, sliding off him with care, your fingers intertwining with his as you pull him to his feet. Together, you make your way to the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the quiet space as you both use tissues to clean up.

The bathwater fills the tub in a cascade of steam and heat, and when it’s ready, you shed the last remnants of your clothing, stepping in with Jimin close behind. The water embraces you like a warm cocoon, and as you settle down, Jimin takes his place behind you, his sturdy thighs cradling you as they had on the couch. His hands move to your hair, working in gentle strokes as he massages your scalp, letting the warm water cascade over your skin.

“This is nice,” you murmur, your head tilting back to rest against his chest.

“It is,” he agrees, though there’s a soft chuckle in his voice. “But I’ll probably shift into my merman form soon.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his bicep. “I love when you’re a merman.”

He beams at your words, and with a shimmer of light, golden sparkles dance around him like fireflies, transforming his legs into a resplendent golden tail. The fins spill over the edge of the tub, their iridescent sheen catching the bathroom light, making the moment feel dreamlike.

You shift slightly, giving him more space as the water ripples around his transformation. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again, his tail flexing gently beneath the surface.

“Do you… maybe,” he begins, his voice tentative, but there’s an almost boyish eagerness in his tone that makes you smile.

“Just say it, Jimin,” you tease softly, leaning further into his embrace.

He laughs, his breath warm against your temple as he gathers his courage to speak.

“Do you want to date me? Become my mate?” Jimin’s voice carries a quiet hope, his brown caramel eyes searching yours as if the entire ocean hinges on your answer.

“Like a girlfriend? Like a relationship?” you ask, tilting your head, your gaze diving into the endless warmth of his eyes.

He bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before his words tumble out. “Yeah. It’s a relationship, but being mates is more than that. It’s a promise—a bond for life. At least, that’s what it means for merfolk.” He pauses, his voice softening. “But we can take it slow if you want to.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you nuzzle your head into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart grounding you. “I want to be your mate,” you whisper, the truth of it blooming in your chest like a sunrise over the waves.

Relief floods his face as he kisses your forehead, his golden tail flicking above the water with a ripple that catches the light. It’s such a simple motion, yet it sends your heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.

You sit there for a while, submerged in the warmth of the water and the closeness of him. His lips find yours, soft and sweet, and your hands wander—tracing the smooth scales of his tail and the hard planes of his chest. Time seems to dissolve, lost in the salty scent of him, the ocean a mere echo in the distance.

Then, like a sudden wave crashing on the shore, a thought surfaces in your mind. “Do you maybe want to help me with a work thing?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hopeful excitement.

He chuckles, his lips quirking in that way that makes your stomach flip. “What is it?”

“Well…” you begin, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’m hosting this merfolk event at the aquarium for kids. I’ve got this mermaid costume and everything, but I thought… maybe you could show up as a merman in the big pool? We could dive and swim together—give the kids a show they’ll never forget. Obviously, I’ll tell them you’re wearing a costume too,” you add quickly, your cheeks warming at the thought of how much you want this—not just for the kids, but for yourself.

Jimin blinks at you for a moment before his face lights up with a smile as dazzling as the sunlight on the waves. “Sure,” he says, his voice warm. “I’d love to.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, deeper this time, and it’s then that you realize you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. Not his salty scent, not his plush, addictive lips, and certainly not the way he makes your heart feel like it’s swimming in its own current of joy.

The day of the merfolk event has finally arrived, and the aquarium is alive with an energy you’ve never felt before. Laughter and whispers of anticipation fill the air as kids clutch their parents’ hands, eyes wide with wonder. The normally tranquil space is transformed into a shimmering underwater dreamscape. Seashells and trailing strands of faux kelp adorn every corner, while cardboard cutouts of merfolk in a spectrum of skin tones stand as guardians of the magic. Soft, ethereal music hums overhead, making the air feel thicker, as if you’ve already slipped beneath the waves.

Backstage, near the pool you adore, you wrestle with the fabric tail of your mermaid costume, trying to coax it into place. It’s always been your favorite spot in the aquarium—the big pool where the water gleams like liquid sapphire, reflecting the ceiling’s soft lights.

You’re muttering to yourself when Jimin appears, his presence as effortless as a tide rolling in. His golden hair is swept back, and his smile—wide and warm—makes your heart skip.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you say, flashing him a quick grin as you tug futilely at the tail.

“Hi, babe,” he mimics with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your predicament.

“You don’t have to put that on,” he says, stepping closer with a glint of mischief. “I have something better for you.”

From behind his back, he reveals a bundle of something strange yet mesmerizing—a ribbon of kelp, but unlike any you’ve seen. Its tendrils shimmer with an otherworldly glow, the orange hue reminiscent of a sunset bleeding into the horizon.

“What is it?” you ask, reaching out to touch it.

“This,” he says, his fingers brushing yours as he places it in your hands, “is Merwhisper Kelp. It lets humans become merfolk for one hour.” His voice is soft, filled with excitement and affection. “I thought you might like to swim with me today as a real mermaid. Make it… special.”

The idea leaves you breathless, your thoughts spinning as you meet his gaze. “Special how?” you tease, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “We could show them a merfolk mating ritual.”

Your cheeks flush crimson as your jaw drops. “Like… having sex in front of the kids?!”

He bursts out laughing, the sound rich and musical, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not like human sex, I promise,” he explains, his voice steady despite his amusement. “There’s nothing explicit about it—it’s more like a dance. A connection. Trust me, it’ll be beautiful.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your embarrassment, replacing it with intrigue. “You’ll guide me?” you ask softly, your fingers tightening around the kelp.

“Always,” he says, his smile gentle as the tide.

Your heart stirs, and with a nod, you release the fabric tail you’d been fighting with. “Okay. That sounds… amazing.”

He leans in then, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, warm and lingering.

“I’ll head out first and start the show,” you say, your voice lighter now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Grabbing a robe to cover yourself, you glance back at him, your smile mirrored in his golden gaze. “Wait for me, yeah?”

“Always,” he says again, his voice steady and sure, as you step out toward the glowing auditorium.

You stand before the vast, crystalline pool, its surface shimmering under the soft glow of the aquarium lights, and the crowd of children before you vibrates with barely-contained energy. Their laughter bubbles up like champagne, effervescent and infectious, as their wide eyes focus on you with wonder.

“Hi, everyone!” you begin, your voice bright and warm, your hands clasped over your heart. “Are you excited to be here today?”

A chorus of giggles and shouts fills the room, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave.

“That’s wonderful! Today, I have something very special to share with you,” you continue, leaning in as if confiding a grand secret. “Today, I’m asking you to believe in magic and fantasy—to let your imaginations take you somewhere extraordinary.” Your eyes sparkle as you gesture toward the pool.

“My boyfriend and I are going to show you how merfolk swim and dance underwater,” you announce with a grin, watching their faces light up in awe. “We’re going to wear costumes, of course,” you add with a playful wink, “but I want you to imagine it’s all real. Because, really, anything is possible if you can dream it. Right?”

The children nod eagerly, their cheers like tiny waves crashing onshore.

“Oh, and let me introduce someone special,” you say, gesturing toward your coworker. “This is Simon, and he’s going to narrate everything while I’m underwater!” Simon gives a mock bow, earning a ripple of applause and laughter.

With a final smile and wave, you step backstage, your heart racing, where you find Jimin waiting for you. His soft smile is a beacon of reassurance, grounding you as excitement tingles through your veins.

“You’re really about to make my dreams come true, you know that, right?” you say, your words spilling out in a giddy laugh as you reach for the Merwhisper Kelp in his hands.

“That was the whole point,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he leans in to kiss you, soft and lingering.

As the kelp touches your tongue, an electric sensation ripples through your body. Your legs feel strange—like they’re dissolving and reforming all at once. Sparkles erupt in a dazzling cascade around you, and a gasp escapes your lips as you collapse gently to the ground.

You gape in amazement at the transformation. A shimmering silver tail, adorned with translucent scales that catch the light like diamonds, extends where your legs used to be. Your torso is now clad in a delicate seashell bra that feels as though it was crafted from the ocean itself.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder as you trail your fingers over the scales. The tail feels strange yet beautiful—foreign and familiar all at once.

Jimin kneels beside you, his golden eyes alight with admiration. “You look stunning as a mermaid too,” he says softly, his hand brushing over yours. “Now, go on. Jump into the water—I’ll be right behind you.”

You nod, still breathless with awe, and begin sliding toward the edge of the pool. The smooth tiles give way to the cool embrace of the water as your tail dips in, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. Tentatively, you let yourself slide further, the pool enveloping you.

The moment your body is fully immersed, it’s as if the world has shifted. You float effortlessly, your tail moving with a fluid grace you never imagined. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface, carrying your laughter with them. The water cradles you, weightless and serene, and you can’t help but giggle at the pure magic of it all.

Words fail you—this feeling is beyond description, an ethereal blend of joy and wonder. You glance up, and through the rippling surface, Jimin smiles down at you. In this moment, the world feels limitless, and magic is not just something you believe in—it’s something you live.

You feel the warmth of a hand at the small of your back, where the delicate curve of your skin meets the smoothness of your shimmering scales. Jimin glides up beside you, his smile a radiant beacon in the water. Without hesitation, you swim into him, pressing your lips to his in a quick, electrifying kiss before gliding forward, emerging into view for the children to see.

Your heart swells—so full of love, it almost feels as though it could burst from your chest. You reach for his hand, and the connection between you is a thread of pure joy, binding your hearts together with unspoken promises. Together, you swim effortlessly beside the swaying kelp, darting through rocky formations, surrounded by the shimmering world of the deep, until you come to the massive glass wall that separates you from the fascinated eyes of the children.

As you break through the surface, the children’s gasps of awe and delight fill the air, their faces alight with wonder. You wave, your heart fluttering as Simon spins tales of merfolk—stories gifted to him by Jimin himself.

Turning toward Jimin, your gaze finds him, and the world around you seems to melt away. His eyes, soft and deep, hold your universe within them, a world built on love and unspoken understanding. He reaches for both your hands, lifting them in front of your faces as he gently presses his body against yours. His chest against yours feels like coming home.

With a slow, tender movement, he begins to spin you in the water, guiding you in a dance as old as time. You laugh, the sound bubbling through the water, as your tails entwine in fluid harmony. His kiss comes then—deep, slow, full of longing—as if he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. In the embrace of his lips, you feel like everything has led to this. Like you were born to dance like this, to love like this. It’s as if two worlds—yours and his—are colliding, fusing together in one seamless, breathtaking whole.

This is what merfolk love must be—this swirling connection, this surrender to the current of passion and tenderness. The kiss deepens, the world slipping away into a blissful haze, and for a moment, you can’t hear the laughter of the children. All that matters is this—a love so pure, so magical, it transcends everything. The only thing that exists in this moment is Jimin, the love you share, and the extraordinary gift he’s given you.

The world is perfect here, in the waters where love flows as effortlessly as the ocean itself. And you are exactly where you belong, with him.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst @women-kisseer @13-manggaetteok

→ Author’s endnote: waaaah 🤧 Personally, I think this one turned out so much better than Tae’s (not that I don’t think that was good!) but I guess it’s just a lot easier for me to write Jimin? Anyway. What do you guys think of this one? Are you still excited for the last two? ✨��

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

❝ ᴀ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 6.9k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, smut - unprotected sex, creampie, on the phone while being intimate, ⚠️ verbal abuse, manipulating tactics ⚠️, angst without resolve, heavy alcohol consumption, public intoxication, BIKER!JK ( a warning in itself bc 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 )

↣ notes :: she's a little late because I may have forgotten to schedule her 😅 but this chapter is a doozy and the seeds are GROWING

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're perfectly wrong for me, and that's why it's is so hard to leave."

- perfectly wrong, shawn mendez -

"Babe!?" Kiara called out as she put a sparkly earring through her lobe. She had heard the door open and shut, but there was no answer. The dark-haired woman stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room, seeing as Taehyung pulled off his coat with a heavy sigh. She pouted her burgundy-painted lips. "What's wrong?"

"Work was just more tiring than usual today," he quietly said as he removed his coat. He loosened the black tie around his neck, not even glancing at Kiara as he walked past her to the kitchen.

Kiara's shoulders dropped as she followed after him. A weird feeling overtook her as she watched him lazily push through the items in the fridge. "Too tired for date night?" She asked quietly, hiding some of her body behind the archway.

