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whoretan · 1 month ago

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ARK 45 | 03

Summary: One misstep spirals into chaos. An "audition," a quiet dinner—and suddenly, you’re in the lion's den, with secrets unraveling faster than you can catch your breath.

WC: 11.4k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader (ft. Jimin)

tags: um, this is long af, shit is getting INTEEEENSE, everyone is up to no good, does this bitch have a degradation kink?

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 (ur here)

Your heels click against the marble floor, each step echoing like a gunshot in your skull. The security guard barely glances up as you flash your ID, probably because you look like death warmed over.

You'd spent an hour in the shower trying to scrub away the feeling of Jimin's hands, his mouth against your skin. The memory burns through your mind like acid, making your stomach clench.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding that feels too cheerful for your current state of mind. You step inside, jabbing the button for the executive floor harder than what was necessary. Your reflection stares back at you from the mirrored walls, and you note with grim satisfaction that at least the bruises on your cheeks have faded to a dull pink. The ones on your shoulders, hidden beneath your crisp white blouse, are a different story.

The massive oak doors leading to Jimin's office loom at the end of the hallway like sentries. You force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the mundane task of settling into your desk and powering up your computer.

Your phone vibrates in your purse, making you jump. Unknown number. Odd. You consider letting it go to voicemail, but something makes you answer.

"Hello?"

"Joanna Webb?" A smooth female voice asks. Your stomach drops at the fake name. No fucking way. "This is Jessica from ARK 45. Mr. Jeon would like you to come in for a second interview tonight at 11."

Your throat goes dry. Jimin's office doors seem to mock you from down the hall, holding secrets you'd rather forget.

"Miss Webb?" The woman prompts. "Are you there?"

"Yes," you hear yourself say. "I'll be there."

You end the call, fingers trembling slightly as you lower the phone. The familiar ding of your email draws your attention to the screen.

Dear Park Incorporate, This is the Goutman Courier Services, regarding Shipment 401928 to the Terrero region has been successfully delivered.

The blood in your veins turns to ice. Jungkook's shipments. The very thing that started this whole mess.

You stand from your desk, legs unsteady. The walk to Jimin's office feels like a death march. Each step brings you closer to facing him, to pretending last night never happened while discussing business that could— probably will— get you both killed.

Your knuckles rap against the solid wood before you can lose your nerve.

"Come in."

Jimin's voice carries through the door, professional and detached. As if he hadn't left bruises on your skin just hours ago. As if you weren't still feeling the ghost of his touch with every breath.

You turn the handle, stepping into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sound– rain beating against the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back wall of his office. The second is the scent of his cologne, stronger now, mixing with the rich leather of his chair and something else. Coffee, maybe. Black, no sugar, like always.

Jimin doesn't look up from the stack of papers on his desk. His shoulders are rigid beneath his tailored suit jacket, an unusual tension in his normally fluid posture. A strand of black hair falls across his forehead as he signs something with careful precision.

"You received an email," you say, voice steady despite the way your pulse quickens when his pen stills. "Goutman Courier Services. The shipment to Terrero was delivered."

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Still, he doesn't look up. "Close the door."

You turn, giving him your back as you push the heavy door shut. The soft click of the latch feels too loud in the quiet office. When you face him again, his eyes are fixed on the papers before him, but his pen hasn't moved.

"Anything else?" he asks, tone professionally distant. As if he hadn't left marks all over your body mere hours ago. As if you couldn't still feel the ghost of his fingers wrapped around your throat.

Thunder rolls outside, making the windows tremble. You take a measured step forward, heels sinking into the plush carpet. "ARK 45 called. They want me to come in tonight."

Now he looks up. His dark eyes find yours, and for a moment, that careful mask of indifference slips. Something hungry flashes across his features before he can catch it, gone so quickly you might have imagined it.

"Interesting." He leans back in his chair, finally abandoning the pretense of working. His fingers drum once against the leather armrest – the only tell that he's affected at all. "What time?"

"Eleven."

His gaze drifts to your neck, lingering just behind your ear. A slight furrow appears between his brows. "You missed one."

Heat crawls up your spine as his meaning registers. The hickey. You resist the urge to touch the spot, to cover it like a guilty teenager. Instead, you maintain eye contact, watching as his pupils dilate slightly.

"I'll take care of it," you say, voice low. Professional. Even as your skin burns under his scrutiny.

He nods once, sharp and dismissive. "That's all."

You turn to leave, focusing on keeping your steps measured, unhurried. The weight of his stare follows you across the room like a physical touch. Just as your fingers brush the door handle, his voice stops you.

"And ___?"

You pause, not turning around. "Yes?"

A beat of silence, filled only by the steady drumming of rain. Then, so quiet you almost miss it: "Be careful."

The words settle between your shoulder blades like a blade.

The handle feels like ice beneath your palm as you pull the door shut behind you. Your heels click against the marble with each step back to your desk, mind racing behind your carefully blank expression.

Be careful.

The words replay in your mind as you sink into your chair. Coming from Jimin, they may as well be a death sentence. He doesn't tell you to be careful– not when you're tracking targets, not when you're disposing of bodies, not even when you're playing with fire in the form of Richard Ricci's empire.

Why would Jungkook want you back?

The question pulses through your mind as you stare unseeing at your computer screen. He'd made it crystal clear what he thought of you. Called you a whore before walking away like you were nothing more than a mild inconvenience in his night.

But he'd known who you were.

He'd known, and he'd still let you grind against him, his hands guiding your hips like he owned them. Like he wasn't fully aware that those same hips had been positioned over his father's body weeks before.

Rain continues to pour outside your window, the sky growing darker as evening approaches. You spend the rest of the day moving through the motions of being a secretary, all while your mind dissects every possible angle. Every potential trap. Every way this could end with you in a body bag.

Your reflection catches in one of ARK 45's tinted windows as you approach. The black dress hugs every curve, falling just below your knees, the off-shoulder neckline exposing enough skin to be enticing without looking desperate.

You'd curled your hair, letting it fall in waves behind your shoulders, and painted your lips the exact shade of red that coats the bottoms of your Louboutins.

The neon sign bleeds red through the rain, and the bouncer simply nods, same from before, pulls the door open without a word. No clipboard. No questions.

They're expecting you.

The main floor of ARK 45 pulses with a different energy tonight. Gone are the typical strobe lights and pounding bass, replaced by something deeper, darker. The air is thick with expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and worn leather- the scent of old money and even older sins.

Red velvet drapes frame the main stage, and crystal chandeliers cast shadows that dance across the walls like wandering spirits. The usual poles have vanished, leaving an expanded platform dotted with vintage microphones and elaborate props.

Men in tailored suits crowd the tables, drinking amber liquid from crystal glasses while their eyes follow the girls who weave between tables in elaborate costumes - corsets dripping with jewels, feathers that trail behind them like oil spills.

"This way," the hostess says, leading you toward one of the elevated booths that line the upper level.

A voice like honey and smoke fills the space, drawing your attention to the stage. A woman in a black corset trails her fingers down the microphone stand, her red lips forming words that make the men below her lean forward in their seats. The backing track builds slowly, promising something sinful.

"You must be the new girl."

You turn to find a woman leaning against the railing beside you. Her costume- if you can call it that - consists mainly of strategically placed crystals and black lace. A snake tattoo winds up her thigh, disappearing beneath the lace.

"I'm Angelina," she says, eyes scanning you with the kind of attention usually reserved for identifying weaknesses. Her gaze lingers on your shoes, your dress, calculating something behind her practiced smile. "Haven't seen you around before."

You take her offered hand. "Joanna."

"Hmm." She tilts her head, studying you like a cat who's found something interesting to play with. "Private booth on your first night? That's... unusual."

The word carries weight, a warning wrapped in curiosity. On stage, the singer's voice builds to a crescendo, and Angelina's smile sharpens.

"Enjoy the show, honey. And remember,” she leans in close enough that her breath tickles your ear, "not everyone survives their first night here."

You watch Angelina sashay away, cataloging every detail with the same precision you use before a kill. The slight favor of her left leg when she walks- old injury, probably a torn ACL. The way her eyes dart periodically to the VIP section as if she's waiting for someone's attention. The calculated swing of her hips doesn't match the nervousness in her fingers as they tap against her thigh.

She's scared of something. Or someone.

The realization brings a familiar thrill to your spine, the same one you'd felt watching John squirm in his chair. People are always so easy to read when they're afraid. Like now, watching the way Angelina keeps glancing over her shoulder, the slight tremor in her practiced smile.

You could break her in half without smudging your lipstick.

The thought brings a smile to your face as the hostess gestures to the booth. You slide into the plush leather seat, letting the elevation give you a better vantage point of the club. The strategic positioning isn't lost on you- perfect view of the stage, but your back exposed to the door.

The opening notes of "Fever" fill the air as the curtains part. Three dancers emerge, their movements liquid and practiced. You force yourself to appear engaged even as your mind dissects every possible exit route. Two through the main floor, one through the kitchen if you cut through the service corridor, and, if things get really ugly, the large windows could work with enough momentum.

The leather seat dips beside you.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

Your blood turns to ice in your veins. You don't need to turn to know who's joined you, his presence alone sets every instinct on high alert. But you do turn because that's what an innocent wannabe dancer would do.

Jungkook lounges against the leather like he was born to it, one arm draped across the back of the seat. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kill. His dark eyes find yours, and his lips curve into that same arrogant smile that had haunted you all day.

"I always keep my appointments, Mr. Jeon."

The lights from the stage catch on his Patek Philippe watch, the kind that costs more than most people make in a year. His black suit is perfectly tailored, each line custom cut to his frame, making him look like sin personified. The fabric shifts like liquid shadow as he moves, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath. His hair is slicked back tonight, showcasing the sharp angle of his jaw, the dangerous curve of his lips.

A heavy silver ring adorns his right hand as he signals for service, the same hand that had gripped your hips days ago. You notice there's an engraving on it, but can't make out the details in the dim lighting.

"Champagne," he tells the server without taking his eyes off you. "The Armand de Brignac."

His voice carries that same arrogant lilt from before, but there's something else there now. Something predatory lurking beneath the polished surface. You've heard that tone before, in your own voice, right before you go for the kill.

"Expensive taste," you comment, watching his reaction. Testing.

His lips quirk upward, and he shifts slightly closer. The movement is subtle, calculated. Like a snake coiling before it strikes. "I only invest in things that interest me."

On stage, the dancers move through their routine, all glitter and grace. But you're hyperaware of every micro-expression that crosses Jungkook's face. The slight tightening around his eyes when he smiles. The controlled way he breathes. The steady rhythm of his thumb taps against his knee.

He's studying you just as intently.

"Tell me about your dance experience," he says, accepting two crystal flutes from the returning server. The champagne glows golden in the low light as he hands you a glass. "You seem... experienced in movement."

Your fingers brush his as you take the glass, and you swear you feel him tense for a fraction of a second. "I'm versatile," you reply, matching his tone. "I adapt to whatever the situation requires."

Something dark flashes behind his eyes. He takes a slow sip of champagne, and you watch his throat work as he swallows. When he lowers the glass, his tongue darts out to catch a stray drop on his bottom lip.

"Adaptability is crucial in this line of work." His gaze drops to your neck, lingering on the spot where you'd covered the hickey. "Things can get... intense here. Not everyone can handle the pressure."

The implications hover in the air between you, sharp as razor wire. Below, the music swells to a crescendo, but all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as he leans closer.

"Are you sure you can handle it, Joanna?"

The way he says your fake name makes your skin crawl. Like he's savoring some private joke.

You meet his gaze over the rim of your glass, letting the champagne sit untouched. "I've handled more intense situations than you could imagine, Mr. Jeon."

The corner of his mouth twitches. He shifts again, angling his body toward yours, and the expensive fabric of his suit brushes against your bare shoulder. The contact sends electricity racing down your spine.

"Have you?" His eyes are impossibly dark in the low light. "Tell me about them."

On stage, one of the dancers lets out a sultry laugh that echoes through the club. Jungkook doesn't even blink. His attention is laser-focused on you, waiting for your next move like this is all some elaborate game of chess.

"My last position was..." you pause, watching his ring catch the light as his fingers tighten infinitesimally around his glass, "particularly demanding. The kind of job that keeps you up at night."

His smile grows wider, showing teeth. "I can imagine. But that's what I appreciate in my employees— dedication. The willingness to do whatever it takes."

The music shifts to something slower, heavier with bass. Jungkook's knee brushes yours under the table, and this time it doesn't feel accidental.

"Even if it means getting your hands dirty?" you ask, the words escaping before you can stop them.

Something flashes in his eyes, triumph, maybe. Or hunger. He leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Especially then," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. "Though I have to admit, you don't strike me as someone afraid of a little mess."

Your heart pounds against your ribs as he reaches across you, arm brushing your collarbone as he sets his empty glass on the table. The movement brings his lips close to your ear.

"Tell me, Joanna," your false name drips from his tongue like honey-coated poison, "what exactly are you willing to do for this position?"

The question hangs between you like a blade. You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze at close range. This close, you can see flecks of gold in his dark eyes, the faint scar above his eyebrow. Can count his individual lashes.

"Whatever's necessary," you breathe, watching his pupils dilate. "I'm very... thorough in my work."

His exhale ghosts across your lips. "Are you?" One hand slides from the back of the booth to rest on your bare shoulder, fingers tracing patterns that feel like threats. "Even when it gets messy?"

The touch burns through your skin, but you hold still. Like facing down a predator. "The messier the better, Mr. Jeon."

His grip tightens fractionally on your shoulder. "Call me Jungkook."

On stage, the music builds to something primal, all bass and breathy moans. The dancer's silhouette writhes against the backdrop of red velvet. But in your booth, time seems to stop, crystallizing around the dangerous game you're playing.

"You know," his thumb brushes your collarbone, "I had someone look into your background."

Your pulse skips, but you don't flinch. Can't flinch. "Find anything interesting?"

His laugh is low, dark. The kind of sound that promises violence. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing before six months ago." His fingers trail up to the spot behind your ear where Jimin's mark had been. "It's like you appeared out of thin air."

"Maybe I did."

"Or maybe," he leans impossibly closer, lips brushing your ear, "you're very good at covering your tracks."

Heat pools in your stomach, warring with the ice in your veins. Every instinct screams to put distance between you, to run. But you're trapped between his body and the leather seat, his cologne filling your lungs with each breath.

"Tell me, Jungkook," you turn your head, letting your lips brush his jaw as you speak, "do you always investigate your dancers so thoroughly?"

His other hand finds your knee beneath the table, fingers splaying across bare skin. "Only the interesting ones." His grip tightens, thumb stroking slow circles that make your breath catch. "Only the ones with secrets."

You feel his smile against your temple. "And you, Joanna? You seem like you're full of them."

His thumb continues its torturous path along your knee, each circle drawing slightly higher. The touch burns through your skin like a brand, setting every nerve ending alight. You can't remember the last time someone made you feel this unraveled, this desperate to maintain control while your body betrays every attempt at composure.

"So many secrets," he murmurs against your skin, and you can feel his smile widening. His cologne fills your lungs with each shortened breath, making your head spin. Or maybe that's from the heat of his palm sliding higher up your thigh, fingers splaying possessively across bare skin.

The rational part of your brain screams that this is dangerous, that you're losing control of the situation. But your treacherous body leans into his heat like a moth to flame. Your eyes flutter shut as his other hand traces patterns on your shoulder that feel like ownership, like promises of violence wrapped in silk.

His breath fans across your neck, lips barely grazing your pulse point. "I wonder what other surprises you're hiding."

A small sound escapes your throat- half gasp, half surrender. Your fingers grip the leather seat beneath you, nails digging in deep enough to leave crescents in the expensive material. The music from the stage feels distant, muffled under the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Then. A shift.

The pressure of his fingers lessens incrementally. His breath moves away from your neck, the loss of heat making you suppress a shiver. When you force your eyes open, he's leaning back slightly, watching you with dark satisfaction.

"Tell me something," he says, voice dropping lower as his hand stills on your thigh. "Do you always get this... affected during job interviews?"

The question cuts through the haze like ice water. You watch as he withdraws completely, each movement deliberate and controlled. He straightens his perfect suit jacket, adjusts the heavy silver ring on his finger. All trace of intimacy bleeds from his expression, replaced by cool professionalism, except his eyes. His eyes still burn with dark amusement at your flushed state, at the way your chest still rises and falls too quickly.

"Well," he says, tone shifting to something lighter, almost casual. But there's a edge underneath, sharp as a razor. "I think you'll make an excellent addition to ARK 45."

You force your breathing to steady, trying to ignore how your skin still tingles where he touched you. How your body aches at the sudden loss of contact. His calculated withdrawal feels like another form of torture, knowing he can affect you this way and simply choose to stop, like flipping a switch.

"The position is yours, if you want it." Each word is crisp, businesslike. But the slight quirk of his lips betrays his satisfaction at your struggle to compose yourself. "You'll start tomorrow night. Eight sharp."

The smirk playing at the corners of his mouth grows wider as he watches you process this shift. This is what he wanted: to prove he could unmake you with a touch, then sit there looking perfectly composed while you try to piece yourself back together.

His eyes gleam in the low light, and the message is clear: he owns this game.

"I should check on the other girls." He glances at his Patek Philippe, the gesture unnecessarily theatrical. "Busy night."

You watch him stand, every movement fluid and precise. Like a predator who's finished playing with his food for now. The leather of his shoes catches the stage lights as he steps back from the booth, giving him just enough space to button his suit jacket with practiced ease.

"Oh, and Joanna?" The fake name rolls off his tongue like a threat wrapped in velvet. "Wear red tomorrow. It suits you."

His eyes drift pointedly to your lips, then lower, and the weight of his gaze feels like a physical touch. You know he's remembering the other night - you in that red dress, grinding against him to The Weeknd while he played along with your charade.

He turns without waiting for a response, without a second glance. Like you're already forgotten. The dismissal stings more than it should.

The leather seat still holds his warmth, a ghost of his presence that makes your skin prickle. Through the crowd below, you catch glimpses of him, the broad line of his shoulders, the predatory grace in his movements. Bodies part for him instinctively, and you notice how the other dancers' eyes follow his movement, some with hunger, others with barely concealed fear. Even Angelina straightens her spine when he passes.

He stops at the bar, and even from here, you can see how the bartender's hands shake slightly as she pours his drink. Everyone in his orbit seems to vibrate at a different frequency. Like planets circling a black hole, both drawn to and terrified of getting too close.

You press your own trembling fingers against the cool glass table, watching condensation gather beneath your skin. Your thigh still burns where he touched you, each point of contact a silent reminder of how easily he'd played you.

You're supposed to be better than this. You've tortured men twice his size without breaking a sweat. Have ended lives with the same hands that are now unsteady against the table's surface. The Viper doesn't get rattled by pretty boys in expensive suits.

Except Jungkook isn't just a pretty boy, is he?

The way he'd touched you, like he knew exactly how it would affect you. How he'd pulled back at the precise moment you started to lose control. Each word, each gesture calculated for maximum impact.

Wear red tomorrow.

Your lip catches between your teeth as you watch him disappear into his office. The entire interaction plays on loop in your mind: his fingers on your skin, that dangerous smile, the sudden shift to cool professionalism. Like a choreographed dance where you'd somehow missed half the steps.

On stage, the dancers transition into something slower, more sensual. The spotlight catches on their jewels, sending fractured light across the walls like broken glass. Like the shattered pieces of your usually impeccable composure.

What kind of game is he really playing?

The champagne bubbles mock you from their crystal prison, and you resist the urge to knock the glass over. To create some small chaos in his perfectly controlled world. Instead, you dig your nails deeper into your palms, using the sharp pain to center yourself.

Two can play at whatever this is. Tomorrow night, you'll be ready for him.

At least, you hope.

The untouched champagne mocks you as you finally push yourself up from the booth. Your legs feel steadier now, the trembling in your hands replaced by something more familiar: determination. Tomorrow, you'll be ready for whatever game Jungkook's playing. Tonight, you just need to get the fuck out of here.

The music thrums through your bones as you navigate the upper level, each step carefully measured in your Louboutins. The red soles flash with every movement, reminding you of his parting words.

Wear red tomorrow.

Your heel catches on the last step down from the VIP section when a solid wall of expensive fabric collides with you. The sound of glass shattering cuts through the music, followed by a string of creative expletives.

"What the fuck?"

You steady yourself against the railing, taking in the man before you. Honey-blonde hair, sharp features twisted in fury, and a white button-down now soaked through with what smells like top-shelf whiskey. The liquid darkens the fabric, making it cling to what's clearly an expertly muscled frame.

"Watch where you're fucking walking," he snarls, accent thick with anger. His eyes flash dangerously as he assesses the damage to his clothes.

Something hot and familiar rises in your chest. The same feeling you get right before you make someone bleed. Your body shifts automatically, weight transferring to the balls of your feet. You catalog his weaknesses with practiced ease - the slight favor of his left side, the exposed tendons in his neck, the way his anger makes him drop his guard.

Three moves. That's all it would take to put him on his knees. Heel to instep, elbow to throat, knee to solar plexus. You can almost taste the violence, feel the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath your hands.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going," you snap back, straightening to your full height. "Or is spatial awareness not a requirement for whatever it is you do here?"

His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Your fingers curl into a fist, nails biting crescents into your palm. The urge to hurt him pulses through your veins like poison. You imagine grabbing the broken glass at his feet, showing him exactly who you are by opening his throat right here on the club floor.

He notices your stance, the predatory stillness that's overtaken your body, and his lips curve into something cruel. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Try it."

You're moving before you can think better of it, body coiling like a spring. The distance between you closes to inches, and you can smell the whiskey on his breath, see the moment his eyes widen as he realizes his mistake in challenging you.

But then you catch it— movement in your peripheral vision. In the VIP section above, Jungkook lounges against the railing, watching the scene unfold with undisguised amusement. His dark eyes meet yours, and that familiar smirk plays at his lips.

The reminder of where you are, who you're supposed to be, hits like cold water.

You force your body to relax, untangling yourself from the knife's edge of violence. The smile you plaster on feels like broken glass in your mouth. "I'm so sorry about your shirt. Send me the cleaning bill?"

The blonde's eyebrows shoot up at your sudden shift in demeanor. He opens his mouth to respond, but Jungkook's voice cuts through the tension.

"Taehyung." Just the one word, but it carries weight. A warning, maybe. Or a command.

Taehyung's posture changes instantly, though the anger still simmers in his eyes. "We're not done," he mutters, low enough that only you can hear.

You watch him stalk toward the VIP section, those expensive shoes crushing broken glass beneath them. When you glance back up, Jungkook is still watching you. His grin widens like you've just confirmed something he suspected.

Like you've just played right into his hands.

The broken glass crunches beneath your heels as you turn away, forcing yourself to maintain an easy stride despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You can feel Jungkook's eyes following your movement, heavy as a physical touch. But you don't look back. Won't give him the satisfaction.

The main floor feels suffocating now, with too many bodies, and too much perfume mixed with smoke and expensive liquor. Your skin prickles with awareness, hyperconscious of how many of these faces might report back to him. How many are watching your exit, cataloging every micro-expression?

The cool night air hits your face like salvation when you finally push through the entrance doors. Rain still falls in sheets, casting halos around the street lights and turning the sidewalk into a mirror of neon reflections. Your hair will be ruined, but you welcome the excuse to duck your head as you navigate to your car.

It's only when you're safely behind the wheel, rain drumming against the roof, that you let out the breath you've been holding. Your hands shake slightly as you pull out your phone, droplets of water falling from your hair onto the screen.

You stare at Jimin's contact for a long moment before typing:

Need to meet. Now.

The response comes before you can even set the phone down. One word, like a command:

Côte.

Of fucking course. Trust Jimin to pick the most pretentious restaurant in the city after the night you've had. The kind of place where the waiters look down their noses if you can't pronounce 'bouillabaisse' with the proper French inflection. Where they serve portions that wouldn't satisfy a toddler and charge more than your monthly ammunition budget for the privilege.

He's probably already there, sipping some overpriced wine and charming the staff with his perfect pronunciation while you sit here in rain-soaked designer wear, still trembling with the urge to break Taehyung's pretty face.

You start the engine, watching rain cascade down the windshield. In the rearview mirror, ARK 45's red glow bleeds into the night like an open wound.

Time to find out just how deep this one goes.

Côte buzzes with the quiet murmur of New York's elite, the soft clink of crystal, the whisper of expensive fabric, the gentle scrape of silver against bone china. Every table draped in pristine white cloth, every surface reflecting the warm glow of crystal chandeliers.

Jimin sits at a table dead center in the dining room, positioned like a king holding court. His suit is different from this morning, a black Tom Ford that probably costs more than a car. The rosary still hangs at his throat, catching light with each breath.

He doesn't look up from his wine when you approach, just gestures to the chair across from him with two fingers. The movement is elegant, casual. Terrifying.

"You're late," he says, voice pitched just loud enough to carry across the table. A waiter materializes beside you, pulling out your chair with practiced efficiency.

"Traffic." You slip into the seat, hyperaware of the other diners. A couple to your left celebrating an anniversary. Business meeting three tables over. Everyone within earshot of whatever game Jimin wants to play.

His eyes finally meet yours as he sets down his wine glass. "How was your evening?"

The question sounds innocent enough, but his gaze is sharp as a blade. Testing.

"Productive." You accept the wine list from the hovering waiter, not bothering to open it. "My interview went well."

"Wonderful." He smiles, the kind that makes people think of angels instead of demons. "The Château Latour, François. The 1982, I think."

The waiter's eyes widen slightly at the casual mention of a wine that costs more than he makes in a month. "Excellent choice, monsieur."

Jimin waits until François retreats before speaking again. "And the entertainment? Up to standard?"

You think of Jungkook's hands on your skin, of Taehyung's fury, of the violence you'd barely contained. "Exceptional. Though I had a small wardrobe malfunction."

His finger traces the rim of his glass, the motion hypnotic. Deliberate. "Nothing that can't be fixed, I hope?"

"No permanent damage." You hold his stare, refusing to look away first. "Though I might need to adjust my approach."

"Hmm." The sound is noncommittal, but his eyes darken fractionally. "The clientele can be... demanding. Particularly the regulars."

François returns with the wine, going through the elaborate ritual of presentation and pouring. Jimin maintains perfect posture, the picture of refined wealth, while you fight the urge to drain your glass in one go.

"I noticed," you say once the waiter disappears again. "One seemed particularly interested in my qualifications."

Jimin's lips curve slightly. "Natural talent tends to draw attention."

"The foie gras to start," Jimin tells François without consulting the menu. "For both of us." His eyes never leave your face, studying every micro-expression like he's reading a book written in your skin. "And perhaps you could tell me more about these... qualifications they found so fascinating."

You watch him take another sip of wine, the motion deliberately slow. The crystal catches the light, sending prisms across the white tablecloth between you. "Standard interview questions. Experience, availability, flexibility."

"Flexibility," he repeats, setting down his glass with precise care. "Essential in any new position."

A couple at the next table laughs at something, the sound jarring against the tension coiling between you and Jimin. He leans forward slightly, elbows resting on either side of his place setting. The position looks casual, but you recognize the predatory intent behind it.

"And the dress code?" His voice drops lower, intimate. "Did they have any specific requirements?"

Heat crawls up your neck as you remember Jungkook's parting words. Wear red tomorrow. "They seem to have strong opinions about color."

"Red, perhaps?" The corner of his mouth twitches. "It does suit you. Particularly when it's fresh."

Your wine glass freezes halfway to your lips. The double meaning hits like a slap, red like the dress he'd given you, red like the blood you spill for him. You force yourself to take a measured sip instead of throwing the contents in his perfect face.

"They also seemed interested in my... previous work experience."

"Did they?" Something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. "And how deep did that conversation go?"

François appears with the foie gras, arranging the plates with flourish. Jimin sits back, that angelic smile returning as he thanks the waiter in perfect French. But the moment François retreats, his expression shifts back to something hungrier.

"Every detail," he says softly, cutting into the foie gras with surgical precision. "I want to know every detail of how interested they were."

You mirror his movements, cutting into your own foie gras with deliberate care. "The owner took a particular interest."

"Did he?" Jimin's voice remains light, conversational, but his knuckles whiten slightly around his fork. "How hands-on of him."

The foie gras turns to ash in your mouth as you remember Jungkook's fingers on your thigh, that calculated intimacy. Jimin watches you swallow, his dark eyes catching every tell you're trying to hide.

"Very." You take another sip of wine to wash away the memory. "He has an interesting approach to personnel management."

The businessman three tables over laughs too loudly at something his companion says. Jimin doesn't even blink, his focus razor-sharp on your face. "I imagine he does. Did he share his management philosophy?"

Your thigh burns with phantom heat where Jungkook had touched you. Where Jimin had marked you the night before. "He believes in testing boundaries."

"Testing?" His tongue catches the word like it's something sweet. "Or crossing them?"

A waiter passes too close to your table, and you wait until the footsteps fade before responding. "Both, I think."

Jimin sets down his fork with careful precision, the small clink against fine china somehow ominous. "And did you let him?"

The question hangs between you like a blade. You know he's not really asking about Jungkook's tests, not entirely. The marks he left on your skin throb beneath your dress, a reminder of boundaries already crossed.

"I played my part," you say carefully, watching his eyes darken. "Though there was a small... incident with one of his associates."

His eyebrow raises a fraction. "Oh?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I'm sure." He reaches for the wine bottle, refilling your glass with practiced ease. The motion brings him closer, and his cologne mingles with the rich scent of the food. "Though handling things isn't always the wisest course of action, is it?"

"Depends on the situation," you say, watching him settle back into his chair. "Some things require a... delicate touch."

"Ah yes." His smile is razor-sharp. "And you're known for your delicacy. Like a bull in a china shop." His eyes flick to something over your shoulder. "Speaking of which, François? We'll take the lamb. Rare."

The waiter appears to clear your plates, and Jimin's expression shifts seamlessly into practiced charm. The transition is terrifying, the way he can slip between masks like trying on clothes.

"Though I have to admit," he continues once François disappears, "I'm curious about this associate. The one you handled so delicately."

You think of Taehyung's fury, the whiskey soaking his shirt. The way Jungkook had watched it all unfold like it was a show put on for his entertainment. "Just a minor misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding." He tastes the word like the wine, letting it roll over his tongue. "The way a hurricane is a minor weather event?"

Heat crawls up your neck. "He started it."

"What are you, twelve?" But there's something almost fond in his mockery. It vanishes as quickly as it appears, replaced by that calculating stare. "Tell me, did our friend upstairs seem amused by your little display?"

The memory of Jungkook's knowing smirk makes your stomach clench. "Extremely."

"Mm." Jimin's fingers drum once against the stem of his wine glass. "How fascinating. The mighty Viper, reduced to bar room brawls and schoolyard excuses."

Your nails dig into your palm beneath the table. "Would you prefer I'd killed him instead? Made a scene? Blown my cover on the first—"

The word dies in your throat as Jimin's eyebrow arches a fraction. The subtle movement is more effective than a slap, reminding you of the couples dining nearby, the waiters hovering within earshot. Your voice had risen just enough to draw a curious glance from the businessman two tables over.

"What I prefer," Jimin says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "is precision. Control." His smile remains perfectly pleasant, but his eyes promise consequences. "Perhaps we should discuss your methods of subtlety instead? Besides attempting to assault his inner circle?"

The weight of his stare makes you reach for your wine glass, needing something to do with your hands. Something besides imagining how satisfying it would be to wipe that controlled expression off his face.

"Well?" He leans back slightly as François approaches with the lamb, switching seamlessly into the role of gracious diner. "Merci, François. C'est parfait."

The meat on your plate is exactly as he ordered, blood red in the center. You wonder if he's trying to make a point.

"The owner," you say once François retreats, keeping your voice carefully modulated. "He had questions about my background."

"I'm sure he did." Jimin cuts into his lamb with surgical precision. "And did our thorough friend find what he was looking for?"

The memory of Jungkook's words echoes in your mind: It's like you appeared out of thin air. "He seemed... satisfied with the interview."

"Satisfied enough to hire you, apparently." Something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. "Though I have to wonder what kind of performance earned such a quick decision."

The double meaning in his words makes your chest tight. You watch him take a deliberately slow bite of lamb, the crystal chandelier above casting shadows across his features that make him look almost demonic.

"I maintained my cover," you say carefully. "Like you asked."

His laugh is soft, barely a breath. "Did you? Because from what I hear, you gave quite the... private audition."

Your wine glass freezes halfway to your lips. How does he—

"I do love," he continues, dabbing his mouth with his napkin, "how dedicated you are to your roles. Tell me, did he request the same song as last time? Or did you choose something new for the occasion?"

Your fingers tighten around the crystal stem until you're half afraid it might shatter. Around you, the restaurant continues its elegant dance of clinking silverware and murmured conversations, oblivious to the way your world tilts on its axis.

"Don't look so shocked," Jimin says, cutting another piece of lamb with meticulous care. "Did you really think I wouldn't have eyes in his club? That I wouldn't hear about my secretary grinding against New York's most eligible bachelor to The Weeknd?"

Heat crawls up your neck, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact. "You sent me in there to get information."

"Information." He lets the word hang between you, sharp as a blade. "Is that what you were getting when he had his hands on your hips? When you were putting on a show for him in that pretty red dress I bought you?"

A waiter passes too close to your table, and you both pause, masks of polite dinner conversation sliding seamlessly into place. But the moment he's gone, Jimin's eyes turn predatory again.

"Tell me," he says, voice dropping lower, "did you enjoy it? Playing dress up for him? Letting him touch what's mine?"

The possession in his tone makes your stomach flip. You think of last night, of his hands on your skin, his teeth in your shoulder. Of how quickly he'd switched to cold professionalism this morning.

"What I am," you say carefully, "is whatever you need me to be for the job. Isn't that what you pay me for?"

His smile is all teeth. "Oh, sweetheart. I pay you to kill people. Everything else?" He takes a slow sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours. "That's just you getting carried away with your performance."

"Getting carried away?" The words taste like battery acid on your tongue. "Like last night, you mean? Was that part of the job too?"

His expression doesn't change, but something dark flashes behind his eyes. "Careful."

"Why?" You lean forward slightly, voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid someone might overhear how you bent your secretary over your windows? Or is it only a problem when Jungkook's the one touching me?"

François materializes at your elbow with dessert menus, and Jimin's face shifts into that perfect smile. "The crème brûlée, I think. Two." He waits until the waiter disappears before continuing, "You're playing a very dangerous game right now."

"I learned from the best." You watch his jaw tick at your tone. "Tell me something— did you plan it? Send me to his club in that dress, knowing what would happen?"

"And what exactly happened?" His fingers trace the base of his wine glass, the motion hypnotic and threatening all at once. "Besides you spreading your legs for the man who's trying to kill us both?"

"You're one to talk about spreading—"

"I own you." The words are soft, precise, but they hit like a physical blow. "Every breath, every move, every drop of blood you spill— it's all mine. Or did you forget that while you were auditioning for your new position?"

The businessman at the next table signals for his check. A woman laughs somewhere behind you. The normal sounds of the restaurant feel surreal against the electricity crackling between you and Jimin.

"How could I forget?" You smile, sweet as arsenic. "You make sure to remind me every time you send me to kill someone. Every time you dress me up like a doll and point me at your enemies. Tell me, is that what last night was? Another reminder of ownership?"

His pupils dilate slightly. "Would you like another one?"

The crème brûlée arrives in pristine white ramekins, the caramelized sugar gleaming like amber in the low light. You watch Jimin crack through the surface with his spoon, the sound sharp as breaking bones.

"You haven't answered my question." His voice is velvet-soft, lethal. "Would you like another reminder of who you belong to?"

"Here?" You gesture subtly to your surroundings with your own spoon. "In front of all these nice people? How scandalous, Mr. Park."

His eyes flash at your mocking tone. "You didn't seem concerned about scandal when you were putting on a show in Jungkook's office. Tell me, did he make you beg for the job? Or did you offer that up freely?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you."

"Jealousy?" He laughs, the sound cutting through you like glass. "Why would I be jealous of him playing with what's already mine?"

Your spoon clinks against the ramekin harder than necessary. "Is that what I am? Your toy?"

"No, sweetheart." He leans forward, close enough that his breath fans across your face. "You're my weapon. And weapons don't get to choose where they're aimed."

"But they can misfire." The words slip out before you can stop them, sharp and dangerous in the space between you.

His smile grows slowly, predatory. "Is that a threat?"

"A reminder." You meet his gaze steadily. "Since you're so fond of those."

Something shifts in his expression, a crack in that perfect control. His hand moves under the table, and suddenly his fingers are wrapping around your knee, right where Jungkook had touched you hours before.

"Careful," he says again, but this time it sounds like a promise. His grip tightens just shy of painful. "You're forgetting yourself."

"Am I?" You don't pull away from his touch, even as his fingers slide higher. "Or am I just reminding you that weapons can cut both ways?"

"You know what I think?" Jimin reaches for the wine bottle between you, his movements liquid and precise. "A good vintage is all about control."

He stands slightly, leaning across the table to refill your glass. The motion brings him close enough that his cologne mingles with the wine's bouquet, close enough that you can see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Too much pressure," he continues, angling the bottle with practiced ease, "and everything spills over."

The elderly couple at the next table glances over with polite interest, and Jimin's smile widens. He turns to them, bottle still poised above your glass.

"The '82 Latour," he says conversationally, like he isn't in the middle of threatening you. "Have you tried it? The tannins can be quite... overwhelming if not handled properly."

The woman practically preens under his attention. "Oh, how lovely. Richard, didn't we have that at the Bennett's last summer?"

"Indeed." Jimin's hand is perfectly steady as he finishes pouring your wine. "Though personally, I find it's best to let it breathe. Some things require patience to reach their full potential." His eyes lock with yours as he settles back into his seat. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You take a deliberate sip of wine to avoid responding, watching him over the rim of your glass. The elderly couple continues to eye him appreciatively, completely unaware of the game he's playing.

"The key," he says, loud enough for them to hear, "is knowing exactly how much pressure to apply." His fingers drum once against the stem of his own glass. "Too little, and you waste its potential. Too much..." He trails off, smile sharpening. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?"

The elderly woman - who introduces herself as Margaret, practically glows under his attention. Her husband Richard nods along, completely taken in by Jimin's performance. You watch him work, recognizing this for what it is - another form of torture, drawn out in public where you can't do anything but sit and take it.

"Take my colleague here," he says, gesturing to you with his wine glass. "She has quite the... refined palate. Always willing to try new things."

Your fingers tighten around your own glass as Margaret turns her interest your way. "Oh, how wonderful! Are you in the wine business as well?"

"She's my secretary," Jimin answers before you can speak. "Though she's recently taken on some additional responsibilities. Haven't you, darling?"

The endearment drips like poison from his lips. You force a smile, playing your part in his little show. "I like to stay busy."

"She's being modest." Jimin swirls the wine in his glass, watching the light play through the dark liquid. "She's quite talented at... handling delicate situations. In fact, she has a new position starting tomorrow night."

Richard perks up at this. "Congratulations! Where will you be working?"

Your mouth goes dry as Jimin's eyes meet yours over the rim of his glass. He's really going to do this, discuss your cover job at a strip club with this sweet elderly couple in the middle of Côte.

"A very exclusive establishment," Jimin answers smoothly. "Members only. The owner is quite particular about his employees." His smile sharpens. "Especially the ones who perform."

Margaret claps her hands together. "Oh, how exciting! Is it that lovely new theater in Manhattan? Richard, what's it called? The one with the red lights?"

You nearly choke on your wine.

"Not quite," Jimin says, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Though there are certainly theatrical elements involved. The costumes alone are quite memorable."

Your heel connects with his shin under the table— hard. His only reaction is a slight tightening around his eyes, but you feel a savage satisfaction at the contact.

"Speaking of memorable," he continues, not missing a beat, "you simply must try this vintage. François?" He signals the waiter with two fingers. "Please bring our friends here a taste of the Latour. On me."

Margaret tries to protest, but Jimin waves her off with practiced charm. "I insist. After all, some pleasures are best shared, wouldn't you agree?" This last part he directs at you, voice laden with meaning.

François arrives with fresh glasses, and you're forced to watch as Jimin guides the couple through the proper tasting technique. His voice is hypnotic as he describes the notes of black fruit, the hint of tobacco, the way it opens up on the palate.

"The true art," he tells them, "is in the finish. The way it lingers." His eyes find yours again. "Some things are designed to leave a lasting impression."

You think of the bruises hidden beneath your dress, of the marks he'd left on your skin. Of how he's marking you again now, in a completely different way.

"Of course," he adds, "not everyone appreciates such refinement. Some prefer their pleasures more immediate. Raw." He takes another slow sip. "But those tend to leave a bitter aftertaste."

The threat in his words is clear. Jungkook is beneath you. Beneath us.

"More wine?" He's already reaching for the bottle again, standing slightly to lean across the table. The motion brings his face close to yours, and his next words are pitched low enough that only you can hear them. "Since you seem so thirsty tonight."

Your pulse jumps at his proximity, at the dangerous edge in his voice that their audience can't detect. Margaret and Richard are too busy savoring their wine to notice the way Jimin's hand trembles slightly as he pours, the only sign that his perfect control might be slipping.

"Tell me," he says, loud enough for the table to hear again, "what do you think of the finish? Does it satisfy your particular tastes?"

The conversation is cut short with a ring erupting from Jimin’s suit pocket.

Namjoon's call lasts exactly thirty-seven seconds. You count them, watching Jimin's face remain perfectly composed as he listens. Only the slight whitening of his knuckles around the phone betrays anything amiss.

"When?" A pause. "I see."

He ends the call with the same precision he uses to end lives, clean, efficient, and final. The elderly couple barely notices when he signals François, too engrossed in their wine to catch the predatory shift in his movements.

As the valet brings his Bentley around, rain starting to fall in earnest now, he tells you Jiwon is missing. One of his most trusted men— gone. At the snap of a finger. This will be an issue for tomorrow.

You're already stepping toward your car when his voice cuts through the humid air.

"Get in."

Two words, soft as a bullet before it's fired.

The leather seat is cold against your back as you slide in beside him. He doesn't speak, doesn't even look at you as he pulls away from the curb. The engine purrs beneath you as he takes the first corner too fast, tires squealing against wet asphalt.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, cataloging each micro-expression like you would a mark before a kill. His jaw clenches and unclenches in a rhythm that matches the windshield wipers. The tendons in his neck stand out like rope under skin. His breathing comes slightly too quick, slightly too shallow.

A red light bathes the interior in crimson. He runs it.

Then another.

The city blurs past in streams of neon and shadow. You count his breaths, twenty-three too fast, fifteen too shallow. His fingers adjust on the steering wheel every forty-five seconds, like he's trying to maintain that last thread of control.

The elevator to his penthouse opens with a soft ding that feels too cheerful for the electricity crackling beneath his skin. An elderly woman with a small dog gets in on the thirty-fourth floor. You watch Jimin's mask slide seamlessly into place, perfect smile, perfect posture, perfect lie.

"Evening, Mrs. Chen."

His voice doesn't waver. Doesn't betray how his left hand trembles slightly at his side, how the muscle in his jaw jumps arrhythmically. The woman chatters about building maintenance as you climb higher, oblivious to the bomb ticking beside her.

Nintey-six floors have never felt so long.

The moment his door closes behind you, something shifts in the air. You can feel it - that last thread of control starting to fray. He stands perfectly still in the center of his living room, staring at nothing. At everything.

The first crack appears when he loosens his tie. The motion isn't smooth like usual - it's jerky, aggressive. He tears the silk from his throat like it's choking him.

Then his suit jacket. The fabric whispers against his shirt as he shrugs it off, letting it fall to the marble floor. You've never seen him treat clothing so carelessly.

His chest rises and falls too quickly now, each breath slightly more ragged than the last. You watch him rake fingers through his perfectly styled hair, destroying hours of careful grooming in seconds.

The lamp goes first.

The Tiffany piece you'd admired that night against his windows becomes a constellation of crystal across marble. The sound of its destruction seems to awaken something in him - something primitive and raw that's been lurking beneath his perfect surface.

You don't move when he disappears into his office. Don't flinch when he emerges with a baseball bat that looks wrong in his manicured hands. Just analyze the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders as he takes the first swing.

The glass coffee table explodes.

Then his flat screen, expensive and pristine like everything else in his life. The screen spiders with cracks before sparks fly from its dying circuits.

The grand piano becomes kindling under his methodical swings. Each string snaps with a discordant scream, like the instrument is dying. The sound mingles with his ragged breathing, creating a symphony of destruction.

His aim never wavers. Even in this, he maintains a terrible precision. The bat connects with his drink cart, sending bottles of thousand-dollar liquor cascading across marble. The scent of alcohol fills the air, bourbon and scotch and wine mixing with the ozone smell of destroyed electronics.

You catalog every detail with professional detachment. The way his white shirt darkens with sweat. How his perfectly pressed slacks tear slightly at the knee as he kicks through the wreckage. The precise angle of each swing, like he's conducting an orchestra of chaos.

When he finally stops, chest heaving and surrounded by destruction, you understand. This isn't about Jiwon disappearing. This isn't about business or territory or power.

This is about control slipping through his fingers like water.

Like you, dancing in Jungkook's office.

"He knew," Jimin says finally, voice raw. The bat clatters to the floor beside what used to be a Versace vase. "He fucking knew about Jiwon. About the ports. About—"

He cuts off, running shaking fingers through his ruined hair. You step carefully through the wreckage, glass crunching beneath your heels. He doesn't move as you approach, just stares at the devastation he's created like he's seeing it for the first time.

"This isn't about Jiwon," you say quietly.

His laugh is ugly, sharp enough to cut. "No." His eyes finally meet yours, and they're black holes in his too-pale face. "No it fucking isn't."

Liquor seeps into the hem of your dress as you stand in the wreckage, watching him piece himself back together. His chest still heaves with each breath, shirt clinging to his frame with sweat and effort. The perfectly styled hair you'd watched him ruin now falls across his forehead in damp strands.

He looks wild. Dangerous. More like the man who marks your skin than the one who signs your checks.

"You should go." The words come out rough, like they've been dragged across broken glass.

You don't move. Can't move. Something tells you this moment matters, that walking away now would shift something irreparable between you.

His eyes snap to yours, dark and feral. "I said—"

"No."

The word hangs in the air between you, sharp as the crystal shards beneath your feet. You watch his jaw clench, watch the muscle jump beneath skin that's too pale.

"You don't give the orders here." But his voice wavers slightly, betraying the cracks in his armor.

"Then give me one." You take another step closer, glass crunching beneath your heels. "Tell me what you need."

His laugh is all edges. "What I need?" He runs a hand through his ruined hair again, the gesture almost violent. "I need Jungkook's head on a fucking platter. I need to know how deep his reach goes. I need—"

He cuts off, throat working as he swallows whatever confession was about to spill out.

You're close enough now to smell his cologne mixed with sweat and spilled alcohol. Close enough to see the barely contained tremors in his hands, the wild pulse at his throat.

"Tell me." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "Tell me what you need."

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment you think he might grab you. Might press you against the wall and fuck you right here among the wreckage of his perfect life. Instead, he does something worse.

"Kill her."

The words slip out like a caress, barely above a whisper. You watch his face transform. the wild thing in his eyes crystallizing into something colder, more familiar.

"Miranda?" Your voice remains steady even as your pulse quickens. "She's not involved in this."

"Developing a conscience?" His smile is perfectly crafted to cut. "How disappointing. You've gotten too comfortable behind that desk, haven't you? Started believing your own cover story?"

The air feels thick, heavy with spilled alcohol and the ozone scent of destroyed electronics. A bead of sweat trails down your spine, making your dress cling uncomfortably.

"You're upset," you say carefully, watching his eyes darken at the observation.

"No, darling." He steps closer, glass crunching beneath his feet. "I'm just remembering what you really are. What I made you to be." His perfectly pressed shirt clings to his chest, dark with sweat. "A weapon. Nothing more."

"This isn't about me."

"Isn't it?" His breath comes quicker now, shallow. "You walk around my building like you belong there. Playing secretary, playing normal." He runs a hand through his ruined hair. "Have you forgotten what those hands are for? What you are?"

Heat prickles at the back of your neck. "I know exactly what I am."

"Do you?" He's close enough now that you can smell his cologne mixed with sweat and rage. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like someone who's forgotten their purpose. Who's started thinking they're more than just a tool."

"And you look scared."

The words hit like a physical blow. His chest stills mid-breath, eyes going dark as pitch.

"What did you say?"

A drop of sweat rolls down your temple. The air crackles between you, heavy with violence and something else. Something rawer.

"You're terrified," you press on, even as your pulse races. "Jungkook's in your head and you can't stand it. So you're here, breaking your own things, trying to break me too."

"Get out." His voice drops to something dangerous, something barely controlled.

"No."

"Get. Out." Each word comes with a step forward, backing you against the wall. "Before I remind you exactly what you are. What you're for."

You hold his stare, even as your heart threatens to break through your ribs. "You mean before you remind yourself that you're losing control?"

His hand slams into the wall beside your head, making you flinch. His breathing comes in harsh pants now, chest heaving with barely contained violence.

"Leave," he grits out, voice raw. "Now. Before I do something we'll both regret."

You can feel the heat radiating off him, see the muscle jumping in his jaw. The perfect mask has cracked completely, leaving something wild and desperate in its wake.

Around you, his perfect life lies in ruins.

So you go, leaving him alone in his destroyed kingdom, both of you pretending not to notice how his hands shake as you walk away.

The elevator descends in artificial silence, only the subtle whir of machinery accompanying your reflection in the mirrored walls. Your hair slightly mussed, lipstick somehow still perfect. Like the confrontation upstairs was just a nightmare your body hasn't woken from yet.

Forty-seven floors to ground level. You count each one, using the numbers to steady your pulse. To push down the urge to go back up there and show him exactly what his weapon can do.

The lobby stretches before you in shadow and marble, empty except for the night security guard who barely glances up from his crossword. Your heels mark time against the floor, each step echoing your thundering heartbeat - too fast, too hard, everything threatening to spill over.

Night air hits your face when you exit the building, carrying the metallic tang of recent rain. The city spreads before you in sharp contrasts - neon bleeding across wet pavement, shadows pooling between towers of steel and glass. You inhale slowly, tasting ozone and exhaust and that particular Manhattan mixture of ambition and decay.

Bass thuds from an upscale bar ahead, all crystal chandeliers visible through floor-to-ceiling windows. You catalog the exits reflexively, the cameras, the blind spots. Old habits.

"Well, look what we have here."

The voice slides through the darkness like oil. Taehyung leans against a sleek black Mercedes, all dangerous grace in expensive clothes. His white button-down is rolled to his elbows, exposing ink that maps stories across his skin.

You catalog his stance with professional detachment, the same way you'd studied John strapped to that chair. Weight slightly forward, shoulders loose, that same arrogant tilt to his head that says he has no idea what's coming.

"Not tonight." You move to pass him, but he shifts, blocking your path.

"What's wrong, sugar?" Smoke curls from his mouth as he speaks. "ARK not hiring tonight? Or did they finally realize what kind of trash they were letting through the door?"

Fuuuuuuck it.

The first hit is pure precision, heel of your palm to his solar plexus, angled up and in. Just like you'd done to that businessman in Dubai last year. The cigarette falls from his lips as he doubles over, giving you the perfect angle to bring your knee up into his face.

The crunch of cartilage under your kneecap sends electricity down your spine. It's different from torture, faster, rawer. No time to savor each break and tear. But there's something beautiful in this too, in letting the violence flow through you like water.

He swings wild, trained but sloppy. You duck under his arm, noting how his stance betrays formal training. Boxing maybe, some Muay Thai. Everything too clean, too structured. Not like you, you were taught to end things.

Your elbow finds his kidney with surgical precision. The same spot you'd pushed the knife into that politician in Seoul. His grunt of pain is poetry, the way he tries to protect his side leaving his throat exposed for another strike.

The Mercedes alarm wails as you slam him against it, but you're already moving, letting momentum carry you both into the shadows of the alley beside the bar. This is what you're good at, making violence look like a dance, like something beautiful instead of brutal.

He tries to grab you, to use his size advantage, but you're already inside his guard. Your knee finds his liver, your elbow his temple. Each point of impact chosen with the same care you use when selecting knives for a job.

Your dress rides up as you move, but you don't care. This is what you are, not the secretary in designer clothes, not the dancer in red. This is your true face, painted in someone else's blood.

When he finally drops, you follow him down. One hand fists in his honey-blonde hair while the other draws back. His face is a masterpiece of destruction, nose crushed, lip split, eye already swelling shut. The kind of methodical damage that comes from years of practice.

You lean in close, letting him smell the Chanel on your breath mixed with his own blood. "Next time you decide to threaten me," your voice drops to barely above a whisper, "make sure you're ready for what comes after."

You leave him there, crumpled among garbage bags and broken glass. Your knuckles throb as you smooth your dress, check your reflection in a darkened window. A single drop of blood mars your cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb, watching it disappear into your skin like all evidence of violence eventually does.

The city swallows you back into its rhythm, the pulse of music from nearby clubs, the whisper of tires on wet asphalt, the steady beat of your heels against concrete. You rejoin the flow of normal people living their normal lives, carrying your savage satisfaction like a secret beneath your skin.

This is what you are. What you're for.

And for once, that doesn't feel like a curse.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #ark 45 #jungkook bts #jungkook au #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jimin #bts jimin #bts fanfic #bts x reader

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2hightocare · 1 year ago

Text

WHAT YOU NEED ✷

Synopsis: Jungkook and you try getting into the Christmas spirit, but you end up getting fucked up against the kitchen counter.

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: established relationship au!

Warnings: smut, size kink, light spanking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t b dumb nd wear condom.) fluff, cussing, Jungkook has a dirty mouth. a kms joke, hair pulling and choking

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: let’s not sayyyy.. when i say i was giggling and kicking my feet i am not fucking lying! (Jk had me on a chokehold istg😒) they flagged my shit… um

Is it barely November 1st? Yes.

Are you putting the Christmas tree up already? Fuck yeah.

Jungkook would clown you for your love for Christmas, and honestly, you didn't care because you loved everything about it. The decorations, the new flavored coffee menu’s, the gifts underneath the tree, and the cold. You loved wearing beanies, scarves, and thick hoodies. Something about this holiday takes you back to your childhood—the way you would gather with your siblings and parents in the kitchen, making sugar cookies to put under the tree for Santa.

Were you heartbroken when your parents told you they were Santa? Yes. You felt betrayed after they lied to you for thirteen years of your life. When you shared your story with Jungkook, he burst out laughing, sharing that he found out at age nine after catching his parents in the act, making you want to cry for him.

Now here you both were at 10:40 pm assembling the Christmas tree. Jungkook's mom gifted you both, which is much bigger than yours from last year.

“Oh my fuck—this is too big, baby." Jungkook admires the height of the tree with his hands rested on both sides of his hips. Your excitement rises at how many possible ways you both could decorate it.

"Well, I can tell you hate it,” your boyfriend jokes as his hands wrap around your bare waist from behind. “Your hands are cold,” you flinch. Your hands wrap around his, trying to pass him your warmth.

“And if we decorate it with tiny dicks?” You crack your neck upward to see his reaction. “I mean, go for it, baby."

You swat his chest as he burst into a fit of laughter. “You swear you’re so funny, huh?” You look at him with a serious face, your mouth twitching from trying to hold in the big smile that wants to come out.

Jungkook just shakes his head. “Wanna decorate today with last year's decorations, or we can wait till tomorrow and buy new ones, and instead we can bake Christmas cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Anyone in their right mind would be thinking we’re crazy for already baking Christmas cookies when December is in a whole month. But you both didn’t care.

…

“We should’ve gotten pre-made cookie dough.” Your eyes look around at the marble counter in front of you, filled with all the ingredients your mother-in-law told you to use. “On god.” Jungkook stands beside you. “You know what? Let me call my mom. We need a tutorial, I'm afraid.” You giggle as he pulls out his phone, opening up FaceTime.

The phone rings three times before the camera fills up with your mother-in-law smiling sweetly. "Hi, my babies!” She says first, Your face lights up. “Hi,” you wave a hand to the camera. “Hi mom!”

“You guys look adorable,” she motions to your guys matching pink hello kitty pajamas. “Y/n bought them; I had no choice,” he lied, knowing damn well he wanted to match first. “Sureee.” You rolled your eyes at him.

The call continued as Jungkook's mom gave you guys simple instructions like beating the sugar and butter with a whisk, which Jungkook took over because your hand started to hurt, and gradually adding flour to the mixture, which ended with both of you guys covered in white flour because Jungkook turned the mixer too fast. After wishing your goodbyes, you both slightly shake off the flour, and you put the dough in the refrigerator. Apparently, you have to let it be firm.

“So now we have two hours to wait. I say we fuck.” Jungkook slaps your ass, making you squeal. “You’re horny??” Your hands make their way to his hair, slightly pulling. "Hm, maybe,” he whispers into your mouth, and he gives you a slow, wet kiss. “I’m still sore from earlier." I mumble in between kisses. “Was I too rough?” His rough hands massage your ass. You shrug your shoulders in his embrace.

“Christmas movie, then?” He asks, “I’m so down."

….

“Shit takes like ass,” you say, finishing up the cookie.

Your boyfriend looks around for the long-gone cookie. “I don't know; let’s ask the audience.” He looks around for the invisible camera. “Bitch!” You swat his arm, and he burst out laughing, holding on to his stomach.

“You literally ate that shit up.” His head is thrown back, and the most beautiful laugh roars out of him. “I will kill myself genuinely.” You chuckle while trying another cookie without the frosting you guys tried making from a tutorial on Google.

“The frosting is ass, cause this is a bomb,” you stuff your mouth with the remaining of the cookie humming at the taste. “Am I weird cause I fuck with the frosting?" He dips his pinky nto the bowl where the white frosting is before sucking it off. “Never mind actual shit." His nose scrunches in disgust, and his tongue sticks out, making you giggle.

"No, seriously, why is it so bad?” Jungkook takes a sip of the milk he had served not so long ago. “I have no clue, baby, but the sugar cookie itself slaps." You take your half eaten cookie up to your boyfriend's mouth and say, "Open, ahh." He immediately follows commands and opens before you shove his mouth with the golden cookie. “Mhm,” Jungkook's face scrunches as he bobs his head up and down, savoring the heart-shaped cookie.

“Probably the best cookie I had in a while, not gonna lie,” he states, taking a bite of the gingerman's head.

“Do we have cinnamon?” You make your way to the drawer where you keep all the spices. “ Found it,” you make your way back to the cookie before sprinkling some on your and Jungkook's cookies before taking a huge bite. “Oh my fuck," you moan.

"Oh, my fuck indeed.” Jungkook shoves the remaining cookie into his mouth, moaning at how it melted in his mouth. "Think, I just saw stars.” You say this while he side-eyes you. “Haha no.” He says that before picking you up on the counter, he settles in between your legs.

“Horny still?” You ask again, "Yes, very, I’ll be a gentle promise.” He leaves open-mouth kisses on your neck before slowly sucking.

“No marks.” You moan, your fingers slightly tugging on his hair and making him groan. “Scarf season, princess.” He looks up with a smirk on his face, then continues his actions, sucking and licking your soft spot. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet. Jungkook slowly grinds into your clothed pussy causing you to slip out a throaty moan. “Fuck—“ you throw your head back, your legs caging him closer to where you most need him. “I need you to lose the clothes and fuck me.” Jungkook chuckles at your demanding tone.

“Yeah? Want my cock already?” His hands rub on your thighs. You nod your head, looking down at the imprint of his now-hard cock. You reach for it, but Jungkook slaps your hand away, making you pout. “Patience princess,” Jungkook's hands tug on the band of your pajamas, pulling them down and taking your underwear along with it.

You squeal as your bare ass feels the cold counter top, and your boyfriend laughs before throwing the clothes somewhere on the ground.

Your pussy clenches over nothing, and you go to press your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, only for Jungkook to hold them wide open. He pulls his hard cock out of his pants, giving himself two pumps before slapping it on your wet center. Your gaze fixated on his dick on your pussy, your lips between your teeth moaning slightly when your boyfriend gives it another slap with his dick.

“So wet for me, baby,” he says, giving it another slap. "C'mere," Jungkook's picks you off the counter from your arms, “bend over. ” He orders.

You quickly follow his command, your juices dripping down your legs from how wet you were already. Jungkook spreads open your legs some more before making his way in between them, giving your ass a slap. “Fuck—“ you clench your thighs together as he soothes the red mark he just left. “Fuck, when are you going to let me fuck this ass.” Your boyfriend asks you, giving you another spank, making you squeak.

“Never,” you moan, making him chuckle under his breath. “Worth the try.” He jokes before sinking down into you, both moaning at the feeling. You felt so full. Jungkook is so big, stretching your pussy deliciously. “So big shit," you moan, your cheek pressed against the counter as he fills you up to the hilt. “You can take it, baby,” Jungkook says between gritted teeth. He felt you clenching around him, having him on the verge of coming right there in an instant.

“Always so good for me, baby. Want me to fuck you so good, huh?” He whispers into your ear, and you clench around him, earning you another spank, ripping a loud moan out of you. “Fuck me," you stutter over the pleasure your lower belly is feeling. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Jungkook says before pulling his cock out, just leaving the tip in before slamming into you. Your mouth hangs open as he repeats the movements over and over again. “Fuck just like that,” you grip to the edge of the counter, your eyes close immediately, as his rough hands compare to your smooth skin, hold tightly to the sides of your hips, pounding into you from behind.

“This cunt is mine, right?” Jungkook groans, sliding his cock in and out of your walls. You could only reply with a loud moan. But that’s not enough for Jungkook; your boyfriend wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you upward and arching your back in the process. “Use your words, princess.” He orders in your ear, his movements never halting.

"Fuck—your pussy! Only yours,” you spit out whatever words you could make a sentence out of. “Fucking you dumb, huh?” He lets go of your hair and moves his hand around your neck, adorning it like a necklace and applying some pressure. "Mhmm,” you moan, trying to open your eyes but shutting close after Jungkook slams into you again.

The room fills with the wet clapping sounds, groans, and moans that keep spilling out of your guys mouths. Your fingers find your sensitive clit, applying pressure and drawing small circles. "Fuck—I'm gonna come!” Your legs shake beneath Jungkook, and his arm wraps around your waist in case your legs give out on you.

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” He slaps your hand away from your clit replacing it with his. Your back arches against him, and his cock continues hitting your g-spot repeatedly, sending you over the edge.

“Oh fuc—“ Your words are cut short when the pleasure in your belly finally snaps, and Jungkook's fingers furiously move on your pussy, making you scream into your hand. Wetness pools on your feet, dripping down your legs. “Fuck so hot when you squirt,” Jungkook continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation has you shaking underneath him. “Too much fu-fuck,” you head drops to the counter. You clench, sending Jungkook over the edge.

“Coming,” your boyfriend's head drops to your shoulder, his movements becoming sloppy, springs of cum shooting inside you, moaning at the feeling.

His movements come to a halt, his mind foggy, his cock throbbing when he pulls out, making you whine, feeling empty.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he sees his cum dripping out of your hole. Without a second thought, he shoves it back in with his index finger. “Aw shit,” you moan at the sensitivity.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “You were so good for me, baby.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your back, breathing heavily. You are trying to catch your breath, and your legs feel like jelly, not being able to move from your current position.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, your eyes closing. "Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” Jungkook smiles at you, picking you up in bridal style, making you to squeal.

"How the fuck can you be so cute after just getting railed?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face as you try to snuggle into his chest. “You play too much,” you mumble.

Jungkook lays you down on the bed before disappearing into your guys bathroom; a couple minutes later, coming out changed and with a warm rag in hand, “here, baby open,” he coos motioning to your legs. You do as he says. He slowly cleans and wipes your center, making you moan from oversensitivity. “Almost done,” he says before giving a last swipe and throwing the rag somewhere in the room.

“Do you want a pill, baby?” He asks against your cheek, to which you nod. He stands up, walking to your side of the closet and getting you something comfy to wear. “Here. Be right back.” Jungkook leaves the clothes next to you and leaves the room.

As you change into your clothes, Jungkook waltz’s in with an ibuprofen and a glass of water on his other hand. “Here,” he says, waiting for you to poke your head out of his hoodie before handing you the small pill.

You swallow the pill without any complaints before dropping down on the bed. “So tired.” Your eyes close before you even hit the pillow, making him chuckle. “Worn you out, huh?” He teases before dropping beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. You immediately cuddle up to his side, feeding off the warmth he radiates. Your leg is over his torso, and your hand is on his chest.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you; now let’s go, mimi’s." You kiss his clothed chest, hoping he can still feel the kiss.

#bts fanfic #bts jungkook #fluff #jjk #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jjk smut #smut #bts smut #established relationship #jjk x reader #bangtan #drabble

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luviestarz · 19 hours ago

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jungkook fic recs! 💘 part 2

𖤐 Champagne Confetti ⋆ j.jk - @busanboykoo (“you won't regret me, champagne confetti” or maybe just jungkook wants you to tell him what you want him to do to you.)

𖤐 oh how you love longhair!jungkook . . . - @twilghtkoo

𖤐 Your boyfriend looks a little too good in his police uniform. - @badbtssmut

𖤐 e s p r e s s o - @joonberriess (boxer!jk)

𖤐 trippin' over, gettin' lost on you | jjk (m) - @euphorajeon (a visit to the coffee shop you work at rewards jeongguk not only with a cup of coffee and a plate of brownie, but also with something else simmering deep in his veins. a challenge is issued, and all hell breaks loose.)

𖤐 Don’t Blame Me | sugar daddy!jungkook one-shot au - @ctrlsht (You can have everything you want and need as long as you have Jeon Jungkook by your side. You were enjoying everything that Jungkook gives you and as long as you’re with him. You’re sure to yourself that you will never fail him but he was the one who failed you. Everything is fine until he gets too much.)

𖤐 WELCOME TO THE HEARTBREAK SHOW ── jungkook - @numinousher (you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?)

𖤐 It’s hard to stop but once it starts, it starts - @byuljoonie

𖤐 concrete king. (m) jjk - @bratkook (when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could ever say no to him)

𖤐 baecation - @1kook (“Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.)

𖤐 test your morality (jungkook) - @trivia-yandere (jungkook's morality is tested when he's woken from his unconscious state to find you - his best friend - bound before him.)

𖤐 Needy | jjk oneshot - @jkslipppiercing (your boyfriend often helps you set up for your weekly girls' night...what happens when he gets needy for you only 15 minutes before your girl friends arrive?)

𖤐 ESCAPISM | JJK - @wnderkoo (୨୧ lipstick smudged like modern art..)

𖤐 Vérités Cachées (JJK) - @bangtanficsforyou (You try to make an escape from a beast, that you happen to have encountered while on a vacation with your boyfriend.)

𖤐 lonely hearts club (m) - @dovechim (jeon jeongguk has annoying little brother energy™. you know this deep in your bones. wedding after wedding, you keep running into him at the goddamn singles’ table, and he just won’t leave you alone. until you start to wonder... is he your ticket out of the lonely hearts club?)

𖤐 By Its Cover (M) - @gimmesumsuga (The one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.)

𖤐 The Deepest Marks of Essence - @lleldey (When you found yourself circled by a tribe, you never thought it would lead you to tap into your deepest wants and desires. You are the oldest child, the example of how one should act at all costs, but if you ever manage to escape this maze and if your story ever becomes told, you’ll never be looked at the same. But it’s hard to regret it when your nights are spent with gentle caresses and starry midnight skies. You got everything you secretly longed for, but at what cost?)

𖤐 every hour, every minute. (m) - @aajjks (jungkook can be an animal when it comes to fucking you sensless.)

𖤐 ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw) - @frmisnow (what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached — well a hol' lotta sex for sure!)

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jooniperbonsai · 9 months ago

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My Bloody Valentine (jjk)

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x human reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.9k

Release date: Thurs. February 15, 2024

Genre: smut, fluff, humor, hella angst

Summary: You don't understand why your vampire boyfriend is so caught up in the idea of a silly holiday, until you realize it's about more than just candy hearts.

Warnings: Blood (duh), swearing, blood drinking, lots of angst, allusion to jungkook being bisexual, alcohol, brief description that sounds similar to disordered eating, jungkook is clingy and kind of a brat, so is reader tbh, accusations/assumptions of cheating, both are conflict avoidant which makes things worse, discussions of death and infertility, references to opiate addiction, medical theft, uh y/n kind of non-consensually feeds jungkook her blood, oral sex (m/f), masturbation (m/f), fingering, temperature play, unprotected rough sex, clit spanking, biting kink (!!!! just be warned lol), choking, dirty talk, mention of menstrual sex/oral kink, mention of somnophilia, creampie

a/n: Hi! Happy (late) Valentine’s Day! Thank you all for your enthusiastic support for this fic. I hope it exceeds your expectations (as it exceeded mine). I have some extra thoughts that I’ll leave at the end of this fic to avoid spoilers, but I hope you enjoy my little y/n and vampire Jungkook couple as much as I do. I would like to thank p for talking this universe through with me until it made sense.

“All I’m saying is that Halloween hardly feels like a holiday about vampires!”

“As opposed to what? Christmas?”

You’ve been standing in your kitchen arguing with your boyfriend for so long that the once-scalding cup of coffee in your favorite mug is now cold. Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool against the counter, his white shirt rolled up his forearms to reveal a similar pale shade underneath. You can see the corded tendons of his arms flex as he wrings his hands together in frustration.

When you woke up this morning, it was not from a lazy well-slept haze you were expecting to have. Instead, you had awoken to a crash coming from the kitchen, sending your heart jolting as you tried to make sense of the world and the source of the noise.

Buttercup, your cat and usual suspect for mischief, mewled angrily from her perch as she, too, eyed the wrongfully accused sleep disruptor. As she arched her back in one long, tail-shaking stretch, she glared at you and then twirled herself around to face the wall before settling back into her bed with a final huff.

If it wasn’t Buttercup, then it could only be one other creature.

You’d padded your way down the hall to the kitchen, only to see Jungkook already dressed and swearing to himself as he gathered the shattered pieces of a glass measuring cup and what looked like orange juice into a pile with a wet dish rag.

“Don’t come any closer!” he shrieked, and before you could even open your mouth to assure him you’d be fine, he'd already swooped you into the living room and onto the couch. “Don’t move!” he ordered and because you heard the sharp warning creeping into his tone, you obeyed.

An hour and a half later, the kitchen is a mess from what you now understand to be Jungkook’s attempt at cooking you breakfast for Valentine’s Day, a holiday that you both agreed you wouldn’t celebrate.

You take a sip of your coffee, trying not to wince at how it still somehow tastes burnt through the too-sweet pink sugar cookie creamer he’d doused it with when he insisted on making you a cup.

“No, of course not. Y/N! But don’t you think Valentine’s Day should be more about vampires?”

You snort, and the residual coffee on your tongue shoots to the back of your throat, sending you into a coughing fit.

“What?” You say when you finally regain composure. You set down the mug and glance around for a single cup in your kitchen that hasn’t been dirtied in this process of making…well…you’re not sure what. There’s some burnt edges of something in the sink, but a weird goo glazing various bowls that somewhat resembles pancakes. However, a bright green lump of…maybe spinach?...rests in those as well, so you’re not entirely confident where he was going with this execution.

Jungkook isn’t usually this oblivious to human tendencies, mostly because it wasn’t so long ago that he himself was a human. In the year you’ve been together, you’ve learned all about Jungkook’s swift descent into vampirism. Unlike many of his kind, he’s a fledgling. He was turned a handful of years ago and doesn’t exist in the ancient, strange accents and customs form of vampire some know. Nor is he a sleepless, sparkly teenager with superhuman speed. Yes, he has fangs, is paler than the normal person, and he will not (you think) age. But as someone who has maintained his twenty-something appearance, this currently presents as a non-issue because, if still alive, he would still be a twenty-something.

And unlike the stereotypes of his kind, Jungkook is not in a decades-long bloodlust. Lust, perhaps, but it’s unknown if that’s because of his vampirism or because he’s a horny man. The one who changed Jungkook did so in a dark night club in Paris between searing hot kisses, where he slid his fangs along Jungkook’s throat while rutting against him on the dance floor. Jungkook, in that drunk and sex-induced haze, never suspected that the slight sharpness tracing along his jugular, sending a delicious chill down his spine, would result in him waking up three days later in a hotel in Vienna with nothing more than a vague note of warning and a few plastic bags of blood chilling in the mini fridge.

While he doesn’t consume much now beyond A or O positive, Jungkook often cooks you meals so you’re not as tired when you get home from work. It’s sweet, but you know that he does it for himself, for the reminder of his humanity and, as he once admitted himself, for the fact that more energy saved from you not cooking means more energy for him to fuck out of you seven days a week.

“I’m going to need you to explain your reasoning behind that logic,” you say, and finally locate a clean cup to fill with water.

Jungkook grunts, and when you glance over at him, you can see he's pouting, his dual lip rings pulled under one of his fangs.

“Well,” he says, tense, “I just thought…with all this stuff, Valentine’s Day should be more about, you know, vampires? Blood? Red? Hearts?”

“Baby,” you laugh, and fish around on the cluttered countertop for something to eat until you spot a bowl of strawberries tucked behind a jar of kimchi. Your stomach growls. “Valentine’s Day uses the heart motif because of love. You know that. You weren’t born yesterday.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance and you furrow your brow before popping the sweet fruit into your mouth. What is going on with him today?

“Yes, I know I wasn’t born yesterday! Thank you for the reminder! But I’m saying that Halloween is this holiday that makes vampires into these beasts who suck and drain all the blood from bodies or sleep in coffins! Beware the dark corners of the world or else they’ll get you! But Valentine’s Day, what even is this about? A fat naked baby who spears you with an arrow and suddenly you’re in love with someone? Sounds way more monstrous to me! And people embrace this guy? People want him to stab them so they can be all fluttery in love and get all these nice things. But I have to be seen as this awful monster all the time? It’s just not fair!” he shouts, and swipes his hand across the counter.

You gasp as you watch an empty plastic container clatter to the ground before he brings his hands up to cover his face.

Jungkook isn’t one for temper tantrums. While he does have a tendency to be more sensitive, throwing things, even empty containers, is very out of the norm for him. You remember early on in your relationship, he once used a little too much of his supernatural strength to hit you with a pillow when you were both goofing off, which resulted in you being smacked right off the bed with the wind knocked out of you.

You spent the rest of the day posted up on the couch under his orders, while he waited on you hand-and-foot despite the fact that once you recovered (mostly from laughter), you were perfectly fine. It led to an eventual discussion about how you weren’t so breakable, where you proved your point by showing him just how flexible you were.

Which is why now, as Jungkook huffs all over the place, you know something is seriously wrong.

You move away from the strawberries and walk around the kitchen island to Jungkook, gently pulling his hands down.

“Hey,” you whisper, looking up at him. His hair has fallen into his face, disheveled from all his fussing in the kitchen and the many times this morning you’ve seen him running his fingers through it.

Jungkook yanks his hand away and stands, pushing away from the counter before stomping into the living room and pacing angrily. You follow him.

“Hey,” you try again, firmer. “You gonna tell me what is going on? Because normally you don’t leave a giant mess of whatever that is going on in the kitchen before you walk away from it, and you especially don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk to you.” Your jaw sets and you stand in the doorway, crossing your arms as you watch him pace.

He responds with a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, well that’s a start. Can’t even fucking cook my girlfriend a meal on this stupid holiday.”

This is exactly why you told Jungkook you don’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day this year. All week long he’s been making snarky comments about it, from rants about the greeting card company’s agenda to explaining how it’s become over-the-top and overrated to now, as of this morning, promoting vampires as the superior holiday mascot to Cupid.

Truthfully, you’ve always liked this holiday. When all the post-holiday sales were running months ago, you’d noticed a deal on the record player Jungkook had been eying for months but would never let himself have. His last one had started to break right after you two started dating, but he was always a good sport about it, cracking jokes about how the old-timey canned sound it produced didn’t play Eminem, but “Eminesquire the Third”. Prompted by the desperate need to replace the tinny echoes that haunted your apartment, you didn’t hesitate to snag this gift for him and immediately wrapped it before shoving it under your bed to give to him today.

Well, that was until all this started a little over a week ago. Up until that point, he’d seemed fine, never mentioning an opinion on Valentine’s Day. Then one morning you woke up and saw him complaining about how since he turned he would never be able to eat chocolate again. Which was incredibly dramatic, because Jungkook can eat if he wants to, but he chooses not to since it doesn’t do anything for him anymore.

Every mention of the holiday since, from the ads popping up on his phone to the colorful heart shaped decorations in store fronts, has made him irate and hostile.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I didn’t ask you to make me breakfast,” you huff, now offset by his bad mood. “Like, I know that I told you last week we didn’t have to do any of this. So I’m not sure why now you’re trying to make some grand gesture of breakfast or stomping around arguing with me about the politics of vampires being a traditional mascot for Halloween instead of Valentine’s Day or how dumb you think this holiday is.”