Taehyung's head perked up, shutting the fridge before turning to face the shy girl. He gestured for her to move from the shadows so he could see her fully. Kiara always had a pretty face and knew exactly how to do her makeup to accentuate her features without doing too much. But Taehyung's favorite part of her was her body. As she stepped into his view—adorned in a glittering baby pink dress that clung to her curves and silver accessories that popped against golden skin in the dim lighting—he could feel the blood rushing to her lower regions. She was thick in all the right areas—a busty top with wide hips and thighs that not even air could escape between to support her ass. He was in love. She looked like something out of a wet dream.

Taehyung curled his finger, beckoning her to come closer. She obeyed silently, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. Once Kiara was close enough, he took her hand and spun her around to see the whole picture. Her straightened midnight locks flowed with her. He loved it when her hair was straight. "Fuck, darling," he smirked as he bit down on his lower lip. Her cheeks flushed with color as she playfully hit his chest with her free hand. He placed a hand on her waist, holding her close. "You look absolutely stunning."

The girl blushed as if Taehyung didn't compliment her all the time. She knew he would love this dress. He wasn't like most boyfriends who would tell their girlfriends to cover up if they wore something too tight or too short. It seemed as if Taehyung couldn't keep his hands off her whenever it was time to dress up. Kiara adored the attention, even if it consisted of inappropriately timed ass grabs.

"Thank you, babe," she smiled as her hands ran up his chest until they reached his shoulders, where they wrapped around his neck. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers and filling any gap that they had. Taehyung wasted no time exploring her body with his large hands. He squeezed her ass, using the grip to press Kiara further into him. She let out a soft moan, feeling his erection pressing into her stomach. The kiss grew deeper and needier as they continued. The warmth from between her legs began to spread throughout her body. Kiara was close to telling him to take her on one of the counters.

"Taehyung," she mumbled while trying to break the kiss, but he kept leaning in to reattach his lips to hers. She couldn't help but smile against his lips. The need for affection made her feel warm inside. She tried to pull away again, leaning further back before he could attack. "We're gonna be late for our reservation if we keep going," she giggled. Someone had to be the sensible one; more times than not, it was Kiara.

Taehyung groaned softly, leaning in to press kisses against her neck. She inhaled softly, gripping his shirt tightly enough that the fabric wrinkled between her fingers. "We can be a little late, can't we?"

Kiara bit down on her lower lip to hold back her moans while allowing her to focus on her thoughts. Her brain was growing hazy with arousal. Logic was on the brink of fleeting—too many feelings combined with too many thoughts all at once. "I mean," she drawled out. Before she could finish her sentence, Taehyung bent down a little to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She squealed softly from the sudden surprise. "Taehyung!"

A mischievous grin formed on his lips as he locked eyes with the girl. "What?" He asked innocently.

Kiara's eyes narrowed at him momentarily before a smile cracked on her lips. "What do you think you're doing?"

Taehyung began to walk, following the familiar path to their bedroom. "I don't know what you're talking about, darling."

"I think you're a liar."

Taehyung smirked, throwing Kiara onto the bed after they entered the room. She landed on the plush mattress with a giggle. Her short dress slid up her thick thighs, giving him the slightest peek of the lacy black panties she wore. She gazed at the man, watching him take off his belt and toss it. "Me? A liar?" He parted her thighs with his knee before fitting himself between her legs. Her hovered over her, eyes filled with desire. "Never," he said lowly before kissing her again.

Kiara hummed with delight, accepting defeat as her body overtook her mind. Damn, that man for knowing how to kiss so well, his lips convincing her with every movement to skip another date night and just stay in bed all day. He pulled away, leaving a trail of affection down to the sweetheart neckline of her dress, where her breast spilled out of the tight fabric. She arched into his mouth, physically begging for more as he reached down to inch her dress up more.

Her once-shut eyes shot open, "Wait!" His fingers froze at the sound of her voice as he peered up at her from the valley between her breasts. "I don't wanna mess up my hair," she said quietly with a slight pout.

"Then I guess you better get on top."

In one swift motion, Taehyung flipped their positions. Kiara landed on his abdomen briefly before sliding back. She undid his pants and pulled his clothing down enough for his cock to spring out. The girl inhaled deeply, never getting tired of looking at the sight. Though she was in a rush, she couldn't resist to slide her tongue against the underside of his length. He sucked in harshly through his teeth. Satisfied, she repositioned herself, hovering over the man's abdomen once again. She leaned back and wrapped her fingers around his erection, causing him to inhale sharply as she stroked him slowly.

He placed his hands on her thighs, letting out a low groan as he stared up at her. "Don't tease me."

She smirked as she released him. She pushed up the material of her dress to rest over her hips, exposing the lingerie that was supposed to be for tonight. Taehyung reached out and pulled the material to the side, exposing her heat to the air. She glided his tip against her wet slits before guiding the man into her, lowering herself down as they both let out a slow sigh.

Taehyung hissed with pleasure as he became encased in her walls. After he gave her a moment to adjust, he began to roll his hips back and forth. Kiara placed her hand on him, pushing his button-down shirt up just enough to rest her palm against his tanned abdomen. He penetrated every delicious inch of himself into her as she leaned forward, meeting his thrusts with a pleasant smacking sound. 

Taehyung watched Kiara's face as she lost herself in the pleasure. His eyes quickly darted to her chest, watching as her breast bounced in the constricted material. It took everything in him not to lean forward and free them of their limitations, but he'll make a mental note for later. Instead, he reached around to her ass, gripping at the flesh as he guided her up and down his member. She loved how he felt inside of her, making her increase speed.

The brunette suddenly got an idea, reaching around for his phone.

"What's the name of that restaurant?" He groaned, his thrusts lessening in power as he tried to focus.

"W-What?" Kiara stammered. She opened her eyes as she looked down at the man below her. Her hips started to slow as she tried to de-fog the sex-crazed haze over her mind.

Taehyung suddenly raised his hand and promptly slapped the girl's ass, causing her to moan as she resumed some of the pace from before. He used one hand to guide her while the other tapped away on his screen. "Give me the name of the restaurant."

She bit down on her lower lip while her eyes shut again. Focusing was incredibly hard when someone was currently massaging your walls. "N-Nomiya."

He guided her down his length, taking him fully inside her velvety walls, causing his tip to press into her cervix. She let out a soft squeak while a shiver of delight splashed over her. She opened her eyes as his hips finally seized. Taehyung was such a sight to see. Sweat beaded along his forehead, causing his dark waves to stick to his skin. His once prim and proper button-down shirt somehow opened in the heat of the moment, exposing his tan skin flushed with red in the low light of their room. His lips were structured and plump with desire. He looked like a model while tapping against his phone screen several times. She bit down on her lower lip, swirling her hips in a circle and grinding against him absentmindedly.

Was it possible to come from only someone's face?

He suddenly handed the device, ripping her from her thoughts. "Push back the reservation."

"Right now?!"

"Right now. It's ringing."

Panic overtook her system for a second, causing her walls to tighten around him involuntarily. He moaned right before she heard a faint hello from the phone. She quickly grabbed the device from Taehyung and put it to her ear.

"Um, hi. My name is Kiara, and I have a reservation for—" A soft moan slipped past her lips as Taehyung decided to resume his thrusts. A mischievous smirk played on his lips, mouthing a petty 'sorry' as he grabbed her hips with both hands. Kiara narrowed her eyes at him, desperately trying to swallow her sounds of pleasure.

"Ma'am? Hello?"

She cleared her throat, acting as if nothing was happening. As if Taehyung wasn't ramming into her. "Yes, sorry about that. I have a reservation for 6, and I was wondering if I could push it back to—" Taehyung's large hand made contact with her ass again, causing the woman to inhale through her teeth. She used his abdomen as support, hanging her head a little as she tried to collect herself. "Push it back to 7," she breathed. She felt an incredible and familiar pressure growing between her legs. 

Taehyung watched as the woman on top of him tried to keep it together, driving him wild from the sight alone. Her flushed face, her slipping dress, how her nails dug into his skin as some sort of anchor. He wondered if the person on the opposite end could listen to the sounds of their love. He wondered if they could hear the sticky, slapping sounds of their bodies hitting against each other. As he bit down on his lip, his hand trailed to the front of her abdomen. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, our next table won't be available until 8:30. Is that alright with you?"

"8:30? Yes, that perf—" A gasp stole the last syllable of her sentence as Taehyung's thumb circled her swollen clitoris. Her eyes rolled back as she tilted her head back. She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to muffle the breathy moans that were escaping. He increased the pace of his digit, causing the pressure between her legs to grow as well. He briefly felt her walls constrict around him, knowing what would come soon.

"Alright, thank you!" Kiara quickly hung up the phone right as her body soared over the edge. She came hard, throbbing around Taehyung's member. His hips slowed for a moment, letting her ride out her orgasm. His hands slid up her body, stopping at her breast, where he squeezed them.

"Reservations for 8:30, right?" Taehyung asked, and she nodded in response. He rested his hands on Kiara's waist, pulling her down to lay on his chest. He flipped them over as she steadied her breathing so Kiara was lying underneath him. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You'll have enough time to fix your hair then."

Her eyes grew wide as he started drilling into her again. Their lips met once again, sharing needy kisses and muffling moans as he pushed her thighs back towards the bed, giving himself maximum access to her heat. When he pulled away, he leaned back so he could watch as her body bounced.

Kiara shut her eyes as if to lessen the immense pleasure she was receiving. "T-Taehyung," she whimpered. The pleasure built up in her body again as shivers of delight danced against her skin. "Fuck!" His thrusts were hard and deep, hitting her spot repeatedly. Her face twisted with pleasure. Her amber eyes looking up at him helplessly filled her. Her legs began to tremble, causing him to raise an eyebrow while a smirk played on his lips. 

"You gonna cum for me again?"

The woman couldn't even form words, only being able to nod her head quickly as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. Taehyung leaned over her once again as his hips remained in the same rhythm. His face hid in her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, fingers entangling in his damp hair. The pulsing of her walls around him neared him to his orgasm. His rhythm grew sloppy. He pushed his length fully into her one last time as he succumbed to his climax.

After a minute of heavy breathing between the two, Taehyung slowly pulled himself out of her. Kiara felt the mixture of their fluids leak out of her and onto their comforter. She tried to regulate her breathing, watching him stand up and walk towards the bathroom. The dopamine coursing through her veins left her glued to the covers. He returned from the bathroom with a towel, tossing it to the girl before lying beside her. 

"You fucked up my hair," she murmured.

Taehyung looked at the girl, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "I think you look great."

Surprisingly, Taehyung and Kiara made it to the restaurant on time. After a few showers and touch-ups, they were walking hand in hand into the discreet entrance of Nomiya. The two were practically glowing, giggling, and holding each other tightly as the maitre'd led them to their table. Taehyung pulled out the chair for Kiara, and she slid into her seat gracefully. He sat across from her in a booth connected to the wall.

The restaurant was modern, with wooden accents sprinkled throughout. Large industrial half windows let light in while keeping the dining area private. They chose a dark color scheme with warm lighting to make the room feel spacious. It was pretty classy for an establishment attached to a shopping mall and, from the menu, right up the couple's alley.

The two engaged in conversation and flirty banter until Taehyung became engrossed in his phone. Kiara was used to it. Even though the man was a king at small talk, long-term and deep conversations drained him. And those types of conversations were Kiara's strong point. She didn't care much about the how are you or how's the weather; she wanted to know the nitty gritty about someone. The ins and outs, what made them tick, what made them smile. Things that were worthwhile. 

Kiara glanced over the menu in the comfortable silence, wondering why the waiter hadn't yet swung around to take their order. The reviews she read online showed that the wait staff here was top-tier and super friendly. Taehyung didn't seem to care about the woman's growling stomach, happily tapping away and laughing at the lit screen in his hands. So, she took it upon herself to get the waitress' attention. She walked over with a tired smile on her face.

"Hi, how may I help you?" She asked.

Kiara offered the woman a smile. "Yes, I believe we're ready to order."

The waitress's eyes widen briefly. "Oh, um," she took a little tablet from her apron, "you didn't want to wait until the rest of your party was here?"

Kiara's brows squished together, glancing at Taehyung briefly as she let out an awkward chuckle. "Um, no? The whole party is already here?"