His nostrils flare. “Well excuse me for trying to be a good boyfriend and do something nice for you!”

“What?” Heat flashes through your entire body as you feel the thin hold you have on your anger slip. “Oh, I see. So this is all about me is it? This is my fault? Tell me, when I go in there and clean up your mess of all my food you wasted by doing this nice thing I didn’t ask for, is that also for me as a treat? Or is that going to be leftover in the fridge for me to clean later?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow as you match his anger. He opens his mouth to speak, but you raise your eyebrow, daring him to try.

“Ah ah,” you warn, your voice laced with venom. “I’m not fucking done speaking.”

He slides his tongue over his teeth instead before sucking in his lips.

“So, after I noticed it hurt you and said we didn’t have to do it, after I promised you I didn’t mind if we skipped the theatrics of this holiday, you what? Took it out on me? How the hell is this being a good boyfriend, Jungkook? How is you shutting me out for the last week, pouting and being an absolute brat doing me any favors? Showing you love me?”

You begin to feel the fury recede into something worse: pain. It settles over the heat, moving back down into your throat with a sharp lump.

“You wanna talk about shutting someone out, Y/N? Really?” Jungkook roars, halting his anxious movement. “That’s rich considering the secrets you’re keeping!”

Your brain buzzes with confusion and anger. You rewind the conversation, trying to form connections that would lead to this accusation.

“Are you serious? Wh-Do you think I’m cheating or s-something? Jungkook who the fuck do you think–” Your voice cracks, and you heft a heavy sob from your chest.

Never in your relationship have you two ever suspected the other of cheating. You’ve always been so certain of each other, that you two would never stray, that your connection and the very nature of your relationship demonstrated a type of bond that didn’t present anyone else as an option simply because you never wanted anyone else.

But given how things have been going, how Jungkook has been hiding things from you, you are starting to wonder if that’s not the case, if him pulling away isn’t to try to protect himself from getting hurt.

You’ve also tried not to notice how this month, when you counted the inventory of the blood bags stashed in the back of the freezer, it wasn’t nearly as empty as it usually was. You considered that maybe Jungkook just wasn’t thirsty, that maybe some of the bags you’d snagged from work, one of them being plasma, were satiating his hunger more than usual. With how Jungkook is looking at you now, eyes wide with the shock of your address, you can see you were wrong, the faint circles of thirst tugging under his eyelids.

You pull your shirt sleeve up to wipe your dripping nose, only to see it’s stained blue from some mysterious breakfast ingredient.

“I’m not saying you’re cheating, Y/N! God why would you think that! Fuck, no, this.” He produces a folded up envelope from his back pocket and shoves it toward you.

You sniffle and take the envelope, noticing it’s addressed to you. From your work.

Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what that is. “You know what? I’m going to take a shower,” you mumble, and you see in your periphery Jungkook’s head snap toward you.

“What?” he says exasperated. “Now? We–”.

You nod, choosing not to look at him now as you cut down the hall and shut the bathroom door firmly behind you.

You and Jungkook met, ironically, at a blood drive.

You were both volunteering to hand out snacks and mini water bottles to donors at the drive. This was a few months before Jungkook had gone on his Eurotrip, a few months before he would never again be able to volunteer with clinics to help patients.

While you’d met back then, and certainly had some chemistry that resulted in one really sexy car makeout ending with his hand down your scrub pants and you panting into his neck, it wasn’t until a few years later you’d reunited.

Jungkook had been pacing around the clinic near closing time, his thirst becoming far more unbearable by the hour. He had been trying desperately to avoid consuming human blood, but the various city rats or injured birds he was drinking from were still racking him with unfavorable guilt and an almost hazy sickness you remember sinking his features.

When you went to leave that night, you’d spotted Jungkook propped up against one of the glass doors, pale, with heavy bruise-like markings under his eyes. He was conscious, you’d noted, despite the fact that you couldn’t detect a pulse and his skin felt harder and icy to the touch. When you grabbed your phone to call an ambulance, he knocked it from your hand, instead begging you for a bag of blood.

“I can’t do transfusions, Jungkook, not here. That’s why we need to get you the hospital, so we can you look you over and–”

“No, Y’N, that’s not what I mean.” He’d laughed and flashed you a weak smile. “I don’t need a transfusion.”

“Then, what––.”

And that’s when you saw them: his fangs.

When you’d heard about Jungkook going missing in Paris, randomly disappearing in the night and showing back up months later with no story to share, there were rumors circulating that he’d started doing drugs and lost his job at the record store because in Europe he got hooked on opiates.

And you’d so easily believed that lie, though it soured your stomach. What other explanation was there for someone disappearing and coming back more pale, less human? You simply continued on with your work, finishing school in between and finding a more permanent presence at the clinic as a phlebotomist.

Feeling guilty, you turned around and headed back into the building, emerging with two bags of warm blood that you watched him practically shotgun in the passenger seat of your car. You didn’t tell him it was your blood, but as he told you later, he knew anyway. He could smell your particular flavor dotting the bandage.

Slowly, you and Jungkook became closer, you swiped a blood bag here and there from the clinic when no one was looking, sitting with him as he told you the story of him turning or the first time he fed. It seemed too surreal to be true, but as the dark circles under his eyes began to fade over the weeks, and his laugh started sounding more round and full, you felt like there was no way you could deny who he was, or more importantly, how he made you feel.

Being around Jungkook was addicting, which was evident in how easy it became for you to steal blood from the clinic without thinking twice. At first, you felt awful, knowing that each bag you were taking could very well be taking away someone else’s chance at life. But the more you thought about Jungkook, how he was just as alive as any human– how he feathered his fingers through his hair or how just a few years ago he breathed and moaned before you in the backseat of your car– what really was the difference between giving him blood versus some other person? Didn’t both bodies need it to survive?

The months ran on, and the crisp fall days that welcomed Jungkook back into your life were becoming tender, warmer as the early blooms of spring replaced them. Jungkook, too, was warmer, his body full and flushed with blood as he finally returned to as much of a human as he can be, reaching for your hand when you two walked through the park together, or falling asleep on your stomach while watching a movie.

Vampires sleep, you learned, though it’s not so much necessary as it is habitual, as Jungkook explained. He once tested himself to see how long he could go without sleeping, and as it turned out, the answer was evidently forever, for he managed three weeks not feeling groggy in the slightest. But sleeping helped time pass. Nights were lonely when the only people he wanted to interact with weren’t around, and grappling with being some shade of immortal often led Jungkook into a spiral as he processed time passing.

Therefore, sleep was welcome when it came. Especially with you, who he could tuck himself close to, and the soft beat of your heart served as his lullaby.

That’s when you knew that you loved him: when he told you that he went to sleep for you, that otherwise, he waited for you to wake up so he could see you again.

You’d become just as addicting to be around as he was for you, and you trusted it wasn’t just because you were his favorite teller at the blood bank who snuck him a withdrawal.

It was because he loved you too.

The fog on the bathroom mirror doesn’t show your reflection currently, but if it did, you know you’d see Jungkook standing behind you silently as you brush your teeth. Despite his stillness and his ability to appear without making a sound when he wants, your body reacts to Jungkook like a magnet pulled toward metal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks finally, and you rinse your mouth.

“Because, I didn’t want you to feel guilty,” you say and reach for the envelope you left on the bathroom counter before your shower.

After a year of sneaking blood from the clinic, one year of popping plastic bags your into pockets after writing them off under a sealing failure or manufacturing issue or recording less volume in the official donation records or claiming a miscount in inventory, you were finally caught last week with a warm bag of blood in your possession.

Stupidly, you’d popped it into your purse right before an end-of-day meeting and in the rush to make it on time, you didn’t zip everything closed securely. When you inevitably knocked your knee onto the table while shifting to get more comfortable, your purse tumbled to the floor, exposing the vermillion contents within, and issuing you an immediate suspension.

Suspension, instead of fire only for the singular fact that the bag of cooling blood was your own.

You had known for a while that the clinic’s director of operations was becoming suspicious. The entire team had been subject to instances of recertification and retraining to try to address whatever issues that were leading to so many mishaps. It would only be a matter of time before the records kept showing your name attached to these transgressions, though you were almost relieved when you’d learned there were other various cases of blood loss occurring for factors you weren’t responsible for, most notably some interns who kept forgetting to put the bags containing red blood cells in the refrigerator, or who were not filling the entire bags, disqualifying the entire sample.

Overall, it would be safer to divest from your current plan, but finding an alternative to feed Jungkook was more difficult than you thought. You knew given the shortage of blood donations, you could no longer keep gleaning from work or other affiliates as resources.

But you also couldn’t convince Jungkook to feed from you.

You’d tried many times in the last year when he was dizzy or grumpy from thirst. And every time without fail, he refused.

“I haven’t even bitten anyone before,” he admitted one day, the dark circles under his eyes especially purple. His stubborn refusal slurred his speech into a lisp. “And I don’t intend to start now! Especially not with you!”

You’d dropped the subject, rooting around in the freezer until you found a blocky pint underneath a tub of freezer-burned ice cream.

But Jungkook had drunk your blood before on that first night at the clinic. And maybe if you executed things carefully, you could supplement some packets of your own blood in to help him get by. That way, he wouldn't have to bite you, but at least he would be fed. And you wouldn’t be at risk of imprisonment for medical theft.

So that’s what you started to do, slowly introducing him to your blood by creating fake donor names with the label machine and reprinting the same barcode as you filled bag after bag over the weeks.

And then last week, you got caught, your only assurance that you might only be suspended rooted in the fact that you hadn’t had the time to issue a fake label for the bag before the meeting.

And, because the blood was still warm in its pouch, because your arm had only just stopped bleeding, your case that you made of the blood being yours wasn’t entirely unreasonable. But what no one could understand was why you needed a bag of your own blood in the first place, much less why you were doing your own draw of it.

They confiscated the bag, as well as a small sample you offered for lab comparison to confirm it was yours, and they sent you home with the letter almost like you were a kid who was in trouble at school.

Your suspension is in effect until the board meets later this week to discuss your case, at which time you’ll be informed if you’re terminated or if you’ll be put on probation.

You’ve accepted that you might be fired, but what you couldn’t accept is the idea that Jungkook would definitely blame himself if he found out. Which is why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him when it happened. If you did, you knew you would also have to admit to him that you have been non-consensually feeding him your blood instead of others’, which was a conversation you’d hoped to avoid until you were sure he would understand. Instead, you fucked up, and it’s all the more apparent as Jungkook frowns at you in the bathroom.

You rinse your mouth of the toothpaste, feeling a huge shard of guilt pierce your stomach.

“I wouldn’t have let you keep doing this if I’d known you were at risk of losing your job,” he mutters. “You already know I feel shitty even relying on you like this.”

“That’s exactly my point! That’s why I didn’t tell you! Because I knew we would end up here!”

“And that’s why this is a problem! You are failing to see how fucked up it is for me to have to depend on you to feed me!”

“Why?” You snap, and you immediately regret it, giving him an apologetic frown. “Sorry, I mean. Why do you feel so shitty relying on me? We��re partners, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, Y/N, we’re partners. Which means we are supposed to communicate with each other about things. That doesn’t mean you risk your entire career for me.”

“But doesn’t it, though?” You argue.

Jungkook groans and then wets his lips with his tongue before speaking. “No, baby. You’re not supposed to be making sacrifices like this! Not for me! Fuck, you shouldn’t be doing shit like this at all! You should be going to work, kicking ass, and then coming home to eat real food with your real boyfriend before you have incredible sex and then fall asleep!”

You cock your head at him, confused. “But, Jungkook, we already do that stuff.”

“No, we don’t, Y/N. You go to work, orchestrate some grand scheme to basically illegally harvest strangers’ blood during a national shortage, you come home and you eat. But I don’t. I leech off of someone else’s platelets. And then we have sex, and you fall asleep. And sometimes I do. But sometimes, I can’t. Because all I want to do is dream of you and I can’t do that anymore. Because I’m not real, Y/N, I’m literally a monster.”

You shake your head furiously and step toward him. “Listen. I made the choice to do this. Ever since the first day when you showed up at the clinic. I could have left you behind, I could have insisted to take you to the hospital anyway or put you in a headlock or something–”

“You are way too weak to put me in a headlock, even on that day,” he chuckles.

“I would have figured it out! But I had a choice in this Jungkook, just as much as you did for showing up, for asking me to help you. You could have gone somewhere else, or broken into the clinic after I left. You could have continued to live a half-life with a diet of rats and the occasional squirrel. But you chose this. You made choices, too.”

You push your toweled body into him, desperate for his touch. This is how you often are with him, needing him to ground you, to make sure you don’t spin out of control. He sighs, and you feel him circle his arms around you, his nose nuzzling into your wet hair. You shiver at the contact. Your shower must’ve been hotter than normal, because Jungkook feels almost like ice against your skin, much colder than his normal, albeit cooler temperature.

“Fuck, Jungkook, when was the last time you ate?” you ask.

He stiffens, then withdraws from the embrace.

“Get dressed,” he says, ignoring your question, before opening the door to the bathroom, the draft of the apartment, of his absence, leaving goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The kitchen is clean, any and all evidence of this morning’s tirade gone. Jungkook has changed out of his jeans and button-down for a black hoodie and basketball shorts, solidifying the idea that he has no intention of leaving the apartment for the rest of the day.

You dress down similarly, throwing on a large ratty t-shirt and some sweats, very similar to the pajamas you’d been wearing for most of the day.

There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing, but you ignore it, your stomach feeling sour over the idea of putting anything into it right now.

You lead Jungkook into the living room, and both of you sit on the couch, legs folded as you face one another.

“I know you’re not eating.” You try to say it softly, like an observation, but as the words leave your mouth, you hear them sound accusatory, tense.

“I know you know I’m not eating,” he responds, his tone even and cool. “I’ve seen you doing inventory checks daily.”

“You have to eat,” you urge. “You can’t just starve like this.”

“I’m not starving,” he says, still composed, distant.

“Bun, you’ve significantly curbed your consumption. You used to throw back two pints a day, easily.”

“Yes, well, that was before I found out my girlfriend was suspended from work for smuggling me those two pints, jeopardizing her entire future.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

His eyebrows rise. “I don’t understand why you’re not making it the bigger deal that it is!”

“Because it’s not! Not really! I have it under control!”

“And how exactly do you have this under control? Getting fired? Ruining your life isn’t control!”

“I don’t think I’ll be fired. Put on probation maybe, but not fired.”

“And why are you so sure about that?”

“Because…because I didn’t steal someone else’s blood. And that’s a criminal offense. But the laws are muddier when it’s your own blood.”

“Your…your own blood. You were caught with your own blood.” Jungkook looks at you quizzically. And then you see it register. His pupils blow wide.

“I fucking knew it,” he says. “I knew I was tasting you. I thought maybe it was just because you were on your period for a little longer than usual this month, and that maybe I was catching something in the air and just mixing up the scent with the taste of the blood. But, fuck! Goddamn it Y/N! I told you I didn’t want to feed from you and you just went and did it anyway?”

“I’m sorry,” you admit, your cheeks burning with guilt. “I just wanted to help you.”

“By taking away my choice in the matter? By hurting yourself? Shit!”

“No. I–I know you said you didn’t want to bite me, so I thought maybe if I did it this way that it wouldn’t be so bad and you wouldn’t have to feel so bad about it! And then I wouldn’t be as likely to be caught at work. It gave me some protection too in this! The board is meeting later this week to talk about my case and because the blood results proved to be mine, they just have to decide an appropriate punishment. I’m not going to go to jail over this, and if I lose my job, I’ll figure something out. But, I really didn’t mean to take away your choice, and I see now that I did.” You feel your throat close as you begin to cry.

Jungkook is right, you took away his choice by doing this, and no matter your intention, he has the right to know.

“I’m really sorry. I completely fucked up doing this.”

“Yeah, you did. But not in the way you’re seeing this. God. It’s not about biting or not biting, it’s how easily you did it for me. How you keep putting yourself, your own health, at risk for me! You don’t get it! You stole blood for me for almost a year. And then when you started to realize your future was at stake, you took it from your own body. Which you shouldn’t have to do!”

You swipe at the tears pooling from your eyes. “You keep saying that. Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true, baby! You shouldn’t be in this weird supernatural chaos! It’s Valentine’s Day! You should be feeding your boyfriend chocolates or eating breakfast in bed. Exchanging presents and going on dates to dinner or the movies. Having sex! And not just sex, making love, making babies!”

“But you said you didn’t want to do any of that! Jungkook, I’m so confused. What is it that you want? If you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, I have a present for you wrapped up that I’ve been dying to give you for months. And we can go to the movies. We can have sex… I don’t even want a baby!”

You pull a pillow into your lap like a shield.

“You do want a baby,” he accuses. You snap your head up.

“What? No, I–”

“You do. You told me on Christmas Eve, when we were watching that movie on the couch. You were falling asleep during it, but in that scene when he comes home after saying no to that deal, she says ‘I want my baby to look like you’ and you looked up at me so sleepy and warm and alive, and you repeated it back to me. You said ‘I want my baby to look like you.’”

You think back to that night, when you and Jungkook were cuddled up together watching It’s A Wonderful Life since he’d never seen it, and between sips of a very strong eggnog, you kept studying his face, almost overwhelmed by the idea that you could ever love him more than you did in this moment. When Mary told George she was pregnant, something just felt right about that phrase, and in your tipsy, sleepy, haze, you must have recited that part back to him.

Honestly, you do want your baby to look like him. You can’t imagine anyone else in the world whose features you would want to see copied into another human, one that you make together.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not mad that you said it. I’m honored. Because if I could have children, I would want them to look like you.” His voice is tight. “But I can’t give you that. I think if I could, we would currently be arguing over paint swatches and baby names while I rub your swollen feet, not this. Because fuck we have definitely not been careful,” he chuckles.

Despite the sadness in his voice, you feel yourself smirk.

“And even if we adopted, that doesn’t solve one of the biggest issues out of all of this. Which is that you will grow older and more beautiful and our children would grow older and more beautiful, and I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I’m going to be doomed by the stereotypical vampire life because I don’t know who turned me. He didn’t give me anything to go off of. Maybe I age but I do it slower. Maybe I will never age. Maybe I live forever or just a little longer than you. Or fuck, maybe instead of living forever, vampires actually have an insanely short life span because we are just another type of mosquito derivative!”

You laugh at that, though you still feel the tears staining your cheeks, making no effort to stop.

“The point is, I can’t promise you anything human. I can’t promise you a normal life with me. Babies that we make, us growing old together. If I could do one thing different, I kinda wish I put a baby into you the first time we fucked around in that car. God knows I was hard enough.”

“Jungkook,” you choke, ignoring his attempt at deflecting. “I don’t care about any of that. I know I said that stuff on Christmas, but I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you can have kids! Like you said, you don’t know. For all we know, my freakishly long periods might be a sign I’m infertile. I don’t know either, I haven’t gone to the doctor or taken tests because I haven’t been too worried about it. That or aging or any of this! My job even.”

“Wait, hold on, back up. You might be infertile?” He looks almost offended by his own use of the term.

You nod. “Maybe, but I haven’t really been thinking about it lately. I’ve been more worried about you, more focused on you.”

He squints. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been evasive and bratty and honestly just fucking awful. And I can see why. You’re thirsty. You stopped eating again. You started screaming about heart themed things being for vampires. You’ve been avoiding me…is that why you haven’t told me anything? Because of my work thing?”

“I still can’t understand why you are this nonchalant about your career,” he says and you shrug.

“Bunny,” you warn, and Jungkook crosses his arms across his chest.

“Okay, yes,” he concedes. “Part of this is due to that. Because you didn’t tell me. But also I feel like I’m ruining your life. And if that’s the case, if I’m taking so much from you, I want to take less. I want to be less.”

“I’m a parasite. A leech. I consume human blood to carry on living my nonexistent life. I sleep but I don’t dream. I can’t enjoy things the same way. I can’t be normal and that’s what you deserve. What you need. So if I’m going to be a parasite and dependent on you, I want to make things easier. You mentioned that gift under the bed…and, I don’t know that started it all. Got me thinking about all the things I can’t give you. All the experiences you’ll never have because of me. But how much you want it. Valentine’s Day. Baby, I know it’s a holiday you like. I see your eyes sparkle every time you pass the decorations and candy at the store. Of course you have had a present for me wrapped and ready since Christmas, because that’s you and how incredible you are. And I wanted to give you some of that back, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got that I can never be good enough for you. I can’t give you everything. And then this morning, I don’t know, I snapped. I tried to cook you something I normally can do with my eyes blindfolded and walking backwards but everything came toppling down around me and I got overwhelmed and ended up fucking it all up.”

Jungkook reaches across the couch, taking your hand in his, tracing his thumb across your knuckles.

“You’re so dramatic,” you accuse, and roll your eyes.

Jungkook retracts his hand and pouts. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You’re being dramatic and over the top with this broody Edward Cullen shit. I’m sick of it.” You toss the pillow to the side and sit up on the couch, edging your body closer.

“For starters, you’re punishing yourself by not eating. Your hands are like ice, and that means you’re extremely underfed because very little blood is in you. Second, you refuse to eat because at first it was someone else’s blood and I could get in trouble so that justified not doing it. But now that it’s freely available, because it’s mine you have some moral conniption preventing you from nourishing your body. And all of this is circling around the same problem. Which is you deciding for me what you think I want and need.” You hover just above him now, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of him as you trap him under you.

“You decided wrong, by the way. You based what I want not on who I am, but on your own insecurities and fears about me, Jungkook. And that’s not fair to me.”

You plant yourself down on him, straddling your weight across his chest. Jungkook gazes up at you, a frown still etched on his face, though it’s grown softer.

“It’s also not fair to me that you are trying to control my decision about feeding from you or not. If you were a vegetarian, how would you feel if I had replaced your veggie burgers with meat patties just because I thought you needed the protein?” He asks.

You hadn’t thought about that. Your shoulders sag as you sit with the realization.

“I need you to trust that I won’t ever go back to feeling the way I did when we first met. Look at me, are the marks under my eyes as dark? Am I as hard or pale?” You shake your head, and Jungkook reaches up to your face, touching his palm to your cheek. “I am thirsty, baby. But I also know how to control myself. I have spent months with you, around your blood, smelling you when you do something as little as get a paper cut or have a large blood clot pass during your period. Don’t look at me like that, it’s literally just blood from your body, you as a phlebotomist know better than to find that weird or gross.” You giggle, trying to ward away the flush of your cheeks. “And yes, it hurts, but kind of like when you smell something really good cooking in the kitchen and your stomach growls. But that’s the worst of it.”

“Is it though?” you ask gently, trying not to argue with him, but his eyes seem almost cloudy to you.

His brows knit and he opens his mouth but then shuts it, nodding for you to continue. Instead, he strokes along your brow bone, then down the curves of your jaw, tracing your features with his index finger.

“Your eyes aren’t as clear as they are when you feed regularly,” you sigh sadly. “I don’t want to change you, at all. But you’re warmer then too. And on days like today, it would be nice to have you less frigid to cuddle up next to. But I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. I was wrong to not tell you about my work stuff and my blood. Those are two big things that you deserve to know as my partner, and because they impact you directly. I’m sorry.”

You take his hand in yours and bring it down over your chest. “If you don’t want to drink those blood packs, I understand. We’ll find some other way of getting you blood. But we need to make these decisions together. All of them. No more of us deciding we know what the other person needs best. That means I am not force feeding you my blood, I know. It also means you don’t get to decide if I want to have a biological baby or if I want to grow old with someone else.”

Jungkook contemplates this, and then nods in agreement.

“Do you feel that?” You ask, glancing down to your chest, referring to your heart beat.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“Good, because in all this, you keep saying you’re this monster and that can’t be further from the truth. Maybe I don’t need normal, because I don’t want normal. I want you. And I am alive and warm as a human is, sure. You insist you’re not alive. But what is life really? Do you need to be breathing and to have a beating heart like mine to experience love? Joy? The things that make up life? You feel me. Even if it’s all a habit now. The memory of your body, I don’t know. I don’t know how you work either but that doesn’t matter.”

“Do you need to have dreams or to eat chocolate or make babies to feel like you’re living, Jungkook? Because I don't think you do. I think your body and my body sitting here together, my heart pumping blood through me, more than I probably even need to keep me going, is more than enough for me. You loving me, I think that’s life. Is that not enough for you?”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy, and he takes a deep breath, also probably out of habit more than necessity. “No, it’s more than enough,” he says. “I think this is life.”

You smile. “Okay, then let’s live. Let’s live like this. Whatever it is. And we can decide as we go what living looks like, alright?”

Jungkook releases his bottom lip from his fang. “Alright.”

You lean in, and Jungkook’s lips pull up into a smirk right before he kisses you, molding his body into yours with relief.

You welcome his tongue into your mouth, surprised by how cold even that is. When you pull away to catch your breath, you pull yourself tightly against him.

“We need to find you something to eat,” you say for what feels like the millionth time today, and Jungkook sighs.

“Tomorrow, okay? I just want to be close to you right now.” He burrows deeper into your t-shirt and you hum in agreement, letting the soft animal of his body feel like home.

The rest of the day, the two of you drift back into the softer and more familiar patterns of your relationship that the last week has disrupted.

Jungkook cooks you dinner, properly this time, a steak you wash down with a beer, the two of you discussing your friends and the latest episode of the show you finally have caught up watching, the tense air between you two perhaps not entirely diffused, but ultimately much more at ease than before.

You choose to not address the moment in your peripheral vision when you see Jungkook gnawing on some bloody gristle that he trimmed off the steak, his brows set in dissatisfaction as he tries to replace some of the nutrients he’s craving.

He’s thirstier than he’s admitting, you know, but you are trying to loosen the tight hold of control you are tempted to have.

“Hey,” you say as you load your dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

Jungkook, who is reading the beer founder’s story on the back of your empty can, perks up, curious.

“Do you want to open your present?” you ask, and can’t help but laugh at the way his face lights up at the suggestion.

“Oh my god, yes! I've been dying to know what it is since Christmas!” He beams, and before you can even move to go get it from under your bed, he’s gone, shuffling around down the hallway and cooing to Buttercup, who has just finished her own dinner.

When he reappears, he puts the gift on the counter and looks at you sheepishly.

“Um,” he says, and you can tell he’s desperately trying to be polite and well behaved like a small child on their birthday.

You snort. “Open it, Bunny.”

Jungkook rips right into the paper, his jaw dropping. “You! This?”

You watch as he takes off into the living room to disassemble the current turntable setup.

“Goodbye Old Play, Fall Down Boy, and Alicia Broken Piano Keys,” he sing-songs. “Damn, when was the last time we had music around here?”

You watch him putter around.

This, you think, could be a good life.

Lying in bed, you drift between a dreamstate and your overactive brain trying to process your reality. Thoughts of your job, more specifically what you’ll do if you actually are fired filter through your head. You suppose you’d change careers, but this job has always been the one thing you wanted in life, at least before you had Jungkook.

Between a body heat barrier of blankets and pillows, you toss yourself around and sigh, finally coming to a state of being fully awake. Jungkook shifts across the pile to alert you that he, too, is awake.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks gruffly, and you grunt as you roll over.

“Can’t sleep,” you whine, and you move one of the pillows shoved between the two of you out of the way so you can see his face in the dark.

The soft glow of the outside city lights shifts through the window, casting a hint of pale blue light across his face. Like this, he looks more wan, sallow, and your heart wrenches. God, it’s so hard to see him this way, starving himself, and you know you shouldn’t feel guilty, but with the day behind you, you feel the late-night flood of regret starting to taint your mind as you try to figure out how you let this all go so horribly wrong.

“Busy mind?” He asks, and you blink up at him, a little surprised by how it seems as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he grumbles, and then reaches out to pull you into him, his cold hands in an even colder room sending a tremor through your body.

“God, I’m sorry,” he says, and you clench your teeth.

“ s’okay” you mumble, and you push your face into his chest to warm your nose in his hoodie, throwing your leg over him to bring you closer.

Jungkook gently rubs your back, his touch light as his fingers trace up and down your spine. It tingles, sending a shiver that hardens your nipples.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks after a long pause.

You could lie, and then you wouldn’t have to worry that Jungkook would be awake all night carrying your baggage for you. But, you know how important this step of honesty is, so you take a deep breath.

“I-I just keep thinking about work. What’s going to happen? I don’t regret it, please don’t think I do or misunderstand. But I love my job. I love you more. It just feels all convoluted and scary. If I get fired, how will we afford this apartment? Find your blood?”

You feel Jungkook take a steep inhale, and you know he’s doing this to steady you, that his lungs don’t really need to expand but to breathe next to him, with him, is what feels the most natural to you both.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says, and you fight the urge to cry for the third time today.

“I know it’ll be okay,” you assure him, “but I’m sad anyway.”

His fingers continue to strum along your spine, soothing you in the quiet winter night. At some point Buttercup gets up to go prowl around the apartment in her usual late-night zoomies, leaving you two alone in your little universe.

“I’ve been thinking a lot tonight, too,” Jungkook mumbles into the dark.

“About what,” you whisper. The wind outside kicks up, and you feel a sharp draft cut against your now-bare legs, beading you with goosebumps that make you shiver.

Jungkook tuts, shifting you to his side momentarily so he can reach down and pull up your thick duvet. You relish the return to warmth and lay back down on him, resting your head onto his chest while letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Feeding,” he says casually, but you can still hear the hunger in the word as he pronounces every syllable sharply. A different kind of tremor rocks through you, and you feel a tug of arousal behind your belly button.

“Oh,” you say, trying to be unaffected, but Jungkook sees right through you and chuckles.

“The first time I tasted your blood, you don’t even know what it did to me, Y/N,” he groans.

“It felt like every single dead neuron in my body was firing all at once again. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You were so warm, your blood was so thick on my tongue. I knew I was going to crave you for the rest of my, well I guess, existence.”

You squirm a little, trying to ignore the slight dampness you feel forming between your legs.

“Then, god, I thought I was going crazy when you were feeding me those blood packs. That I had wanted the taste of you so badly that I was imagining it somehow from knowing the way you smell.”

He continues. “I know I told you that I have control, but fuck, baby, you almost destroyed me with that little stunt of yours.”

Jungkook shifts, and you can feel his hardening length brush against your stomach. His thigh butts up against you, and you know he can feel the effect he’s having on you.

“How?” you ask weakly, and Jungkook flexes his thigh underneath you, putting a little pressure right onto your clit. The whine you’ve been suppressing escapes, needy and rich.

“I almost caved. One night while you were sleeping, Thought about waking you up by fucking you with my tongue so I could finally taste you again.” Jungkook’s cock twitches underneath you and you rut against him in response, the heat in your core building. “Shit, you were even sleeping with your legs wide open for me, your panties and those tiny fucking things you call pajamas shifted and your pretty little pussy was right there for me to taste. Practically begging me for it.”

You rock against Jungkook’s thigh, the broad grind of your wet panties against Jungkook’s thigh releasing some of the tension.

“Oh,” you moan softly, but Jungkook isn’t done talking, and he ignores you as his hands come up to your ass, his cold touch on your cheeks causing you to squeak as he pulls them apart to force you to rut harder, deeper onto him.

“I can smell you right now,” he says roughly. “You can’t hide it from me, you know. Your blood, your wet pussy, they’re equally delicious to me. Equally mine.”

You moan as he forces you back and forth on his thigh. “You like that, don’t you? The idea of me devouring you like that? Waking you up with my mouth swirling around that hard clit, have you drooling and begging for my cock before you even know what day it is?”

“Shit, yes. Yes,” you pant, and Jungkook laughs, grasping your panties with his fingers and pulling tight. The fabric shifts, digging onto your swollen clit, blurring your vision from the sharp, deep wail.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, humping me like this. Letting me use you like this. What happened to my good girl, hm? Where’d my baby go?”

You know the question is rhetorical, but you find yourself entering the familiar, delicious haze you often go to with Jungkook, one that has been trained to answer every question he asks.

“Still your baby,” you whine, and Jungkook laughs.

He reaches down, tearing your panties off of your body with a single tug, exposing your wet pussy to the chill of the air.

“Oh really? You’re my baby? I don’t know about that. My baby usually has her mouth around my cock by now.”

Obediently, you sit up, tugging your shirt over your head, your nipples hard and sensitive from your arousal. Jungkook groans as he takes in the view of your naked body, but before he can act, you hastily strip him of his hoodie and shorts to reveal his naked length.

Jungkook’s cock stands tall and heavy, and as you take it into your hands, you don’t mention how that, too, has become incredibly cold from his thirst. Maybe this hunger could be soothing in summer, but in midwinter, it is going to drive you insane.

You pull him into your mouth, determined to imprint some of your body heat onto him as you dribble your warm saliva down his shaft with a deep suck.

Jungkook moans above you, tangling his fingers into your hair in approval.

“Fuck, yes, Y/N. God.”

You use one of your hands to cup his balls, enjoying the heft of how full they are before stroking up and down the parts of his cock that you can’t take into your mouth.

“There she is,” Jungkook sighs, and you relax your jaw so you can take more of him in, edging his tip down your throat. He bucks up, and you gag, feeling the familiar tang of him spread across your tongue. Globs of saliva bubble out of your mouth as you attempt to fight the urge to gag more from his occasional thrusts.

“There’s my baby. My little cockslut. Fuck, I missed this.” You hum in agreement and Jungkook gasps at the vibration. He grabs your head, stopping you from bobbing.

“Shit…fuck baby, hold on. Stop. God, I almost just came,” he laughs, and your lips twitch as you slowly pull away from him, strings of spit still connecting you to his thick cock.

You look up at him as he steadies himself, smiling up at him devilishly.

Feeling naughty, you lean forward, testing the waters as you tongue around the head, taking one final, deep suck. Jungkook’s eyes darken in warning and you giggle, sitting back on your heels as you smile at him with fake innocence.

“Brat,” he mutters, and shoves you down onto the bed, his lips on yours before you can even breathe, tasting himself in the corners of your mouth with feral need.

He pulls away, tapping your knees with instruction to open, and you do, propping your head up on a pillow so you can see everything.

The curve of his nose rocks against your clitoris as he begins, and because Jungkook knows you so well, his hands clamp down on your legs to prevent you from squirming. You feel him dig one hand into your thigh, a warning not to try to take control, and you force yourself to relax as he begins exploring you, sucking one of your swollen labia into his mouth.

You groan, the slow method of him licking and sucking, moving down and up between the inner corners of your thighs back to your center feels both like heaven and absolute hell.

You have the urge to whine, to shove your hips up, maybe your neglected clit will get more attention, but you know better. Jungkook is testing you, trusting you in this moment not to fail him.

His eyes meet yours as feasts, the bruises under his eyes more dark now than they were earlier. Between the maddening, erotic swishes of his tongue against your clitoral hood and smug look on his face, you’ve had just about enough.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food,” you snap, and surprised, Jungkook pulls back, his wet cheeks and wide smirk indicating how satisfied he is with his torture.

“No,” he says, licking his lips. His fangs peek out from under his lips. “But I think my food really likes it when she has to work for it.”

You roll your eyes, and he brings his fingers to your clit, pinching it. You gasp.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He scolds, and again you lose the urge to disobey.

You feign an apologetic look and buck your hips at him.

“Such a fucking bad girl today,” he chides. “If you’re not careful, I won’t let you cum. I’ll just use you like my little cumdump and you’ll have to figure out how to get off on your own.”

You shudder at his words and his shoulders straighten, satisfied with his apparent win.

“What do you say?” he asks, tracing one finger along your ridges.

You feel yourself trembling as his soft touch swirls around where you need it most, a frustrating, dizzy fury building in you.

“Jungkook, please.”

“That’s not the word I’m looking for.” His voice is dark, heavy in the cold of the room. Desperation is blinding you, only allowing you to think in fragmented sentences.

“I don’t know,” you whine, and you feel a hard slap hit directly onto your clit, sending a shock of pain and delicious pleasure through your body.

“Liar,” he snorts, and then rubs your wetness to soothe the ache. “You have a big girl brain, Y/N. I know you know what you need to say.” He dips a finger inside of you, you clench. “Or are you already too fucked out and needy to say it?”

Heat shades your face in embarrassment. Any other day, maybe, you’d challenge this, let him chip away at you until you are babbling and a mess underneath him. But the swell of heat in your core is pulsing what feels like everywhere in your body, including your head, and you rack your brain for the one word you know he’s looking for.

You pull a sharp breath between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he says, and then he shoves his face into your cunt, more fingers dipping into your entrance. He begins to stretch you, pulling his fingers apart, urging more of your wetness to spill onto his tongue. “So sweet.”

Your hips twitch in the air and you fight to keep them down now that one side of you is freed, so you concentrate on him, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he devours you.

Jungkook’s eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide. And in them you see something more than just lust.

I’m thirsty, he’s telling you, the lines faint, but still there. He sucks hard onto your clit, a low sound tearing through his throat.

He’s asking you for permission, grazing his fangs along your inner lips, trying desperately to restrain himself as the hand still wrapped around your thigh tightens with a bruise-inducing pressure.

Then eat, you tell him mentally, your tongue darting out of your mouth to lip your lips as you watch him get lost in his instincts. You hum your approval, thrusting your hips forward and shoving his head further into you.

“Yes,” you rasp, finding enough air in your lungs to puff out your consent.

Jungkook moans and you watch the resolve break as he delivers one final satisfying lap over your clit before he bites.

Nothing In your life could ever prepare you for this.

That part of you, the very organ having the most nerve endings, is alive and electric, burning hot as if you are the sun, the center of the universe. And Jungkook is orbiting around you, grounded by the gravity of your blood as he feeds from your pussy, groaning and bucking his hips in pleasure against the bed. A whimper churns from the depths of your throat as you writhe under him. The heat, god it’s everywhere, from the slight sting of the bite melting away from your core to the heady, steady throb of your clit that makes you feel your pulse everywhere.

Jungkook too, is warming underneath you, the chill of his body flushing away with each feverish gulp he takes. His cheeks are slightly pink again.

“So wet, so good,” he praises you as he swallows, and you see the blood smearing across his cheeks as he dips back into you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you say shakily. His tattooed hand leaves your thigh, reaches up, searching for you in his feast. You don’t hesitate to lace it with yours, your hands a little clammy, but you’re afraid that if you don’t hold on to him, you might be lost among the stars.

He drags one of his fangs along the edge of your clitoral hood, and flicks your swollen bud with his tongue, self assured in your destruction. Your legs begin to close, but he growls.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. His fingers press deeper inside you, thrusting toward the burning in your core that feels like it’s just out of reach. “You asked for this, now take it.”

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t.” You thrash your head to the side, gaze unfocused as you take in the shapes around your bedroom you know once were pieces of furniture, but the combination of blood loss and building ecstasy has you feeling like you’re almost drifting from your body.

Jungkook clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demands.

You force your eyes to him, and he instructs you to take a deep breath. You inhale shakily, letting him come into focus.

“You’re going to take my tongue. And then you’re going to take my fingers until you cum all over my face.” He makes his threat official, presses deep inside of you, thrusting deeper, toward the burning in your core that feels just out of reach. “And then you’re going to take my fat cock into my pretty little pussy and watch the cum drip out of it after I fuck you full of it, do you understand me?”

You tremble as he claims you. “Yes,” you reply and he leans in closer, thrusting his fingers in harder as you rock your hips toward him.

“Good,” he says. “Then give me what’s mine.” You feel him nip into you again, throwing you over with one deep suck.

You cry out, your hips twitching into the cold room, heaving deep broken gasps into your lungs, head spinning as you obey him. Your ears ring as you fall deeper under the wave, but you still feel Jungkook’s hand in yours, tender and encouraging as you force yourself back from beneath the current of your orgasm.

You try to steady your breath as you feel his drinking slow, his tongue placing a few laps here and there around your vulva in a gentle motion as he pulls himself away.

“Are you okay,” you hear him ask, though your eyes are trained on the ceiling as you try to stop yourself from seeing double. “Did I take too much?”

You’re not sure, to be honest, but you feel the warmth of Jungkook’s body cover you as he looks you over, feeling your pulse.

“Your heart is starting to slow down,” he says softly. “Can I leave you for a second to get some water?”

You make some kind of grunt of approval, and you feel him drape your covers back over you as he pads down the hall to sift through the kitchen.

He returns only a few moments later, a bottle of water and bag of heart shaped chocolates in hand.

You take the water from him and sip slowly, feeling the cool liquid soothing your hoarse throat, stabilizing you. You pop a chocolate into your mouth, the sugars melting your tongue tasting decadent.

When you finally glance over at Jungkook, you erupt into laughter.

“What?” he asks, his doe eyes going wide with panic. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

You fail to collect yourself, wheezing your breaths as tears burn your eyes. Maybe you did lose a bit too much blood, because it shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but he looks so full and flushed and innocent in light of what might just be the kinkiest thing the two of you have ever done.

His face is an utter mess, cheeks shiny and smeared with the faint pink of your mixed juices and blood. He looks like a child who just ate a cherry flavored popsicle.

“I-go look in the mirror,” you say between fits of laughter, and Jungkook looks at you confused before he obeys, standing and walking over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

“Oh shit,” he mumbles, then laughs. “Looks like I was saving myself a snack for later.” He reaches for a tissue from on top of his dresser and wipes his mouth.

“How can you not feel that all over you?” you ask, coughing when you finally recover.

“I don’t know! My brain isn’t focused on anything else right now but you! Well, you and…” he gestures down between his legs, where his cock is flushed from the blood, twitching as you give it attention.

You feel a flutter in your core and let out a soft gasp.

“But really, are you okay?” he asks tenderly, sitting back onto the bed and rubbing your thigh.

You scan over your body, checking in with yourself. You don’t feel woozy or nauseous, just loose, like how most large scale orgasms feel. Your thigh you know will be bruised tomorrow, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. And your clit, oh.

Your clit is tingling, and your pussy is dripping wet.

“Fuck,” you moan, and run your hand down between your legs and press your palm to your clit, enjoying the added pressure as it throbs under your touch.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, interested in your response.

You swipe your fingers through your folds and then pull them up. Surprisingly, the liquid is clear, meaning you’re not bleeding. Meaning that this dripping want is coming solely from you.

“What did you do to me?” You ask, and Jungkook’s eyes flash with worry as he moves closer, pulling your thighs open to inspect you.

“I hurt you?” he asks, panicking as he misunderstands. “God, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“No, no, baby, not like that,” you say, and you feel his hands fall from you as he moves to look at your face.

He scrunches his nose in confusion. “Then what–.”

“My pussy is tingling, and fuck look at me. I’m drenched.”

His eyes blow wide and he dips to look back down, his tongue darting out over his lip piercings as he takes in the liquid spilling out of you and onto the sheets underneath.

“Shit. I don’t know. Maybe my venom does that? I don’t even see a cut on you from where I bit.”

He sits back on his legs and his hand finds his cock, squeezing the base as he flits between looking at you and in between your legs.

You clench around nothing and a low, tortured moan escapes from his throat as he draws his hand up the base, wrist flicking to pump himself up and down in slow, delicious tugs.

“Y/N,” he says, and the way he says your name is dripping with need. You feel his eyes burn into every inch of you as he touches himself, causing you to mimic the fluidity of his strokes as you rub your clit.

“Please,” you respond.

“Cum for me again,” he demands but you shake your head.

“Don’t want to like this,” you say. “Want your cock in me. You promised you would let me watch your cum spill out of your pretty pussy, remember?”

His nostrils flare, and Jungkook jolts, flipping you over on the bed so you rest on top of him, his hard cock smearing with your wetness as he rocks your hips against him.

“We need to do something about that filthy mouth of yours,” he says, and you pant as you grind against him with broad movements, coating him with your juices. “The only time you haven’t said something bratty today was when my cock was down your throat.”

You moan, raising your hips off of his and taking his cock in hand. “You love it,” you say, and sink yourself down onto him in one solid motion, his thick length stretching and filling you to the brim.

He hisses and you begin to bounce, using him to curb some of the ache in your core.

He reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing. You squeak, feeling him pull you off of his cock, and leaving you devastatingly empty.

“Did I say you could fuck me?”

You whine and he scoffs. “Maybe you don’t deserve my cum after all. Disobeying me like this. I told you earlier I wondered where my good girl went, and I think I was right. Didn’t know I traded her in for a disrespectful bitch.”

You feel your stomach flip with excitement at the new term and you clench around him.

He laughs. “Oh? You like that, hmm? Well, if I traded away my good girl, I better see how much of a whore her replacement is.”

He lightens his grip on your neck and the oxygen floods back, making your fingertips and nipples prickle with the heightened sensation.

“Well? Get to it, slut.” and he takes your hips, slamming you back down onto his cock with one single stroke.

“FUCK,” you scream, and your hips buck, overstimulated as Jungkook doesn’t even give you the chance to have control, his hands clamping down on your sides as he fucks you onto him.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “That’s it, take my cock like a good little slut.”

You cry out, clamping your arms around him and pulling his face into your neck.

“Jungkook,” you say, and he grunts in response, pounding into you with a rhythm so that when you come down, he pushes up, hitting you deeper with each thrust.

“You like that, huh? Being like little fleshlight? Me using you like this to fuck all my cum into?”

You clench around him, slightly light headed from where he’s targeting you, trying to hit your g-spot dead on.

It’s so good, so primal, and you know you’re almost there, but you need something more.

“Please,” you whisper, shoving his head into your neck. “Bite me.”

And that’s when you feel it, the tiny prick of his fangs as Jungkook pierces your skin and begins to feed.

Sharp cold pressure is immediately replaced with a silky, scorching wave of pleasure as his venom delivers that addicting tingle through your neck.

Jungkook, too, seems to be affected, his cock twitches in you as the blood fills his body, somehow making him feel thicker and a little longer.

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel the fingers of one of Jungkook’s hands reach down to your clit, rubbing it hard and fast.

He detaches himself from your neck and laps up the excess blood before he holds you steady and adjusts your position, placing you on your back as he hovers above you.

The cloudiness in his eyes is gone, the markings underneath have faded. He settles into slow, deep strokes, his eyes ghosting over your body.

“I love you,” he says. Your heart swells.

“I love you too,” you respond, and you look down at where the two of you are connected, your pussy making a vulgar squelching sound as he drags himself in and out, his cockhead glossy.

“More,” you beg. “Please I’m so close”. He obeys, picks up his pace.

He bends over you, pulling a nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

“Should I bite you here next?” he mumbles and you squirm in delight.

Each thrust is now jutting Jungkook right against your cervix, and you feel the wet mess of your pussy trying and failing to take more of his cock inside, relishing the warmth that now reaches every corner of you.

As you flutter around him, the mounting tension drawing you closer to orgasm, Jungkook dips down again, this time laving over your nipple, plucking it between his teeth and delivering a soft bite.

This sends you over the edge, a stream of white hot pleasure rocketing through your core as you gasp on top of him, your pussy clamping down and trying desperately to take him with you.

But Jungkook has better control than that, and instead of letting you rest, he sets a deadly, relentless pace, fucking you into overstimulation.

“One more,” he breathes between thrusts.

“Hurts,” you pout, but he knows you. Knows your limit.

“One more. I know your messy little cunt can take more than this, baby.”

He spreads you wider, hooking your legs back so he's deeper in you than before, the wet slap of his balls against your pussy echoing through your bedroom as you are coated with your wetness.

You groan and he keeps going, his fingers ghosting over your clit once but not staying. You huff in frustration.

“Words,” Jungkook demands and you take a deep breath, trying to rack your brain for something other than moans.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, and with a dark laugh, he accepts it, placing his fingers back on your clit and finally, finally putting you back on track.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he utters, and this is how you know he’s getting close. The praise flowing from his mouth betrays his cold, dominating facade. “Such a warm, wet pussy. Just for me to fuck my cum into.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on his lip rings.

You moan, matching his thrusts with your hips, slamming yourself together harder, deeper. “God, Jungkook, please.”

“You gonna be good for me this time?” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. The tone of his voice is slightly higher, straining. “Gonna let me fill you up?”

“Yes,” you pant. “I need it.” His fingers circle faster, desperately working to make you cum before him. “Need to be full of your cum.”

You pull him into you, needing him closer, needing to feel the distance between your bodies to be smaller as you get closer. His fingers keep working, his thrusts hard and deep, hitting you exactly where you need it.

“Right there. Fuck your pussy, Jungkook. Take what’s yours.”

His hips falter. You place your teeth onto his neck and bite. Hard.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans and erupts, his cock twitching as he spurts load after load of warm cum into you, giving you the last bit you need to send you off one last time. Your pussy spasms, greedily taking in everything he gives you.

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice shaky as he continues to anchor both of you to your bodies, to the sensation of being full and satisfied.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek, rocking his hips slowly against you as you come down, flushed and overwhelmed.

You feel almost weightless, untethered to the joints in your arms and legs. If you weren’t being held by him right now, you might think you were out in space, floating around without gravity. In the haze of it all, you feel Jungkook shift you onto your side, his body still linked to yours as his erection deflates, cum leaking onto the bedding below you.

You don’t care enough to do anything about it, instead clinging to his forearm, needing to feel him everywhere so you don’t disappear.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he says, and you’re confused by this, and then you realize you’re crying, wet tears stinging your cheeks as you shake against him. He runs his hands through your hair and down the length of your back softly. “I got you.”

You breathe a shaky breath as he wraps the blankets around the two of you, gently humming a song, sighing when he feels you wiggle your toes next to him and finally steady yourself.

You look up at him and he’s smiling softly, his eyes warm and brown like they were when you first met him.

“That was intense, huh?” he asks and you nod.

“But really good,” you add and he beams.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I…”

He sits thoughtfully for a moment and you let him, trying to gain the courage to detach yourself and venture into the cold apartment to pee.

“I wish we did that sooner. I mean, I guess I should ask how that was for you. For me to, you know, feed from you.”

You wince as you shift away from him, feeling him slip out of you as you leak onto the sheets. Your sticky, damp legs beg for a shower, but you ignore it.

“I…it was a lot. But…but I liked it. The first bite, shit. You explained earlier how it felt when you first tasted my blood? About it being like how everything fired off in your body at once, right?” He nods. “It was like that for me, too.”

Jungkook smiles, pulling you in tightly against him.

“Do you think we can do that more often?” you ask shyly, and he laughs.

“Damn, once is all it takes for you to get addicted?”

You smack his arm. “Hey! No kink shaming! I didn’t judge you for wanting to go down on me during my period! While I was asleep!”

He sputters. “I’m not kink shaming! But you sound like you’re judging me now for it! We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to I’m sorry but I was caught up in the moment and the bloodlust and I was–”

You choke out a laugh, kissing him on his bare chest. “I’m teasing you...it sounds kind of hot actually.”

He hums in approval.

“I think we still have a lot of stuff to talk about,” he says after a pause. You sigh.

“Yeah. The great job reckoning is coming.”

“Yes, and not just that. I do want to talk more about you…your body. The…infertility thing. I want to go with you to the appointment, I mean if that’s okay? Even if everything is fine, or that you don’t end up wanting kids or whatever, I just want to be there for you through any of it, okay?”

You bristle a bit, feeling yourself starting to cry again. But after the day you’ve had, the intense, passionate sex, all of the things you will still be dealing with in the morning, you let the release guide you as your tears fall.

“Okay,” you say. You think about your conversations with Jungkook today, how he’s right. There are so many things you both don’t know about what you want or don’t want, about your own bodies.

“Um,” you say, and you pull back from him, rubbing up and down his forearms. “I want you to know something, too. I know that being a vampire wasn’t really in your life plans, and that there’s a lot of unknowns about it too. Not just about fertility, but like, it would have probably been nice for you to know you had magical tingly, healing venom that turns you into a sex god.”

“Hey! Was I not a sex god without the venom?” He scoffs, pretending to be offended.

You snort. “Okay fine, healing venom that turns you from a sex god to even more of a sex god. But you know what I mean. There are things that would be so helpful for you to know. To maybe take away some of the worry and those terrifying unknowns. And if you ever want to know, if you want to try to find your creator, I’ll support you in that choice. It would be hard, and maybe we wouldn’t find him, but I’m with you in this.”

Jungkook takes your cheek in his hand, his warm thumb rubbing across the skin.

“Thank you,” he says, and leans in to give you a soft kiss.

The world outside plunges deeper into the night, and after you clean yourselves up and change the sheets, you lie closely against each other. So many things remain unknown, but one thing you’re sure of as you watch Jungkook sleep: you have time to figure it all out.

ending a/n:

Thank you again for reading! While doing research about blood donations for this story, I was reminded that there’s currently a national shortage for blood donors in the US, and it’s safe to assume that this isn’t unique to just us. Right now, with the ongoing genocide in Gaza, blood shortages are extreme, and with the stonewalling happening preventing aid to enter the strip and Rafah, supplies, including blood for life saving transfusions, cannot make it through.

The Red Crescent/American Red Cross issued this statement in January:

“During emergencies, the American Red Cross will ship blood products outside of the U.S. following a specific request from the U. S. State Department for U.S. citizens overseas, at the request of the United Nations, or at the request of the affected Red Cross or Red Crescent society abroad. We have not received blood product requests for Israel or Gaza at this time.

For those interested in learning more about international humanitarian law and its vital role in protecting the innocent during armed conflict, please visit www.redcross.org/ihl. The American Red Cross has a duty to fulfill the Geneva Conventions’ purpose of reducing suffering during armed conflict. As part of our duty, the American Red Cross leads the effort to ensure Americans are informed of these laws and the humanitarian principles they reflect.”

While it’s not yet being asked for, I cannot recommend enough donating blood if you are eligible. There are many different qualifications for blood donations (if you’re not sure about your eligibility, please look at your Red Cross/Crescent website depending on your country). Your donation can help not just your local communities, but ultimately a population of people you might be unsure how to help. And if not, monetary donations are also accepted.

I’m not affiliated with this organization in any way, but I felt like it would be wrong to ignore this issue just in favor of a fun fanfic.

#bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #vampire jungkook #bts fanfic

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taiwan0618 · 1 year ago

Text

🎀 library pt. 1

my all time favorites !!

SUGAR AND COFFEE by @jimlingss

COLOUR OF OUR VOICES by @jimlingss

THE TRUTH BETWEEN US by @jimlingss

SHE'S TESTOSTERONE by @jimlingss

THE DEVIL’S OWN LUCK by @jimlingss

EVOLUTION OF A LOVER'S HEART by @jeonstudios

DROWN FOR YOU by @jeonstudios

DEAL by @jeonstudios

ONSRA by @writemywaytoyourheart

FLESH AND BOOD by @kinktae

TO WHAT WE WERE BEFORE, AND ALL THE THINGS AFTER by @orchidyoonkook

FEAR IN YOUR EYES , FOREVER AND A NIGHT by @gukyi

THE HABITS OF A BROKEN HEART by @softykooky

TO BE LOVED BY YOU by @jeonjcngkook

KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HIS TOUCH by @borathae

DESTINY TRILOGY by @dat-town

DESTINY by @jungnoir

KIM'S EMPORIUM OF STRANGE by @jungnoir

AMOUR CHASSÈ-CROISÉ by @jungnoir

MOONLIGHT by @jungnoir

PAS DE DEUX by @jiminrings

LOVING YOU IS ALL I KNOW by @jiminrings

FIRE AND ICE by @army-author

L’AQUELLARE by @venusjeon

SAFE HANDS by @archivedkookie

SPICY’N SWEET by @thvhoe

IN WICH YOU ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT AND JUNGKOOK IS DYING TO KISS YOU by @onlyswan

IN WICH YOU MAKE JUNGKOOK’S WORLD SPIN AND YOU TEND TO… MAKE HIM A LITTLE TOO DIZZY by @onlyswan

KISS ME BETTER by @jaykaysthicthighs

IDEALIZATIONS CONCERNING REAL LIFE RELATIONS by @venusiangguk

DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DANCE by @hiraethslibrary

DRIVING ME WILD DRABBLES by @koorara

THE PITTER PATTER OF THE HEART @koorara

REPLACEMENT by @akinnie75

EPIPHANY by @nightbts

SWEET NOTHING by @adonis-koo

ONE YEAR, MY LOVE by @hayjeon

MORNING LIGHT by @retrievablememories

STAY WITH ME by @retrievablememories

SPRING CRESCENT by @persphonesorchid

CAFE O LAY by @taesspark

#bts fluff #bts angst #fic recs #bts ff recs

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yooniivrse · 5 months ago

Text

masterlist ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

f - fluff | a - angst | s - suggestive | m - mature (smut)

☆ YOONGI

s e r i e s

STUMBLE INTO YOU (f) - ON HOLD

summary. one wrong knock, a few chance encounters, and suddenly you’re stumbling into something more—shared walks, secret smiles, and a growing connection neither of you expected.

o n e s h o t s

UH OH, I’M FALLING IN LOVE (f) - 1.5k

summary. the night that yoongi realises you might be a lot more than just a close friend to his heart.

d r a b b l e s

BITTER COFFEES (f) (a) – 1.7k

summary. the last person you expect at your door at 4 am is yoongi. but his presence is like a blanket of comfort that helps soothe your aching heart.

MELTED KISSES (f) (s) – 1.9k

summary. yoongi's kisses are always sickly sweet. but the taste of melted sugar on his lips makes you crave him more than the plate of sugar coated fruits.

HEALING TOUCHES (f) – 2.2k

summary. sometimes, your boyfriend's tender touches and caring actions help heal your fragile state faster than any medication.

POTTERY DATE (f) – 1.1k

summary. you never expected to find pottery so difficult, so it's a good thing that your boyfriend is right there, ready to help guide you with his gentle hands.

EARLY MORNINGS (f) – 1k

summary. when time seems to bend every morning and love speaks through tender touches and quiet reassurances.

FACE MASKS (f) (a?) - 1.9k

summary. in which your presence is enough to lighten his toughest days—even if it means resorting to face masks at midnight

BOUQUET (f) - 1.3k

summary. summary. every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

☆ JUNGKOOK

o n e s h o t s

DIET PEPSI (s) – 1.4k

summary. stuck in the rain, jungkook can’t resist the sweetness of your lollipop—or the taste of your lips.

#tanni’s works 🖇️#masterlist ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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redrose10 · 4 months ago

Note

yoongi - 50

This one got a way from me a little, but I hope you like it!

#50 People are Staring

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, mean CEO Yoongi

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You profusely apologized once again for the long wait times even though it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault that this was one of the only cafes in the city. It wasn’t your fault that this cafe was located right at the entrance level of one of the the biggest and busiest corporate offices in the city, probably the state. It wasn’t your fault that your co-workers all quit or got fired within the last week leaving you with just the new guy, Jungkook.

He was a nice kid and a hard worker, but he was still not familiar with most of the drinks so you had him on the register while you did your best to get the orders done.

You looked at the receipt for the next drink,

Large coffee

2 pumps vanilla

3 pumps peppermint

2 pumps mocha

Almond milk

Whipped cream

Chocolate drizzle

Chocolate cookie crumble

Whatever happened to just coffee with cream and sugar you thought as you began to work on the drink.

Just as you finished up Jungkook came over with a scared look on his face, “Umm Y/N there is a guy at the counter who wants to speak to the manager.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it. Please take this drink for order 377.”, you sighed.

Even though you technically weren’t the manager you were the closest there was right now so you mentally prepared yourself before grabbing a handful of free drink coupons as an apology and heading towards the counter.

You came to a halt feeling your stomach drop at the sight of Min Yoongi. The incredibly handsome incredibly rude super scary CEO of MYG INC. which was located on the top floor of the office building. You’d had several encounters with him. He never smiled, hardly ever looked up from his phone and if he did it was only to make a comment belittling or complaining about something. He stopped by 4 out of 5 days a week but sent his assistant Hobi on the fifth day who was a welcomed break.

You cleared your throat before speaking, “M-Mr.Min, how can I help you?”

He looked down at you through narrowed eyes, “Y/N, I’ve been in line for almost twenty minutes. That is completely unacceptable for a mediocre cup of coffee.”

You nodded with you lips in a tight smile, “Of course sir. I apologize. It’s just Jungkook and I and he is new. We’re trying our best.”

“Yeah well it’s clearly not good enough.”, he scoffed.

You took a deep breath to keep yourself calm, before sliding over the coupons, “Again I apologize Mr.Min. Here are coupons for some free drinks.”

“Ha I don’t need a free drink. Clearly I can afford a $5 coffee which shouldn’t take this long to receive. Do better.”, he spat before grabbing his coffee from the counter and heading towards the elevators.

“Wow he’s an intimidating asshole.”, Jungkook whispered next to you.

“Yeah uh he’s something for sure.”, you sniffled trying to hold back some tears.

Over the next couple weeks things improved slightly. Jungkook was getting quicker and the owner hired two more employees, Jimin and Taehyung.

Your classes had started up again so you were moved to the evening shift which you were so thankful for. It was a little slower and you no longer had to deal with Yoongi.

Clocking in for your shift you got a text from the owner,

Jin (Boss man): Hey there’s a new guy starting tonight. He’s only working a few hours a week. Something about learning to deal with people blah blah blah. Please show him the ropes.

You: Sure thing

JIN (Boss man): He’s really handsome by the way. NO OFFICE SEX!!!

You chuckled as you tucked away your phone ready to get this shift over. The first couple hours flew by even though it was relatively slow. You had your back turned to the counter as you scrubbed away at one of the machines.

From behind you someone cleared their throat making you jump.

If you had a million guesses you never would’ve been correct about who was standing behind you in uniform.

“Uh Mr. Min?”, you questioned.

He looked more pissed off than ever.

“Y/N, I guess I am your new coworker for the next several weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to to come up with a better system to solve the slow service around here.”

“Umm uh sir? W-what do you mean coworker?”

He rolled his eyes, “Obviously I mean we are working together.”

“I know what a coworker is. My question is why is a billionaire ceo working at a coffee shop for minimum wage?”

“Because my lovely parents think I need to learn some humility and how to talk to people other than just demanding things. They said I do this or they’re removing me from the company so I have no choice.”, he said picking at some lint on his shirt.

“So I’m working here a few hours a week. I figured if anyone knows some humbleness it’s a nobody coffee maker.”

Great. Just great. Just when you thought things were looking up now you have to deal with this arrogance and rudeness.

But being the reliable hard worker you are you sucked it up, “Okay sir. The easiest thing is to learn the register first.”

He followed you over to where the computer was located.

“Okay so this row is the specials. This row is basic coffees. Then when you select a coffee it asks if you want to add any thing. That’s where you’ll find the flavorings and toppings. This row is cold drinks. This row is baked good.”

You noticed he was very quiet so when you looked up you weren’t surprised to see him staring at some blond in a short pencil skirt sitting at one of the cafe tables.

“Are you even listening?”, you questioned.

“Y/N, I run a billion dollar company. I think I can figure out a few buttons on a computer screen at a coffee shop.”, he smirked.

“Okay sir, here’s your first customer.”, you smiled as an older woman came up to the register.

“Hi, welcome to Jin’s Java House, how can I help you?”, he greeted her.

“Sure can I get a medium coffee with two pumps of hazelnut, half a pump of vanilla but make sure it’s only half a pump. Last time they definitely put too much. Then also add a caramel swirl and use half oat milk half almond milk that is warmed up so it doesn’t cool the coffee too much. I also want a banana nut muffin on the side but warm it up also.”

You felt a deep happiness as you watched Yoongi’s fingers hover over the buttons unsure of how to complete the order. Reluctantly he looked at you for assistance.

You showed him how to type in the order while Jimin got to work making it.

That was definitely a humbling experience for Yoongi who was much more open to help after that.

Working at the coffee shop certainly seemed to bring a change in Yoongi. He was friendlier, calmer. One night he even apologized for always treating you so coldly, especially that one day he made you cry. He said he came down later in the day to apologize then but you were already gone and it bothered him ever since. The two of you became a lot closer and you might’ve started to developed a small crush instead of just pure hatred for him.

You were most surprised when he agreed to work with you during a Saturday morning shift. It was a last resort when you texted him explaining the situation and that you were going to be working by yourself. When he showed up Saturday morning bright and early you were in shock. He looked even hotter than usual in his ripped jeans and sneakers and the cafe shirt. His hair just combed through and messy instead of styled back. He wore glasses instead of his usual contacts. He looked good as he greeted you with a gummy smile.

The shift was BUSY. You felt like you were running around nonstop. Yoongi even broke a sweat which you didn’t think was possible.

“I have to go in the back and get more ice water. The machine is overheating again.”, you said pointing at the old espresso maker.

“I’m just going to suck it up and buy Jin a new one. That cheap bastard. This is ridiculous.”, he shook his head.

The bucket was heavy as you did your best to carry it up front without spilling any.

“Hey Y/N, how do I ring up a strawberry milk tea aga-“

Before he could finish Yoongi turned around and crashed into you spilling the ice water all over you and the black coffee he was holding all over himself.

You hissed from the coldness running down your body.

“Oh my god I am so sorry Y/N. I didn’t see yo-“

Yoongi stopped speaking rendered silent.

He came to stand in front of you when you noticed the coffee spilled all over his jeans and shoes, “Oh sir I am so sorry. I didn’t even notice. I can’t afford to buy you new ones but I’ll try to clean them the best I can.”

You noticed the waiting area full of customers all staring at you. Mostly in silence, a few chuckles. Your cheeks started heating back up even though your body was cold from the water.

“People are staring.”, you whispered.

“Um yeah uh. Probably because um…”

You’d never seen the CEO so flustered. A blush crept up his next to his cheeks before he continued, “It’s probably because your shirt is uh…is kind of see through right now.”

You looked down in horror realizing that the water had turned your white work shirt completely see through revealing your white lace bra underneath.

You ran in the back looking for another shirt to change into when Yoongi followed close behind.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry sir. I’m sorry about your clothes and I’m sorry I embarrassed myself in front of you and now you’re never going to like someone like me and ugh I’m so dumb. Why didn’t I wear an apron today?”, you were rambling on and not even realizing what you’d said when Yoongi came and stood in front of you again handing you a shirt he had found, “Y/N, you have to stop calling me sir. Please. Especially when you’re standing in front of me with your bra on display.”

“Um sir…I mean Mr.Min I…It’s a habit.”, you said even more embarrassed.

“Mr. Min isn’t any better.”, he shook his head.

“Here put this shirt on and then let’s go out there and finish this shift so we can go back to my place, have dinner, and then I can see this lace on full display while I make you call me sir in all kinds of ways.”, he said with a smirk just inches away from your face, “Otherwise I might just have to take you here. And Jin is going to be very upset that we broke the no office sex rule.” Your eyes widened with excitement as you quickly changed before following after him reeling with desire.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi au #ceo Yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi

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kittyscupcakeandbunny · 1 year ago

Text

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

INTRO

Bunny on the run

Side Characters: Yoongi cat Hybrid, Hoseok/Human, Taehyung/Human.

Warnings: mentions of violence, wounds, blood, smut, nudity.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrid au, fluff, R+18.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Days alone on the streets after running away, Jungkook is so hungry he would do anything for something to eat, the sweet smell of bread fills his nostrils and as he walks on the side walk of the night streets he fallows it as if lost on a dream, almost not believing such delicious smell could even exist. He fallows the smell with his high sense of scent only to stop in front of a small coffee shop, the lights where still on a warm atmosphere he could see it from the outside, the glass door had some green leaves falling from the top where the name of the coffee shop shined in cursive letters, bunny buns.

He watches as the sign on the door changes. Someone opens the door the sound of a ring dings and a women a bit shorter than him comes out holding two black trash bags, she notice him standing there and only smiles at him walking around him to put out the trash. His heart beats faster, not knowing what to do with such reaction from a female, she who smelled like sweets and bread making him mesmerized by her long purple hair that stopped at her but. Jungkook never saw someone like her, it felt like he was in a dream and just saw an angel.

"Won't you come in bunny?" His checks burn from embarrassment, not used to having attention on him, "I don't have money miss, sorry" he murmured, she only smiles kindly looking him up and down she noticed he was a stray hybrid, from the dirty clothes to the dirt and wounds on his hands and face. His big doe almond eyes shined so bright under the lights of the coffee shop, looking almost like the night sky full of stars. He looked absolutely adorable, even though the contrast of his old clothes and dirt on him. She smiles and invites him in "it's on me then, come?" She offers him her hand and he slowly accepts it holding the tips of her finger afraid to leave dirt on her hand, fallowing her inside the small and warm coffee shop, he was so hungry he fallows without any second thought not caring to think about not having money anymore as his eyes traveled over all the pastries and sweet smell of cinnamon rolls, everything there smells so good and looked like bunnies, he wants to laugh at the coincidence.

Of course everything would look like a bunny, the place is called bunny buns.

Telling him to sit on a barstool she than walks around it, standing in front of him on the other side of the counter she begins to prepare him some bunny buns. The signature of the shop. Bunny bread with sugar over it. Making sure to give him a bunch with a cup of warm milk, it was freezing outside and she really wondered how he managed to walk outside with only a white shirt and pants.

She wondered, if he maybe had lost himself from his owner. Or maybe simply run away from it.

She owns the coffe shop and gives him everything he asks for, he apologizes many times but she only tells him it's okay. “Please, let me pay you somehow?” He says, long white ears behind his head moving slightly. She only smiles at him “you being this cute is enough for me”.

Her smile warms his heart in a way he never thought it was possible, no one has ever showed him kindness, not even a smile. Never. Even before he run away.

He continued to eat as she watched him, looking outside as rain stared pouring she asked him “do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”, he didn’t meet her eyes. Only staring at the now empty plate in front of him. Ashamed to even tell her the truth.

He was finally free.

Yet he had nowhere to go. No place to call home.

“Oh no… I’m so sorry” she says, soon warm hands are holding his face up to meet her gaze in the most gentle way. Her thumbs clean the tears he never thought would fall from his eyes, worry fills her expression over her soft features.

“I don’t have… home” he says, big doe eyes looking into her. She couldn’t just let the poor bunny hybrid alone at this cold time of the year. He looked so soft and scared. Like anything could break him apart.

“Well… my house is upstairs, do you want to stay here for the night?” She asks, surprise filling his brown eyes as quick as the red on his checks. He couldn’t even imagine what was happening, why would she help him? Why would she, when no one else did?

“ I can’t… you’re so nice but-“ he began but couldn’t end his sentence, her hands falling from his face over his hands.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind… it’s just, it will be a cold night… I’m scare you’ll be cold” she tells him, he looks at her, a stranger offering him a home to stay the night after filling his belly.

Even if she hurts him later, he just felt so grateful for her. So much he cried.

“Don’t cry bunny… you can stay, okay?” She gently cleaned his tears, walking around the counter to stand beside him. Her hands running over his back in a soft manner, slowly he began to fall into her touch. Head resting over her chest as she continued to caressed his back.

“I’ll take care of you okay?” Her other hand comes up to gently scratch his head, his long hair were soft. Her mind were filled with questions. How could someone let this poor bunny walk around in this could weather? She couldn’t believe it.

More than anything, how was she going to take care of this big bunny?

Next?

Tag list?

Notes: here is the intro, I hope you guys like it! It will be a very soft story with some fluff annnnnddd smut. Heheh luv you all 💖

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 2: New Life]

Some feelings that you think you've never felt might just be buried beneath the things you've been trying to forget.

General Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, somewhat dark romance, Crime, Blood & Violence, angst, fluff?, Rollercoaster of emotions TM, Angst, Injury?, Death (of a minor character), murder out of self-defense, gun violence, mentioned torture, do I sense some.. fluff??

Length: ~5k words.

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Going short now?" Namjoon comments a bit teasingly, as Jungkook enters the kitchen downstairs, where most are currently busy eating breakfast-except you.

"It bothered me." He mumbles. "Did she already have breakfast?" He wonders towards Hoseok, who shrugs.

"She wanted to go to check out the books in the second office. Yoongi said I should let her." He defends himself, and Jungkook nods, though he's not happy.

"I still would like for at least someone to stay close to her." He says, filling one cup with coffee, and the other one with tea.

Two sugars, the same you always liked it. Do you still like it that way now?

He opens the door with his elbow, quietly as he can, spotting you near the windows with numerous books placed on the windowsill, your legs pulled close, cheek resting on your knees as you read. Your ears twitch towards him, but it's clear that you no longer fear him after a few days of living here now.

That's good. He likes that development.

The door closes, and you look towards him now, watching how he walks closer, placing the two cups on the small coffee table nearby, before he sits down on the leather sofa near the window where you sit. "Reading?" He wonders, but you shake your head, moving to walk closer, placing the book opened on the table.

It's a fable. He didn't even know he still had this book.

"Can't read it, huh." He mumbles, pulling the book closer, before he pats the spot next to him once to invite you to sit- which you do, watching how he closes it, inspects it's roughed down edges, before he opens it again. He sighs, leans back, holds the book against the leg he's got thrown over the other, to show you the pictures accompanying the story. "Basically.. Alright. So, there was a king, and he got pretty fucking sick." He explains, and you slowly move your legs up, naked feet now on the sofa as you lean against Jungkook, first actual physical contact you both have-

ever since he left you.

"No one had a clue why, until one of the healers got the stupid idea that a rabbit's liver would heal the guy." He simplifies the story in his rather rough words, but you listen regardless, studying the imagery in the book. "So, the king asked his minions who'd go up to the surface and get a rabbit down under the sea." Jungkook goes on, looking at you for a second. "But most of them were cowards, and didn't dare go up onto the surface." He tells you further, before shrugging, looking back at the pages. "Granted, how would a whale or a squid walk on land, but it's a kid's tale, so I guess it's whatever.."

You giggle. Faint voice accompanying it- and while it still hurts to be reminded of your forever pain, the fact that you're amused, makes him feel at ease.

"So, a turtle said he'd do it, and went upstairs to the dry lands to find a rabbit." He continues, moving the pages, new images for you to see revealed. "And when he found one, he lied to the rabbit to get him to come down under the sea with him- because no way would that fucker go down with him to get his organs stolen." He explains. "Told him that he was invited by the king to be a simple guest- and the rabbit believed the turtle, because why not? It's a great opportunity." He says, and at that, you seem to fall deep into thought.

"And at first…" Jungkook moves on, turning the pages again to show new drawn pictures of the kingdom of the seas the rabbit rides through, sat on the turtle's back. You're equally as mesmerized it seems like, until Jungkook continues the story. "Everything was beautiful. The scenery, the people, the first impression." He finishes his sentence, turning the page again. "Until he stood in front of the king, and learned why he was really there."

Your eyes widen as you look at the picture of the giant king, and the small rabbit sat in front.

"But the rabbit wasn't as easy to trick as they thought." He suddenly says with a lower, more serious tone now, and at that, you look at Jungkook, hopeful eyes demanding him to continue. "The rabbit told him he'd love to cure him, but that he left his liver in the forest up on land." He says, and you no longer seem interested in the pictures as you watch how Jungkook closes the book- he knows how this story ends, after all.

"He lied as well, and made the turtle bring him back up." He reveals, before he looks back at you. "And then told that cunt that he lied just as much, before he ran away into the safety of the forest-" Jungkook tells you, reaching out to brush some of your hair away from your face. "-never to be caught by the king again."

It reminds you of something. But you're not sure if it's real, or if it was a dream.

Maybe it was both.

Or maybe even neither.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Jungkook- before I show you this you have to promise me you'll stay as calm as you can." Hoseok threatens, shielding the screen from the tiger hybrid who's already suspicious. "I know you'll freak out, but.. try and not do something irrational." He says, making Jungkook glare at him for a good moment, before he nods, crossing his arms.

Only then does Hoseok step aside, clicking to start the video that he's snatched before it could be sent directly to Jungkook's laptop.

And now Jungkook know exactly why Hoseok was so worried, and watched it himself first before deciding to show it to him later.

He knows exactly where this was filmed- the cage in the middle of the warehouse too familiar to ever forget. It's as if Jungkook can smell the sweat and fear and aggression around him again, mixed with the iron of blood and cracking of bones. But this time, it's not him in the ring. This time, he might be witnessing why you're now lost without any memories of what and who you once were.

Sickeningly enough, he has to admit that solely on an objective base, you're very agile in dodging- but it's clear that you're not good at keeping that stamina up, as you're tugged away from the side of the cage you cling to, and thrown into a corner, back hitting the metal mesh harshly. You're kicked, and punched, and tugged around like a ragdoll-and he can't tear his eyes away as he watches you trying to shield yourself from the aggression of the large bear hybrid that's trying to stomp you into the stained floor below.

And then people clap, and Daeho steps up to the cage, opening it up after the bear hybrid is removed. You tumble out, unmoving for a second, before you slowly sit up- much to Jungkook's surprise.

You've endured so much. Just for the sick entertainment of others?

You took his place.

Daeho leans down to you, says something to you, before you're taken away, uncaring of the fact that you clearly cannot walk- and Jungkook can't watch anymore, fist forcefully coming down onto the table, causing several items to jump and fall over as he paces with his hands on his head, trying to keep his cool.