Maybe it's been a long night for her. After all, the restaurant had been decently packed, parties of two or more surrounding them with smiles and laughs. Maybe she confused their table with another's.

Taehyung suddenly lifted his head, standing to his feet. He began to wave his hand in the air with a broad, boxy grin on his face. Kiara watched the man, blinking rapidly before turning to see what excited him. 

Her heart dropped.

Blonde hair styled to expose his forehead, dressed in an all-black outfit—from his blazer to the t-shirt underneath and his slacks to his shiny oxfords—and strutting over to their table like a model on a runway was none other than Park Jimin. The walking sin. He was smiling, beaming at the man she called boyfriend. Kiara quickly turned around and stared up at Taehyung. Once their eyes connected, his smile shrunk to a shy one.

Soon, Jimin was at their table, giving Taehyung a long hug before looking at Kiara. Their eyes met briefly, her jaw clenching when he very obviously gazed at her exposed cleavage.

"I'm so happy you made it!" Taehyung grinned as he sat down, finally rejoining Kiara at the table. "Did you bring someone?"

Jimin nodded, gesturing to the woman who suddenly appeared next to him. Kiara must not have noticed the person following behind him until now. "Everyone, this is Izzy. Izzy, this is my good friend Taehyung and his girlfriend Kiara."

Kiara awkwardly waved at the woman as she sat next to her. She was drop-dead gorgeous—slim, tall with legs that went on for days, a natural blonde. The woman looked like she just hopped off a Sports Illustrated magazine cover. She wore a simple, long-sleeved, black mini dress and heels, matching her date.

Cute, the dark-haired woman thought.

Kiara and Taehyung could never, no matter how much she yearned to.

"So what are we eating?" Jimin asked after sitting down. He picked up the menu and started to look over it.

"I'll give you a few minutes," the waitress said before leaving. Taehyung leaned towards Jimin, suggesting various options.

"Taehyung," Kiara said sharply despite the forced smile on her lips. Taehyung slowly peered at her through narrowed lids, like she was interrupting something important. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?" She stood up and walked towards the exit, not checking if the man was following her. She opened the sizeable black-tinted glass door and took a few steps from the entrance. 

"What's up?" Taehyung asked once he joined her. He tried to ignore how the winter breeze nipped at his skin through his dress shirt. 

"What's up?" Kiara repeated, brows drawn together as she looked up at the man. Her blood boiled, heat spreading outward to the very ends of her fingertips. Who needed a coat when you could run off the heat of pure anger? "Why the fuck is he here?" She paid close attention to her volume and tone. It was a Saturday night at peak time, and people surrounded them. The last thing she wanted was a scene.

Taehyung tilted his head slightly as his lips pulled down into a frown. "I invited him?"

"On date night?!"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see the problem with having a double date."

Kiara blinked at him, staring for a few seconds before letting out a scoff. She folded her arms over her chest as she glanced away from him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Taehyung. You know damn well this wasn't supposed to be a double date!"

Taehyung's jaw clenched as he looked down at the girl. "Watch your fucking tone." His voice had grown severe, chilling Kiara to her core. She hated it when he used her favorite thing as a weapon. "Jimin wanted to hang out tonight. I said I had plans, and he asked to come. It's as simple as that."

"But why would you agree?" Her voice had softened slowly, like a flame losing its source of oxygen. "Like, aren't we supposed to have one-on-one time?" She could feel herself shrinking like she always does. She looked up at him, amber eyes meeting dark, cold ones.

"Oh my god," he drawled out. He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "We have one on one time all the fucking time, Kiara. We go grocery shopping. We watch movies. We even fucking read together. You're gonna tell me I'm a bad fucking person because I wanna hang out with my friend?" As he started getting louder, Kiara's arms lowered from her chest to wrap around her midsection. She couldn't look at him; she didn't want to see that face with pinched features or eyes that resembled the dead. She opted to stare down at the ground instead. It was always the safest option. She felt the sadness creep up her throat, silencing her because tears would flow like waterfalls if she even made a croak. 

"Get over yourself, Kiara, honestly." Her heart dropped again, feeling like it should be a permanent residence there. Tears stung her eyes, threatening her with further embarrassment. She knew people were definitely staring now, looking at her like she was a zoo animal—locked in a cage with eyes full of pity tracking her every move. "The world doesn't revolve around you, and I sure as hell am not gonna act like it does."

He turned around swiftly, not caring for the reactions surrounding him. Once he reached the door, he paused for a second. "Maybe Jimin was right." She looked at him out of curiosity, almost instantly regretting it once she met his eyes. She had hoped, for once, he looked remorseful, like he pitied her. But instead, he looked over his shoulder with that look. The one that made her feel smaller than a field mouse. The one that made her question if his I love you's were genuine. The one that ripped every ounce of confidence she had from her soul. 

"You are selfish."

She cracked and desperately tried to keep herself from spilling onto the pavement.

As he walked back inside, leaving her to battle the cold, she felt like someone had just stabbed the 24-year-old woman in the chest. She looked around, watching as people narrowly avoided her gaze. Her bottom lip quivered. Kiara inhaled deeply before exhaling shakily. She refused to cry in public, surrounded by sympathetic eyes but no brave souls to spring into action. That was typical for New York, though. Everyone had their own story with little time to read others. 

Am I really just overreacting?

She wondered when and where she went wrong. Was it how she said it? Should she have waited until after dinner? She hoped the cold would give her some clarity, but all it left her with was red-stained skin and a runny nose.

All Kiara wanted was a sweet night with her boyfriend, and she did everything in her power to ensure so. From the makeup to the restaurant, everything that she had picked was to make sure he had a good night. They had a good night. They only went out to eat occasionally, and Kiara did all the planning every time they did. She was meticulous, and it always took a lot of energy. The woman just wanted him to see that, to appreciate it. Was she wrong?

She used her thumb knuckles to pat the area under her eye dry gently. Kiara sighed softly, picking up the pieces of her Taehyung left sprawled over the ground before walking back inside. She rejoined the table, not that anyone noticed.

For the rest of the night, she sat at the table, silent as the two men across from her caught up as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. They laughed as if they'd been together for years. They even shared each other's entrees to see if the other would like it. She was surprised Taehyung didn't just feed the man with his own utensils. It felt like she was third-wheeling a double date and paired up with a friend she didn't get along with. This wasn't to say Izzy was bad; she was an sweetheart and embodied the word entirely. She politely offered small talk, even telling a boys will be boys joke when Taehyung and Jimin got too loud, hoping to lighten the sour expression on Kiara's face.

But boys will not be boys.

Boys don't act like Park Jimin and try to infiltrate every aspect of Kiara's life as she knew it.

None of these feelings would've happened if that blonde hadn't arrived. Taehyung and her would have their regular date if he had never approached her. Because Park Jimin wouldn't have existed to him. Just a thing of the past. A memory ever so slowly fading.

Kiara had to order a bottle of wine to keep herself from wanting to slam her head against the table repeatedly. Since no one else decided to have a glass, she managed to drink at least 3/4ths of the bottle herself. It wasn't her best choice of the night, but the 24-year-old needed alcohol if she was going to be around Jimin for prolonged periods. At this rate, she'll have an alcohol use disorder in no time.

The red wine made her numb and quiet like it usually did. The world around her dulled and melted together until there were just blobs of color floating around space. Nothing around her existed, and she liked it like that. She was in her own little bubble where people became brushstrokes, and noises became low hums. At some point, the tan splotch with a dark top emerged and walked away from the table. A pinkish line with pale yellow strokes around it also left. And then there were just two.

Kiara played around with the piece of paper that once covered a straw, folding it as many times as possible.

"This is a nice restaurant, don't you think?"

She hated how his voice could cut through her little world like a steak knife through softened butter—words wrapped within a smooth velvet, purposefully seductive and laced with poison.

"I know," she spat, harsh tones slitting through the fabric of his voice. "I was the one who picked it."

"Woah there," she didn't have to look at him to see the grin on his plump lips. She knew it was there. Why wouldn't it be? His smugness was becoming predictable. "Someone's being a little hostile, hm?"

She looked at him, amber eyes set ablaze through narrowed lids. "Shut the fuck up, Jimin. You shouldn't even fucking be here."

The grin on his face dropped as his eyes went wide. He placed a hand on his chest while he gasped. "For your information, I was invited."

"You intruded," she said slowly, ensuring he heard every syllable. "You knew he had plans, and you invited yourself like a fucking loser."

"He wanted me to come!" Jimin's brows pinched together.

"Yeah, aight," Kiara scoffed. Jimin would never tire of hearing that abrasive accent trapped in that honeyed tone. It was pleasant on the ears. "At least you're having a good time with your fucking date."

"Oh, Izzy is a doll. Love the girl to pieces."

Her gaze remained unchanged. "No, dipshit, I fucking meant Taehyung."

He tilted his head to the side to match his playful smile. "Do you know any word besides fucking?"

"Do you know how to mind your fucking business?" She quipped, mirroring his actions.

"Guess that's a no," Jimin chuckled lightly. Kiara sighed deeply, chugging the rest of the crimson liquid in her glass. He raised an eyebrow slightly. "You're becoming a bit of an alcoholic, aren't you?"

Kiara almost slammed the glass on the table, hands like cinderblocks, as she forced herself to grab the bottle. "And you're to blame." She stared directly into Jimin's eyes, noticing the grey-colored contacts that hid his natural color. If eyes were the window to the soul, he had the curtains closed right now. Maybe she would've held back more if she saw the concern swirling in his dark irises. "Ever since you waltzed into my life, it seems like alcohol is the only thing that makes you tolerable." She poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass, sucking her teeth at the empty container. A full bottle of wine, and she still wasn't drunk enough to deal with Park Jimin.

Her words sunk deeply into Jimin, causing him to chew on his lower lip. This Kiara wasn't fun. When she drank herself into nothing but a shell, he couldn't help but feel bad. He never wanted to be the cause of someone's addiction. He leaned back, remaining quiet until Taehyung returned to the table. The man resumed conversation with Jimin as if he couldn't see how out of it Kiara was. It seemed to be all the blonde could notice. She finished the rest of her wine rather quickly, parting her lips enough for a sigh to pass through. Her eyes danced around the room, looking at anything and anyone that wasn't Taehyung. Water lined her golden irises, constantly threatening to spill but never doing so.

Guilt. Was that the feeling that was weighing down Jimin's chest? Did he take things too far? But she deserved it, right? She deserved the troubles and hardships for choosing the easy life. Right? Kiara sniffled as she reached for her eye, gently tugging at the sensitive skin and blinking her tears away.

Taehyung didn't notice.

Jimin did.

"Hey," Jimin interrupted whatever rant Taehyung was going on about, glancing at his dark-haired friend. He gave the man a small smile; that's all he could offer without seeming too fake. "This was fun, but Izzy is getting pretty tired. Right, Iz?"

The blonde woman stared at her phone, tapping away at the screen. "Yeah, I'm exhausted," she said without an ounce of sincerity.

Jimin had to stop himself from glaring at the woman. He loved the girl, but she was an ass at times. "We're gonna call it a night. Thank you again for inviting us."

Kiara let out a loud scoff, uncharacteristically unfazed by the glare she received from Taehyung. The wooden pattern on the table seemed more interesting than his anger. 

"It was no problem, honestly." Taehyung grinned at Jimin as the blonde and his date stood up. "I'll see you around?"

Jimin nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah, definitely." He turned his gaze to Kiara, biting down on his lip briefly. "Bye, Kiara."

"Fuck off."

Izzy tried but failed horribly to hide her laughter. Jimin sighed, knowing she would say something sassy, but it was worth a shot anyway. Taehyung narrowed his eyes once again at the foul-mouthed girl. It was a dramatic flip from how he looked at her during game night. He looked like he couldn't stand the sight of her, and it was frightening. Deciding it was best not to stay any longer, the couple left. He'll send Taehyung some money later tonight to cover his half of the tab.

After the couple left, Taehyung didn't waste a second expressing his disdain towards the girl. "You're such a fucking embarrassment, you know that right?"

Kiara let out a deep sigh as she leaned back into her chair. She knew this was coming based on their fight from earlier. Taehyung had barely paid attention to her for a reason. She expected to get an earful on the way home or once they were in the comfort of their living room. Taehyung lashing out at the girl in public was a first for her, especially with people surrounding them.

"All fucking night, you've been acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way."