"It would explain her amnesia." Namjoon mumbles, watching Hoseok close the video again. "Jimin mentioned that she has some weakness in her left leg when she walks, and that there's scarring on her back, as well as on her right side." He says. "He assumes she had a collapsed lung at some point, and a leg injury that did not heal properly. But she would have to be properly examined in a hospital for that."

"Then we bring her to one." Jungkook says. "We have an agreement with Seoul Central. Admit her there, and make sure Jimin and Seokjin stay-" He starts, but Namjoon shakes his head.

"She's not mentally stable enough for that, Jungkook." He worries. "And currently, she's not having any major issues at all. We shouldn't put her through any stress she doesn't have to go through."

Jungkook nods, growls to himself. He knows this.

And hates feeling this helpless.

"Why doesn't she talk?" Jungkook wants to know, and everyone is silent at that, unsure if they should answer. But one look from Jungkook's darkened eyes is enough to make Namjoon submit to the pressure.

"Jimin said he suspects.. that her vocal chords are paralyzed from a past infection.." He starts, and from the look he receives from his leader, he knows he cannot just leave it at that. "..or that it was intentional damage."

"Speak clearly to me." Jungkook demands.

"Acid. Bleach. Battery fluid." Jimin takes over, having entered the room so quietly almost no one noticed him. "She was probably silenced before she was sold." He bluntly states, Jungkook's pulse raging at this point.

"Can it be fixed?" Jungkook asks lowly, hard to hear.

"Most likely not entirely." Jimin explains. "But she might be able to learn how to speak again, if only faintly- if it is only scar tissue preventing the vocal chords to move properly." He shrugs, leaning against a wall. "There's no magic cure for her, Jungkook. She's got permanent injuries, physical and mental. There's no sugarcoating it." He shrugs.

Not many people dare to speak so bluntly with the tiger hybrid- but Jimin has quite literally nothing to lose. He's got no home, no friends, no family, no career- no identity except here, no home besides this place. If Jungkook kicks him out, he's a ghost, nothing else.

So he's as bold as he needs to be.

"There's already a chance she might remember what's happened to her." Jimin says, catching Jungkook's attention on him. "And when that happens.."

"…she'll need you more than ever."

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When Jungkook opens the door, you're met with a different sight than usual.

His black button up has the first few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos, dark eyes looking at you from beneath his hair that's hanging a little over his forehead. He's silent, gazes down at you- before he walks aside, and lets you in.

He always lets you in.

It's clear from the book you're holding that you probably want him to read something again- but the moment he reaches for it, you suddenly step back, walking away from him to put the book on his office table instead, right next to his laptop. He's confused, especially when you take his hand to tug him towards the small leather sofa that's situated in this room- making him sit down, before you search for something, clearly not finding it.

So instead, you run out the room, making him notice what Jimin has mentioned- the way you seem less steady on one of your legs as you leave the room, only returning a few minutes later, closing the door behind you.

Before you gently push his shoulder to the side, blanket thrown over him.

"I'm not tired." He tells you, but you look at him, before you point at your eyes. "I always look like that." He defends himself, but you still shake your head, forcing him back down.

Forcing being not the right word really, considering you're technically no match for him, at least not physically. And he has to admit- he is actually quite tired.

What he does notice however is how you sit down in front of the sofa now, your back against the furniture as you watch the door.

You're guarding him.

And somehow, that hurts.

"You don't have to watch over me, you know." He tells you, hand reaching out for your head. "Go sleep as well." He tells you- but you seem to misunderstand, because you suddenly crawl underneath the blanket in front of him, settling on his arm as you cling to him now, hiding almost in his chest.

You can't voice out your confusion, can't tell him how disorienting it feels to be so drawn to him, and crave his comfort like this, when you don't even know him.

Or do you?

You dream of him, more often now that you're living here in the same space as he does. You're not sure what those dreams mean at all, but you believe they might be trying to tell you something you can't figure out yet.

What you can figure out currently however, is the fact that as he holds you a little tighter now, adjusting the blanket over your shoulder, you feel him almost.. no. That can't be right.

Because why would he be sad?

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You woke up in your own room this morning, unsure how you got there.

Now you're in Hoseok's 'office'- the basement area where he keeps all his IT-Equipment and the CCTV-surveillance. He's gone to get himself something to eat, having skipped breakfast this morning, and you nodded towards him when he asked if you would be okay alone- because of course you are.

You know your job here. And you're good at it- Yoongi said that, yesterday.

And maybe that's why you immediately feel drawn to one of the screens, something just feeling out of the ordinary as you scan the cameras that have the front gate and main entrance of the premise in their view. To everyone else, everything would seem absolutely normal- bushes and trees swaying a bit in the wind, faint rain spraying onto the ground, weather today rather gloomy.

But you notice something.

There's a patch of ground near the outside of the front gate that's lighter than the rest- it's not as wet as the rest of the ground is everywhere else. And then, you notice the broken twigs of the left plants decorating the sides of the gate- and you just know something's wrong.

Someone's been there. Watching? Stalking?

Or trying to get in?

When the door opens, you're ready to gain Hoseok's attention to let him know what you found- but the person entering isn't the tall human you've come to know by now. "Huh. So he really keeps you around." The man says, pushing the mask on his face down, clearly not worried about you. It makes sense- you can't speak, and he knows this.

Because he's been the one who made sure of it.

The sight alone makes you tremble like an earthquake rumbles through your veins, boiling water instead of blood rushing through you, burning your insides like ice on a hot stove.

You're paralyzed, body in full fight or flight.

"Do you still squeak like a doorhinge?" He asks, laughs, as he walks closer to tap the keyboard on a nearby pc, opening files, before he takes out a USB stick he plugs into the port.

What is he doing?

How can you get away?

Should you do something?

What will he do if you try to run?

You can see that he's clearly bypassing the systems security by downloading files directly- and you're not sure what exactly that will mean for the future of everyone here. If they know how the premise is set up and how everything works for Jungkook and the company he runs as a cover up to his actual doings, it'll all be over.

You fingers itch. Is it worth losing them?

Yesterday, when Jungkook held you on the couch, you felt odd. He was delicate yet firm in the way he made sure you'd stay close, hands never wandering, only holding you like something precious. Yoongi refuses to tell you either what you are to the tiger hybrid- he just keeps telling you that if you ever feel like you're scared of everything,

Jungkook will never be someone you'll have to fear.

And maybe if you become something he can rely on just as much, you'll finally find someplace you deserve calling home.

Your eyes move around the room, mapping out where the fastest route would be to exit after your fingers find the distinctive panic button under the desk you're standing next to.

"Don't even think about it." Han says, and you freeze, mouth drying up. "You wouldn't do that." He chuckles, looking over at you.

And you're not sure why that makes you angry.

But it does.

The electricity cuts off, room dipped in nothing but black before the red emergency light turns on after you press the button- and you're already out the door, dashing down the hallway and up the stairs while you can hear Han right behind you, gun being shot into your direction.

Did he hit you? Miss you? You can't tell, your ears are ringing.

You don't know where you're running to when you realize the familiar hallway you're finding yourself in- and again, you decide in a split second to be brave, because this is all you have to lose now. This is all you have to your name- and Jungkook's voice suddenly echoes in your head.

"You belong here, and nowhere else."

He'd said it with such finality that it made you unsure back then- but now, after meeting Yoongi, and Hoseok, and Seokjin and Jimin and Namjoon and everyone else-

You believe it, even if it's a lie to keep you here.

"From now on, you're mine."

And you want to be his.

You want to belong.

And if this is your chance to earn your spot, you'll take it.

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Everyone's on edge as they peak around corners, guns drawn and loaded.

Yoongi watches as Jungkook's eyes reflect in the dark just like his own, the hybrids of the estate having a huge advantage right now with their eyesight quickly adapting to the darkness.

It's why Jungkook put it in place together with him, back when they put up the entire security system.

The only thing he's currently worried about is the lack of communication- with the entire system down, it must've been something wrong in the IT-room in the basement, which meant that the entire system would shut down to prevent either damage or theft.

But it also meant that you're involved, since you're supposed to be with Hoseok.

Another pair of reflective eyes is found, one a little dimmer than the other signaling that it's Taehyung who's looking at them. He nods, quiet greeting, before everyone moves around, quietly, unsure what's currently going on.

Namjoon and Hoseok are probably hiding right now, as they should.

Then, a shot.

Another one, right after.

And then, it's quiet.

"Did someone deal with it?" Taehyung whispers and Jungkook can't answer that, so everyone moves rather towards the sound of the last shot, to figure out what had happened.

It leads the small group near the entrance hall, where Jungkook spots..

you?

He immediately tells Taehyung who's not met you yet to realize it's you, to put down his weapon, everyone clearly now relaxing as well. Yoongi, right behind Jungkook, locks eyes with everyone- a clear sign to stay back, because the smell of fear is thick in the air.

Jungkook makes sure to walk loud enough for you to notice- ears snapping back towards him, body still shaking as you hold something in front of you.

And once he reaches you, he can see it.

Your hands clench the gun so tightly that he's wondering not if it hurts- but how much. The man in front of your feet is gone by now, shot right in the face, and once in his neck, blood soaking up your socks. Your finger is still pushing down the trigger even though the magazine is clearly empty, gun no longer a threat, barely warm to the touch most likely.

He's slow as he walks closer behind you, arms taking the same position as yours do, as he gently holds your hands.

"You're okay." He tells you, and only now do you seem to start breathing again, if only just a little, before you walk back, panic bubbling up inside you as you notice the blood on your feet- but he holds you, takes the gun away from you before he let's Yoongi take it, turning you over to instead hold onto him-

your hoarse screams barely loud enough to echo off the walls of the entrance hall, while you painfully sob against the tiger's chest.

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"It was just a graze. Almost nothing." Jimin sighs, as he puts down the gun in the plastic bag on Jungkook's table. "What's more interesting, would be who she shot." He sings almost, sitting down boldly across from him on the table, curled tail almost knocking down some papers.

"Did Namjoon figure it out?" Jungkook wonders, closing his laptop before he pulls the glass of whiskey closer, ice cubes knocking against the glass as he brings it to his lips.

"His name's Park Han." Jimin says. "And, according to tapes, he was Daeho's favorite when it came to.. suspect torture." He says.

"What are you trying to tell me-" He wants to know, when Jimin puts down a folded note, clearly coming from your notebook.

'They held my head back, and he laughed.' is written in shaky handwriting. 'And then he poured-'

Jungkook doesn't read any further.

"She took her revenge." Jimin offers, taking the note back before he offers another one. "And she's starting to understand, too." The wolfdog explains, his folded, torn ear moving towards the tiger as he takes the note to read. "I asked her why she did it, just for context."

'I belong here.' is written down.

'Jungkook's office was down the left side, so I went right' the note continues. Jungkook fills in what Jimin probably asked you himself- it's not hard to do.

'He protects us. So we must protect him, when he can't'

"She's right, you know?" Jimin kindly says, the tiger slowly looking up only with his eyes. "You protect us. And we'll be here for you too, when you need us." He offers, his torn ear flicking around a bit- a common thing, since he has permanent nerve damage in it after having it shredded by a shotgun, years ago when Jungkook found him. "You're not on your own." Jimin reminds him.

And Jungkook stays silent, before he folds the note, and puts it into a drawer of his office desk.

To keep, if he needs the reminder once more.

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"We gotta teach you how to properly shoot." Yoongi comments as he looks at your bruised hands- wrist safely tucked into a brace from having gotten hurt during the two shots you made. You instantly shake your head, clearly not on board with that idea. "No?" The dog hybrid chuckles, though he lets the topic go for now.

Thanks to you, nothing was stolen- and the few drops of data lost during the shutdown of the system are nothing compared to what could've happened.

Now, you're sitting on a bench outside in the backside gardens, enjoying the smell the rain left earlier today. It's been a week since the incident, and you've changed.

Jimin already said that something must've clicked in your head- cementing your believe now that you do in fact belong into this place. And while he's not sure if the reason you believe that now is the correct one, it's a start- right now, you feel like you earned your place, and that's okay.

You never had to, but you did it nonetheless.

And in this very moment, Yoongi realizes that you don't actually need your memories all that much. You don't have to know who he is to befriend him like you're slowly doing now. You don't have to know who Jungkook is to learn how to trust him.

Your past is long gone anyways- there's no use in chasing it.

These days, Yoongi's job has changed. He's now officially your very own guard dog, watching over you in person, or like a ghost from the sidelines when you want to be alone. And he likes this. Because you're clearly okay with it.

It leads to moments like these, where one could be fooled into thinking that everything's just fine.

"We should go inside now." Yoongi suggests, noticing you shivering a little, standing up together with you to walk back into the mansion shared by everyone. When you enter the kitchen with him, everyone's already eating- except Jungkook.

And it leads to you making everyone laugh again, because you found your very own way of communicating, especially asking for Jungkook.

Your hands find your ears, before you imitate the roundness of Jungkook's, making even the usually stoic Taehyung laugh.

"Oh, Jungkook is in his office." Namjoon tells you.

"How about you bring him something to eat, hm?" Jimin smiles, plating something up before he gives both plates to you. "So he's not lonely." He adds, and you nod, taking both plates from him before you leave the kitchen.

"I thought he wanted to be alone?" Hoseok wonders, and Jimin laughs, sitting back down again next to Yoongi.

"Oh he always wants to be alone, let's be real." He whines. "He could use the company. Maybe he'll take a break for once as well." He shrugs, and everyone agrees digging back into their food.

Meanwhile, you're slowly making your way upstairs, way to Jungkook's office by now well known by you as you stand in front of the door, unsure how to knock now with your hands occupied, and voice useless- now more than ever.

So you use your elbow rather awkwardly, hoping he heard you anyways-

which he did, office door opening with him looking past your head before he looks down to find your eyes staring back- hands offering the plate towards him.

He sighs, well aware that this must've been Jimin's idea.

But he lets you in anyways, offering you a chair to sit on and eat at the office desk with him. And for a good while, it's quiet- his fingers occasionally tapping away on his laptop, food slowly getting cold, when you gain a rush of boldness you're not quite sure of where it comes from.

It might be his scent filling this room. You always feel.. oddly safe when you're close to him.

But suddenly, your hand pushes at the laptop screen, shutting it the second he's giving you a chance for it with his hands gone.

Silence.

There's a staring contest going on for a moment, his signature tiger gaze strong on you, your fingers still on top of the laptop-

when something remarkable happens that makes you feel.. odd.

He smiles. Laughs, even.

And you decide that you want to see more of this side of him.

You want to see him happy.

And maybe that's your true role in this place, down the line.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader

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enkas-illusion · 1 year ago

Text

Games at the Fair

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Fluff – nonetheless, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Theme: Friends to lovers (more like situationship to relationship I guess??) ; non-sorcerer au

Content warning: fluff, jealous Nanami, flirty stranger Choso x reader, suggestive, mentions of smut

Summary:

You've been conflicted over your situationship with Nanami Kento ever since the two of you shared a moment two weeks ago. The elephant in the room has been left unaddressed so meeting your crush/friend for the first time in two weeks makes you feel some type of way. The stars align when a hot stranger named Choso tries to woo you at the fair, you decide to indulge in his advances a bit to force a reaction out of Kento instead of talking to him like a sensible adult.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first attempt at writing a one-shot. Borderline giggling-in-your-bed, kicking-your-feet type fluff but love is cringe so it is what it is. All characters are in their 20s. If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment. Open to criticism, just be kind about it. Thank you for reading!

-Eren’s Birdie

Song dedication: Yes or No by Jungkook / Love Talk (English Ver.) by WayV

Your eyes wander to the cafe door once again when you hear it open. You think you're being sneaky with it but your desperation did not go unnoticed by a certain loudmouth.

"He'll be here, chill already! Kento is a man of his word," Gojo teases, making the rest of the group giggle.

"Yeah well... okay whatever." You reply curtly. Your gaze moves up from your coffee to look at your friends, only to find Satoru, Suguru and Shoko all looking at you intently.

"We were pretty drunk that night but not so wasted that we’d forget everything. We saw you two leave the club together and you're kinda painfully obvious about your infatuation... So what's up with you two?" Suguru inquires calmly.

Geto often swears he couldn't care less about gossip but he's annoyingly attentive when it comes to catching hints and linking pieces together when there's any sort of drama encroaching.

You consider rolling your eyes but for some reason you feel like a criminal caught in an act... there's only so much one can evade before they gotta surrender. So you give in and lean forward towards the table but not before glancing at the door. Only this time, it's to make sure Nanami isn't the one walking in.

"Well, that night, if you guys remember, Kento was the only one who had decided to stay sober since he assigned himself as the driver-" You began, only to be interrupted by Gojo.

"Yeah and for what?! He booked an uber for the rest of us anyway when he left alone with you." Shoko smacks him on the head as if to shut him up. You side-eye him as you continue your story.

"Anyway... so, having had one too many shots, I was right up there with you guys. But when I started feeling a bit uneasy, Kento offered to drop me home and come back again." You realise you're fidgeting with the sugar packet on the table nervously but you stop the action as you look up to see all three of your friends leaning in, waiting for you to continue. It almost makes you laugh but you hold back because you know the odds aren't particularly in your favour with this story, and you’d hate to be teased for it by them later tonight.

"And then he drove me to my place. I invited him up for a cup of coffee-"

"At like 2 in the morning?" It's Suguru this time.

"It was the alcohol talking, okay?" You sigh and he simply shrugs, urging you to continue.

"We did end up having some coffee and we talked till like 4am? I’m not actually sure but it was late late. By that time, I was neither buzzed, nor uneasy. I was well aware of everything that was happening... and it just so happened that we kinda kissed and then he blurted out some excuse and left." You mumble towards the end of the sentence; so much so that if your friends weren't as invested in this story, they would've probably missed what you'd just said.

"HOLD ON- what do you mean kinda kissed and left?" Satoru almost yells. "Please elaborate." Suguru adds.

"Well, it just happened, okay? I don't know how to explain it, one minute we were talking and the next minute he held my face and pulled me in to kiss me so sensually, yet so softly that I honestly don't know what to make of it! But when things got heated, he excused himself cause he didn't think it was right to take advantage of me when I was drunk. I tried telling him I wasn't but he just left. He said he'd talk to me later but he has texted me about everything BUT the incident as if it never happened and do you know how annoying it is cause it's been TWO WHOLE WEEKS!" You sigh, out of breath, only now realising you could probably give Eminem a run for his money with how quickly you blurted everything out.

"Jeezzzz... that's bad. How can Ken fumble so badly?" Gojo laughs in disbelief.

Shoko adds, "He clearly likes you, and it's obvious you like him too - yet both of y'all are pussies who are too scared to do anything about it. It's the most frustrating trope of all romances if you ask me."

"Well, what do you want me to do? He has to be the one to initiate it. He's the one who left me hanging." You state, matter-of-factly.

"Whatever it is, figure it out asap cause here comes your man." Satoru gives you a sly smile before waving and smiling at the door. You turn to look at Kento walking in. He's wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway and you mentally slap yourself for instantly feeling aroused at the sight.

"Hi," his voice breaks your trance as you greet him back along with everyone else. "Sorry for being late, I had to wrap up some things last minute at work." He adds. Maybe you're being delusional but it sort of feels like he's directed it specifically to you.

"No worries Kennyyy, we've got our tickets right here, we can walk right in front of the line at each ride." Gojo waves the tickets proudly as Kento makes a less than pleasant face at his friend's stupid nickname.

"Thank you Satoru, what would I possibly do without you." Kento says it with a straight face, making you snort quietly. Your eyes meet for a split second when he looks at you and suddenly you're reminded of how nervous you're supposed to be around him.

"Let's get going? Would still hate a big crowd even if we had the premium passes." Suguru interjects as you all pay and leave.

You hand Kento a Matcha-flavoured cold coffee. Although it's common knowledge that it's his go-to drink of choice, he raises an eyebrow in surprise while accepting it. "Thank you." He gives you a quick smile as he walks out the coffee shop, next to you.

But wait a minute... Your brain goes into overthinking mode as you realise you seem too pliant. Bringing him his favourite drink, making those eyes at him, laughing at his jokes, seemingly ignoring the elephant in the room for his convenience.

And before you could rationalise with your own self, you clarify, "We knew the guys would want to rush to the fair as soon as you arrive so Shoko thought it'd be a good idea to order yours beforehand."

Lies. Pure bullshit. But two can play this game so that’s exactly what you were planning to do.

The carnival was a short walk away and Gojo generously allows everyone about 20 minutes to do their own thing before calling them to where the roller coaster is.

Suguru and Satoru had split from the rest to check out the Mirror house and Horror house. You lock arms with Shoko as the two of you seemingly share a single brain cell when you rush towards the candy stall. This stall in particular had been on your list ever since Shoko had heard that they had candy in every flavour imaginable. Nanami tags alongside with his hands in his pocket, comfortable with being left out.

"Let's get the basics out of the way. The sweetest, tooth decaying batch for Satoru?" You wonder out loud.

"And half sour, half spicy for Suguru?" Shoko adds and the person attending to you suggests a few options. While you're busy choosing for the boys, you hear Nanami speak for the first time in what feels like forever. "What are you planning to pick for me?"

"Kento you're never really picky about food so I don't really know what you enjoy… I'm the wrong person to ask…" Shoko says awkwardly. She was trying to give you an opening. He looks at you to check if you caught onto the fact that the question wasn't for her to begin with.

"Hmm… since you're here, it'd be best that you pick whatever you like." You give him a half-forced smile.

He looks like he’s about to retaliate but his mouth closes as soon as it opens and it has you wondering what he’s fighting his own mind over so hard. Was it really that conflicting to decide whether he liked you or not? You push the unnecessary thought to the back of your head, not really wanting to dive deep into the feelings department at that moment.

Instead he turns around and picks a mixed bag of chocolates that ranges from pure milk to 99% cocoa. You would've picked the same for him and it kind of makes you happy that you know him so well. Maybe you were being a bit mean now, but nevermind - this is the plan, to rile him up so much that he has no option but to realise that some issues need addressing.

Once you pay for the candies, you buy a few more snacks from other stalls before you see Gojo's texts on the group chat, calling everyone to where the roller coaster is.

Like Gojo had said before, the premium ticket really does push you to the top of the line. You barely have to wait for a few moments for them to do the basic machinery check before the group of 12 people that you're a part of is let in.

As if following an unspoken agreement, Shoko and Suguru sit together at the front but Satoru is too much of a dumbass to get the memo. As soon as Kento sits on one of the seats, Satoru climbs in next to him. You quickly sit behind Kento to avoid further embarrassment.

Shoko turns around and her face almost looks murderous when she stares at Gojo. He only shrugs back at her. Seriously, how can someone be so smart yet so oblivious and clueless when it actually counts???

You're too busy to notice the person next to you. But you turn your head when you see their seatbelt being secured in place along with yours.

"Well if it isn't my lucky day," the guy says as he looks at you, "... sitting on a roller coaster next to a pretty lady."

You're amused by the compliment. You know this all too well — the easy to flirt, charming, hot guy who knows exactly what to say to get the girls swooning. The tattooed sleeve and dishevelled hair only feed into the fuckboy image and you know better than to be serious so you decide to humour him.

"And why might sitting next to pretty ladies be of any consolation? Don't tell me you're scared of a carnival ride." You feign shock.

"Nah, it's a relief. We get the hand holding part out of the way, and when this is done, we can move onto better rides." He winks at you.

"And who says I'm holding your hand?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"And why wouldn't you want to?" He challenges you, copying your tone. He makes a waving motion over his face and body as if to present himself to you. It kinda makes you laugh as you visibly cringe.

"Alright, fine! We can go the usual route of dinner and a movie first!" He adds.

"My god, you're relentless!" You're fully laughing at how unserious this strange man is.

"Actually people usually call me Choso but I think I can get used to Relentless." He puts his hand out and you shake it briefly.

"Hi Relentless, I'm y/n," you reply, smiling.

"A pretty name for a pretty lady," he says, repeating your name. You hear the first signal that secures the seatbelts in place. Choso puts his hand out and you look at him.

Your eyes briefly wander to the front to check if the stranger's words had any effect on Nanami. Even if it did, you're disappointed to see that he wasn't showing it at all.

"I don't remember saying yes?" You question playfully.

"Will it improve my chances if I say that I'm terrified of roller coasters?" He retorts.

"Are you? For real?" You ask, surprised.

"Nope." He snorts, still holding his hand open invitingly. You laugh before swatting his hand away.

"I don't hold hands till the 10th date!" You joke as another signal blares and the roller coaster slowly begins moving towards the drop.

"So does that mean I can hold your hand after 9 more dates?" He teases.

"Guess you'll never know unless you try." You tease him back.

Just before the dip, you swear you saw Kento look back to give Choso a quick stare down, but before your brain could note it for later analysis, the adrenaline overtook as soon as the ride commenced.

When it ends, you quickly say your goodbyes to Choso before you regroup with your friends. You'd stay here all night if you were to decipher each of your friends' emotions but more or less everyone made a what was that!? face, except for Kento. His face had pure annoyance written over it. You were almost surprised by how obvious his usually unreadable face was.

You change the subject to talk about random shit as you walk towards the games section. When the rest of the group starts chattering about whatever, Nanami pulls at your arm to slow your pace to let the group walk ahead. You slow down as you fall behind and he finally speaks up.

"Care to explain?" His voice is calm but laced with irritation.

"Explain what?" You frown.

"I thought we..." he trails off, as if he's unsure about the right words to use. You decide you’ve had enough of him wanting to say something yet saying nothing at all. So you decide to do it for him.

"Yes, I also thought we had something going on but it's okay, you take your time, ignore me for 2 more weeks if it suits you and run away again the next time something happens." You say, mostly calm but almost not. It's only now that you were letting your annoyance take control because you were upset. Clearly. The last two weeks had been awful, mentally playing a game of ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ each time he texted you.

Kento's eyes soften as he runs his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, I should've reached out. I got busy with work after the weekend and later I figured I could just talk to you face-to-face when we met today."

Excuses. Not good enough.

"You had plenty of chances to do just that in the last hour or so. I like you Kento... I don't know how many more hints you want. But I'm kinda disappointed..." you look at him.

Nope this is enough, best not to take shit any further, you decide. But that's the problem with confronting someone, you always test the limits of how much you can poke a person till they burst, "I hate indecisiveness. At least Choso knows for sure what he wants and makes his move on time."

The puppy eyes he was looking at you with up until a second ago fade away and his jaw tightens as he gulps whatever words he had on the tip of his tongue. Speaking of the devil, as if on cue, you see Choso near the games section, only to find him already looking at you.

"Date 2?" Choso grins at you, "Tell me sweetheart, do you like stuffed toys?" You nod.

You can sense the tension as Choso ignores Kento who’s standing right next to you the whole time. You walk further away from both the men, suddenly finding the display of the soft toys a bit too interesting. Shoko is looking at the stacked toy pyramid and you ask her what prize is for what game.

"The dolphins and elephants at the bottom are for whack-a-mole," she says, pointing at Satoru who's frantically trying to win it.

"The random tier above it, ugliest by the way, is for the ring hoop thingy," she points at Suguru trying his hand at the game.

"And the top tier with the fluffy teddy bears is for Target shooting," she points at the stall where you were just a minute ago. You turn to look at Choso and Kento both picking up rifles to begin shooting their respective targets.

No matter how annoyed you may be at him, you can never ignore just how beautiful the man is. His forearms look delicious as he adjusts the rifle to his shoulder. You peel your eyes away from Kento’s veiny arms with much difficulty and focus your eyes on the target.

Each person gets five shots. Five clean shots to win the teddy bear. And both the guys take their aims in tandem. It almost feels like watching two teams take penalties during a FIFA world cup finale, not knowing who's gonna win.

You know Kento is competitive but he's always a good sport even when he loses a card or board game to you. Once again you’re surprised to see him groan out loud in frustration when he misses the last shot, whereas Choso gets a perfect score, winning the teddy bear.

Choso brings the big teddy and hands it to you, "Let's exchange gifts? My teddy for your number?" You smile at the soft toy in your hands. Before you have a chance to respond, you hear Kento’s stern voice coming from behind Choso.

"No. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let that happen." he declares. Hell of an awkward situation to be in as Choso, you and Shoko all stare at Kento, who looks visibly angry.

Kento points at the Panda at the very top, the biggest prize of them all, "What the hell is that one for?"

"Oh... No one tries that ‘cause it's the hardest, Beat the bar challenge. You gotta hang onto the pull up bar for 3 whole minutes so it's basically an impossible prize." Shoko explains.

"Okay." Is all Kento says in return as he walks towards the man in charge of the bar challenge game. He gives the man a token and pulls up his sleeves even further as he grabs the bar.

You stare in disbelief as the countdown lights up on an LED display next to the bar as he hangs to it. It has you baffled that Nanami is doing this out of pure spite and jealousy but you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by the change in his demeanour, seeing him all worked up like this.

As he passes the two minute mark, without any sign of struggle, a sizable crowd gathers there to see if he really takes the panda home. Towards the end, Gojo and Geto start the 15 seconds countdown, hollering and hooting to cheer at their friend.

When Nanami's eyes meet yours, his cocky smile only grows when he sees you cheer on him as well. The tiny crowd roars when the 3 minute mark is crossed.

He half-yells a, "Just to be sure" as he does a muscle up with ease before jumping down from the bar. You're impressed but you still mouth a ‘show off’ as you roll your eyes at him jokingly. He walks towards you with the prize panda in hand.

The panda is about three feet tall and extremely fluffy — no wonder it was the top prize.

Kento, not so politely, pulls away the bear Choso had won for you and instead holds his panda out in front of you. He looks to the side to find the other man and with a smug smile tosses the bear back at Choso, who catches it with quick reflex.

You're still processing the whole thing because you kinda want to memorise every moment - this is so out of character for the stoic man you've always had a crush on. You've liked him for how calm and composed he is but seeing him like this has almost multiplied your attraction to him tenfold. Guess you pressed all the right buttons.

He pulls you out of your reverie as he says, "Is this decisive enough for you?"

And before you can answer, he pulls at your waist with his free hand till you're flush against his chest.

His head leans down to your level as he kisses you more passionately than he did the first time at your place and you can't help but feel weak in your knees. You feel as if your brain is going to short-circuit any minute now but you kiss him back, relishing every moment of it before he pulls back.

"I'm going to assume that's a yes." You can't help but blush as you look down to avoid his eye contact. How can you possibly stay mad when he has so clearly declared his intentions with you in front of everyone.

"Satoru, I take it you have your car this time. I’m gonna ask for a raincheck on drinks night." Nanami says to his friend. You feel dazed as you simply look at your three friends with equal amounts of embarrassment, shock and excitement.

Reading between the lines isn't hard. Kento might as well have said 'I'm going to fuck her and I cannot wait one moment for it' cause that's what his words seemed to imply.

“Why am I even surprised?" Gojo sighs.

Shoko punches his arm, "I'm pretty sure they couldn't care less about those drinks."

"Righttt," Satoru grins at you and says, "Have fun! Kenny has a really big penny. Saw it in the gym locker room once."

"SATORU!", you scold him.

"Hey dumbass, maintain some decorum." Suguru cringes.

"It's okay, she's about to find out anyway." Kento says coolly as he intertwines his fingers with yours and starts marching towards the gates.

You stare back to see you can't find Choso anywhere. Makes sense, you note to yourself. Then your eyes land on your friends and you grin with all your teeth. You turn your head to the front again as you look up at your man.

Up close, you notice the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead from all the exertion at the pull up bar. Holy shit, you wonder, everything about this night couldn't have gone any better... but you have a hunch, he's about to prove you wrong all night long.

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanamikento x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami smut

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solarwonux · 2 years ago

Text

Business Proposal || knj (1/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 7.9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do”

m. list || next

Taehyung’s house had a certain vibe to it.

A certain–je ne sais quoi–if you will.

The young artist had easels stacked against every wall. Some finished with his own creations and some waiting patiently for the young artists’ random bursts of inspiration. Everywhere you looked there was something in relation to his God given talent. Old paint brushes above the kitchen sink drying. Paint palettes disguising themselves as coasters. If you opened any drawer in his house you’d find all sorts of paints organized by brand or color scheme.

It was a mess. An organized mess, in which you could easily navigate yourself through. A huge juxtaposition to Namjoon’s almost soulless apartment. Yet, if you knew the artist long enough you’d know that his apartment screamed Kim Taehyung, renowned, self-made artist. A charming man like no other. Who loved throwing parties just as much as he loved getting lost in his art.

A party for every occasion. And tonight’s party was an innocent friendship anniversary between you Jimin and Taehyung. Fifteen years strong, thirty percent of fifty and just as important according to Taehyung himself.

The only reason Namjoon had known about it was through the Facebook invite he had received from the party crazed menace himself. The only other reason he even knew Taehyung in the first place was through his younger step brother–Jungkook. And the only reason Jungkook came to know Taehyung was through the girl he copied his history notes from all sophomore year of college–you.

Everything always came back to you, and your ability to always be there. It’s why Namjoon decided to put a tiny pause in his research on the Metaphysics and Epistemology in some of his favorite Korean Artists’ work. Not like he could focus on it anyway. His parents were starting to get impatient, breathing down his neck, wondering when he would finally leave his life as a very eligible bachelor and settle down.

It’s not like he didn’t try to find someone. The problem was that he did. He tried everything. Blind dates, dating apps, even went out to the club a few times foolishly thinking he’d find his next wife. Everything ended in a failure which was why he was here, looking for you, and a promise made long ago. One he had agreed to.

Truthfully he had forgotten all about it until recently when he was laying down on his bed, surrounded by his navy sheets, wide awake because he had drank too much coffee. Five cups, the same amount the two of you had consumed that afternoon in the old coffee shop located just in between his apartment and your parents house.

As if on autopilot his body jolted awake again, eyes shooting wide as the memory came flooding in.

“If we aren’t married in ten years time, let’s just marry each other.” You suggested; like it was the greatest idea ever. Your hands were shaking from all the caffeine you had consumed and your eyes were red rimmed and wide from all the crying you had done. It matched his own as well.

A part of him hates that he had agreed to it, but could you blame him? He was distraught over the fact that his girlfriend of four years had blindsided him with the whole “It’s not you, it’s me,” speech; and a nice chocolate cake to soften the blow. That did anything but that, and instead he had cried until he had to meet up with you for your weekly tutoring session.

It’s where he noticed your red rimmed eyes and the watery snot coming down your nose. He didn’t ask about it, just offered you a piece of his break up cake and a listening ear when you were ready. It wasn’t until the third college algebra problem he had you doing that you broke down, and told him everything. From the moment you laid eyes on your ex. To the moment you realized you loved him and to the final heartbreaking seconds when you found him cheating on you with his calculus professor.

It was a wild revelation, one that had you spewing things out of disparity. Including the cliche marriage pact.

In truth, Namjoon wouldn’t have given it a second thought when he finally remembered that afternoon. He would’ve pushed it to the back of his head like he had for years and tried a different dating app. But just like that afternoon, he was desperate. This time for a different reason.

He was running out of time, especially after the last conversation he had with his father. His future and livelihood were on the line. Including the large sum of money and the prestigious job at his Alma Mater as the head Philosophy professor.

Now, sitting on Taehyung’s paint splattered leather couch. He hopes you remember. It’s been years since he’s last seen you. You still look the same, pretty enough to be passable but plain. There’s nothing exciting about you. Even now that he’s watching you from across the room in a short lavender dress, with white leather knee high boots. Your hair is shorter, up to your shoulders and a different color from your natural one. Your arms and chest glitter due to the body glitter you had lathered on.

Even though you sparkle underneath Taehyung’s dim lights. To Namjoon you’re still dull, lacking excitement compared to all the women he’s met in his life. Sure, he sounds like an asshole but he couldn’t deny the truth. It’s one of the reasons why he never found you attractive and also because you were Jungkook’s best friend; and Namjoon knows that there’s a rule out there which states that a brother’s best friend is strictly off limits.

He should’ve felt at least a little bit bad about your confession to him all those years ago. For a while he couldn’t get the heartbroken look on your face out of his head when he told you he didn’t feel the same. Only to be quickly replaced by anger for all the accusations you so wrongly threw at him.

Namjoon didn’t lead you on. You had read too much into things. He was nice to you because he saw you as a little sister. Not a potential partner.

Pretty ironic because now he’s hoping the joking pact made between the two of you was serious. Otherwise, accepting Taehyung’s invitation would’ve been useless.

He didn’t necessarily need a wife. Only a placeholder for a wife until further notice. To buy him enough time and get his parents off his back. He’s so desperate that he’s considering pulling out all the stops. Money, a house, and the job of your dreams.

Anything to get you to agree.

Now, all he needs to do is hope for the best, while simultaneously expecting the worst. From the small snippets of stories he hears Jungkook tell his mom. You’re still a little similar to what he remembers. Just a tiny bit more confident and outgoing. That much he could’ve figured out on his own, especially now that he’s been studying you from across the room. It should be easy enough to convince you; but of course that’s only if Namjoon lived in a perfect world.

Unfortunately he doesn’t and time is ticking and your friend–Jimin–hasn’t left your side all night. You’re on your third drink, your eyes are slightly dropping with intoxication. And with the way you keep laughing at whatever the other man keeps whispering in your ear, he assumes you’re well on your way to pure drunkeness. It makes the hold he has on his glass tighten. With A fiery hot spark coursing through his body the more you cling onto Jimin.

Namjoon isn’t aware of your relationship status. Selfishly he hopes you’re single so things run more smoothly. And seeing you make doe eyes at someone else in front of him makes him a little bit angry.

Only because he wants to avoid the drama at all costs. He values the peaceful quiet, and to be honest he doesn’t have the patience to deal with someone else’s jealousy. Fighting over women was so high school and he has better things to do than that. But he’s also stubborn and once his mind is set on something he will knock down anyone in the way.

He’s confident that by the end of the night–that’s if he gets you alone–he will leave Taehyung’s cliche artists looking humble abode with you as his fiance.

Well…Fake fiance.

The moment Namjoon stood up to use the bathroom he knew he had made a mistake. Not only was his spot on the couch taken by one of Taehyung’s artist friend; but he had broken the seal and you and that Jimin guy were nowhere to be found.

This was the third time he had to use the bathroom in the past thirty minutes. He hopes his bladder is empty enough to last him an hour or so. But Namjoon has been in this game for far too long and he knows that once the seal was broken there was no going back.

“Took you long enough.”

Namjoon’s eyes meet yours just as he’s a foot out of Taehyung’s guest bathroom. The hand he had hovering above the light switch falls down to his side. A knowing smirk makes its way onto your lips, while you push yourself off the far wall.