She looked away from him, catching the waitress' attention as she raised her hand. "Check, please!" 

Kiara blowing him off with ease made Taehyung's blood boil further. He slammed his large hands down on the wooden surface, causing all the utensils and dishes to shake. As he intended, it caught her attention. Her eyes lazily looked up at him, still unbothered by the manchild's actions. But her eyes weren't the only ones peering at him. Neighboring couples and families glanced out of the corner of their eyes. They paused conversations to observe the drama that was unexpectedly unraveling quietly.

"You will not make a fool of me, Kiara Smith." His jaw clenched, and she could practically see the vein on his forehead throbbing. Tan skin turned to a deep red, and all she could do was raise a brow in challenge.

"Looks like you've already done so, Kim Taehyung."

Taehyung shot up from his seat, shifting the table as he did so. The last thing she saw were his eyes, filled with hatred she didn't know he could possess—not while looking at her. He left the restaurant, leaving a trail of silence behind him. Kiara sighed deeply, sitting up in her seat. She knew she should've stopped. The woman knew she shouldn't have poked the bear since he had attacked for less. But she couldn't find the energy to care. She couldn't find the energy to worry about the concerned eyes that stared at her as she gave the waitress her card. It was all for show anyway, knowing as soon as she left, they would go back to loving each other as if none of this had happened.

She left the waitress a hefty tip, around $150. The woman was technically dipping into her future home funds, but that was an argument for another day. Every damn thing was an argument.

She gathered her things and slowly stood up, trying to ensure she didn't stumble in her heels, but she did so anyway. Kiara used the table to balance herself before taking a deep breath. There was no need to embarrass herself further by falling in this establishment. She was sure people already saw her as a trainwreck. She and Taehyung fought as much as any average couple did, and in a few days, this would all be water under the bridge, and they would be back to their usual loving selves.

When she reached outside, the cold winter air did nothing to cool down her warm body as she wobbled around to her car. Or where her car should be. She stood in an empty parking spot, brows furrowed with her hands on her hips as she glanced around. Her vehicle was highly noticeable, so even if she was in the wrong spot, she should've been able to see it in the parking lot. She huffed quietly, pulling her phone out of her purse as she returned to the pavement. She called her significant other, and it went straight to voicemail, as usual. She sighed deeply, swaying her weight from one heel to the other as she placed her phone to her ear.

“Sup loser,” said Jeongguk. He answered after the first ring like he always did. He wasn't munching on food this time, but she could faintly hear the sounds of power-ups going off and catchphrases.

"Heeeeey," she drawled out, making Jeongguk chuckle.

"Someone's fucked up."

"Just a little," the girl grinned, her eyes catching a bench nearby. She wouldn't stand in five-inch heels if she didn't have to. "Do you happen to be anywhere on or near Long Island right now?" Her words slurred, causing Jeongguk to pause the game he was playing.

"Um, no, I'm not." He answered, concern slowing growing in his deep tone. "Why?"

"OK, so, hilarious story. Hear me out," Kiara plopped down on the cold metal bench. "Taehyung kinda sorta took my car and left me at the restaurant with no way home."

There was silence on the other end of her phone. Her face scrunched a little as she pulled the device away from her ear to make sure she didn't accidentally hang up. She returned the phone to her ear, hearing intense rustling and shuffling.

"Helloooooo?"

"Stay right fucking there, Ki." His deep voice managed to lower an octave, making her heart race. "Don't move a god-damned inch."

"OK!" She sounded awfully chipper, not realizing the weight of the situation as she swung her legs like a child.

"I swear to god, I don't understand how you're still with this dipshit."

Kiara pouted her lips as if the other could see. "Stoooop, we're gonna get married Kookie!"

Jeongguk released a deep sigh, hoping to calm himself down a little. "Stop saying that. No husband would leave their wife outside, with no way home," there was a short pause, "at fucking midnight!?" So much for calming himself down. "Ki, you better pray I don't catch this asshole on the street."

"Kookie," she whined, the pout still fully formed on her lips. "I love him. Please be nice. We're just fighting right now."

"No fucking excuse, drop your location right now."

Kiara huffed as she did what she was told. The GPS said the ETA was about 45 minutes, and Jeongguk made it there in half the time. The risk of getting tickets for speeding and lane splitting was all worth it when he arrived. He found Kiara sitting on a bench, shivering slightly but smiling widely at him as if she wasn't in the proper clothing to be outside.

They were in what New York would call the 'Third Winter', where the air is just as harsh as the middle of January, despite being the first week of April. He sighed deeply, pulling his leather coat off of her body. He walked over to her, "C'mere," he said as he helped her into the jacket. It wasn't much, but she wore a flimsy, practically see-through cardigan over her dress.

"Kookieeee!" She looked up at the man with a never-ending smile on her lips. "You came!"

"You called," he sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips afterward. Whether close or far, day or night, if Kiara called for him, he would be there for her in a heartbeat. "Now come on." He helped the grinning girl stand up, catching her when she stumbled into him. He should've brought a pair of pants as well. How could Taehyung let her walk out of the house in a dress this short, then leave her in the cold? "We're gonna stop by your house and pick up some clothes, OK?"

Kiara was the only other person he'd let ride on his bike, so he had gotten her a helmet, which she customized herself. He preferred to keep his minimal, allowing the shiny black paint to speak for itself. On the other hand, Kiara painted wavy lines of her favorite colors with cute stickers. It was her in a nutshell, and she could do whatever she wanted to it as long as it was going on her head. With that said, he put her helmet on while she giggled, glazed eyes meeting his sober ones. He was too annoyed to find this moment adorable. He helped onto the bike before getting on himself. She felt his arms lazily wrap around his waist as he started the vehicle.

"You're gonna stay at my place for a few."

"Yay! Sleepover!"

Jeongguk couldn't help but smile. Whenever she got drunk, she would always become the baby of the group—eyes big and filled with amazement at the world around her, wondering body, and absolute lack of coordination. She was the cutest, especially when she smiled. Taehyung was going to ruin her. He was going to destroy every ounce of life she had by the end of this relationship.

They stopped at her house, and luckily enough, Taehyung wasn't there. He must've been sucking the universe's dick because if Jeongguk had seen him, he would've made sure his face made contact with the pavement. After years of having to deal with this man and this shit excuse of a relationship, he would've beaten him to a pulp. He grabbed their hideaway key and went inside to pack her a quick bag and some clothing to throw on over her dress. 

Afterward, Jeongguk drove them back to his apartment in the city. He made sure to drive extra carefully as he felt Kiara's grip loosened when they were about halfway there. He parked his bike on the side of the street before glancing back at the woman behind him, confirming his suspicions as Kiara barely had enough energy to open her eyes. She used most of her energy to stay up on the ride there.

He didn't even bother asking if she could walk. He crouched down to the ground, encouraging Kiara to hop on. She did so happily, allowing him to carry her upstairs to his apartment. He put her in his bed, tucking her in before taking the space on the couch.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

[livingformintyoongi]

Get to know the life of the members of Bring On The Night! The pop/rock band of the moment that has a whole generation addicted to their music, lyrics and performers.

| Kim Seokjin: The Bassist

You were Jin's childhood friend, the one who always went to all his bass practices, the one who went to all his mini concerts, the one who tested the songs before he played them live, you were even the first person he ran to tell the news that his band had been dominated to his first award.

The problem with this? You were always just that to Jin, the typical childhood friend he wouldn't give up for anything in the world, but would never see as anything more.

A few months ago Jin started dating yet another girl, a certain Yeji, whom he had met in college.

You were starting to feel how awful it was to be just another friend, and you wanted to give it your last try before giving up forever with Jin and moving on with your life.

| Min Yoongi: The Producer

You had been in a fully sexual relationship with Yoongi for over 5 years. Yes, you went out on the occasional date in secret, but nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would make the public think you were a couple, or sex partners.

You had never had a problem with this, until little by little you noticed how you started to feel things for him that definitely had nothing to do with your fully sexual relationship, so you did what you did best.

You ran away.

-> Drabble 1 [Request]: How did they meet?

| Jung Hoseok: The Composer

You met Hoseok in a dance class you had during your last years in college. The two of you hit it off perfectly and decided to stay in touch.

You talked to him when he won his first award, he talked to you when he heard you got a permanent contract at your current company. You called him when you found out he had landed a fairly well known girlfriend in the middle, he congratulated you on finding your fiancé.

Now, 2 years after that, you had no idea how to tell him that your husband and his fiancée were fucking in your bed.

| Kim Namjoon: The Drummer

You were Bring On The Night's manager since their debut. You had taken good care of them, always tried to give them a reasonable schedule, always talked to interviewers before interviews, always tried to keep them safe without asking for anything in return. That's exactly what made Namjoon fall at your feet.

From the beginning he always had eyes for you, he always drowned in his feelings thinking about how annoying it might be for you to stay on the job knowing that he had feelings for you.

However, this same attitude not only attracted to him, but to other guys who worked in the same industry. It was this very thing that made Namjoon decide to fight for you, even if it would destroy your working relationship and friendship.

| Park Jimin: The Keyboardist

You were Jimin's girlfriend during his pre-debut era. You would go to support him at practice, bring him food, water, sometimes even a change of clothes. You loved the way he loved his job, but love wasn't always enough to overcome the adversities that made life as a star. That was made clear to you by the Ceo of Bring on the night's discography.

You broke up with him shortly after his debut, you didn't give him any explanation, you simply told him that you didn't want to be with him anymore and you left.

Years later, in the present day, Jimin had become a world star, famous for his talent on the keyboard, and you, for your part, had achieved your goal of becoming a critically acclaimed actress.

What you never thought was that, as you were both on the same level, you would inevitably meet at events such as awards shows, and, to be honest, you didn't think you could ever say no to Jimin again.

| Kim Taehyung: The Guitarist

For the first time in your entire career as an artist you had gotten into a scandal, and one of the worst scandals there could have been. A rapper whose name you didn't even know had told hundreds of gossip channels that the two of you were in a solely sexual relationship.

Now, with no excuse to give because no one would believe you without proof, you and your manager decided to make a completely risky bet; talk to Kim Taehyung, the guitarist of BOTN and ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. To your surprise, he didn't hesitate to accept.

The deal was clear: neither would have feelings for the other, neither would meddle in the other's relationships, and neither owed the other any explanations.

At first you thought it would be simple, just another performance, just like you did for your music videos.

How wrong you were.

| Jeon Jungkook: The Vocalist

Jungkook considered himself a very tolerant person. He tolerated Jin with his horrible jokes, he tolerated Namjoon breaking his stuff by accident from time to time, he even tolerated Jimin stealing his stuff, but there was one specific point where he would never tolerate any bullshit.

That point was you.

The day he found out the idiot you were dating, he almost broke his phone from how hard he smashed it against the wall. He believed you deserved better, no, he knew you deserved better, no doubt about it, and he was more than willing to show you what would be the minimum point you should accept in a man.

[hoseoksluna]

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

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | read part two

[writtenwhalien]

a lover's redemption | chapter 1

chapter 1. way down we go

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 10k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and share xoxoxox i'll confirm the release date of chapter 2 soon—this fic is a lot of work lol so in the meantime pls enjoy this longer chapter <3 and i used korean family names bc its a jimin fic and its hard to try and think of any other way that flows/to not use names, sorry not sorry, just imagine what you want xx

14th September 2003

“That’s it, good girl, Y/N—ow!” 

Your dad clutched his leg after a particularly hard roundhouse kick to his thigh. 

“Haha, well done, Y/N,” your granddad laughed from the side, clapping his hands in praise of you which motivated you to keep going. 

Going in for another front punch, you dodged your dad’s punches – which he pulled to avoid hurting you – and then you came in with a sharp jab to his ribs. 

“Ah, gosh, okay, okay,” he chuckled, taking a step back off the mat. “I think we should finish for the day, I’m gonna be covered in bruises tomorrow.”

“Was I good?” you asked, eager to hear your dad’s compliments as always. 

“You were amazing, dear,” your granddad said, stepping forward and ruffling your hair. “You remember what I told you, yes?”

“Yes,” you nodded, stating the next words like a mantra. “Self defence is a state of mind that begins with the belief you are worth defending.” It’s what your granddad had told you since you started training last year at the age of five.

“Still got it,” your dad smiled, kneeling down to help you pull off your shin guards. “You can show Jae-ho the combination tomorrow, but for now, let’s go get ready for dinner before your mom kills me.”