He’s at a loss for words because sure he’s been waiting to get you alone all night. Yet, now that he has, you’ve caught him completely off guard. What’s worse is that you’ve caught him off guard in the most vulnerable place known to mankind.

The bathroom.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to move?” The indifference lingering in your voice brings him back down to the moment at hand. He blinks a few times to regain his focus and soon enough he’s looking down at you.

You’re standing inches away from him. Close enough to smell your perfume. A scent he remembers so clearly, yet it’s slightly different because it has mingled with another one. A more masculine one. He assumes he knows who the culprit of such intrusion is, a certain individual with a crescent laugh and pillowy lips; but he chooses not to focus on that. Right now he has a chance. A gateway to a forbidden conversation and his only opportunity to just get it over with.

Namjoon mumbles a short apology while stepping to the side giving you enough room to walk in, barely grazing each other. He doesn’t get a chance to actually think his actions through before his body is responding on autopilot. Next thing he knows he’s stepping in behind you, closing the door behind him and locking it.

Your turn around, eyes full of surprise. Namjoon needs fight the smirk threatening to break across his face. You’re the one caught off guard now, in the bathroom and it gives him some sort of twisted sense of satisfaction.

Ha.

“If you weren’t done using the bathroom you could’ve just s–.”

“We need to talk.” He brushes you off, waving a hand around almost as if he were pushing your words out of the way to make room for his.

You sigh, rolling your eyes in annoyance. If it wasn’t for the few drinks you’ve already had and the taxing conversation you just finished having with Jimin about the state of your relationship–If you could even call it that. You would've fought against Namjoon. Then again he was the least of your worries, you assume he wants to talk about your past, ask how you’ve been. All that jazz. So, why not play into it?

Right?

“Fine, I mean there are other places in which we can talk. Tae’s house is pretty big.” You shrug, taking a seat on the closed toilet seat, crossing your arms in front of you. Waiting for him to start reminiscing about your past.

When he doesn’t, you take matters into your own hands. “So, how have you b–”

“I don’t have time for that.” Namjoon interrupts and you have to force all of the anger currently bubbling up inside of you, down. “I have a proposal for you.” He finishes, walking closer and leaning his right hip against the bathroom counter.

You squint your eyes suspiciously while looking up at him. They always say curiosity killed the cat and maybe that’s what it will do to you in the end but you urge him to continue. Slightly interested in what he has to say.

“We need to get married.” He says softly like it literally pains him to be saying those exact words out loud. Suddenly while the words are vanishing into the air between the two of you, the bathroom starts to feel hollow. He continues, “We made a pact that if we weren’t married by thirty, we’d just marry each other. You’re almost thirty and I have been thirty for a while, so, let’s just do it…wait, I mean we don’t actually have to go through with it just pretend for a while, just long enough to convince my parents an–”

Namjoon stops his not so smooth ramble. Confused is an understatement. He’s downright baffled watching you double over in laughter. A sound that used to bring a bright smile to his face. Now, as it bounces off the four walls of Taehyung’s tiny guest bathroom he can’t help but cringe.

“You c-can’t be s-serious,” You say, hand against your chest trying to calm yourself down. When you do, a snarky smirk threatens to appear on your face.

With a tilt of your head you say “How much have you had to drink?”

Namjoon scoffs. Sure he’s had a bit to drink but not enough to be drunk. Tipsy maybe, but not drunk. “Three whiskeys,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

You tongue your cheek nodding your head. “Explains why you’re out here saying utter bullshit.”

To keep himself from bursting out in anger he grips the counter with most of his strength. “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk off whiskey.”

You chuckle, giving him a side glance. “Sure you don’t. All those times you snuck into my room at three in the morning because you had too much whiskey were because you weren’t drunk.” The sarcasm laced in your voice annoys him the most.

Okay there were times in which he would have too much to drink and always ended up crashing at your place. Sneaking out before your parents woke up, but those were special circumstances. His taxi app only had your address saved for when he had to call one for you whenever you and Jungkook drank at his place. It was too much of a hassle to save his own, especially because the only time he remembered to save it was when he was drunk.

Defeated, he replies, “Whatever that’s not important, I’m serious when I say that we need to get married.” He hopes he sounds as convincing as he perceives. Though, the look on your face says otherwise. You’re confused and probably a little more upset than he can tell.

A dry laugh escapes you and you stand up shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re planning but you’re a lot smarter than this. Considering the way we parted ways and haven’t talked in years because of it, what makes you think I would agree to this?” You stand in front of him, almost sizing him up, burning your gaze into his.

“Just hear me out okay.” He puts his hands out, making space between the two of you. You raise your eyebrows in amusement and wait for him to continue. “My parents are breathing down my neck asking me when I’ll finally settle, in which I have no desire to do so anytime soon. But my dad’s health is getting worse and he says that if I don’t get married he will make sure I’m left jobless and out of the will.” He finishes, breathing out an exasperated sigh. He feels so out of breath, almost like he just finished running a marathon; but maybe that’s just because he’s awkwardly close to you.

There’s a slight pause before you’re bursting out laughing again, holding onto your stomach as you double over. Namjoon can feel the annoyance he had done so well at keeping down, threatening to leave him disguised in fiery hot words he’s kept hidden for a long time. He always hated having serious conversations with you. You never took shit seriously, it's one of the reasons why he would never see you as someone he’d be interested in romantically. More so because you’re so dramatic in every sense of the word and he has no idea how he put up with it for so long.

“Are you done?” He takes his hands out of his pockets running them multiple times through his hair before crossing his arms in front of him.

You wipe a fake tear away from the corner of your eye and straighten up. “Yeah, I’m done and the answer is no.” You roll your eyes turning to face the door. This was the icing of the cake. Not only was he adding to the long list of problems you already had, but he’s making your night worse than it already was.

Jimin and you had been secretly–not so secretly–seeing each other for a while now, in ways two childhood friends should never be seeing each other. Spending nights tangled up in each other under pale ivory sheets, and days acting like nothing was wrong. When in reality everything was wrong. It was inevitable that someone was going to start seeing the other as more than a friend. The only problem was that you had always assumed it’d be you and not him. That he’d finally be the one to break through the cold ice caging your heart in when Namjoon inexplicably broke it.

In which the latter was now playing some cruel joke on you. All you wanted to do was to go home. Escape underneath your warm sheets, and avoid the world as much as you were allowed too. Even if Jungkook had let you know ahead of time that his darling step brother was going to make an appearance. It had not prepared you for this.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide and he won’t lie, he's panicking now. “But we promised.”

“Yes Namjoon, we did. But we were young, stupid and heartbroken.” You cross your arms staring directly into his eyes. “Maybe if we were still friends my answer would be different, but we aren’t. So, my answer is no.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours Namjoon. You broke every promise you made me and you expect me to just waltz back into your arms and share a life with you?” You say ludicrously.

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh, “Look, let's set aside our differences–”

You let out a humorless laugh, cutting him off. “You’re a smart man Namjoon, but this is literally the dumbest thing I have ever heard you say.”

Namjoon has to fight every fiber in his being to not stomp his foot on the ground like a child. He’s now realizing you aren’t the same person that he used to call best friend. You’re even more stubborn than before and kind of a bitch.

“What if I can convince you?”

“How? Are you going to take me out on a date?” You exclaim, standing up and walking towards him. “The answer is no, I’m the wine and dine type, and I’ve heard that you’re not.” You reach your hand past his body and take hold of the doorknob. You’re only able to unlock it because as soon as you try to open it, Namjoon is leaning his entire body against the door. Arms splayed out like a cactus blocking every possible way out.

“A job, I can offer you a job.” He rushes out through labored breaths, like this entire situation is causing him to lose the ability to breathe. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s forgotten how impossible you could be. Or maybe he hates the way you’re looking at him like he’s now worth your time.

The boredom on your face is replaced with intrigue. Like he’s said the magic words and now has you under his spell. It disgusts him because ever since he could remember people have only flocked to him out of personal gain. You used to be someone who made sure he was more than just his brains, looks and money. Yet, you’re standing in front of him ready to listen because now you can take from him too.

“My department is looking for a new rhetoric professor, the job is yours if you agree to this.” He finishes, watching your face light up with joy to then shut down immediately as soon as you realize the undisclosed requirement for the job.

You scoff, shaking your head. It’s tempting, it’s your dream job. As much as you want to agree. You know that working in the same vicinity as him will do more harm than good. Plus nepotism isn’t always a good look.

“No,” You say firmly pushing your side body into his to scoot him out of the way. It’s unsuccessful, he’s as still as a stone pillar and you hate that you can tell how firm he’s gotten over the years. Jungkook often told you about his gym sessions with Namjoon every other day. Now, you see that it’s not just Jungkook who’s been benefiting from them.

“I’ll pay off half of your student loans along with the job, and you can have one of the house's dad owns” He tries, sounding more hopeful than you have ever heard him sound.

Again, it’s tempting but again that would make you tied to him longer than you would like. So, this time you push against him with all the strength you can muster making him stumble as your answer. You open the door slightly and squeeze yourself out, leaving him hanging.

Namjoon is in the air and he panics, he rushes out behind you matching your sped up steps. He grabs your hand pulling you into Taehyung’s bedroom, closing the door behind him and blocking it with his body.

“God, you are so fucking annoying Namjoon. I said no, why can’t you understand that?” You whisper yell, running a hand through your hair.

“Because I need you.” He says matching your tone, sighing and relaxing against the door. “I’m supposed to have brunch with my parents on Sunday, please just think about it.” He begs, clasping his hands in front of him.

It’s the first time you see him like this, and it’s selfish of you to admit that it feels good. His entire future relies on you and only you. Maybe you will give in, but seeing him suffer a little longer feels to good, especially when you know you’re his last option.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll drop it but the job is still yours, your essay and resume were impressive.” He finishes and exits the bedroom, leaving you behind with one more thing to add to your ongoing list.

One thing is for sure.

You’re in a big mess.

Sleep didn’t come to you all night. The minute you left Namjoon behind in Taehyung’s bedroom you had left without saying goodbye to anyone. Jungkook had followed you out and walked you home without uttering a single word the entire time. Instead, he tried his best to match your heated steps. He even stayed over, taking his rightful spot on your living room couch.

He made you coffee in the morning and a small breakfast before walking to the flower shop together for your morning shifts. The silence between the two of you lasted almost an hour until he finally broke and the questions came flooding out.

You had to give him credit he was persistent. He kept going on about it, annoying both you and Yoongi. If it wasn’t for the latter threatening both of your jobs you would’ve taken the events that took place the night before to the grave.

“I think you should do it.” The flower shop owner says, shrugging his shoulders.

“No, that’s stupid, why would she want to deal with that bullshit?” Jungkook exclaims. Yoongi brushes him off, rolling his eyes. Both of them have been arguing in front of you like you didn’t exist, while you finished the last order of flower bouquets for the night. An order placed for Yoongi but instead he was sitting on the counter, reading a GQ magazine while Jungkook paced back and forth with his apron hanging from his arm.

“Well she’s single and getting a good deal out of it so why not?” He shrugs, flipping to a new page, rubbing his chin.

“She has Jimin, things are strange now but they’ll figure it out.” Jungkook is almost hopeful. Though, he was protective of you and had a few choice words to share after he caught you and Jimin together. He still preferred him over his arrogant step brother. Especially when it came to you. Jungkook had witnessed first hand what he had done to you.

“From what I’ve heard, she doesn’t have Jimin.”

You sigh, cutting the end of a rose before placing it with the rest of the flowers. “I am still here you know, does my opinion not matter?” You press your palms into the marble counter. They had been going back and forth for nearly an hour like the issue was theirs. Shutting you down whenever you wanted to get your word in and you were fed up. You had nearly ten hours to decide whether to go to Sunday brunch or not.

Even if you didn’t end up going, Namjoon had texted you that he needed to know your decision on the job by tomorrow morning. So, you were currently battling two problems at once, in which you haven’t heard any helpful advice from your best friend or coworker.

“I mean of course it does, but as much as I love him he’s an asshole who only cares about money Bunny.” Jungkook pouts, flinging his apron onto the counter and leaning against it. Yoongi sighs and closes the magazine, setting it to the side.

“Yes Kook but this is my dream job. If I have to deal with him to get to where I want to be then I will.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair, giving up on the bouquet and shoving the materials in Yoongi’s direction. Indirectly telling him it was his turn now.

Yoongi hops off the counter and walks behind you. “She’s right, our little genius deserves to do bigger and better things with that brain of hers. And I agree with her but also if he’s willing to be your sugar daddy why not?” He shrugs, grabbing the clippers and a daisy, expertly cutting the end of the stem off.

You roll your eyes, “first of all he will not be my sugar daddy and second of all I haven’t agreed to that part of the deal, just maybe the job.” You shrug, untying your apron and placing it on the coat rack behind you.

“But you want to agree to it.” Yoongi chuckles before Jungkook can get a word in. Sometimes you hate how well Yoongi can understand you in all aspects of your life. He’s only been in it for a few years and he’s able to tell you exactly what you’re thinking and articulates it way better than you. In all honesty it scares you a bit.

“Am I crazy for considering it?”

“Yes,”

“No,”

They say at the same time making you groan in frustration. The shop had closed and here the three of you were having an extensive conversation about your unfortunate personal life. When all you wanted to do was go home and eat a nice bowl of cereal on your bed.

Jungkook sends a glare in Yoongi’s direction, grabbing hold of your shoulders gently. “You know I love you and I will support you in anything you do, but this is a little crazy. And before you ask me if I trust you the answer is yes I do. But I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him to keep his distance like I know you will. He will lead you on again and then we'll be back to square one.” He squeezes your shoulders before bringing his hands down to his sides.

“Jungkook she’s not dumb, I’m sure whatever she decides to do it’s because she knows what she’s getting into.” Yoongi adds on, tying up the bouquet before handing it off to you. “For your fake mother in law.” He winks.

“What?” You say taking it from his hands.

“Namjoon requested it this morning, I just put it off because I don’t like him.” He shrugs, bringing a slight smile to your face. The flower shop might as well be named the ‘Anti Namjoon Club’ instead of ‘Euphoria’ for the amount of times Jungkook ranted about his step brother to the two of you at all hours of the day.

It's unfortunate that part of you made a decision the minute you left Namjoon alone in Taehyung’s bedroom. And it’s unfortunate that you only truly considered their opinions to justify your already made decision.

Jungkook gives you a slight smile before walking past you, shoulders dropping in defeat because he knows you’ve decided. “You better be ready by the time I come pick you up. Mom takes Sunday brunch a little too seriously so if we are a minute late she will have my head on a stake.”

Is the last thing Jungkook says before disappearing behind the curtain towards the back. You turn to Yoongi, tilting your head to the side pouting lightly.

“Don’t look at me like that, you big baby. You’re a big girl you know what you’re getting into but because Jungkook can’t completely hate his brother. If he does anything to hurt you I’ll hate him for the two of you.” He sends you a wink, clicking his tongue before turning to the cash register.

You whine, stomping your foot on the ground before mumbling “My life sucks,” which only makes Yoongi laugh.

“At some point everyones does.”

You’re nervous.

You haven’t been this nervous since you decided to intern at a preschool right after graduation.

Kids are intimidating and although Jungkook’s parents aren’t, the situation at hand feels like it. Especially when they think you’re attending Sunday brunch because Jungkook finally managed to convince you.

Not because you’re about to conspire against them for purely selfish reasons.

Despite their wealth and social status, Mr. Kim and Mrs. Jeon are the kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. They always went out of their way to make you feel like you’re part of the family. It got to the point that you would split holidays with them and your family, as they always made it a point to get you something for Christmas, your birthday or Lunar New Year.

So, it feels wrong to be helping out Mrs. Jeon and the family maid—Lia in the kitchen. It feels wrong to be laughing at the petty arguments Jungkook is having with his father in the living room. It feels wrong to have been welcomed with such bright smiles and tight hugs, because if it weren’t for Namjoon (who hasn’t arrived and is desperately blowing up your phone) you wouldn’t have been here at all.

“How many times have I told you guys to fix the doorbell?” Namjoon’s voice booms in through the living room. “I’ve been knocking for a solid five minutes.” He finishes accompanying his statement with a soft laugh. You stop chopping the carrot Lia had assigned to you, it will have to wait. You have approximately two seconds to either hide or melt into a puddle of nerves.

Mrs. Jeon squeals like a tiny school girl, gently placing the whisk she had been using to stir the pancake batter to the side. She wipes her hands against her dirty custom maid YSL apron and walks to the entrance of the kitchen.

In truth you’re frozen, knife still in your hand, shaking a little bit. It’s definitely the nerves. You should’ve planned it out a bit more. You shouldn’t have ignored the man of the hour because you were feeling a little–very–petty. He didn’t know you were here and you certainly weren’t ready for his reaction.

“Namu, we thought you weren’t coming.” You hear Mrs. Jeon say followed up by a grunt. You supposed he has been reeled into one of her bone crushing hugs. They were deadly but warm and one of your favorite things about the woman.

“I’m sorry, I meant to reply to the e-vite on Facebook but I got busy.” He replies. “I didn’t know dad knew how to do those by the way.”

“He watched a Youtube video.” Jungkook replies with a chuckle. “I was there.” He adds.

“I didn’t know you were coming either, Kook.” Namjoon says, and you can almost hear the eyebrow raise of pure confusion. If he’s as smart as he claims to be he should know why he is here. Use his highly acclaimed critical thinking skills, but he doesn’t.

Not until a couple minutes later when he walks in through the kitchen with his mother in arm, wearing possibly the most attractive outfit you have seen him in. A black skin tight turtleneck with black slacks. Coincidentally it matches your own outfit–a light white turtleneck under a black dress. It adds to the growing annoyance you feel bubbling inside of you. Even if you’ve been frozen in anticipation. You still feel it.

The second his icy stare meets yours you feel like you’re about to turn into an actual icicle. He’s surprised, that much you can tell with the way he’s stopped walking. He’s faltering. Though, just in typical Namjoon fashion he regains his composure smoothly and approaches you. Stopping right in front of you and leaning his forearms against the marble counter.

“Now I see why you haven’t been able to answer me.” He grabs one of the carrot sticks that you’ve managed to cut into perfectly, and bites into it, sending you a cheeky wink. You feel your breath catch itself in the back of your throat because why was that kind of hot. He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pushing himself away and rounding the corner. He walks behind you, his body purposely brushing against yours making you grip the knife handle.

You know he’s doing this on purpose and you want to scream at him, but that would somehow be inappropriate. Plus, he hates being confronted with the truth. You know that very well. Hence why the two of you haven’t spoken in years, because you told him the truth about his actions towards you and he hated every second of it, calling you dramatic and unworthy of romance.

Well, he didn’t necessarily say those words exactly, but they were implied.

“Sweetie, we need the carrots.” Lia’s voice brings you back down to Earth. She had just finished scolding the older menace for trying to take one of the fried tofu cubes.

You shake your head, trying your hardest to remove the whole interaction with what you suppose is now your fake fiance–from your head. You grab another full carrot. “Sorry Ms. Lia, I am almost done.”

“Aish, how many times do I have to tell you that Lia is just fine.” The maid shakes her head, turning down the heat.

Mrs. Jeon and Namjoon laugh. You smile chopping into the peeled carrot carefully.

“Don’t worry my Lia, I have been trying to get her to call me mom for years.” The older woman says, with a shroud of sympathy laced in the back of her voice.

Namjoon takes this as his cue to leave as he makes his way towards the kitchen entrance. Before he fully exits he turns around, locking eyes with you. “Don’t worry mom, I'm sure she will do so soon.” He sends you another wink and leaves.

You want to scream.

The breakfast menu for The Kims and Jeons signature Sunday Brunch is always quite special and incoherent.

Today’s menu consists of Americanos, Mimosas, Fried Tofu–a staple–Breakfast Burritos, Cinnamon Carrot Pancakes, and a plate of fruit. So far, everything has been going smoothly, except for the fact that you and Namjoon are in charge of setting the table.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” Namjoon breaks the ice first, placing the final chopsticks on top of a pastel pink napkin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.” He cockily adds standing up straight and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Somehow making his very toned pecs pop out more than they already did in the stupid skin tight shirt.

You roll your eyes, placing down the plate of pancakes in the middle. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only agreeing because of the job and money.” You dust your hands when you finish and put your hands on your hips.

He squints his eyes in suspicion before nodding his head. “Sure, you are. Let’s see how long you can go without throwing yourself at me.” He voices. You truly should be considered God’s strongest warrior because how have you not killed the man in front of you yet.

Sure, that’s something that would’ve been a given back then. Now, you’re not so sure. You can barely stand being in the same room as him before wanting to jam a knife in between his perfect chest. You’re not going to lie, he is still as good looking as he was back then, maybe even more, but his shitty attitude ruins it. You also have never been the type of girl to throw herself at a man or seek their validation. Even if once upon a time that’s something you wanted from Namjoon. It’s not something you want now.

“You’re so fucking annoying. I do pray for the woman you do end up marrying.” You say lowly, looking around the perfectly set table. Though, Mrs. Jeon and Lia only told the two of you to do the silverware and plates. Your stubborn attitudes insisted otherwise and ended up doing the whole thing while they took a small break in the living room.

Namjoon snaps his fingers and closes the distance between the two of you. “Speaking of marriage, we have to tell them today.” He says low enough for only you to hear and not raise any suspicions to the incoming crowd making their way outside.

Your eyes blow up as you look up at him, “what? Namjoon no, I’m not ready. I mean we haven’t actually discussed everything sober and we barely talked about it when we were drunk.” You say alarmed, anxiety crashes through you in a strong wave. You start to panic as everyone starts to take their seats.

“I got it,” he nods, pulling out the chair and gesturing for you to sit. Jungkook takes the seat in front of you, raising his eyebrows. You know he’s silently asking if you’re okay. In which you aren’t but you can’t voice it now that everyone has found their perspective positions. You shake your head as discreetly as possible and sit down, Namjoon next to you plastering his best fake smile.

He would’ve been a damn good actor with the facade he’s quickly able to put on.

Maybe that’s what he should’ve done instead of becoming a professor.

It’s silent for a while, the only thing being heard is the clanking of utensils against the ceramic plates. That is until Mr. Kim clears his throat and Namjoon basically turns into a stone pillar next to you. Freezing in the middle of cutting into his cinnamon carrot pancakes–which were surprisingly delicious.

“I didn’t want to bring it up, especially since we have a guest joining us today.” He smiles over at you, and you offer him a grin. “I got news from the doctor yesterday and he wants me to start chemo next week.” He falters a bit before setting down his utensils and whipping his mouth with the table cloth on his lap. “I told him it was useless to just let me live my last few months or however long I have left in peace, but your mom and I argued about it and we came to a compromise.” He nods, placing a delicate hand on top of his wife’s, looking over at her with matching teary eyes.

You feel like you’re intruding and you likely are, but this revelation only makes the guilt grow. “I will do it and if the cancer shrinks then so be it, but if it doesn’t then there’s nothing I can do but live in peace.” He grins, bringing her palm up to his lips and kissing it gently, before turning to face his son.

“I don’t mean to pressure you son, I know it's difficult finding the one, but can you at least try.” He all but whispers the last part. Namjoon shrinks. You’ve never seen him so quiet in your life. Even when the two of you got along, he always had something to say. He hated pockets of silence because it always made him think. Namjoon hates thinking, unless it's about philosophy. He always said it was because his most inner thoughts always managed to break the surface whenever there was silence.

He’s looking down at his lap and you notice the way he clenches his fists before lifting his head up. “I understand.” He starts looking over at you for a second and turns his attention to his step brother and parents. “I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment to tell you both this.” He takes hold of your hand underneath the table, slipping something onto the palm of your hand and pulling away.

You take a second to look down, almost choking on your spit when you see the emerald ring staring back at you. It’s starting to feel real and Namjoon hasn’t even said anything yet. But his mothers wedding ring is staring up at you, and suddenly you’re hit with the realization of what is about to conspire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The panic builds up and you feel like you’re about to throw up. Everything is closing in on you and it only gets worse when he says the next few words. “I’m engaged, I’m getting married.”

The gasps are heard all around the outside patio. Except for Jungkook who has been quiet the entire time. Sometimes living in Namjoon’s shadow had its perks. He could get tattoos, grow out his hair, ride a motorcycle, and study whatever the fuck he wanted, because nobody expected anything from him.

He’s thankful and a little bit angry that he didn’t try hard enough to convince you to not fake a marriage with his step brother, but he knows better and stays quiet even though he’s dying to expose the scam to his parents. To show them that their perfect son was far from that and had way more demons hidden away than he let on.

“You’re what?” Mrs. Jeon says, the tears she tried so hard to keep hidden start to spill out. You suppose it’s a mixture of happiness and sadness. “Why isn’t she here, Namu, why didn’t you bring her over?” She’s about to stand up, when you lift your hand, this time adorning the ring on your finger.

You swallow, “It’s me.” You take a deep breath looking into his parents' very shocked faces. “I’m sorry I didn’t want him to tell you so soon, but you know how little patience he has.” You finish, grinning softly letting your hand fall down to your lap.

Mrs. Jeon lets out a sob before she stands up quickly, gesturing for the two of you to stand too. “Congratulations my loves, I’m so happy for the two of you.” She stops in front of you bringing you in into a bone crushing hug, making you laugh as you hug her back. “I knew the two of you were going to one day end up together, Kookie and your dad always told me I was crazy, but look who was right all along.” She says pulling back, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks and turns to face the two men still sitting down. “A mothers intuition is never wrong.” She practically scolds before moving back to her seat.

Namjoon and you stand there awkwardly for a second before sitting back down. Mr. Kim clears his throat again, patting his chest a little. Almost as if he was warming up his voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I’m just shocked.” He says before breaking out into a dimpled smile–the thing that made you fall for his son all those years ago. They were both a carbon copy of each other. With the expectation that his father was a lot warmer.

“Congratulations, wow, I’m so happy you guys are truly perfect for one another.”

“Really, I don’t see it.” Jungkook finally chimes in ruining the moment, earning a pinch to the arm from his mother. He yelps out in pain dramatically cradling his arm and pouting. “It’s the truth, they’re weird together.”

“And you’re weird for coming over every wednesday so I can do your laundry.” His mother retorts, deepening his frown. “Now, apologize.”

Jungkook squints his eyes in annoyance at his mother. He’s biting his tongue that much you can tell with the way he clenches his jaw. Though, whatever he was going to say never comes because he turns to face the two of you and puts on his best fake and convincing smile.

“Congratulations guys, even though I knew it still feels like such a surprise.” He tilts his head to the side, sending a knowing look towards his brother. “I can’t wait for the ceremony, I hope it’s soon. I really want to be the flower girl.” He finishes.

You giggle, flinching slightly when you feel Namjoon’s hand rest over yours. “That’s up to Bunny here.” He nods over to you. “But thank you guys, we’re very happy since we’ve reconnected. And you’re right mom, she is the girl for me.” He adds, and it only makes it harder. His lie makes it harder to keep your distance, but you can also play the game he is setting up, and this time you won’t lose.

“He’s the perfect guy for me.” You say in your most in love voice before leaning over and placing a delicate kiss on his cheek, making his mother squeal at the gesture. You smirk as his cheeks get a little hotter before placing your head on top of his shoulder. “We’re so happy, thank you so much guys.” You add. His father’s smile widens and nods, picking up his fork and knife and digs into his pancake.

“I’m proud of you son. You found yourself a keeper.”

“Yeah, I did.” He agrees through clenched teeth. You laugh sitting up in your seat, sending him a playful wink, making him freeze.

Maybe you too should’ve been an actress in another life. You’re putting up quite an impressive show if you do say so yourself.

a/n: thank you so much for reading, please let me know your thoughts. If you’re interested in being added to the tallest lmk.

Again, I’m not sure how often I will upload BUT I will try my hardest to upload more often.

Thank you again!

#kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts namjoon #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagines #namjoon scenarios #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff

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daichiduskdrop · 1 year ago

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 27

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: slight implications of unhealthy eating habits

Words: 3352

Taglist:@thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Holding you close to his chest, Namjoon let his lips brush up against your neck, only a small bit away from your scent gland. You let him take care of you, the alpha gentle with you in his arms.

It didn't take much longer before a knock sounded, making most of you look up. With the packalpha's arms holding you even closer, gently moving your face into the crook of his neck.

Inside came a soft call from a woman's voice about having some of the ordered meals already delivered. Yoongi, who sat closest to the doors, went over, murmuring thanks, before he took the two paper bags of delivery.

It wasn't everything by no means, but a part of their meal had arrived, so he placed it on the coffee table. Taehyung and Jungkook were the quickest to look over what was inside.

Taking one bag each, they both started pulling out the things inside, with a box of four corndogs first to be opened. They looked quite appetizing, with a bit of ketchup and sugar sprinkled on each one.

„Oh wah...” Jin mumbled, taking one right away before the youngest even got around to it. „Hyung! Bunbun gets the first one! Sweetie, choose which one looks the best, baby."

Jungkook whined softly, frowning at the eldest. Chuckling nervously, the alpha placed the corn dog back in the packaging, letting the young alpha show you the small paper box.

„It's ok-okay, thank you, Oppa." You said softly, your hands tightening onto Namjoon's, the packalpha returned the gesture right away.

Letting your head rest up against his collarbone again, Jungkook sighed softly, placing the package down, his hands wrapping gently around your cheeks.

Turning your face towards him, the alpha's face was filled with concern. He didn't feel right having you not eat while they did. The youngest understood that it most likely wasn't just you not being truly hungry either.

You had been eating so well the whole time, and he was worried about what triggered this. Have you been just feeling too anxious in the building? There were many people you didn't know around, was that it?

Kissing your forehead gently, he smiled softly at you. „It's okay, my little bunny. Don't worry, baby, okay? He whispered softly, letting his fingers gently caress your cheeks.

„How about onigiri kitty? Look what alpha ordered for you, sweet kitten." Handing you a plastic package already opened for you, the second eldest smiled softly at you, his eyes gentle on your form.

Reaching out for the small box, he placed it in your palms—the nicely stacked up rice triangles with neat rows of sushi - there was cooked shrimp, squid and octopus, salmon rue, a shrimp roll, and avocado, eel, and crab hosomaki too.

When they noticed the way your home cuisine sparked a bit of interest in you, Hobi was quick to reach for a pair of chopsticks laying around, breaking them apart for you before he handed them to you.

„Here, sunshine, have a taste, bub.” He smiled softly at you, ruffling up your hair before he quickly tamed it back down, chuckling gently.

Hovering over the takeout for a second, you chose to eat a few of the sushi rolls first, chewing on the crab one first; the colour was intriguing.

Breathing out softly, Namjoon let his lips linger on top of your head for a few good seconds, gently running his hands up and down your arms.

„Thank you, pup.” He whispered softly, watching you fondly while you ate a little bit from the takeout. The packmembers felt their hearts calm down a little bit, and they themselves dug in—another two bags arriving in the mean time.

„Here, princess, take a bite for alpha... It's really tasty, isn't it? You like it, baby? Have some more, my precious little thing."

Jimin gently urged you on, placing the box full of chicken marinated in some sauce and udon noodles hidden underneath, sprinkled with sesame seeds on top of your lap.

He didn't give you the chopstics, picking up a small bite-sized piece himself before he gently moved it to you with a hand underneath, making sure you wouldn't get dirty.

Smiling widely at you and chewing with a satisfied face, the alpha was quick to feed you a bunch of the udon noodles, but when you gently placed the box back in his hands, he only smiled gently.

„Peaches, sweetie, taste this; it's really nice, hm? It's soft and chewy; you'll like it, alpha promises.” Letting you bite into the large, filed-up dumpling, you nodded a little, satisfied with the taste.

You couldn't really tell what the filling was, but there was definitely a bit of beef. It was tasty, but after you chewed everything up, you didn't feel like eating much more.

Sipping on the pink drink you received not long ago, you all enjoyed the lunch together, everyone munching on something.

Declining the offered bites of pizza, noodles, and cucumber salad, you rested back up against Namjoon, the packalpha pulling you to himself gently.

With your stomach feeling full, you felt cosy enough to let your eyes flutter shut. Noticing your tired and sleepy eyes, he left his scent cloud over with calming pheromones, one of the attributes brought in by being an alpha.

His pack members noticed the difference in his scent immediately, looking over as if they thought something was wrong. Seeing you just cuddling up to the man as he helped you rest fully, had them calm down, the alphas soon following suit.

And so, the room changed it's whole aroma into a soft, calm, sleepy-like den. Namjoon finished up the bite of his pizza before he rested back himself, gently caressing your temples and hair.

It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep, having them notice the way your breathing slowed down and turned more soft, your scent going down in intensity.

Placing the plastic cup you still held back on the coffee table, Jungkook smiled gently at you, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment.

„Hyung,... I want Y/N as our 'mega." The youngest whispered, looking up at the packalpha. Namjoon smiled widely, chuckling at the sudden confession.

To be truthful, it was quite unnatural for the young alpha to get attached so quickly; since he was the youngest, he got cared for for a long time, even though he discovered his second gender pretty much just as they debuted and formed a pack.

Jungkook struggled sometimes with it, agitated that his packmates would feel the need to take care of him—he didn't need it after all; he was an alpha and therefore could take care of himself well enough.

But still, with the packmembers often pampering him a little bit, have it be teasing or not, he grew used to it for a few years, his naturally dominant side hiding for a while.

The youngest struggled getting to know different girls and getting attached to them; no matter how many omegas their company offered them, none of them felt right, whether they were older or younger than him, girls or not—it just didn't work.

He would sometimes think that it didn't matter if it felt right or not; since he technically couldn't know how it would feel when the puzzle pieces fell together, how could he know this wasn't how it would go?

Still, over the years, Jungkook always felt weird, taking care of omegas or even betas, even though it should have fulfilled any of his urges.

Now that he was maturing, he felt his second gender side growing more calm and collected, not as overpowering as once before, even though he was still quite far from being fully ready for bigger steps in his life.

And when he saw you, when he noticed your scent, the alpha realised that none of what was before mattered anymore—you were there now, and he knew this was right.

Mating and marking you would be a step in the future, that was certain, but every good pack would keep the courting process long and slow; it was important to not overwhelm the omegas.

Oftentimes not the most caring alphas would mate the first heat that would strike, and after that, their ruts would alight with their omegas if it hadn't happened earlier due to the long scent exposure.

The courting was important for many reasons, as once mated and marked, the omegas would truly be a part of the pack, and getting rid off the attachment wasn't too easy.

Getting to know each other was, of course, one of the more social aspects of courting, but the process consisted of getting used to the sudden adjustments more importantly.

They might have a completely different diet, they might struggle with health issues, mental or physical, or the alpha might have a too demanding job and would then struggle to take care of the omega in much need.

While supporting a family financially, for a good, understanding alpha, the support would come through actions more.

They have to show the omega they can take care of them, whether it be by cooking, buying them new things, cuddling and hugs, or scenting—everything was at play.

And after many tiring and stressful years, Jungkook finally had the sweet opportunity to express that he was, in fact, a good alpha. He could care for you and support any of your needs and wishes; he was able to provide.

Now that it didn't feel forced to do and came to him so naturally, he knew you would be the one for him, the most important and sweetest.

„I know Kook-ah; I want her as our 'mega too.” Namjoon answered truthfully, smiling softly at the younger alpha before he turned his eyes back to you.

„We should get the den started... It could be a sweet surprise; get it done without kitty knowing." Yoongi whispered gently, resting his back himself while he closed his eyes, his head thrown back in thought.

„I looked at more bed frames that are online; we can choose one together later. We could start decorating the room in the meantime." Hobi answered, opening one of the windows on his phone.

There was a luxury furniture website opened, with a tab called 'DEN ESSENTIALS' showing. The alpha has already filtered the search.

Apart from the regular colour and material options to choose from, there was also a way to narrow down the search for the right bed set by the number of packmembers.

After all, they would want to go back to the den just for you, but if the bed wouldn't fit everyone quite right, it wouldn't be comfortable enough to yearn for it.

The room was large enough, and the alphas have been planning on stretching out the bed from pretty much wall to wall. They might add bedside tables, though.

They didn't truly discuss the design of the room yet, but even if they didn't, they all knew your wants and needs were the most important.

While Yoongi probably wouldn't be the happiest in a room full of Hello Kitties and Cinnamonrolls, as he would sleep on a My Melody pillow, if you wanted to have a den bright and pastel themed, he would never complain.

After all, as long as you would build a nest for them, which, considering how much more and more sleepy and cuddly you were getting with them over the days, shouldn't take too long, they would gladly rest at any place of the planet.

It was an old saying that any alpha will sleep anywhere under the sun, as long as they have their omega with them, and there was for sure a bit of truth in it.

„I asked pup about what type of bedframe she liked the best the last time we went to the store; she prefers the wooden forms.”

„Yeah, those are much more classy; they are more traditional too.”The eldest alpha answered, nodding gently.

He remembered one of his classmates from when he went to school. The student was considered fairly cool and popular, for he had already established himself a pack back then, even though he was still very young and, quite frankly, immature.

The frat boy had two omegas with him, and Jin always felt slightly bad for them, noticing the way his classmate would oftentimes treat them. The disrespect was unimaginable.

But still, since their scents aligned so well, the four mates pack, consisting of one more beta, had formed while they were all still fairly young, the beta being the oldest, 20.

And after the information went around the school, considering the students were still around 18 years old at the oldest, it was a thing that made the boy quite literally famous.

Jin never spoke to him too much; his scent fell sour on his nose, and since they were both alphas and Seokjin was very pretty, putting him in an equally popular spot, the classmate never really approached him, the two alphas choosing to never interact.

He did hear him talk to a few of the 'friends' he gathered around himself, laughing loudly about how they broke the bedframe last night since it was only metal and didn't hold up during his oh so strong rut.

Jin felt slightly sick to his stomach, worried about the two, probably frightened omegas, but even when he tried to erase the image of that alpha in rut from his mind, he never truly managed, a nasty memory.

„Should we paint the room too? It's just white now.” Taehyung asked, thinking about the interior. He was a great fashionista, but room decor wasn't really where he felt his strongest.

„Maybe dark grey? I think it would be best if we kept the place dark and cosy; it should help princess sleep better, especially if she will be napping." The alpha said softly, thinking himself.

„Yea, I agree. I think our best bet is to make it easy to sleep in. It's a den after all; we can worry about details later. As long as little pup likes it, it's all good.” The packalpha murmured, patting your head gently.

The packmates rested back for a few more minutes, until Jin got a call. Since his phone was on silent mode, the ringtone didn't sound, and so, you were kept in your sweet dreamland, while the eldest got told about Sejin already waiting in the meeting room.