Beaming, you ripped your gloves off. “Can we go again before class tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” your dad said, patting your back, and together you raced out of the summer room and back into the house, as your granddad followed leisurely behind you. 

“Mom, I learned a new combination today!” you beamed, climbing up onto the stool at the breakfast counter.

Your mom smiled at you, her apron covered in flour as she puts a tray into the oven. “That’s amazing sweetie, I’ll watch it tomorrow when Jae-ho comes over, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching over and taking an apple from the fruit bowl.

Taking off her apron, your mom walked around the counter towards you. “Ah, your hair is all sweaty, you must have been working really hard.” She took out your hair tie, combing through your hair with her fingers.

“Ow,” you grimaced, still munching on your apple. “It was really hot.”

She laughed. “I’m sure it was.” 

“There she is!” The sound of your grandma’s voice made you turn around. She smiled as she came towards you. “Let’s get you bathed before dinner.”

“Do I have to?” you grumbled.

Your grandma paused, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?” 

Laughing, you hopped off the stool and ran towards the door. “It’s you, grandma!”

“What?!” She laughed with mock surprise, looking at your mom. “Is it me?”

“Hm…” Your mom paused and played along, sniffing your grandma. “Nu-uh.” She looked at you. “I think it’s coming from our pretty princess over there.” 

“I thought so,” your grandma smiled, before she and your mom proceeded to chase you through the house while you ran down the corridors and laughed gleefully. As you jumped on your parents bed, trying to make a beeline for their bathroom door, your mom caught you, cuddling you and smothering you in kisses before you eventually had to have a bath. Your grandma styled your hair in a ponytail with a pretty headband of your choice. You chose a blue one to match your dress and together you made your way downstairs. 

As you entered the living room, your dad turned around and behind him stood a tall man with dark hair neatly slicked back. 

“Y/N, honey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” your dad said, smiling reassuringly as he took your hand. 

You’d met a lot of your dad’s friends and they all seemed nice. But this man was different. He didn’t look kind at all. As you approached, your attention was stolen by a boy standing close behind the man. He looked around your age, with brown hair and brown eyes. His cheeks were round and rosy which gave him a playful and friendly appearance, except for the unmistakable fact that he looked scared. 

“This is my friend, Jihoon, and his son, Jimin.”

At first you felt nervous, looking between your dad and the big stern looking man beside him. Glancing at your grandma, you eased up when she nudged you and smiled. 

“Why don’t you say hello, Y/N?” she said.

Your dad kneeled down as you looked up at the man. “You can say hello if you want, sweetie.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N,” the man said, his lips curving into what must’ve meant to have been a smile — you thought it made him look scarier. “I’m your uncle Jihoon.” He extended his hand. 

Timidly, you shook it. Then your gaze fell to the boy standing behind him.

“Jimin.” Jihoon’s voice was suddenly sharp as he summoned his son to come forward. 

Looking up at his father in what you could only interpret as fear, he took a few steps forward and stopped in front of you. “Hello, I’m Jimin,” he said quietly, putting his hand forward just like his father did. 

“Hi, Jimin,” you said, reaching for his hand and shaking it once. “I’m Y/N.”

6 years later 17th July 2009

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, bringing in ample light to the summer room. Arranged messily on the table were pots of paint and brushes with a few complete canvases surrounding you as you worked. The canvas in front of you was a mix of vibrant colours, some careful strokes and others wild splashes you had crafted as you concentrated hard, your hand gripping the brush as you attempted to follow your father’s lead.

He had almost completed his piece, after many days working on it. A black sky tinged with deep hues of blue, and a single spear of lightning emerged through dark, swirling clouds, casting a pale, cold light reflecting off of the tempestuous sea of violent waves.

“Oh no,” you frowned, sitting back to get a better look at your work. “I ruined it.”

Your dad glanced over, smiling softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just different now, which is good.”

“But it doesn’t look how I wanted. It’s messy now.”

Your dad paused, getting up from his position in front of his much more professional easel to come and look at your work. Then, he dipped his brush in one of the colours you created and added a soft swirl, then another. You watched quietly as he added more.

“Things don’t always turn out how we want them to, sweetheart. That happens a lot in life. But you can always choose what to do next, even when things get messy.”

“What do you mean?”

Your dad set the paint brush down and sat on the chair next to you. Lines creased his forehead, his expression becoming sombre. It was something you’d been noticing more over the past few years.  

“Y/N, there will be times when everything around us feels messy or wrong — like people are not being kind, or things not going how we planned. You can’t always change that. But what you can control is how you act, even when everything feels hard. Being a good person means doing the right thing, even when the world around you isn’t.”

You frowned, thinking hard. “But what if people are mean, or if bad things happen? How do I be good when that’s happening?”

Your dad smiled warmly. “It’s like painting. Sometimes, you’ll have dark colors, or you’ll make a mistake. But you get to decide what comes next. You can add light, bring in something beautiful, even if the first stroke didn’t go how you wanted. You don’t have to paint what’s around you—you can paint what’s in here.” Gently, he tapped your chest over your heart.

Looking down, you began to understand. “So… even if everything’s messy, I can still make something pretty?”

“Exactly. You can always choose to do the right thing, to be kind, to help someone, even if others aren’t. It’s not always easy, but that’s what makes it important. Being a good person isn’t about waiting for things to be perfect, it’s about being good, even when things aren’t.”

You nodded, picking up your paintbrush and adding a swirl of your own. “Like this?”

With a grin, your dad nodded. “That’s perfect. You see? No matter how dark or messy things seem, you can always choose to make it better.”

“I want to do that, dad. I want to make things better, like you do.”

Your dad smiled, pulling you into a hug. “You already do, sweetheart.” 

You hugged him back, smiling when you felt him kiss the top of your head. Pulling away, you hopped off the chair. “What about yours? Is it finished?”

“I think so.”

“Lightning…  is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel. 

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint. 

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

You looked at your dad and noticed he looked sad. “Are you not friends anymore?”

He shook his head, a smile returning. “We are. Dad’s just being silly.” He patted your shoulder gently. “Come on, let’s go have dinner. All this painting has made me hungry.”

Dinner passed peacefully that night with your parents and grandparents conversing as they always did, and you spent most of the time poking your mom’s belly to try to get your growing baby brother to respond. 

Then, as soon as your dad finished eating, he got a text. Everyone on the dinner table went quiet and for a moment, you were forgotten.

“It’s Han-jae,” your dad said quietly. “He’s asked to see me.”

Your granddad exhaled slowly and you saw how your mothers hand tensed around her fork. 

“I told you not to get involved,” she murmured, looking at your dad with worry. 

He reached for her hand, caressing it gently. “I had to, love, you know that.”

“Why you?” she implored, almost desperately. “Why couldn’t you ask someone else.”

“I don’t know who to trust right now, Jihoon hasn’t been himself lately.”

“Jihoon is the same as always, he’s a cold man,” your mother answered.

“Sae-yi is right. Jihoon has always been a heartless person.”

“Perhaps that’s why I can’t trust him with this."

“Then don’t." Your mom took your fathers hands in both of hers. “But do you have to go?”

Your dads face gave her the answer and she sighed, grip loosening on his hand.

“Honey,” he whispered, closing his hand around hers firmly again and leaning in. “I’ll have my men with me, we’ll be back within an hour, I promise.” Smiling, he kissed her on the lips. “I’ve known Han-jae almost all my life, nothing’s going to happen.”

Your mother’s worried expression didn’t falter. “He’s the one who’s changed. I don’t trust him, not after what he was going to do to Jiyoung.” 

“I know,” your dad said, moving his hand in to hold your mom's cheek. “And that’s why I can’t let him know anything’s up, Ji-young isn’t safely out of the country yet so I should go.”

Leaning into his touch, your mom sighed. “Your heart's too big for this world, Sehun.”

Your dad smiled, pressing his forehead against hers and placing his hand on her swollen tummy. “It’s just big enough for you and my beautiful family.” He looked across at you sitting beside your mother and took your hand too, kissing it softly. “Look after your mama while I’m away, and we’ll have some dessert when I get back, okay?”

You nodded, confused yet reassured by your father’s smile. Nodding back, your dad kissed your mother once more before saying goodbye to your grandparents too. Your mom and granddad walked him out while your grandma stayed with you and made you finish your dinner.

The first half hour passed as normal. You stayed sitting with your grandma while your mom and granddad spoke privately in the kitchen. That was nothing new to you, you’d grown up with the adults having many private conversations out of earshot, so nothing felt off… until another fifteen minutes later.

Your mom wouldn’t stop pacing back and forth, her phone in her hand. “Neither of them are replying to my texts. He always replies, always.” You could hear the panic in her voice, the slight tremor that shook you deeply inside.

Then your grandma had the maid get you ready for bed, and you couldn’t hear what the grown-ups were whispering anymore. You were used to being sent to bed like this so you did what you always did — you sat by your bedroom window to watch the blacked out cars that usually come and go in the driveway. Except this time there weren’t any cars so instead you clambered on to your bed to read a book while you waited for your dad. 

As you grew bored, you remembered your dad promised to be back within the hour… glancing at the clock in your room, you realised he was late. 26 minutes late. 

A pit of worry grew in your stomach and you wished to be near your mom, so you got out of bed and walked to the door, your favourite book in your hand as you hoped to read to your little brother like you’d done so many times before.

Clutching it tightly, you walked out of your room towards the staircase, and then you heard it —  your mothers heart wrenching scream. 

At that moment, you knew your dad wasn’t going to be coming back home. 

present day

“One cappuccino please, and a croissant too.”

Without looking up from where you’re still folding the tea towels, you respond to the customer. “To eat in or takeaway?”

“Eat in.”

“Coming right up.” You fold the last one, patting it down before turning to face the customer. “That’ll be 9000 won plea– oh.” You pause, looking at the man behind the counter. “Hello again.”

“Hi, Y/N.” He smiles warmly, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his black trenchcoat. 

“Ah, you remember my name.”

“And you don’t remember mine,” he grins, nodding his head when you wince apologetically. “Seojun.”

“Seojun,” you repeat. “I’ll remember that now, I promise.”

He chuckles, placing a 50000 won note on the counter. “Don’t sweat it. And keep the change,” he says, turning around to seat himself at the closest table.

You pick it up, shaking your head. “Again?”

He folds his coat over the empty chair beside him before smoothing down the lapels of his suit jacket. “Yes, and don’t try to give me an extra muffin to make up for it.”

You deposit the bill into the till and put the change in the tip jar. Glancing at him, you see him looking over his shoulder out the window. “Did you at least like it?”

Seojun turns back and smiles. “Nope.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just being honest, I’m not a fan of blueberries,” he shrugs. “If you’re gonna give me anything, I'll take another coffee to go, iced americano this time.”

“Hmph, whatever,” you mumble, getting to work on his cappuccino. “I worked on that muffin recipe for weeks.”

“Try less baking powder maybe?” You shoot him a look when he says this and he puts his hands up defensively. “Or not.”

“Maybe if you weren’t tipping so much, I wouldn’t have to give you a muffin,” you say, steaming the milk for his drink.

“There’s a jar there for a reason,” he points out, nodding to the tip jar on the counter which you’ve kept there for your younger employees on top of the generous wage you pay them.

“Fair.” You finish preparing his cappuccino and plate up the croissant, walking over to his table. “Just don’t diss my muffins.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, doing little to hide the amusement in his voice. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes, smiling as you place his order down. “Here.” 

“Sit with me,” he says, kicking the seat out from in front of him. 

Pausing, you look at the only other occupied table. They seem fine, so you take Seojun’s offer, getting yourself a muffin and slipping into the seat while he looks over his shoulder again.

“Expecting someone?” you ask, breaking off a piece. 

“Hm?” He faces forward again, quickly shaking off the serious expression on his face. “Oh, no.” Smiling, he takes a sip of his coffee.

“How’s your girlfriend?” you ask, remembering the last conversation you had with him in which he told you all about his plans to surprise his girlfriend with a handcrafted bracelet made by himself. Apparently the diamonds from Tiffany’s just don’t feel special to him anymore. 

You smiled when he said that to you – it reminded you of your dad. It was easy enough to walk into a store and order the most expensive jewels, so he preferred to pour his time and effort into surprising your mom with paintings. He was good at it too, something you’ve grown to be envious of since you can’t say he passed the same talent to you.