He ended the call soon, sighing out, while he started to pack up the empty food boxes—they seriously ate like hyenas sometimes.

While helping around, the rest of the alphas sorted through everything quickly, going from the room to the hall to sort everything in the right bin, making sure to recycle.

„Baby? Sweetheart, my little pup, wake up now. Alphas have to go see Sejin-Hyung. Come on now, sweet baby." Gently coaxing you from sleep, you fluttered your eyes open, Namjoon's dimples showing.

Going to rub your eye, Jimin interweaved your fingers with his instead, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in a sweet gesture.

Yawning softly, you were still tired, but let yourself be pulled up again. The packalpha slowly placed you on the ground, making sure you weren't so tired you wouldn't stay steady.

Smiling widely at your sleepy state, Jimin ran his fingers through your hair, letting Yoongi come by and take your other palm in his. The older alpha tutted at how messy your hair was, combing it down so it sat neat and pretty.

„There, kitty, hold alpha's hand now, okay? Let's go, little kitten." Gently pecking your temple, Yoongi pulled you behind himself, Jimin walking next to you.

With the other pack members all coming with you, the pack soon piled back to the meeting room they went to this morning. This time, there were much fewer people involved—only the same man and other one.

Smiling gently at you all, Yoongi softly pulled you along, letting you sit down before he and Jimin both took a seat on each side of you.

The room had a strong light on, and with how sleepy and tired you still felt, you just wanted to go back to the soft, warm place Namjoon had tucked you away to, and go rest some more.

„I prepared the documents for you guys. Read them through and sign them.” Sejin said smoothly, handing Hoseok, the one sitting at the corner, a stack of stapled papers.

Each taking one and passing the tower of files along, all of the alphas started reading through it, though Namjoon looked up at his manager first.

„Hyung, would it be possible to take Y/N with us to The Soop?” Sejin looked over, his expression unreadable, for a few seconds.

Resting fully in his chair, the manager sighed out in thought, thinking about everything.

„I mean... As long as everyone is okay with Y/N being on camera, I suppose it would be okay. There should be enough room for everyone still.” No one spoke right away, the packmembers turning to you.

You looked up to Yoongi, the alpha's hand taking in yours, not worried about the situation they were in. You nodded a little bit; it couldn't be that bad, right?

„It's ok-okay, if you stay with me, oppas." You whispered softly, Jimin smiling widely, happy to hear your gentle confession. His heart did a little flip, the alpha realising that you found comfort in him.

„Well, in such a case, you would have to reveal that you have started the courting process before we air the series.” The other manager, whom the packmates obviously knew well but had never introduced, said softly, eyes lingering on your timid form for a little bit.

The man realised that bringing you to the industry quite suddenly could be a bit of an issue, but considering how well the packmembers were to you, he also realised that you were doing exceptionally well.

„It will be aired at the end of June, and we are leaving to record by the start of May, so before then. Sejin said, sighing gently. He could imagine you being mated to them by then, but nothing could be certain.

And if you were revealed as only courted at the moment, some bad stuff could go down, and he didn't want that to happen to any of you.

„That's o-okay...” You said it softly, squeezing both of the alphas hands gently. The pack members smiled at your answer, proud that you would take a step forward like that.

„Alright. I will get the file ready for you too, then, okay? You can sign it later, don't worry.” You nodded happily, realising that you wouldn't be there to truly shoot a show yourself, instead tagging along as a companion.

Namjoon knew that Sejin wouldn't let much of the cameras linger on you, and your face might be censored the whole time too, but that didn't matter.

The fans they had would understand and want what makes them happy to happen, and since it was you, the true ARMYs would be more than happy for them.

Deciding to go into it with such a mindset calmed the packalpha down. Sure, he felt a slight worry at the thought of your reaction to receiving a negative response to being courted by them.

It wouldn't be because of who you truly were if that happened, though; it would be something that would happen because you were courted by them, not anyone else.

The alpha felt a pang of guild strike him straight through his heart, but considering how excited you were about the whole In The Soop series, he couldn't linger on it for too long.

You were a sweet little thing, and they would keep you protected, making sure you wouldn't feel bad for any of the unreasonable hate you could possibly receive.

The alphas were ready to tuck you away from the world into their arms and wouldn't let any harm come your way.

Smiling softly, the packalpha opened the file, starting to read through it.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 months ago

Text

ep 4. hey, you alright? | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 4. hey, you alright?

pairing(s): yoonji x reader x jungkook

summary: After encountering Jeon Jungkook's fuckbuddy on the train, Min Yoonji is in shambles. In shambles, but determined to do something about it. Doing nothing will only further the distance between her and one of her best friends. Yoonji figures she can throw a party, get him alone, and talk it out. And it works... sort of.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; pan!f!reader; pan!Yoonji; internalized homophobia; gay panic; ft OT6 (Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook come to Yoonji's place for games and grub); minor alcohol consumption; f/f/m love triangle confessions (!!!); non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

This was the worst.

Not that Min Yoonji was the doomsday type – well, maybe – but, fuck, this was the worst. She knew she couldn’t let it go on like this. Just get over it. It was impossible. No, she had lived long enough to know it would be a terrible idea to avoid it any longer. Against better judgement, she needed to know. Just pretend. Absolutely not. Lying was out of the question. Not after that prolonged eye contact in the semi-darkness in front of the bath house. That warm hand holding her hand. I can’t lie to those eyes. But then there was also…

Anyway, she had to do something.

And so, she hosted a party.

That was making it sound more than it was. It was more of a mild get-together. Yoonji brought another pack of cold beers to her coffee table, calmly placing them against the snacks as her living room erupted with cheers from three guys. She collected the empty cans and spared a look at the chaos. Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook were bouncing around in a circle, excited at the goal scored. Funnily enough, they were all dressed true to their personalities – Jimin in a neatly fitted sky blue sweater and dark jeans, Taehyung in a white t-shirt and loose brown pants, Jungkook in all black fit. A hoodie and cargo pants.

She had invited them all over to watch Team Korea’s match this evening.

Kim Seokjin hadn’t been able to make it due to work commitments. That handsome guy had an early call time for his latest movie shoot, which was understandable. He had been disappointed, because it was quite rare for Yoonji to host, and he had childishly complained about not getting the good treatment. That was Seokjin’s own way of expressing that he missed them. Yoonji missed him too, as he was the only one older than her, and, although she could never trust Seokjin during the apocalypse, she did appreciate that he always helped out with cooking and cleaning.

Seokjin also understood her, innately, and naturally overtook duties when she was wearing out.

She headed back to the kitchen. Yoonji didn’t host often because it was a social commitment that would last several hours, and her introverted self had limits. She did, however, enjoy watching sports, especially basketball. Football was also up there, bumped onto a slightly lower tier because, well, the black-and-white ball smacking into the net wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the swish of orange. Anyway, she was glad they could all come, even if it was noisy.

“Ah, glad I didn’t come back to a burnt stove or a chopped-off finger.”

“Oi!”

Kim Namjoon made a face at her from above the onion. The way the tall, built man was clutching the knife was slightly concerning. Yoonji prodded over and fixed his hand positioning on the handle, shaking her head. Namjoon frowned. Comical for such a stern-looking face. Yoonji pointed to his light-colored sweatshirt.

“How did you get onion juice on you already?”

Namjoon looked down, his eyes widening, his deep voice annoyed. “What? Aw, shit!”

She didn’t know why such a clumsy guy had chosen a matching cream sweat set to wear. The world was full of mysteries. “I’ll ask Jimin to help,” she sighed exaggeratedly.

“Hah, noona, come on. I can at least cut an onion.” Namjon pouted. Now that was hilarious for a man almost two meters all. “Let the young ones have fun. Have some faith in me.”

With a wave of her hand, Yoonji made a disgruntled noise and turned away, already feeling the prickling of irritation at the corners of her eyes from the half-chopped onion. She would have overtaken onion duty if she didn’t go blind while doing it. Damn onions for being natural bioweapons. She began to prep the carrots instead.

“Don’t let year fourteen of knowing you be the last year.”

“Noona…”

Still, she laughed under her breath. “Thanks for helping me with dinner.”

“I don’t know if I’ve actually helped yet,” Namjoon muttered, chopping very slowly.

She wanted to say something, but she found herself silent and going through the motions, swiftly slicing up the carrots and cabbage. Occasionally Jimin with his neatly parted hair and concerned face would pop into the kitchen, asking if he could help, and Yoonji would wave him away. Then, moments later, Taehyung would inevitably stick his nose into the kitchen after his bathroom break, his permed dark brown curls sticking up in every direction, peeking into the oven to see the crisping meat, and Yoonji would shoo him away too.

Jungkook only stopped by once.

“You two okay? I can help make ramyeon.”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but his voice sounded more timid than usual. She would usually raise her head and scold him. This time, Yoonji kept her eyes on the simmering pot and kept stirring.

“We’re fine. Go sit down,” she said to the noodles.

“Ah… Okay.”

Once she heard him moving away from the kitchen, she let out a contained breath. Namjoon came up beside her, holding the bowls of sliced carrot, onion, and cabbage. The poor onion looked as if it had been through a woodchipper. Meh, no one will even notice once it is all mixed in. Minced was an understatement.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Hm?” Yoonji answered absentmindedly, taking the bowls and gesturing to the carton of eggs on the kitchen counter.

The tall male went over to fetch them, sending her a searching look. “You were a pretty blunt just now.”

She paused slightly. “Ah… I was distracted.” She waited a moment and turned off the heat, ready to drain the noodles.

“I can’t help but feel that you’ve been a bit cold to Jungkook today.”

The hot steam shot up as Yoonji poured the water into the sink, carefully using chopsticks to hold back the bulk of the noodles. She sensed Namjoon backing up, probably due to the clouding of his glasses. She took the moment to reflect. Yes, that was one of the reasons for today, to figure out if she was okay in Jungkook’s presence. To test if she was, well, normal. To stop running away.

It was… going well.

“Did something happen?” he gently asked. “We can always talk later.”

“I…”

She turned around to see a frowning Kim Namjoon. He looked like a worried Great Dane with his great height and presence.

“Ahah, no, it’s nothing like that,” Yoonji sighed, giving up. “It’s a small misunderstanding. I was going to ask him to stay back a little tonight and talk about it. You know how it is for me. When people ask me to talk one-on-one, I’m a lot more comfortable. When I have to initiate, I have to make a lot of effort.”

He nodded, understanding. “Oh, I see. That’s good. It’s been a while since just you and Jungkook hung out. He mentioned recently that he missed drinking at your place.”

She felt her cheeks warm. It was probably the steam of the noodles as she was transferring them to a metal bowl. She began to pour in packets of sauce and adding additional seasonings. “Oh.” Her hands moved quickly as her mind slowed down, noisily clacking the chopsticks to evenly coat the noodles. “I didn’t realize it’s been a while.” Or that he noticed.

Namjoon’s hooded gaze lowered, bending down slightly to keep eye contact. “You seem a bit withdrawn lately. Work going well? Or is it something else?”

She tried to laugh it off, but only just. “Work’s fine. Busy, but fine.”

“Creative block?”

Yoonji thought back to her lyric notebook, the pages crumpled, covered in scribbled confessions and confused fantasies that she desperately wanted to scream to the world, yet couldn’t. “Hm, you’re probably right about that.”

Her longtime friend nodded, his glasses and buzzcut making him look like a sage-like chestnut. “Yeah, that makes sense. My door is always open.”

She chuckled. “My experiments are a bit too childish for a professional.”

Namjoon made a face. “Don’t be like that. Even if you only want it to be a hobby like you said, you’re talented at making music, Yoonji-noona. I’ve always said that.”

“Haha, thank you.” She finished the ramyeon and added some cheese on top. She began to sauté the vegetables to add as a side dish, along with kimchi. “How about you? Working on anything new?”

“Hmm, finishing up some master mixes.” Namjoon was a music producer at an entertainment company. Probably what Yoonji would have done in another life, if she was braver. “Doing some experiments of my own now that I have time. I’ve recently begun to focus more on delivering those pure, closed-off feelings in my latest project, even if it pains me to do so.”

She flicked the pan, distributing the mix evenly. “Oh? How cool of you.”

“Ah, I don’t know of it’s cool or pathetic.” He sounded sheepish.

“It’s not pathetic to talk about painful things, Namjoon-ah. We all go through such things.”

A deep, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah… Haha, you’re right. I’m only having a little trouble because I want it to be simpler, but my own poeticism is getting in the way. If I’m allowed to talk about myself like that.”

With a hum, Yoonji wholeheartedly agreed. “You’ve always had a way with words.”

He sounded distant, as if he was talking to himself.

“Not a way with love, though.”

If there was a way to figure this out alone, Yoonji would have gone that route. If there was a way to stay silent and watch it work itself out, she would have let it happen. The answer wasn’t that simple, and so she found herself surrounded by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook, the two who hung back to clean up after the chaos. Kim Taehyung had wanted to stay behind, but he offered to take Kim Namjoon home instead, who had passed out at some point. A testament to his long nights lately, she was sure, and Taehyung lived the closest to him. Jimin had dragged Jungkook to help him, not that the youngest needed to be ordered about. They had a textbook older-brother-younger-brother relationship complete with meaningless bickering.

“Take out the trash.”

“No, you.”

“You’re stronger!”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with anything!”

Yoonji simply shook her head and let them fight, watching Jimin carry the recycling out while Jungkook grabbed the trash bag. It wasn’t necessary, but it did save her the trip of carrying it all herself. She wiped down the kitchen counters as the last step. Waited a moment. Soon enough Jimin came back, ready to wash his hands before heading out. Yoonji frowned.

“Where’s the kid?”

Jimin stuck his tongue out. “I made him sort the recycling.”

“Hah… I should have gone with you two.”

He huffed. “He can handle it.” Those swift dark eyes shifted from the soap to her face. He rinsed them off as he added, “I wanted a word with you, anyway.”

She felt her frown deepen. “Hm?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jimin said softly, drying his hands on the spare towel. “It seems like… You’re having a hard time, maybe?”

A muscle in her eye twitched. Fuck, am I that obvious? “What?”

He straightened he sleeves of his sky-blue sweater. “Ah, come on, noona. We’ve known each other for a long time,” he chided, punching her shoulder lightly. She shot him a look and Jimin held up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, I get it. Just…” His arms lowered slowly. He smiled, as he did when nervous. “I’m totally useless when it comes to problem solving, but I can listen. I have ears.”

Yoonji narrowed her eyes. “Hm, they’re kinda small. Like the rest of you.”

The little angel flared. “Hey! I’m not–”

She waved away his words with an impatient hand. “It’s not like I don’t get down sometimes. I’m human. Anyway, why do you think I asked you guys if you wanted to come over? I simply needed some human interaction. That’s all.”

Jimin softened. “Ah. Yeah, makes sense.”

They shared a beat of silence.

He was still giving her a strange look of knitted brows and upturned lips. She raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. And then Yoonji got it. Oh. Jimin seemed to catch on, too, that she finally understood what he had been hinting at. They had, after all, known each other for a long time. He had only learned of the very low lows after the fact, but the concern was valid. She shook her head.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she assured him.

He seemed relieved.

“That’s good then.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Jungkook burst into the apartment, looking pissed off.

“Park Jimin, you linthead, why would you–”

Insulting Jimin’s hair was a surefire way to get a fiery response. However, the youngest cut off mid-sentence, wide-eyed once he noticed the closeness between Jimin and Yoonji. She locked eyes with big, brown ones. An irrational guilt squeezed inside her ribcage to the point of crushing. There was a moment too long of frozen silence, and then she smacked her palms into Jimin’s chest, sending him stumbling back with a surprised yelp.

“Aah!”

Both Yoonji and Jungkook watched as Jimin nearly crashed into the kitchen island, catching himself with one hand. He reoriented himself and sent Yoonji a startled look. A split second to decide to look away or glare back. She frowned and crossed her arms. Jimin seemed taken aback.

Jungkook said nothing.

The front door closed behind him with a squeak and a click.

“The fuck…?”

Jimin looked hurt.

She felt the tops of her cheeks warm. “Sorry, I…” She found that she couldn’t look at Jungkook so instead she reached out and held out her hand to Jimin. And lied. “The moment reminded me of a bad situation I was in the past. Really shitty déjà vu. Not your fault. I reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

He accepted her apology right away, taking her hand to lift himself up. “Oh.” He looked empathetic. It made her feel even guiltier. “That’s okay.” He was about to say something else but Yoonji patted his hand.

“You should have helped him.”

“Jungkookie’s a big boy,” Jimin teased, letting go of her hand. “Right, kid?”

She couldn’t help but feel a loss of safety at the action.

The youngest puffed a cheek. At least, that was what she heard. “Stop acting like you’re so much older.”

“Oh, as if you aren’t hitching a ride with me,” Jimin tutted, walking up to that big chest and pulling out his keys. “I gotta babysit the baby, noona.”

“Actually, uh…”

She finally raised her head to see Jimin and Jungkook staring back at her like two meerkats on the lookout. One in blue and one in black. An uncomfortable thump-thump tittered in her chest when she made eye contact with the one in black. Deep breath. “Actually, can you stay back for a bit, Jungkook? I want to ask you something. I’ll pay for a ride home for you.”

Something flickered in those dark brown eyes.

Yoonji tried not to bite her lip in nervousness.

Then, Jungkook huffed and poked Jimin in the chest. “Go babysit yourself, shorty. I have to go wash my hands because of you.” He stepped around Jimin, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the guest bathroom. “I was gonna call my friend to pick me up, anyway.”

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin snickered.

“Shut up.”

And, perhaps for the most fleeting of seconds, Jungkook caught Yoonji’s gaze.

They shared a stilled breath of silence.

Then he moved out of sight and yelled, from the bathroom. “Get out, Jimin-ssi!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Can you believe this guy? Acting like he owns the place.”

Yoonji smiled, feeling somewhere between relief and panic. “Thanks for helping me clean up.”

“Anytime, anytime.” Jimin slipped into his loafers and saluted her. “I leave the baby in your capable hands. Call me if he whines.”

She was about to say something related to that, but then Yoonji stopped, holding the door for Jimin.

“I’m sorry, again, for pushing you like that.”

He shook his head. “Hey, I get it. It was instinctive.” Jimin smiled, then reached out to give her a small hug. She returned it, feeling remorseful. He let go and beamed at her. “I know you’ll hate hearing this, but even if you’re older than me, noona, I still feel the need to protect you. Even if you don’t want me to. Me and the guys are your safety net, okay?”

She made a face and tried not to cringe. “Ew.”

Jimin grinned, making his eyes disappear.

“Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love ya. Go away before I vomit. Bye.”

She shut the door and held her breath.

I can’t do this.

She couldn’t blow all this up.

Implode everything for… for what? She almost wished she hadn’t talked to Jimin like that. It only reminded her of what she could lose if she opened her mouth. She leaned against the door. Exhaled heavily. She didn’t have to say anything. Fuck, was she not the older one? The more mature one? The one to take some damn responsibility? She was making a mistake. It was time to tell Jungkook to go home. She turned around, intending to go into the living room.

The door to the guest bathroom opened.

Jeon Jungkook stepped out, looking worn out as if he too he just lost his own internal battle.

His black hair was a bit damp, like he had splashed his face and pushed his bangs back. Wet strands drifted against his forehead. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing one tattooed, muscular forearm and one equally defined, un-inked one. He ran his hand through his hair again, his head turning, searching in the stillness.

Yoonji paused.

The youngest of her friends stopped too, realizing they were alone.

He had such a handsome face, truly.

She cleared her throat a bit and started shuffling to the living room.

“You, uh, should call your friend.”

The words felt as if they were burning her throat as she said them.

Jungkook hesitated, then followed. “Didn’t you want to ask me something?”

She pointed to the couch. He obediently plopped down. She stared at him for a second, faltered, and backed away.

“Ah, on second thought, it’s nothing,” she forced herself to say.

Those large eyes followed her movement. Yoonji told herself to run. Then his gaze went downcast. She felt a tug of regret. His hands weren’t moving to his pockets yet. They hung between his legs. He slotted one onto the other.

Holding his own hand.

Silence.

Then, he nodded.

“Okay, noona.”

His name flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Jungkook.”

He looked up, confused.

Her heart was beating so fast that it was choking her. Her hands felt hot. The ghost of recollection, another wrapped around the back of her hand, standing at the entrance of a bathhouse under the moonlight. A mischievous smile flashed in her mind’s eye. Shit, it felt so fucking weird with Jungkook, him staring at her as if they didn’t know each other. When had this distance appeared, and why? Yoonji found she hated it. She hated this distance more than all these other confusing emotions.

She went over and sat down next to him.

He seemed startled, his broad shoulders jumping, and Yoonji was pissed at how this closeness was no longer the comforting feeling it used to be. They used to be fine with this. They used to tease each other and laugh together. They used to be friends.

And she was going to lose him if she didn’t say something.

“Jungkook, I…”

Get it over with, Min Yoonji!

“I like your girlfriend.”

Those big brown eyes widened, his pink lips parting, the overhead light catching the tops of his cheekbones.

“Me too,” he breathed.

They stared at each other.

Then, his words actually clicked in Yoonji’s mind. Wait, what? But before she could say anything more, Jungkook grimaced and buried his head in his hands, mussing up his hair in a mild panic.

“Fuck, I should have asked her to be my girlfriend from the start!”

She jolted, not expecting this result. “You still haven’t?”

“Ah, I…” He shook his head like a dog, nervous energy pitching his normally deep voice. “She… fuck, Yoonji-noona, I know, I know, I screwed up saying nothing, just like last time…”

“Whoa, slow down.”

She reached out a hand, paused, then placed it on his upper arm. Jungkook was hunched over, elbows on thighs, not looking at her, stricken.

“Hey. Hey,” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Get a grip. What do you mean?”

She saw his brows furrow. He continued staring at the ground. “I… I don’t know. I can tell she’s pulling away, because of me… I can’t bring myself to say anything, because…”

“Hah?” Yoonji scowled and squeezed him under her hand. “What more assurance do you need?”

Jungkook lifted his head.

He looked beaten. He looked guilty. His gaze wavered. She held onto him. He felt solid and strong in her hold, but his eyes were lost, imprisoned in unspoken hopes and fears. Her problems seemed stupid compared to this heartbreaking confusion before her.

She sighed, putting on a resigned expression. “What is it? Do you need someone else to tell her for you?”

His eyes went from the floor to her face. Yoonji felt her teasing tone falter.

“I couldn’t say anything to you.”

Her heart stopped.

Jungkook lowered his head again, tilting his gaze. His voice sounded far away and sad. “If I couldn’t say anything to you, someone I am comfortable with, someone I have a friendship with, then how can I say anything to someone I absolutely can’t lose?”

Her hand left his arm.

“W… What?” she breathed, staring at him.

He took in a deep breath and turned his body a bit to better face her.

“Yoonji-noona…”

She couldn’t move, slack-jawed.

Apology in those deep brown eyes. He opened his mouth but Yoonji shot her hand out, gripping his forearm, his skin hot under her cold fingers. We’ve been friends for a really long time. If we were gonna date, it would have happened already. Oh, shit. She swallowed hard, realizing how her off-hand comment must have affected him back then. She tried to breathe. It was impossible, so she picked trying to speak instead.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she croaked, wanting to run and stay at the same time.

He winced. “Uh… Yeah,” Jungkook mumbled, his eyes shifting away.

She shook his arm impatiently. “Since when?”

The sound of him clearing his throat seemed to radiate throughout the room. “Um. Well.” He stumbled through words, stringing them together oddly. “While ago. You were dating that… uh, you called him a bastard too. Even when you broke up, you seemed off. Really depressed. Drinking every night at Namjoon-hyung’s place. I was so worried, but he told me to give you time. I… Anyway. I mean, I’ve always only been a kid in your eyes. And you’re my friend. So. Wouldn’t work. And I… I would rather be your friend than be rejected. I guess I got over it. And I met her, eventually. Uh, so... you know... I’m over it.” He waved his free right hand awkwardly.

His fingers stilled.

He dropped his hand.

“But I don’t think I’m really over it.”

His lips twisted upward, revealing the small mole underneath them. Perfectly in the center. Perfect, like the rest of him.

“If I was, then she’d be mine right now,” Jungkook sighed, the air rushing out of his whole chest at his words.

She didn’t know what to say.

Her other hand grasped her jeans, trying to steady herself with the tactile world. Her mind went back to that Instagram post. It was then. Of course, she hadn’t been in the right headspace back then. She had been playing mental Russian roulette between all that gaslighting and toxicity. After the breakup, she actively numbed her emotions every day, every night. Tried so hard to dissociate. Wore out the words, I’m fine, like it was in fashion. The worst part was how she felt like such an idiot, knowing she had willingly let herself be that pathetic for someone that ultimately didn’t matter. That internal shame had projected into her avoiding any meaningful connection with her friends except for Hoseok. Probably wouldn’t have reconnected with them at all if it wasn’t for that ball of sunshine pushing her to rejoin society. Contrary to her intrusive thoughts, they had all welcomed her back as if she hadn’t lost contact for months.

Jungkook sighed.

It took Yoonji a moment to realize he had sighed her name.

No, not her name but her name.

“She’s so cool. That was the first thing I thought when I saw her.” He raised his head, gazing into a direction not in this room. “She hadn’t spoken a word and I already liked her. Fuck, when she looked at me… I swear my heart stopped. I couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes for weeks. So fucking hot. She’s smart, too. Knows so much stuff about everything. About life. I thought it must be a dream when she kept talking to me. Me? No way, right? She even likes my dumb humor. Her laugh is so great, especially when she can’t breathe… It’s so funny.” He smiled briefly. Then it vanished. “She’s tough too. She told me a little about how she grew up, and I… huh, is this selfish? I just keep thinking, I want to be the one who makes her happy. I want her to always be happy. But…”

He sighed heavily.

“Maybe I don’t have the guts, after all.”

There was no good word to describe how she felt. Stunned. Ashamed. A hinderance. Should she have known? Could she have known? If that now meaningless bastard hadn’t fucked her up so bad, would this conversation be different? But she couldn’t change anything now. The world was moving fast and slow at the same time. It must have been seconds, but it felt like hours. He wasn’t blaming her. And yet, Yoonji couldn’t help but think that her choices, her actions, her very existence had made everything worse, somehow. She pulled her touch away.

Jungkook’s head turned slowly, making eye contact.

“It makes sense,” he chuckled dryly. Half-smiled. “Why you would like her.”

Then those dark brows knitted together.

“Wait. What do you mean, Yoonji-noona, you like her?” he started, jerking back in alarm.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

“Uh–”

Then, the devil herself interrupted.

An explosion of sound blasted from his right pocket. They both jumped, startled at the intrusion of a rising ringtone, growling singing mixed with heavy guitars. His hands fumbled with his pants and Jungkook yanked his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widening at the name, answering it after shooting her a frightened look.

“H-Hello? Noona?”

“Hey, you didn’t text me.” She could barely hear that husky voice but she could hear it all right. She sounded annoyed. “You answered so you’re not dead. I thought you said you needed me to pick you up?”

“Um.” He glanced at Yoonji.

She threw up her hands in a wordless the-fuck-you-looking-at-me-for stance.

“Oi. Earth to Jeon Jungkook.”

The tip of his pink tongue flickered over his lips. “Ah… yeah. Yeah, sorry. I’ll text you the address.”

“Hey, if you wanna stay longer, that’s fine. I just need to know a time so I don’t pass out too early.”

“No, noona, um, please.” Jungkook glanced at her again. Yoonji looked away, feeling her cheeks warm. Why was he looking at her repeatedly like that? “If you could come now. Please.”

“Hmm, a please, huh? Well… since you’re insisting so sweetly.”

And then the call ended.

She snapped her head back and clenched her jaw. “What are you doing–”

“Shouldn’t we talk to her?”

Yoonji froze. He was certainly right. She must be losing it if Jungkook was being the sensible one here. Argh, fuck it. She pursed her lips, not willing to meet his gaze.

“You’re right. Go on. Text her the address.”

“Are you su–”

She snapped towards him and nodded fiercely. “Come on. We’ve run around in circles long enough. I’m tired of things being weird between us. Before anything, we’re friends, Jungkook. Let’s not act like strangers.”

He was gripping his phone very tightly, his cheeks flushed pink, his big peepers extra big.

“Y… Yeah. You’re right.”

Half-smirk.

“Yo.”

Black bomber jacket with an oversized ruffle on the shoulders, dark scarlet silk slip dress with an exaggerated black lace trim, and black heeled boots. The bright silver buckles were in the shape of moons. Her hair was wild. There was not a lick of makeup on her face except for lip balm that gave her full, mauve-pink lips a glossy sheen. She moved and Yoonji looked away, startled at the leg slits of the slinky dress that exposed even more of her upper thighs.

“Crazy I ran into you here,” Jungkook maybe-maybe-not girlfriend mused out loud. “Nice sweater. Excellent taste, might I add.”

Yoonji suddenly felt very shapeless in her dark-grey and black striped sweater and baggy light wash jeans. Shapeless, but not clueless.

“Hah…”

The past twenty minutes had been pretty damn awkward. Neither she nor Jungkook could get the balls to speak to the other, even though one of them had grown up with them. Yup. What a sign of long-term friendship. Right. Maybe they both thought everything would be solved with the appearance of those scorched eyes. Or maybe they hoped they could pretend all this never happened if she didn’t show up. Perhaps she would get annoyed at the run around and tell Jungkook off.

Or something.

Yoonji backed up and ticked her head inside her apartment.

“Come in.”

A shift in gaze. “Simply to pick him up? What did you do to him?”

She tried not to notice or care about the mischievous glint under lashes. Like cinders still burning. There was nowhere else to look, though. The woman on the other side of her door had her hands in the pockets of her jacket. It was unzipped, giving peeks of those exposed collarbones and the lace-trimmed décolletage. Looking at those bare legs was an absolute no-go.

“Just get in here,” Yoonji muttered, backing away from the door and heading out of frame.

She didn’t bother to look. She did hear the faint hum and two steps into her home. A pause. Yoonji turned back around to see her front door being closed. They locked eyes. She looked away first. A soft, bemused sigh.

“N… Noona.”

Yoonji jumped at the appearance of a black lump with too-big eyes standing in the hallway. His hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie. He had even pulled up the hood, like some kind of utterly useless fabric safety net to the fire before them. He awkwardly shuffled a bit closer, avoiding Yoonji’s stare.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Her tone was still light. “Sup?”

He coughed. “Uh…”

“You wanna tell me why I’m standing here with the two of you acting like you just buried a body?”

Yoonji winced. She turned back to a raised eyebrow. The woman hadn’t gotten out of her boots yet. Still standing there next to the door with Jungkook’s discarded sneakers and Yoonji’s everyday ones. When she shrugged, the oversized ruffle of her bomber jacket flounced to accentuate it. She flickered her gaze from one to the other. Still silence. Finally, Jungkook’s more-then-friend-with-benefits crossed her arms and shot them both a discerning eye.

“Look, I’m not the police. I don’t feel like interrogating.” She sucked the inside of her cheek and made a dimple appear. “Kinda seems like you both wanna tell me something, though. So, out with it.” Tilt of the head, her hair curling in waves around her face.

No one spoke.

Those dark eyes hardened to flint. She sighed, now impatient.

“Hm? You both confessing you fucked or what?”

Yoonji could feel her cheeks burn to red in an instant.

“What? No!”

and

“No? What!”

At the same time.

Jungkook had exclaimed in unison with Yoonji, flinging his hands out and crossing the distance. Immediately Yoonji backed up – into where else but towards the fire herself. She almost tripped when she felt a hand on her back push her forward. She spun, freezing as she ended up beside Jungkook, gawking at the woman standing by the door with an ominous but otherwise unreadable expression.

Said expression shifted from one guilty expression to the other.

“Yeah. Okay.”

She rolled her eyes and lowered her arms.

She made to leave. Jungkook called her name, pain in his tone. She stopped mid-turn, stilling. Yoonji could hear it too. She looked from him to her. That scalding stare informed them that she would not let herself be burned again. It wasn’t quite directed at either of them though. Just guarded in general.

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded. “Please believe me.”

A beat of bated breath. Then she straightened and regarded him like bird of prey. “It wouldn’t matter if it was,” she concluded. She shrugged again with an inappropriate, small floof. “I only need to know for my own sexual health. You said you don’t want to be my boyfriend. You don’t need to worry about my feelings being hurt, because they aren’t.”

The look on Jungkook’s face indicated that she might as well have slapped him.

Finally, Yoonji nudged herself forward. “We didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

The second that sharp gaze swiveled and pierced right through her, she winced. It was not the same as the teasing playfulness or even the ambiguous friendliness. It was disappointment. Not focused at her. Overall, at the entire situation. As if this happened enough times for her to know all the script, marks, camera angles. As if she knew this would happen despite not wanting the current cast to be part of the scene.

“But you would.”

There were a right answer and a wrong answer here.

Yoonji couldn’t answer at all.

A curt nod to the silence. Those predator eyes went to Jungkook.

“And you?”

He chewed on his lower lip, the windows to his soul glassy.

“You know I want to be with you. More than anyone.”

For fuck’s sake, there was more silence than there was talking. After a prolonged pause, the woman left out a low sigh, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, running her tongue over her back teeth. Yoonji finally found her voice. Small and unsteady, sure, but she spoke up anyway.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

A shadow crossed over dark orbs. The fire within died down a bit.

Or, at least, was obscured.

“You know.” That soft, husky voice calmed, retracting the previous sharpness. “I believe sex is an action that reflects undeniable truths. But, I know unspoken intentions reveal more than the actions themselves. So, while you two may not have had physical sex,” she said, slowly tilting her head from one way to the other. “That part matters less than the omission of truth. And I think I’m missing a big part of the picture right now.”

Yoonji exchanged glances with Jungkook, who moved at the same time, almost if on cue. They looked away from each other, then back up. Raised eyebrows. Shit. He was right. She was smart. And tough. She wasn’t running.

She did not run, for their sake.

Another sigh and the other woman reached down to unzip her boots. Stepped out of them, easily, and then she was standing right on front of them. In black socks with surprised-looking white ghosts all over, funnily enough. Lengthy eye contact with Jungkook. An entire conversation in silence. Then Yoonji. She had the strangest feeling, staring deep into those eyes. Bird of prey was the wrong judgement. There was no intent to conquer. She had already conquered. Yoonji could see it, from the way she held herself to the measure of forgiveness she had already given them. This was someone that spared no more naiveté when it came to others, a trait that could only be earned by having their innocence scorched to ash. She had overcome it, faced it, become reborn from it.

Like a phoenix.

A phoenix.

Her own eyes widened in the dark mirrors of the other woman.

She smiled faintly at Yoonji.

“Are you ready to fill me in?”

Then she knocked shoulders with them and headed to the living room.

Jungkook seemed anxious. He turned toward Yoonji. Probably for reassurance. She had none to give. Yeah, you and me both. Her heart was ricocheting in her ribcage. Too late to turn back now. She made an irritated face, muttering under her breath.

“Hmph. Fuck you for having good taste in women.”

ep 5. trust that i trust you. sugar, spice, and everything nice

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

#min yoonji x reader #yoonji x reader #bts smut #min yoonji #jungkook x reader #yoonji smut #jeon jungkook x reader #gender bend yoongi

28 notes · View notes

magicshopaholic · 10 months ago

Text

Helping Hands

Summary: Seokjin makes a suggestion without realising its consequences. Yoongi tries to help but faces resistance. Hoseok skips dance rehearsal. Jungkook gets involved against his will.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC, Hoseok x OC, minor Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Mild humour, awkwardness, tension, angst

Word count: 14.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, kissing, dubious sexual harassment

A/N: It's been a whole month since the last fic; I feel like I've been reborn as I format this post. Hope you all enjoy this - it's a lot of chaos and movement of plot. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

You will all be pleased to know that I have once again not edited this fic. Takes place approximately two months after Touch, three months after Near Misses, and about four months after Tea and Olive (and about a month after Final Destination).

Tagging: @bbl32@ quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld

Listen to: "mr brightside" by the killers

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Chaeyoung [19:10] Big Hit lobby. SOS.

Something catches in Hoseok’s chest. Suddenly, Seokjin’s struggles with a combination don’t seem as worrisome.

“I’ll be right back,” he says shortly, picking up his jacket and racing down the hallway to the lifts, ignoring Namjoon calling his name.

Hoseok hurries into the lobby and scans the area, noting that nothing seems to look out of place. He spots her then; she’s by the sofas in the waiting area, standing on one hip and frowning mildly at her phone in one hand. The other hand is absently playing with the corner of a sparkly pink scarf around her neck.

He walks up to her, his heart already slowing slightly. “Chae,” he says, mostly to snap her out of her laser gaze at her phone.

She looks up at him and her face breaks out into a grin. “Oppa, hi!” she exclaims brightly. “What’s up?”

“What’s -” He shakes his head. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Why?”

“Because -” Hoseok frowns, fishing his phone out of his pocket and finding her text, wondering wildly if he’d imagined this. “Did you send me this?” he asks, turning the screen to her. “SOS?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and nods in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. The receptionist wouldn’t let me upstairs to see you without having to sign in and I needed to find a way to bring you down here immediately. I’m taking the bus home and it’s going to be here in, like, ten minutes.” She shrugs in a what-are-you-going-to-do kind of way.

Hoseok stares at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? I just had a heart attack.”

“Why?”

“Because you said SOS! Save - Our - Souls!” he exclaims, clapping his hands to punctuate each word. “I thought something was wrong. I thought you were -” Here, he catches himself and forces himself to take a deep breath. “Forget it. What do you want?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. She looks somewhat uncertain, as though just realising her harmless trick might have backfired. “I, uh…” She clears her throat and rummages in her tote bag. “I brought you a coffee,” she says, bringing out a clear glass with brown liquid and ice cubes rattling inside it. “It’s an Americano,” she adds, stretching her hand out to him until he takes it.

Hoseok stares. “And?”

“And -” She dives into her tote bag again, this time revealing a baby blue cardboard box. “- a muffin!”

His eyes dart from her face to the muffin and back to her. “I’m on tour. I can’t eat sugar.”

“Oh, it’s a sugar-free muffin.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Probably. I don’t know.” She sighs and Hoseok hopes she’s finally getting to the point. “Can we - can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

He struggles not to roll his eyes. “Okay,” he says drily, turning around and leading them to a meeting room inside a corridor behind the main lobby. He pushes the glass door open and holds it for her to skip inside, before closing it behind him. The white lights turn on automatically and the projector screen blinks to life.