Seojun smiles. “She’s good. Loved the bracelet.”

This makes you smile. “I’m glad.”

“How’s your grandma?”

“She’s great,” you nod. The last conversation you had with Seojun, was actually also the first. He walked into the cafe last week and immediately started a conversation with you. At first, you were slightly wary, but you’re always cautious so you went along with it. He’s a nice guy, and truthfully, you were glad for a change from all the college gossip you were used to hearing from your younger employees. They have a lot of drama, some of which bores you. 

Speaking with Seojun just seems familiar, like speaking with an old friend. 

“How’s her gallery?”

“Busy. She barely even calls me these days.”

Seojun chuckles. “Maybe you should visit her, I’m sure she’d like it.” 

At this, you pause, smiling. “I should. It’s been a while since I've seen her.” Your fork pokes aimlessly at the muffin. “I’ve just been a bit busy.”

“With the cafe?”

“Huh?” You look at Seojun, only to catch him looking back towards you just in time. That’s the third time he’s looked over his shoulder.

“I asked if you’re busy with the cafe,” he repeats, quickly looking down to take a bite of his croissant.

“Well, yeah,” you lie, also looking down. It’s a simple answer when the truth is more complicated. 

Seojun looks at you, eyes slightly rounded in concern. “It might be a good idea to take a break, no? Get out of Seoul and stay with her for a while.” 

This gives you pause, and you stare at him. “I don’t think I'll be leaving Seoul for a while,” you answer, watching him carefully. 

But before he can respond, you’re interrupted by your phone ringing in your back pocket. Pulling it out, you see your grandma is calling. Glancing up at Seojun, he’s now looking down at his half empty cup while tensely rubbing his thumb against the side of his tight fist.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, getting up and answering the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N, sweetheart?”

You frown, immediately hearing something off in her tone. Looking back over your shoulder, you see Seojun looking through his suit pockets for something. You face forward again. “Yes, it’s me. Are you okay? You don’t normally call this early.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the phone as you hear your grandma let out a small sigh. “I’m well,” she says. “I just needed to make sure you’re fine.”

“I am, but you already know that,” you remind her. “I called you this morning.”

“I know.” There’s another soft silence.

“Did something happen?” you ask, an uncertain feeling brewing in your chest. Your grandma has never had any reason to call like this before. Maybe if she knew of the midnight runs you frequently went on, she would, but as it happens, she doesn’t. You’ve made sure of that by having Yoongi promise to keep it from her, and his own father, Min Hyun-tae who is the closest confidante of your grandma.

Eventually, she answers. “I heard there’s been some trouble with the Cheong’s and… ah, never mind. I was just worried.”

You frown – Yoongi should’ve told you this too. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t worry about it, just stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Moni, what is it–”

“Y/N,” she interrupts, her voice suddenly stern. “Whatever it is, it’ll pass over in a few days.”

Holding your tongue, you exhale heavily through your nose. You know your grandma is only this protective of you to keep you safe and she has every reason to worry, which makes it harder that you have to lie to her so often. 

“Okay. Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

Your grandma chuckles. “I’m living a quiet life here in Namwon, dear. Don’t worry about me.”

She’s safe, you remind yourself. Away from the memories and danger here in Seoul. “Okay, I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too. Bye now.”

Ending the call, you can’t ignore the feeling that remains in your chest, and when you turn around, you’re surprised to see that Seojun has gone. All that’s left on the table is the dishes and his receipt. Drawing closer, you see he’s scribbled something on the back of it: She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. 

In the two conversations you’ve had with Seojun, you haven’t once mentioned any other family member, and he never asked, yet he seems to know that it’s just you and her left…

Suddenly, it occurs to you that maybe Seojun knows who you are. 

After your father was killed, your granddad went to great lengths to protect the rest of you, which included keeping your family information strictly secure – even now if you were to go down to a police station, they would have trouble finding much information on you except what you want them to know. Only someone who knows your family could know that it’s just you and her, because your mother’s medical records of her death following her cardiac arrest during early labour are completely unobtainable, as are your granddad’s after his pneumonia.

Looking out of the cafe window, you scan the streets and see no sign of Seojun anywhere. 

You need to call Yoongi. That’s the first thing you need to do and after that, you’ll look into Seojun. Your conversation with him and your grandma is still playing on your mind, even now as you rush down the streets to get to your car. 

As you brush past people, you accidentally bump into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, looking towards the face of the guy you just bumped into.

He smiles, shaking his head as he pats your arm. “Don’t worry.”

Pursing your lips, you nod and smile before resuming your walk. Another twenty minutes later, you’re pulling up towards the gate of your home. Although it’s a modest sized house (still slightly larger than the average), your grandma insisted on your extra security.  

“Good evening, miss,” your guard, Dani, calls out, smiling and waving as she opens the gate from her station.

“Hey, Dani,” you smile, slowing the car down next to her to talk through the window. “Anything today?”

She jumps up onto the ledge, shaking her head. “Nope. A camera around the back picked up some movement just a little while ago but Siho checked it out, was nothing...”

You’re barely paying attention to her as your mind still wanders on Seojun.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you look at her, slightly startled.

Dani smiles. “Long day?”

“Something like that.” 

Her expression softens. “Make sure you eat well tonight, hm?”

“I will,” you nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure.” She waves you on as you drive further onto your property, parking in the driveway.

Dani and Siho are the guards you employed when your grandma told you to. They both have a past in the military but retired early for whatever reason (they don’t talk about it much and you don’t ask). In truth, you’re very grateful to them – some nights it’s easier to sleep knowing they’re helping to look out for you.

Grabbing your purse from the passenger seat, you get out of your car and walk towards the house. 

Everything seems normal as you unlock the front door, entering the wide hallway downstairs – you have no reason to notice the drops of blood by the kitchen door – so you take your shoes off and hang your coat and bag in the cloakroom as you normally would before heading upstairs to your bedroom. 

But when you get to the top, you halt, noticing something. Far less obvious than droplets of blood, it’s the sight of your bedroom door left slightly open. You always close your bedroom door. It’s just a habit you’ve always had to close the door when you leave…

Immediately, your senses become more alert, your ears perking up for any noise in the house.  It’s odd, you don’t understand how anyone could’ve gotten into the house as long as Dani and Siho have been guarding the house. Unless, thinking back on the day, you know you have good reason to be on alert.

So you tread silently towards your room, kicking it open and—

Nothing. Your room is exactly as you left it this morning. You relax after checking a few possible hiding spots and finding them empty. But still, you know to be more cautious than this, so you take the handgun from the drawer in your nightstand and check all the other rooms. 

The metal feels light in your hand, even though you’ve never actually used this particular gun since Hyun-tae gave it to you on the night of the only break-in at the home in Namwon. You were only sixteen, wide-eyed and terrified when he told you to stay with your grandma and not come out until he came back. 

The gun was a last resort, of course you knew that the many men guarding the house would intercept whoever was threatening what was left of your family, but even then, it made you feel safer, more sure of yourself. Just as it does now while you walk through your house, alert for any movements.

Your body freezes as you spot the droplets of blood on the floor. 

Now that’s not your blood.

Muscle memory takes over as your thumb moves to cock the gun. Your heart beats harder in your chest, every sense on high alert as you silently stand behind the kitchen door. 

Holding your breath, you can make out the quiet sounds of heavy, laboured breathing… you inch slowly towards the edge as far as you can to peer in and see no one from where you are. 

Exhaling slowly, you count down to three before stepping into the kitchen, gun aimed as you quickly scan the kitchen and then you see the intruder, the aim of your gun following your sight.

Collapsed on the floor against your kitchen wall, a tall man holds his hand against his chest where a deep red stain spoils the white shirt of his suit. He looks up at you, face desperate yet determined.

“Don’t shoot, it’s me.”

Flicking on your kitchen light, you stare at him for a second until you recognise him… “Seojun?” A knot of uncertainty and fear tightens in the pit of your stomach.

Immediately you uncock your gun, rushing over to him. “What happened? Why are you here?” You reach for his wound to apply pressure but his bloodied hand closes around yours, stopping you. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Looking up, you meet his gaze and the fear in his expression sends shivers down your spine despite you being confused. “Let me help you,” you say shakily, hands moving to his wound again.

Seojun weakly shakes his head, trying to reach for your arm again. “No, Y/N, you need to leave,” he says, voice firm despite his severe injury.

“You need an ambulance,” you say, ignoring the slight tremble of your hands. “I’ll call an ambu—”

“No,” he interrupts, pulling on your hand again before crying out quickly from the quick movement. “Your guards,” he breathes, “they’ll keep you safe, Jimin will keep you safe, you need to go.”

The sound of him in pain sends panic rushing through you and yet he still seems adamant about what he’s saying. “W-what are you talking about?” your voice is still shaky as you ignore the firm hold of his hand on your wrist to keep pressure on him.

Seojun cries out quietly again but still fumbles for something in his suit jacket pocket. He pulls out a small black flash drive, thrusting it into your chest. “Give this to Jimin, tell him to use it.”

Eyes wide, you take the flash drive from him and slip it into your back jean pocket.

“You can’t let anyone else get it,” he continues, breathing hard as he winces in pain. “No one except him.”

“Okay,” you nod, squeezing his palm gently to reassure him although your mind is still stuck on trying to process the bleeding man in your kitchen to even take in what he’s saying. “I promise, now let me call you an ambulance—”

“There’s no time, I’m sorry, they’re coming,” he says, desperately now. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“Seojun, what—“

The sound of a window being smashed at the front of your house cuts the words off in your throat and Seojun’s hand tightens around your wrist. 

“Y/N,” he says, voice firmer and louder than before. “Go.” 

You look back at him, heart pounding frantically in your chest as you hear multiple voices coming from somewhere in your house. Seojun starts to stand up, using you to help him. 

He’s leaning against the wall, the fatal wound to his chest forgotten as he pulls his gun out and grasps you tightly around the arm. “Now.”

The voices outside get louder, and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to listen to Seojun – you need to go. 

Closing your fingers around your own gun again, you nod, pushing down the part of you that wants to stay with Seojun. He’s injured and you know if he doesn’t get help now he’s going to bleed out. However, you also know a fatal wound when you see one, and so does Seojun.

He’s filling the barrel of his gun with bullets as the voices get louder and you know that he’s about to buy you the time you need to get away. Because of that, you do as he asks.

Blinking back tears, you step away from him and towards the back door of the kitchen while cocking your gun again. Before you even get there, the kitchen window is being smashed in and you coil instinctively to avoid the flying shards of glass.

From somewhere behind you, you hear Seojun yell your name but you’re now focused on the man who’s standing ahead of you with a hammer in his hand. Gun raised, you shoot at him but he darts sideways before swinging his arm towards you with the hammer.

He misses you by an inch as you duck and aim your gun at him again. But before you can shoot, he grabs the gun and tugs hard, pulling you into his body. With a loud grunt, he raises the hammer and gets ready to take another swing at you, except the sound of three shots firing pierce the air and his body falls to the floor beside you.

Head turning around wildly, you see Seojun still leaning against the wall with his gun aimed towards you. He just saved your life. Before you can even get the words out to thank him, two more men jump through the kitchen window and the voices from out in the hallway show their  faces.

There’s half a dozen of them in total and you have no way out now. Seojun pulls on your hand to keep you close to him and it dawns on you now that this isn’t like anything you’re used to – these men are trained fighters, not just some lousy guards put out to watch a warehouse or defend a shipment of weapons. You’ve trained since a young age too, so you know you could at least fight them one on one, but this is different. These men are dangerous and you have no doubt that they’re the ones who put the fatal bullet into Seojun.

As you look around at them, you find yourself staring at one of them… he looks familiar and it suddenly returns to you that he’s the man who bumped into you outside your cafe–

“Y/N,” Seojun whispers harshly, “help is coming so run as soon as you get the chance, okay?”

You nod subtly, watching as the men part for one of them, undoubtedly their leader, to step closer. He’s a tall man, butch and quite frankly, frightening. His eyes are focused on Seojun and his upper lip curls as he sneers.

 “...All of that, for nothing.” His voice is emotionless and laced with wickedness, as he seems to delight in seeing life leaving the once healthy body in front of him.

“Oh shut up, Minjun,” Seojun gets out breathlessly, grimacing in pain as he does. 

Minjun laughs hollowly, coming closer still. “I’d love to see Park’s reaction to this, his favourite little pup won’t be crawling back to him tonight.”

Your hand tightens around your pistol but you remain still – even you aren’t stupid enough to think you can shoot this man without receiving multiple bullets in return.

“Just shoot me then,” Seojun mutters, shifting on his feet as he struggles to stay standing.

Minjun scoffs amusedly. “Not just yet. I’ve got questions for you first…” He looks your way and an icy shiver runs down your spine. “Who’s this?”

“I don’t know, this is the first house I found for shelter,” Seojun answers, his voice laced with desperation. “Just take me, she’s innocent.” 

Minjun pauses, his eyes lowering to the gun in your hand. “Innocent?” 

“Yes, she knows nothing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Minjun says as he walks forward again, closing the distance.

“Minjun,” Seojun says, voice raised. “I’m here, I know everything you want to know, not her–”

As though an invisible fuse has been cut, Minjun loses his temper and throws a heavy punch to Seojun’s jaw, flooring him instantly. 

“Seojun,” you gasp, kneeling beside him as a raspy groan escapes him. Fear travels through your body in waves as you see blood beginning to pool out from beside him.

When you meet his gaze, there’s a distant glassiness to his eyes which stand out against his pale, clammy skin. 

You’ve been in plenty of fist fights before, you’ve been in real danger and have had to fight your way out of it, but this – being someone you care about – this is something entirely new to you and for the first time in a long time, you’re frightened. 

“She knows nothing, hm?” Minjun scoffs. “She clearly knows you.”

Reaching out for Seojun’s hand, you look at the man towering above you, ready to beg. “Please–”

“Y/N!” Siho’s familiar voice fills the air and you freeze.

She appears at the kitchen door, glock raised as she looks around wildly at all the men who are pointing their own right back at her. She clearly wasn’t expecting anything like this and her eyes find you and she looks at you fearfully. “What–”

“Siho, go,” your voice trembles as you call out to her, but it’s too late. Two shots pierce through the air and you watch as your friend drops dead to the floor in front of you. 

A hollowness fills your chest. “No,” you whisper, mindlessly releasing Seojun’s hand to move to her but before you can get anywhere, Minjun is kicking you hard in the chest and you get pushed back to the wall. Only now do you realise how hard you’re breathing, the shaky breaths causing your shoulders to rise as you feel your back sink against the wall. 

“Something you should know,” he says slowly, inspecting the shaft of his gun as he crouches in front of you almost mockingly after he just shot your friend, before he looks right at you. “I don't like being interrupted. Now, tell me who you are, and don’t lie.”

Minjun’s gaze is terrifying and intense; you can’t bring yourself to look at him so you close your eyes and turn your head away from him.

But he doesn’t take well to that so he draws his hand back and it lands on your face with a sharp sting.

Despite being afraid, you manage to turn your head towards him and goosebumps prickle your skin when he stares at you. 

His face is marred with deep lines and red marks, some fresh and some old. Half of one brow looks as though it’s been burnt off and his nose is so deformed it looks as though it has been broken over and over. 

“Answer me,” he growls with a piercing stare.

Before you can even answer, you hear the sound of a gun cocking next to you. Seojun has his gun aimed at Minjun but he’s lost too much blood, his mind disorientated as he tries to press the trigger.

“Ha!” Minjun laughs, effortlessly taking the gun free from his hand. “What an idiot.” He shakes his head, looking down at the gun before shrugging and pulling the trigger. 

“No!” you cry, body jerking backwards as you become paralysed at the sight of Seojun’s body going limp, his eyes becoming lifeless as his head rolls to the side and he moves no more. A choked sob escapes your throat but you don't even have a second to process it.

“Come here, darling.” Minjun places his hand on your shoulder gently. His other hand rests on your face and you shudder when you feel the callused thumb swipe the tears off your cheeks. “Look at me.” He speaks softly but you know better than to fall for that.

His finger hooks under your chin and he lifts your head up to make you look at him. When your eyes meet his, you freeze.

“Just tell me what you know, sweetheart, and we’ll let you go,” he coaxes, nodding his head with a malicious grin on his face. 

“I–I don’t know any-anything. Plea–“

Mjnjun’s fist crashes into your face as your body involuntarily jerks towards the floor. 

Pain sears through you, blinding you and all you can do is gasp from shock, feeling blood trickle down your skin. 

“I told you not to lie,” Minjun growls, dragging you up by your shoulders. You have no strength left to lift yourself or even try to resist, not that you would. 

“Now tell me, what do you know?” 

He shakes you violently as he speaks but you don’t respond, still adjusting to the pain which only worsens as the salty tears silently stream down your face. Now your breaths are uneven and with each draw, you feel more suffocated, unable to even think past the image of Seojun’s lifeless body. 

Your silence serves as an answer for Minjun. He punches you straight in the ribs and watches emotionless as you keel over in pain. A cry escapes you, though you don’t feel it – your mind feels like a completely separate entity from your body. 

So when you hear the sound of feet scuffling and Dani’s voice crying out your name, you can only stay hunched over on the floor.

“Caught her trying to contact someone, boss,” one of the men holding her says gruffly, tossing her phone to Minjun. 

Dani looks across the room, her eyes doubling back to where Siho lies dead in a pool of her own blood. You can see the fear and regret in her eyes as she meets your gaze. “I’m sorry,” she mouths.

You don’t have time to do anything before Minjun gives a curt nod in the direction of the door, and then she’s being dragged away from you by four guards needed to restrain her. Seconds later, a single shot sounds. 

It leaves you feeling numb, unable to do anything as Minjun drags you to your feet by your collar. 

“Two guards and this one…” he kicks Seojun. “You’re clearly someone. What’s your name?” he hisses, his patience clearly having run out long ago – the three dead bodies in your home prove that.

Words don’t leave your mouth and your gaze falls helplessly to Siho’s body. Tears well in your eyes and a harsh sob escapes from your throat.  

“Fucking useless,” Minjun muttters, pushing you against the wall. “Search her,” he commands one of his men beside him.

At this point, you don’t even remember the little device in your pocket. You’re simply numb from everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes and when your eyes land on Seojun’s body and his glassy orbs staring emptily at the floor, you just want to scream.

But you don’t. You physically can’t. 

Hands pat you down, starting along your arms, slipping inside your shirt to feel under your arms, around your back, groping your chest, all around your abdomen, and up and down your legs. You remain entirely helpless as they do so. 

Then they start searching your pockets.

… Your gaze moves to the door, where Dani lies outside.

First your cardigan pockets. Empty.

… Across from you is Siho, the glock she was going to use to save you resting ahead of her.

Then your front jeans pockets. Empty. 

… Your head turns, meeting the vacant gaze of Seojun – you feel your stomach flip and a spark of indignation catches in your throat. Subconsciously, your fists curl.

Then your back jeans pockets. A hand pulls out the small black device and he holds it up in front of him, directly between you and Minjun who raises his brow in mock amusement.

“What a pretty little liar you are?” he snickers, stepping closer to take the flash drive in his hands. 

You don’t respond, but collapse to the floor as the men let go of you. From fear? Exhaustion? Grief? You don’t know. 

Then Minjun comes towards you, pulling a small knife from his back pocket. “You just wasted my time, beautiful…” He grabs you by your throat and pulls you up to your feet. 

The feeling of his strong hand pressing into your larynx returns you to your senses as the real threat of being killed looms over you. 

Minjun trails the sharp edge of the knife along your cheek, down towards your neck. He leans forward and speaks low. “I don‘t take well to that…” The stench of him fills your nostrils, and the knife presses against your skin. One more glance at Seojun, and suddenly, you snap.

Your knee comes up hard and you grab a hold of Minjun’s wrist, yanking it back with all your strength to twist his body in front of you. 

“Sir!” 

The voices of his men shouting drown out his low groans as he now stands, disarmed and held in a tight lock in front of you. You're holding him by his arm twisted backwards around his back and your other hand grabs the gun at his waist, a SIG Sauer pistol – it feels secure in your hand and you press the barrel to Minjun’s head. Adrenaline starts to surge through you as your mind races, completely forgetting about Minjun’s other hand hanging free at his side.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot him,” you warn his men, backing up towards the window.  

Minjun chuckles a low chuckle. “Will you now?”

“Yes,” you answer through gritted teeth, moving back with him towards the back door. 

“Liar.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you hiss, anger swelling in your chest.

Minjun laughs again, coming to a stop despite your grip on him. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? I know you won’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” Fingers digging tightly into his skin, you drag his head back and shoot him straight in the calf. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Minjun falls to his knees, a string of swear words leaving his mouth and his weight pulls you down with him. “Your first mistake was fucking lying to me,” he heaves, fingers grabbing your jaw tightly. 

A sharp pain shoots down your wrist. You cry out as Minjun’s blade cuts through your skin, the gun almost dropping from your hand as you grab your bleeding wrist.

He tries to retrieve the gun, struggling to get back to his feet but you step back just in time.

“You’re lucky I can’t kill you right here,” Minjun snarls, facing you as he pushes away the guards who try to help him up. “But once Lee is done with you, I swear I’m going to fucki–“

Bang. 

“FUCK!” Minjun staggers, falling backwards with his hand pressed against his shoulder, very close to his chest where blood spreads staining his white shirt crimson. 

Another shot sounds and one of Minjun’s men goes down. Then another, and another. 

“Park,” Minjun growls, pure rage flashing in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill you!” Despite the two wounds to his shoulder and leg, he gets up and grabs a gun from the closest man. “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” he yells. “Shoot the bastards!”

Within a second, the air is filled with the sounds of shots firing and you drop to the ground, crawling as fast as you can out of the way. Their shots are returned from outside but the majority of your house is surrounded entirely by trees so you can’t see where they’re coming from. 

As you go, you spot the flash drive on the floor and Seojun’s face comes to mind. He died for whatever is on there. Reaching out, you grab the device without a second's hesitation. When you get behind the kitchen island, you quickly stuff the drive in your pocket. Pain still shoots down your arm and there’s blood dripping from you, staining the tiles. When you look up, you realise there’s blood everywhere.

“Show me your fucking face, Park!” Minjun rages, shooting all over the place, but he’s also bleeding heavily now, the front of his shirt rapidly being dyed red. His men are dying all around him as they shoot aimlessly out the window and you snatch a gun from the closest one, looking up just in time to see the last man fall. There’s only you and Minjun left.

He curses as the last man goes down, head whipping towards you. Drawing a pocket knife out from his waist, he lunges towards you but you slide backwards on the floor, aiming the gun at his head.

“Don’t,” you warn breathlessly.

His upper lip curls. “Fucking bitch.” He holds his gun up to you. “You’re useless to me.”

There’s no question that he’s about to shoot and you’re ready to do the same, but before that can happen, three men dressed in all black suits come barging into your kitchen and another two through the window. 

Minjun shouts in frustration, shooting at you which you narrowly avoid by sliding behind the kitchen island. As you go, you see the tallest of the three men disarm Minjun with ease. 

“You’re too late,” Minjun says, voice low as he turns around.

One of them steps forward, a man whose features look incredibly familiar to you. 

He aims his gun straight at Minjun’s head. The look on his face is fierce and his gaze is steady. “Where is he?”

Minjun laughs weakly, the energy slowly draining from his body. 

The man’s jaw tenses and he kicks Minjun's knee out from beneath him. His movements are sharp, agile — it’s clear to you that he’s done this many times before. 

Minjun falls to his knees, his laugh subsiding into a weak raspy breath. He looks up with no fear and no remorse. “I told you, you’re too late.” He looks in the direction of Seojun’s body, and the man’s gaze follows.

His mouth twitches and you can see the grief that fills his face as he stares at the body, but it only takes a few seconds for it to change into unmistakable anger. In a split second, his arm is raised and he shoots Minjun in his thigh.

At first, Minjun cries out, falling to his side as blood pools from him rapidly. Then he laughs remorselessly like a madman. “Which of your boys will be next, Park?”

Familiarity hits you there and then – Park Jimin. As you watch him step towards Minjun, you realise how different this man looks from the young boy you once played tag with in your home.

Jimin doesn’t miss his mark as he throws a hard punch across Minjun’s face, nor does he wait a second before punching him again… and again… and again. Your stomach turns as Minjun still laughs between each throw, almost taunting Jimin to keep going, even when he’s choking on his own blood. 

Gathering a fistful of hair, Jimin pulls Minjun’s head back and pulls out his gun. He holds it to his head.

Minjun coughs, blood spattering Jimin’s crisp white shirt. “Do it,” he rasps. “An eye for an eye, eh, Park?” Minjun chuckles, the sound getting lost as he coughs weakly again. 

Jimin however, goes incredibly still, gaze piercing into Minjun. 

“Your old man knew more than you ever will–” he coughs again, breaths slowing down– “it’s taking you too long to learn, boy. The Lee’s will come for every fucking person you care about, make you watch as they bleed out in front of ya,” he sneers, licking blood off his lips. “Then they’ll kill you like it’s nothing.”

Of the many emotions showing on Jimin’s face, fear isn’t one of them.

Unnervingly calm, Jimin speaks. “I’m not going to kill you.” Tracing the barrel of his gun down Minjun’s cheek, he pushes it under his throat. “No, that would be too easy.” 

Jimin holds out his gun and with immediate understanding, one of his men, with dark curls steps forward and takes the gun and place a small Gerber knife in his hand instead.

Grip tightening on on his hair, Jimin lifts the man and turns his head in the direction of Seojun, ignoring the grunts of pain from him. Looking away from Seojun, Jimin keeps Minjun’s head facing that way as he speaks.  “You don’t deserve an easy way out.” Slowly, he pushes the knife into Minjun’s shoulder and twists.

Minjun tries to keep down the pain but fails to do so, falling to his knees again.

“See?” Jimin looks down, eyes deadly focused on Minjun. “Just like this.” He twists deeper. “I’m going to cut you apart, and then piece you back together. And I’ll do it over and over.”

“Then what?” Minjun rasps.

Jimin pulls the knife out, throwing it to the floor in front of Minjun. Blood splatters on the tiles and Minjun’s head lowers. 

“You’ll see.”

With another wordless gesture, the two tallest men drag Minjun away somewhere and out of sight.

Once they’ve left, the room is silent aside from Jimin’s slow steady breaths. His gaze travels towards where Seojun’s body lies and you watch him carefully as he walks across the room, dropping his gun to the floor to kneel beside Seojun. 

Jimin’s expression softens and he gently takes Seojun’s hand into his own, and just like that, you’re reminded of the boy you once knew. He brings the back of Seojun’s palm to his mouth and he places a kiss on his skin. As he lowers his hand to rest over his chest, his round eyes water, but he blinks once and it’s gone. 

“Jimin.” One of his men, a tall, slender man with chestnut hair, calls his name. When Jimin looks at him, his gaze immediately lands on you.

You instinctively rise at the same time he does, raising the gun you hold in your hand. 

Yes, you knew Jimin once, but many years have passed and you’d be stupid not to be wary.

“Don’t come near me.” You swallow hard, having to press your back against the wall as you feel incredibly weak, but you can’t let this show.

Jimin says nothing as he takes a small step, eyes locking with yours and for a split second you almost lower your gun when you see something familiar in those brown eyes of his. 

Then one of his other men, a well built man with long dark curls held back in a bun, draws your attention. “Miss,” he says politely. “We just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help, just get out of my house.” Your voice tightens as you look at Siho’s body. You force your gaze away.

Jimin takes another step, watching you carefully. “You…” he murmurs, hesitating as a soft frown appears on his face before he shakes his head once. “Why did Seojun come here?” He asks, voice softer than when he spoke with Minjun, but the question is enough to anger you and you stare at him in bewilderment.

Pushing off the wall, you walk towards him and a loud click echoes in the room as you release the safety with your thumb.

In return, three guns are cocked and aimed at you. 

Jimin, however, doesn’t even blink. 

“Put the gun down, miss.” The same man addresses you calmly with his finger hovering over the trigger, glancing between Jimin and you. 

Now it’s you who doesn’t falter. “I don’t know why Seojun came here,” you say calmly, “and I don’t know who those men were. I’ve only ever spoken to him a few times and he never told me anything about himself. I know nothing.”

Admittedly, that’s a lie, but until you have more answers yourself, you’re not saying anything.

Jimin is quiet but his gaze is steady. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t,” you answer quietly. “But it’s my word or nothing.”

A beat of silence passes and it feels like an eternity. Your gun remains aimed at Jimin and his men hold theirs up to you, but you know they won’t shoot – there’s something sure in Jimin’s gaze as you both stand there in the middle of the room staring at each other, something that tells you you’re safe. 

He doesn’t say anything at all as he looks past the barrel of your gun to hold your gaze, and for a moment you wonder if he recognises you just like you’ve recognised him, but it can’t be. 

In the years since your father died, your grandma has done everything to protect you, including changing your surname and moving towns. Jimin, however, had a foot in the limelight for as long as his father was alive which is why you still manage to recognise the grown man before you. 

Just as you begin to feel a wave of weakness pass over you again, Jimin looks at the man closest to him, a broad man with jet black hair. With the smallest shake of his head, his men stand down.

You let out a slow breath, lowering your own gun as Jimin turns back to you. 

He looks down at your wrist and the smallest wrinkle appears between his brow. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine,” you mutter, hand closing over your throbbing wrist. 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You almost huff impatiently. “It’s not all mine.”

Jimin pauses to look down at your thigh. “You need someone to look at that–now.”

Confused, your eyes follow and your stomach coils when you see a gash on your thigh, the blood darkening the denim of your jeans. You don’t even know when that happened.

Clenching your fists, you look back up. “I said I'll be fine.”

Contrary to your words, when you turn away a little too quickly, everything blurs and spins. Just as everything starts to go dark, you stumble backwards and Jimin is moving towards you. 

The last thing you feel is warm hands closing around you, lowering you gently to the ground.

note. thank you so much for reading! please share your thoughts with me and if you have any questions ask awayyy! (especially as it only gets more intense :) the action should take a bit of a break though as we’re introduced to and learn more about the characters 😋 (also writing action is hard 😭)

[lovecoree]

DADDY’S HOME. P. JIMIN !

pairing: military bf!jimin x black gf!reader

synopsis: imagine military boyfriend Jimin finally coming back home, oh all the emotions you’ll be feeling !

warning: contains smut and fluff , kissing , unprotected sex ( don’t do this ) , creampie , praising , both of y’all are touched starved ( y’all miss each other so much ) , reader is black coded , reader uses she/her prns. Let me know if I missed anything !

a/n: missing Jimin hours ☹️

SFW !

you couldn’t help but squeal with excitement as you hear the front gates open at the military entrance. Countless of men coming out with relief or happiness as they see their partner, family, or friends— you would’ve thought they just got released from prison, but you weren’t looking at them, you were looking at your boyfriend Jimin who came out last with his army duffel bag on his shoulder. “Babe!” You shouted, causing Jimin to turn his head in your direction, his stoic face turning into a bright smile seeing you running towards him.

“You missed me that much?” Jimin laughed as he picked you up off your feet as you bear hug him. “Of course I missed you.” You planted so many kisses on his face, taking in his scent and his look. He finally put you down, raising an eyebrow as you gawk at him. “What, do I look bad?” “No no, god no! You look…” your words fell short as you stared at him in awe.

His hair was growing back a little more, the short hair style really suited him, muscles definitely got bigger and let’s talk about the outfit choice. Black compression shirt with grey sweatpants and a simple silver chain on his neck that you gifted him before he left.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer.” You smacked your teeth as you looked at Jimin again before playfully rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” Smiling from ear to ear, placing your hand in his, walking back to your car to grab something to eat and go home.

“I really missed you.” Jimin whispered kissing you on the lips before letting you drive off.

NSFW !

best believe Jimin is going crazy as soon as the sexual tension rises. Jimin wasn’t the only one touched starved for a year, you were going through it. No amount of sex toys or pre recorded voice messages could help you. Your craving grew stronger the moment you found out Jimin would be released today.

Perfectly sprawled out on the bed, back arching causing your chest to touch his as you moaned from the intense pleasure. He had to fuck you in missionary, he just had to. He missed the sight of your pretty face crying from pleasure as he feed you deep strokes. “You look so beautiful baby.” Jimin bit his bottom lip loving the way you clenched around his cock.

Gripping your love handles so tight that the pain was mixing with your pleasure, pulling him closer by the neck to kiss him deeply, god did y’all miss each other so much.

Bed creaking and skin slapping loud and clear in your room. “I love you so much Jimin.” You cried feeling closer than ever. Jimin lived for your whines, flipping you over on your stomach just to release another whine out of you.

“Yeah?” Jimin teases your hole by just putting his pink tip in that glisten with your essence. The whine you let slip past your mouth was so pornographic had Jimin’s eyes rolling in the back of his skull. “mhmm— missed you so much minie.” Wiggling your ass, Jimin hiss at the sound of your soaking pussy making squelching noises.

Mouth going wide as Jimin finally bottom inside of you. “Fuuck yes.” You moaned out, mind going blank as your ass clapped back against his pelvis. Jimin letting out a groan at the sight of your cum and his forming a ring around the base of his cock.

“Messy ass pussy.” Jimin mumbled to himself as he grippped your hips, fucking you into the mattress. “One year, one year of not being inside my pretty baby.” Jimin rambles on and on about wanting to be so close to you, and honestly, you can say the same— well not at this moment since your boyfriend is literally fucking you into oblivion. 

“I’m— Fuuck, I’m so close.” You whined out, gripping the sheets tight and moaning at the feeling of your arousal dripping down your soft thighs. “Me too pretty, gonna cum f’me?” You could feel Jimin’s cock twitch inside of you, moving your hand behind you to have him closer, Jimin smiled at the action as he moved his hand off your hip and interlocking it with yours. “I’m not going anywhere baby, don’t worry.” Jimin eyes rolled back as you squeezed around him so tight.

Jimin used his free hand to move to your center and rubbed your sensitive bud causing you to jolt from the sudden attention. “Let it out pretty, you deserve it..been waiting so long.” Your head was spinning, thighs shaking intensely as you came around his cock.

“Such a good girl.” Jimin groaned leaning down to pamper you in kisses, hips stuttering slightly as he felt close to his release. Using both of his hands to steady your hips as he came inside of you. So much cum entering you that some of it leaked out of you and onto the bed.

Jimin felt his body shiver as he moaned at the sight of his cum and yours creating such a mess as he pulled out slowly. A lewd pop sound as his tip pulled out. “Fuck.” Jimin looked up to see you ready to fall asleep. Lipgloss smudged on the pillow, edges sweated out, legs shaking, and a thin layer of sweat covering your body from the aftermath. Besides all that, you still looked beautiful in his eyes, planting a kiss on your shoulder before he got off the bed, still naked as he walked into the bathroom.

Aftercare is definitely a 10/10. He came back with a warm rag to clean you up and carried you to the bathroom so you could pee. You watched him run the bath water and added body wash to create bubbles. He looked at you with a smile. “You done.” Voice so sweet and caring, you nodded your head yes before wiping yourself clean and slowly stood up and flushed the toilet. Jimin held your hand and helped you into the tub.

He got in after you, getting behind you so you could rest your back on his chest comfortably. “This feels nice.” You smiled letting the soapy water cover your body. “It does.” Jimin mumbled as he moved his hands under water to caress your stomach until he reached your breast to massage them. You hummed as you closed your eyes leaning even more into him.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, Jimin grinned as he looked at you. “Don’t worry, daddy’s home now.”

Laughing at him you opened your eyes to see him smiling as well. “Omg Jimin.”

[sodascherrycola]

Full Name: Sabrina Millie Park (nee Thomas) DOB: February 11th 1995 Age: 40 Instagram: @brinamilliepark Parents: David and Linda Thomas Siblings: George, Harry, Oliver, and Freddie S/O: Park Jimin Married: December 4th 2021 (26 yrs old) Ethnicity: English Hometown: Manchester, England Nicknames: Sab, Sabby, Brina, Bri Best Friend(s): Charlotte Jeon and Mimi Burns Job: Model / Stay at Home Mom Personality Traits: Funny, Calculated, Independent, and Compassionate

Children: Jack Carter Park (19, 2014) Gwendoline Analise Park (24, 2019) Harrison Levi Park (27, 2022) Rosalie Beth Park (29, 2024) Benjamin Ryan Park (31, 2026) Everly Joy Park (36, 2031)

Appearance: - Blonde Hair - Green Eyes - Soft and Rosy Cheeks - Casual Mom Clothes (sooo frazzy english woman aesthetic)