“Alright,” he says, placing the coffee on the table and sighing. “What was so important that you needed to trick me into leaving rehearsal midway?”

“Okay,” she begins, placing her hands on the table and licking her lips. They are a glossy pink, notices Hoseok, looking light and natural yet perfectly made up. Maybe they’re pinker against her skin, or it’s the lighting.

“- have a proposal for you. Oppa?”

Hoseok starts, realising he’s missed what she’s said while being distracted by the colour of her lips. Mortified, he clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters shortly, shaking his head. “Uh, I haven’t… slept. What did you say?”

She frowns but nods. “I was saying… do you remember when Chanyeol threw his fifteenth birthday party at our house and when all of you were playing Truth or Dare and I tried to join in, you said that the game was only for people without braces and then I ran away and cried in my bedroom?”

He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I… what?”

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “I’m not making this up. This actually happened.”

“No, I - I remember. Oh, God,” he mutters, his neck starts to heat up with embarrassment. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“And,” she continues, on a roll apparently, “remember when one of your idiot classmates sneaked in peppermint schnapps and even though I saw you all drinking, I still didn’t rat you out even after you were a jerk to me?”

Hoseok chokes, wishing the ground would swallow him up. “Is this why you showed up here? To remind me of my shameful past?”

“No, actually. I came here to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

“Okayyy.”

“And to very generously unburden you of the plus-one you have for the three Michelin star restaurant opening at the St Regis tomorrow night at six pm, hosted by Marco Pierre White,” she adds seamlessly.

Hoseok stares at her for a moment before chuckling. “Wow, that was worth the journey. You bought a coffee and a muffin for that?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

Chaeyoung squeezes her eyes shut and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Please, oppa? Please, please, please, please -”

“You want to be my date to an event?”

“No, I don’t want to be your date - I want to be a plus-one. Just - just allow me entry into the event and I’ll leave you alone after that,” she promises. “You won’t even remember I’m there.”

Fat chance of that. But he doesn’t say it, opting to take a minuscule bite of the muffin and let her continue on her spiel.

“Look,” she sighs through her nose. “This is for work. I need content, okay? The last few stories I’ve submitted have been nothing special,” she says. “Those are the actual words my boss used: nothing special. And the other two in my team - one is the son of a CEO and the other is the literal niece of the editor. The only person I have is you,” she finishes.

He raises his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes! And if I get to cover this -” She lets out a low breath. “It’ll be everything. It’s super exclusive so it’ll be luxury, it’ll be art, culture, music, business. It’ll be everything,” she repeats, her eyes huge and wide and pleading. “I really need this, oppa, please, please?”

Something feels like it’s being squeezed in Hoseok’s heart and he resists the urge to pinch her cheeks. He sighs hugely and closes his eyes, wondering how the hell he went from barely being able to stand her to being on the verge of inventing a plus-one for her if needed.

“Oh, my God.” Chaeyoung gasps suddenly, her cheeks reddening. “You’ve already used your plus-one, haven’t you?”

“No! No - no, I haven’t,” he answers, shaking his head. “And… fine. I’ll take you.”

She freezes for a second, then breaks out into a grin. “Really? Oh - thank you, oppa!” she exclaims in delight, reaching forward and hugging him before stepping back and clapping her hands. “It was the coffee, wasn’t it?”

“That - that helped,” he agrees, reeling slightly in the flowery scent.

“And I promise you won’t even know I’m there,” she reiterates. “I’ll get there on time - I’ll take the bus. Just give my name to the door or whatever and I’ll get there myself and I won’t bother you at all.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. “There won’t be any cameras inside so you’ll be fine.”

Chaeyoung shrugs and beams. “Either way. I owe you big time. Or not, actually,” she adds suddenly. “You know, because of the whole… schnapps and braces thing.”

“Yes, I remember,” he says quickly, his face heating up again. “We’re even.”

“Okay, great. See you tomorrow!” She hugs him again before gathering her stuff and heading to the door. “Thanks again!”

Hoseok watches her leave through the glass doors, his stomach floating. A moment later, he picks up the muffin and takes a large bite of it and scoffs inwardly. Chocolate.

He takes a second bite and heads back up to practice.

—

Seokjin takes advantage of the few minutes that Hoseok has disappeared and lies down on the floor of the practice room, spread-eagled. All he can hear are the sounds of his heart pounding from the intense cardio, his heavy breathing and the blood pumping in his ears.

“Hyung.” A foot nudges his shoulder. “Do the bridge combo with me.”

Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes. “No.”

“Come on, we need to practice.”

He appreciates the we that Jungkook tactfully tacks on, but shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Just once.”

“No.”

“Hyung, what about you?” He’s talking to someone else now. Seokjin is too tired to open his eyes and see who it is, but thankfully that person lets himself be known.

“No.”

Yoongi’s answer has a finality to it that Seokjin will never be able to achieve, its biggest achievement being that Jungkook doesn’t ask him a second time. Seokjin opens his eyes a millimeter to see the maknae skip to the other side of the practice room and harass Jimin, watching them for a few seconds before sighing and dragging himself up into a sitting position.

“How great would it be if I sprained my ankle or something right now?” he mutters to Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t look away from where Taehyung and Jimin, and now Jungkook, are practicing their routine. “So you can sit out the next couple of days and get some rest?”

“Exactly.”

He shurgs. “Tomorrow is a light day. Ish. Just filming in the morning and the other thing in the evening.”

“Oh, yeah.” Seokjin doesn’t mind it. He’s not looking forward to it, per se, but Seulgi will be there, other friends from the industry will be there and since they won’t be in an English-speaking country, he’s sure to be less self-conscious while making conversation.

“Are you bringing Seulgi?”

Seokjin nods. “I told the company two weeks ago, when they emailed us the invite. I don’t miss the constant follow-ups, believe me,” he sighs, stretching. “Are you bringing anyone?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he says eventually. “I guess I’ll have to tell the company. They’ll make a fuss, though, that I’m telling them at the last moment.”

“Wait, you still have your plus-one?” He waits for Yoongi to nod, just to confirm. “You know who really wants to go? Nari.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Your Nari?”

“My friend Nari,” he clarifies, having expected this. “But… yeah. I told her about it a couple of days ago and she said she tried to get tickets to it but the handful of public ones sold out in half a day. I mean… obviously, I can’t take her. But if you have an extra and you aren’t doing anything with it…” He trails off, giving Yoongi a meaningful look.

Yoongi frowns mildly. “You’re really okay with that? You, Nari… your girlfriend… together?”

Seokjin bites his lip and looks away. He and Nari had resumed their friendship tentatively - so tentatively that he doesn’t even want to talk about it for fear of jinxing it. He’d decided to give Nari space after that disastrous dinner, utterly confused as to why she was so angry with him all the time and what he was meant to do to make it better. Weeks passed with no contact until it occurred to Seokjin that if he didn’t reach out first, they would potentially never speak again.

It began with a single text; he’d messaged requesting her to wish her parents a happy anniversary. She’d responded hours later with a Sure, but since it was more than Seokjin had expected, he’d used it as a segue to mention her parents’ anniversary party years ago and the conversation continued.

For the first time in his life, Seokjin was glad to be on tour. It provided the right amount of distance while also giving him a valid excuse to miss her - somehow, missing Nari felt like he was being unfair to Seulgi. He didn’t want to talk to any of his friends about it for fear of being right so he kept it restricted to texts as far as possible, something which seemed to suit Nari as well.

He’d been upfront about it with Seulgi; she’d sounded a bit surprised at first but didn’t say much more about it. He knew it couldn’t go on like this forever, though, that they would have to meet sometime. This event seemed as good as anything: Nari actively wanted to go, Seokjin had found a way for that to happen, and there was no pressure on any of them to host.

“It’s an event,” says Seokjin. “It’s not going to be the three of us alone.”

Yoongi nods but doesn’t pry. “Sure. I’ll let Nari know.”

A weight seems to have been lifted from Seokjin’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

Yoongi simply nods, but Seokjin sighs inwardly in relief. He would be seeing Nari again; maybe this would be the beginning of something new. Something different.

—

Nari’s hand jerks by a millimeter when her phone rings suddenly, causing her to disturb the clean line of sutures she’s practicing.

“Damn it,” she whispers, moving the surgical scissors to her left hand and retrieving her phone from the pocket of her lab coat hanging on the back of her chair. She reads the name on the screen and frowns, her momentary irritation forgotten as she answers it uncertainly.

“Yoongi?” she asks, just to be sure. She can’t remember the last time she met Yoongi; it has to have been a year, at least.

“Hey, Nari.” There’s a shuffle on the other end. “Hope I’m not bothering you.” There’s a pause. “I texted.”

“Oh.” She checks her notifications to see two messages from him from half an hour ago. “Sorry. I’ve been busy today,” she says, placing the phone on the table, putting it on speaker. She’s alone in the skills lab for once and she’s determined to master these sutures today, even if she has to do it while on the phone.

“No problem. I, uh… do you want to go to this restaurant opening tomorrow? It’s called… Mélanges, I think. I have an extra ticket.”

Nari almost messes up another suture. Placing the practice kit to the side and frowning at the phone, she repeats his own words back to him. “Do I want to go… to the Melange opening night… with you?”

“That’s right.”

There’s another pause, this time lasting longer while Nari tries to process this. She wonders briefly if she’s missing something.

“You have an extra ticket? Or is it a plus-one?” she prods, hoping he’ll prove her wrong.

“It’s a plus-one,” he confirms, his voice a monotone. “The company gave all of us the option to bring someone.”

This, she knows. She knows who Namjoon will bring, who Taehyung will bring depending on what his situation with that racer girl is, who Seokjin will bring…

“Are you in?”

Nari bites her lip. “Why me? Don’t you have anyone else you’d like to take?” She says this with an awkward chuckle.

“No,” he says flatly. “And Jin hyung said you wanted to go and I have an extra, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Seokjin told you to ask me?” The words are out of her mouth before she can help it. She can’t imagine Seokjin would ever set her up, with Yoongi no less. Something feels like it’s sinking in her stomach, but it’s so slow and so heavy that she doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to focus on it right now.

“I have to get into a meeting.”

The hint is clear. Nari leans back in her chair, her gaze falling on the abandoned sutures. She’s scrubbing in on a CABG surgery tonight, one that’s sure to go on well into the morning. She has to get these sutures right by then, just like she has to be in a place where Seokjin setting her up doesn’t it bother her.

Besides, she really wants to go. It’s an opportunity to get out of the hospital and be in something other than scrubs and, if she’s lucky, put on some make-up.

“Um, yeah. Sure. What time?”

“It starts at six. I’ll text you the address.” There’s a click and Yoongi hangs up.

Nari watches her phone screen go dark, her mind moving in slow motion. Yoongi is the last person she ever expected to have this conversation with but then again, Seokjin is the last person she expected to meddle in her love life.

But it’s time, she supposes. She would have had to see him sometime and if she’s seeing him with Seulgi, it wouldn’t hurt to have a date on her arm as well, even if it is a person who until today was only ever Seokjin’s quietest friend.

—

Chaeyoung stares at two pairs of heels, one white and one violet, wondering which one would be more professional and still the one that would allow her to stay on her feet longer.

She wishes they would speak to her. She’s already getting late and if the bus is also late, she can say goodbye to the first section of her research on the set-up and arrival of the attendants.

The doorbell rings just as she picks the violet pair. Pulling them on as she hops to the door, she opens it to reveal Hoseok, in an all-black ensemble, with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of tan collarbone, and his hair perfectly styled.

“Hey,” she says slowly, placing her foot back on the ground. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok, who seems to be momentarily surprised at seeing her in a dress, shrugs belatedly. “What do you mean? You’re my date for tonight, so… I’m picking you up.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Chaeyoung doesn’t respond for a moment, an ancient, repressed part of her heart skipping a beat at the sentiment.

“Oh,” she says. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to take the bus, but… come in,” she adds, opening the door wider.

“Unfortunately, my parents raised me better than that,” he quips, stepping inside with his hands inside his pockets. A faint, comforting scent of cologne travels with him, of something light and airy. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” she replies, suddenly remembering her heels and bending to fasten them. When she stands up straight, she’s nearly three inches taller.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “It’s like magic,” he jokes dryly, his eyes dropping lower and his smile fading slightly. His gaze stutters around her chest before he meets her eyes deliberately. “Are you sure that’s not…” He swallows awkwardly. “Too revealing?”

Chaeyoung frowns and looks down, seeing the hints of cleavage she’d deliberately picked this dress out for. In her opinion, it made her look more womanly and less childish; it has come to her notice that she might be taken less seriously than her peers due to her youthful appearance and while it sounds like a compliment, Chaeyoung knows it’s no way to get ahead in her career.

“No,” she answers, adjusting her neckline. “Believe me, I chose this dress for a reason. You know, you really didn’t have to come,” she repeats, sounding slightly apologetic. “You’re doing me a big enough favour by just inviting me.”

“It’s not a big deal. The last thing I need is you calling me from outside the event because security won’t let you in.”

Chaeyoung chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, that doesn’t not sound like me,” she agrees, disappearing back into her room. “Still,” she adds from inside, “it’s really cool of you.”

Hoseok struggles not to roll his eyes and checks his watch. They’ll make it on time if she wraps up in the next couple of minutes. He wonders if he can talk her into wearing some kind of scarf before deciding it’s not worth the hassle, for it’s almost guaranteed to start a fight.

“Chae, I don’t mean to be that guy,” he calls out, hearing vague sounds from inside her room, “but we should head out soon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she says hurriedly, clutching a fistful of jewellery and shuffling out of the room in tiny steps, he presumes, so as to not trip over her heels. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know. I’m totally fine getting there by myself,” she tells him sombrely. “I hate to inconvenience you.”

“Fine, I’ll just leave in that case. You can take the bus and meet me there.” He turns to leave.

“Okay, okay.” She grabs his arm and grins sheepishly. “Thank you for the ride, oppa,” she says sweetly.

Hoseok does his best to ignore the vague fluttering in his stomach. “You got it. Now can we go?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” She heads over to the dining table and lays out the jewellery and mercifully doesn’t spend much time deciding on the simple silver chain with a pendant dangling from it. Grabbing a small clutch from the table, she approaches him.

“Do you mind?” She hands him the necklace. “I spent an hour doing my nails to perfection today and I really don’t want to ruin them.”

“Oh - um, okay.” A little taken aback, Hoseok takes the necklace, noting the dark purple pendant that matches her shoes. Chaeyoung turns around expectantly and he gingerly moves his arms over her head to bring the necklace around her neck. Before he can say anything, she sweeps her long hair off her neck and over her shoulder, revealing more skin than Hoseok had anticipated.

His fingers slightly unsteady, he tries to focus all his concentration on the delicate silver clasp and not on anything else - not his fingers brushing the indents of her spine, not the thin straps of her dress against her exposed back, not her moving closer to him to give him a better view so he can -

“Oh!” Hoseok jumps backwards like he’s been burnt. Chaeyoung turns around, too, looking startled.

“What?”

“I -” He looks up to see her frowning. “Nothing. It - it’s done,” he stutters, watching as she feels for the clasp and tugs at it once.

“Cool. Thanks.” She nods, flipping her hair back and looking at him. “Are you okay?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. He can still feel her hips brushing against his, the suddenness of it and the smoothness of the satin, mixed with the flowery perfume.

“Sure?”

“Let’s go,” he says abruptly, spinning on his heel and stalking out the front door. He hears her gathering her keys and closing the door and he subtly adjusts his slacks, making sure she doesn’t notice when she joins him.

—

When they enter the venue, Chaeyoung lets out a low whistle.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, her gaze darting around the interior bathed in golden light. “I owe you big time for this, oppa.” She fluffs out her hair and takes a deep breath as Yoongi joins them, to whom she gives a small wave. “Okay, I see Sooah. She promised me tips on which guest to start with so I can work my way through the crowd. Thanks again for this,” she says, squeezing Hoseok’s arm appreciatively and walking away.

Hoseok watches her go in the direction of the small makeshift stage, her long hair dancing behind her. He can’t help but feel a little sorry as she does, for he was hoping she would at least hang around with him for the initial bit of the party.

“Isn’t that your friend’s sister?”

“What?” His train of thought interrupted, he turns to see Yoongi raising his eyebrows blankly. “Oh. Yeah. She needed access to a bunch of socialites for work, so I thought…” He gestures vaguely.

Yoongi nods. “She’ll definitely find those here. I kind of thought this would be a totally different crowd.” He clicks his tongue.

“The Samsung chairman is here,” he replies, tilting his head towards a group of men in slick suits. “So it’s that crowd. I mean, look around - there’s his daughter, she’s always in the paper. Then there’s… oh, that actor - Dong-won? Something like that. Choi Siwon is here, whoa… Suh Minjung, Kang Sera, Lim Hayeon…”

Yoongi pauses. Something stirs in the back of his mind. A name, a face, lots of diamonds, an air of superiority laced with insecurity. Just as he starts flipping through the memories, they’re joined by Seokjin and with him, his girlfriend Seulgi in a salmon-coloured dress, holding a martini glass.

“This restaurant is going to be insane,” declares Seokjin, once they’re done with basic pleasantries. “The appetisers are to die for.”

“The cocktails aren’t bad either,” says Seulgi approvingly, taking a sip of hers.

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Hoseok, his stomach already rumbling. He looks around again to see if he can spot Chaeyoung, his heart sinking slightly when he doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know how she’s planning to approach all these people tonight; he wonders if he should bring her a drink, just for liquid courage.

“Who else is here?” Seokjin asks.

“Taehyung and Jimin are running late, as usual,” supplies Yoongi. “Jungkook is here somewhere and Namjoon said he was reaching a few minutes ago…” He fishes out his phone, presumably to check.

“Isn’t that him right there?” Seulgi points towards the bar, and all three men turn to see Namjoon, tall and blond, at the bar. They watch as he accepts a glass of whiskey and takes a big sip from it, swallowing it with a pained frown before visibly forcing his face to relax as he starts to socialise.

“That’s not good,” remarks Hoseok in a low voice. “How was he in the studio today?” he asks Yoongi.

“I didn’t go. He said he could do it himself.” He shrugs apologetically. “I was fine avoiding him for a bit.”

Seulgi frowns. “Why are you guys avoiding him?”

Seokjin sighs hugely. “He and his girlfriend broke up and he’s… kind of using all his energy to be normal on stage and in public,” he ventures.

“So, he’s totally depressed in private,” says Hoseok, voicing what Seokjin had tactfully left unsaid.

She winces. “That’s rough.”

Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgement. “We can’t let him drink himself to death tonight just because there’s an open bar, though. Someone needs to look out for him.”

Hoseok gives him a look. “He’ll be fine; he’s technically working. But I can do it,” he adds quickly, when Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “For a while.”

“I’ll take over for you,” offers Yoongi as Hoseok leaves to go to Namjoon, looking at his phone again. “Nari’s calling - hang on.” He answers it and backs away from the rest of the group.

“Right.” Seokjin exhales and puts his hands in his pockets. “I almost forgot Nari was coming.”

He misses Seulgi’s fleeting frown. “Really? You mentioned it in the car.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin looks confused for a moment but then looks ahead to see Yoongi and Nari entering the venue, stopping at the bar first. They seem to be speaking in short sentences, his hands in his pockets and hers crossed over her chest as she looks around warily. Her eyes meet Seokjin’s for a moment and he smiles a bit in response, raising a tentative hand in greeting. At that moment, however, the bartender slides her drink across the bar and she turns away, nodding at something Yoongi says.

They walk over, Nari hanging back slightly as they approach.

Seulgi speaks first. “Hi, Nari,” she says, giving her a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” replies Nari, looking slightly awkward. “You, too.” There’s a pause where no one speaks. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“Thanks.”

Seokjin, feeling rather like he wants to die, takes a deep breath. “Good to know you got the evening off.”

“Yeah, I was in a fourteen hour surgery last night and I’ve worked overtime this week.” She shrugs and her face relaxes a bit. “They basically told me to take the night off.”

He smiles a little wider, glad they’re at least talking, when Yoongi interrupts them.

“I’ll be right back,” he says abruptly, walking away with no further explanation, his gaze trained in one direction.

Leaving the others, he walks as quickly as he can without attracting attention, making a beeline for a person whom the universe has made it impossible for him to run into at Big Hit during the last two days that he’s been here in Seoul.

Miso notices him when he’s about ten feet away, her face lighting up momentarily at the sight of him before it immediately freezes into a warning one. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head infinitesimally, but he’s already reached her.

“Hey, stranger,” he mutters, sounding slightly breathless to his own ears.

“Go away,” she whispers through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Something feels like it’s getting crushed in his stomach when she looks away from him, but it’s only then that he notices who she’s with; a group of women, all dressed in designer wear and holding glasses of champagne, beginning to take notice of him one by one.

“You look familiar,” says one of them, looking brilliantly beautiful in a red low-cut gown. “Are you an actor?”

Yoongi starts to shake his head, but someone else answers for him.

“No. He’s Miso’s… friend.” Kang Sera, once again laden in diamond jewellery and a beige dress with smaller diamonds encrusted in it, smiles without disturbing the rest of her face. “You have been to my house,” she states.

“Well… yes, ma’am.” Yoongi nods, noting from the corner of his eye how Miso stiffens next to him. She’s in a white dress tonight, looking smaller and more delicate among this crowd of rich socialites than he’s ever seen her. He forces himself not to turn towards her. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Sera gives him that same cold smile before turning to her daughter. “Miso, you may go with your friend if you wish,” she offers. “You don’t have to stay with us. We’ll just bore you.” Everyone titters in response.

Yoongi is about to sigh inwardly in relief when, to his surprise, Miso shakes her head. “Thank you, Mother, but we’re just colleagues. Yoongi has other friends here. I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she says to him smoothly, reaching over to switch her empty champagne flute from a passing waiter. She turns away again, this time with a sinking finality.

He swallows and backs away, before turning around and finishing the rest of his drink in one go as he walks away. He’s barely reached the bar again when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Kang Chanel [18:50] I’m sorry. But you have to stay away tonight.

All of a sudden, the room seems a little brighter. Yoongi looks in her direction; she isn’t looking at him, standing silently and unsmiling among the other women of Seoul, looking terribly out of place.

Min Suga [18:51] Why? I’m not afraid of your mother.

He watches as she subtly turns her phone towards her, her hand near her hip, and types out a reply with one hand.

Kang Chanel [18:51] You don’t have to be. Just do as I ask. Please.

Yoongi clutches his phone tightly, feeling every lingering ounce of worry and fear and downright uncertainty about Miso that he’s kept to himself the last two months while on tour. That’s the worst part: the uncertainty of what the hell her life is, of why she’s so guarded all the time. Every conversation he’d initiated stayed frustratingly limited to texting, making it far easier for her to divert the topic every time it came to her.

“How’s it going?” Hoseok appears from seemingly nowhere, tapping his fingers on the bar. “Um… one appletini and… one Long Island Iced Tea,” he says to the bartender before turning back to Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“Fine,” he says shortly. “What about you? Two drinks?”

“One’s for Chaeyoung,” he answers. “She’s been gone for a while and I just want to make sure she’s okay and stuff. Have a drink with her, make sure she’s not lonely or bored. I brought her here; it’s only polite.”

Yoongi nods absently before frowning. “Weren’t you on Namjoon duty?”

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to take over now. If you want company, you can ask… no, Jimin is hanging around Sooah… oh, Taehyung is free,” he offers. “He and Jungkook are discussing the conditions for Dilara’s race this weekend but other than that, they might be fun.”

He considers this. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do,” he mutters, taking his second whiskey and hopping off the stool.

Something is off with Yoongi, Hoseok is sure. But he isn’t about to let that negativity dim his focus. He grabs the drinks and snakes through the crowd to where he sees Chaeyoung with a couple of vaguely familiar chaebol-turned-actors, and Park Jimin. They’re all smiling and talking, and she has her phone out as one of them talks deliberately into the speaker.

“And that’s my official statement,” he declares, winking at her as Hoseok comes closer.

Chaeyoung laughs and locks her phone deliberately. “Thank you. I can’t wait to hear your unofficial statements now.” She turns to see Hoseok. “Oh - hey.”

“Hey,” he says, casually making his way in between her and the guy she was talking to. “Thought I’d get you a drink, in case you’re too busy to get one.”

“Oh, well… technically, I’m working,” she says sheepishly, accepting it anyway. “But one drink won’t hurt, I guess.”

“The more, the better,” her new friend says.

“Hyung, did you get a drink for me, too?” Jimin pipes up hopefully.

“Nope. Who are your friends?” he asks Chaeyoung, smiling frozenly at the other two.

“Oh, this is Lee Eunwoo -” she points to the first one “- and this is, of course, Kim Baekhyun from The Lost Ship,” she finishes, smiling brightly. It’s a different smile, Hoseok notices. He wonders if this is her work smile; either way, he knows it’s one he’s never seen. “This is -”

“J-Hope!” One of them - Eunwoo or Baekhyun - says loudly and in mild wonder. “Honour to meet you!”

Slightly mollified, he nods. “Er, thank you. Are you both -”

“Drinks!” he continues, snapping at a waiter and beckoning for him to come over. Hoseok frowns at him while Chaeyoung and Jimin visibly cringe, and watches as he supplies Jimin and his friend with fresh drinks. “To BTS!” he declares randomly, holding his glass out so everyone clinks theirs with it.

“Chaeyoung was telling us about her job,” says the other one - Hoseok can’t remember which one he is. “She’s been working very hard tonight,” he adds, giving her another wink.

Hoseok imagines knocking his glass out of his hand so his drink spills down his crisp white shirt. “She’s a hard worker. Always has been,” he says instead, throwing a brave arm around her shoulders. He ignores Jimin’s raise of the eyebrows and the slight pink tinge that appears on Chaeyoung’s cheeks.

He hangs around there for a while, a chaotic group of twenty-somethings drinking with gusto at what was supposed to be a classy event. Sooah joins them for about ten minutes as well, taking a short break from her organising duties, and somehow influences everyone to chug their drinks and get fresh ones.

“I’m good,” says Chaeyoung, good-naturedly declining another drink. Sooah doesn’t push and Hoseok, relieved at Chaeyoung’s decision, is about to decline another one as well when one of the chaebols gets involved.

“I thought we were just getting started!” he groans jokingly. “It’s seven-thirty - the drinking has barely commenced,” he adds, taking another drink from a waiter, who pauses expectantly with the remaining drinks on the tray.

Something about the guy’s - Eunwoo, Hoseok decides - statement sounds vaguely challenging. Hoseok knows better, though. He should know better, but the image of Eunwoo winking at Chaeyoung compels him to accept another flute of champagne and clink it hard with his.

“Hoseok, are you sure?” Chaeyoung asks in a low voice.

“Of course, I am,” he answers, even as his vision swims slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re kind of leaning on me a bit,” she tells him, holding his shoulder to steady him.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” he asks vaguely, taking another long swig of the bubbly champagne and feeling it go directly to his head. It stings his throat pleasantly and he welcomes the sensation, the only other ones he’s completely aware of being Chaeyoung’s hand on his shoulder and the familiar flowery scent.

She chuckles. “Sure. But maybe you should drink some water?”

It sounds like a good idea. He bites his lip, though, and looks down at Chaeyoung seriously. “And you’ll stay right here when I’m gone?”

“Absolutely,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Alrighty. I’ll come find you.” He pats her head and makes his way to the bar, using all his concentration to walk to the bar in a straight line. The further he gets away from that noisy group, the steadier he feels. He reaches the bar and stops himself next to a woman nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre.

“Hoseok?”

He does a double take when he notices her. “Nari?” He blinks a couple of times to confirm that it is indeed her. “Wh - hey! It’s been a while. Are you here with, um…”

“Jin? No.” She shakes her head. “I’m here with Yoongi, actually?”

Hoseok wonders if he’s heard her correctly. “Really?” When she nods, he frowns. “Min Yoongi? Like, our -”

“Yes, that one.” She rolls her eyes as her drink arrives, along with Hoseok’s glass of water.

“Oh.” He takes a slow sip. “Does Jin hyung know?”

Nari exhales heavily. “It was his idea, apparently. Unfortunately, my date seems to be very busy and has been MIA for most of the evening so far.”

Hoseok feels rather like he’s missing something, but he’s intrigued. He locates Chaeyoung with some effort, still with the same group, Jimin still with them. Almost as though she can hear his train of thought, she catches his eye and waves, miming drinking something.

“She’s cute,” remarks Nari. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah, she’s my date,” he says, surprisingly easily.

“Mhm. Like a date-date or a date you kind of abandon once she’s inside?”

“Erm… a date-date.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip awkwardly. “God, I hope they serve the food soon,” he says after a few moments.

“Me, too,” she starts to say when, to Hoseok’s immense relief, Namjoon and Yoongi approach them, the latter giving Hoseok a meaningful look as he trails slightly behind the leader.

“Please tell me they’re serving the food soon,” groans Namjoon, placing his empty glass on the bar and standing next to Hoseok. “Oh - hey, Nari.”

Nari nods at him while Yoongi stands on her other side. “Cheers,” he says quietly, clinking his glass with hers, apparently not noticing her motionless stature. “Where’s Jin hyung?” he asks after a moment.

“No idea. How’s your night going?” she asks in turn, a slight bite in her tone.

He shakes his head. “Crap.”

She doesn’t bother answering, choosing to sip at her drink instead. “I could really use some food,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I’m heading over to the appetiser station. If you want to come,” offers Namjoon indifferently.

“Sure, why not?” With that, she and Namjoon leave the bar without another word to Hoseok or Yoongi.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to go with him?” Hoseok hisses.

“Namjoon is a big boy. He can manage himself for a while,” says Yoongi dismissively. His eyes roam the hall, searching for Miso. Every moment that he doesn’t see her feels like something bad waiting to happen; the memories of the last time they were at a party and she disappeared from his sight haunts him. How late he’d been to save her, what possibly happened as a result of it… it’s kept him up more nights than he cares to count, despite Miso herself absolving him of any guilt.

His anger at the enigmatic Kang Jaesung rises again, as it has at various times in the last couple of months. He’s not here tonight, though; Yoongi has checked the guest list with Sooah, but it’s no matter. Miso’s father isn’t here, but her mother certainly is.

Miso’s message floats through his mind. He knows he should adhere to her wishes but it’s so hard, so difficult to sit here and do nothing and know nothing when he has at least an inkling of how horrible her parents are. Just as he’s struggling with this dilemma, in an insane coincidence, Kang Sera takes Nari’s vacant spot and orders a drink.

Yoongi freezes, noting vaguely as Hoseok floats away with a fresh drink in his hand. Before he can decide whether to say anything, she seems to notice who he is.

“Miso’s friend,” she exclaims, the same half-smile on her face again.

“Yoongi.” He pauses. “Nice to meet you again.”

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Miso’s. It doesn’t happen very often, actually,” she chuckles. “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“We’re co-producers at Big Hit,” he answers. “We’re in the same - we used to be in the same team. Until recently.” He bites his lip.

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you anymore?”

She wanted a change and I pushed her into it without knowing. “It’s just part of the deal,” he says instead. “We all work with different producers.”

“Interesting. You’re the only one I’ve ever heard of, though,” she points out. “I’m glad she has a friend. I worry about her sometimes, you know.”

Yoongi lowers his head, trying not to look too confused. He’s insightful enough to know that she’s not being genuine about concern for her daughter, but he also can’t tell what she’s getting at.

“She’s - she’s good at her job,” he says eventually. “We’ve worked together for a while.”

It’s back, the cold smile, as though she’s forgotten how to show real happiness. “That’s great. You should come home sometime, in that case. For dinner. We have a world renowned private chef who can make you anything you like.”

Yoongi nods his head in silence, more preoccupied with imagining being seated opposite Kang Jaesung at the dining table and keeping calm rather than the private chef and his prowess.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “In fact, if you’re free -“

Something appears in between them and Yoongi realises a moment later that it’s Miso, placing herself between them with her back to him. Her hair brushes against his shoulders and his heart catches.

“Mother, Minseo from Balmain is here,” she says calmly, cutting her off. “She said she was looking for you, so I thought I’d look for - oh. Hello, Yoongi.”

She glances at him for barely a moment; he can almost believe that they hardly know each other.

Sera raises her eyebrows and her eyes flit between both of them before she nods. “Of course. Have a good evening, Yoongi. And it’s rude to interrupt, Miso.”

With that, she sweeps away in a flash of finery and Chanel No. 5.

“Wow,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Your mother is -“

“Unbelievable,” hisses Miso, glaring at him before stalking away in the opposite direction from her mother.

“Wait, what?” Momentarily stumped, Yoongi abandons his drink and follows her. She’s fast, though; he doesn’t catch up with her until she’s halfway to the appetiser station, by the giant four foot menus with he five-course meal printed on it. There are fewer people here and she automatically slows down.

“Miso -“ He reaches for her arm but she flinches out of his grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispers furiously, her head farting around cautiously.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - look, you told me to stay away from you and I did, but -“

“When I said stay away, I meant from me and my family. Especially my mother,” she adds with a disgusted look. “Why can’t you just do what I ask, for once?”

“But I didn’t even do anything - she came up to me.”

“So? You couldn’t have walked away?”

“No, that’s rude!” he exclaims, still in the same exchange of whispers, sighing when she scoffs in disbelief. “Look, can you just tell me why -“

“No, I can’t, because it’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Stay away, Yoongi. I mean it.” As though completely unaware of his stomach sinking into his knees, she storms off in a sea of white.

—

Nari states at her reflection in the women’s powder room, the entire area bigger than her living room. She’s starting to realise she has no idea why she’s here or why she’d ever wanted to come in the first place.

Even worse, she has no idea why it occurred to her one second after she told Seokjin that she wanted to go, that he would be bringing his girlfriend along. Far from it being a way to gingerly reconcile, it’s only serving to remind her why she’d chosen to stay away all this time.

She hasn’t seen any of the others for longer than a few seconds. Hoseok already seems on his way to getting wasted, Jimin greeted her warmly but then scooted off, while Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t been spotted at all.

Ironically, the only person she’s actually talked to tonight has been Namjoon, the one person Yoongi advised her dryly to try and avoid. It was one of eight words that her blessed date had uttered to her before disappearing. Namjoon was clearly in a bad way but misery loves company, and on some cathartic level, Nari was glad to be miserable with someone else who was also miserable.

Except Namjoon knew what he was miserable about. Nari had only an inkling that she refused to get into right now, when the stall door behind her opens, and Seulgi appears.

“Oh.” She looks surprised as well, taking a beat before standing one basin away from Nari. “Hi. Haven’t seen you much tonight.”

Nari nods, not looking at her. She wishes Seulgi hated her. She wishes she hated Seulgi, but beyond a nagging indifference, she can’t find anything.

She is not the problem, says a voice in her head. The voice is knowing, and Nari shuts it up instantly.

With a huge effort, she meets Seulgi’s gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I’ve been… around,” she answers. “Went out to get some air and stuff.”

Seulgi nods. She seems far more guarded than she had during the dinner, much more like their accidental chance meeting at the coffee shop. “Yeah, it’s more crowded than I thought it would be. Seokjin’s been in work-mode all night, talking to all these important people.” She shakes her head and half-chuckles. “It’s kind of boring.”

Tell me about it. “I’m just here for the food,” says Nari wryly.

A smile flashes across Seulgi’s face as she washes her hands. “Me, too. Can’t come soon enough.” She pauses. “You came with Yoongi, right?”

“Sort of.”

“Right. Seokjin told me. I wasn’t sure - I saw you with Namjoon a couple of times so I thought maybe…” She shrugs uncertainly.

There’s a couple of seconds where Nari processes what she means. “Oh. No. God, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no. Absolutely not.”

Seulgi raises her eyebrows at this emphatic denial. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Sorry. Didn’t mean to assume.”

“That’s okay.”

She nods and begins rummaging in her clutch for lipstick. Nari sneaks a glance at her, wondering wildly for a moment what would happen if Seulgi’s assumption was true. If she and Namjoon did hook up tonight, the amount of alcohol it would take for that to happen, how Seokjin might react…

A moment later, she shakes her head, a little shocked at the road her thoughts took. She sticks her hand out under the faucet and rinses them with rigour, as if hoping to get rid of her momentary insanity.

She and Seulgi exit the powder room together, an awkward distance maintained between them.

“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Seulgi asks, pointing towards the party.

Nari follows the direction of her thumb and sees Seokjin standing with Taehyung and another person she doesn’t recognise, the latter two doing all the talking while Seokjin stands with them, hands in his pockets and comfortably silent.

He doesn’t like these parties at all. There was a time, aeons ago, where Nari would be studying late at night and would suddenly get a text from Seokjin, complaining about the number of people he was around. They would then engage in a game of reverse twenty questions where Seokjin would get a picture taken with a handful of guests, and he and Nari would invent an entire background and personality for them.

That was Before, though. Now, Nari looks at Seokjin and then at Namjoon across the room where he’s speaking to someone else, nodding with a forced smile on his face. It’s a choice between mostly comfortable silence and minor small talk with a friend, and feeling like her heart is getting squeezed further with every breath she takes.

“Maybe later. Thanks.” Nari waits for her to nod before walking towards Namjoon, deliberately not looking in Seokjin’s direction. “Hey,” she says to him, as his companion floats away. “Do you want another drink?”

“Always,” he mutters, and they head to the bar and order two whiskey sours. Namjoon leans against the bar and surveys the room, exhaling. “Can this night end already?”

“I know, right?”

Namjoon frowns slightly. “Didn’t you come here with Yoongi? Where is he?”

“Who knows?” It was annoying her before, but now she’s over it. Mostly. “Last time I saw him he was talking to some lady at the bar.”

“Really? Who?”

“The rich one.”

He chuckles without humour. “That narrows it down,” he agrees wryly as their drinks arrive. They don’t bother moving but as it turns out, they don’t have to. Her aforementioned date appears then, frowning deeply at nothing in particular as he holds a glass with a tiny bit of golden liquid in it. He gives both Namjoon and Nari a cursory nod and finishes the rest of his drink in one go.

Before they can exchange any more words, Seokjin arrives with Hoseok in tow. He meets Nari’s eyes and gives her a tentative smile that she tries to return before averting her gaze. Namjoon’s words have reminded her of Seokjin’s role in this mess of a situation; his monumentally stupid decision of setting her up with someone who obviously didn’t want to be set up.

“Uh… Namjoon?” Seokjin asks delicately, his eyes on his glass now. “Is that your… fourth? Fifth drink?”

Namjoon pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth. “Third. Why?”

He shrugs. “Just. None of us have actually… seen you drinking for a while, so we weren’t sure. But, okay. Third is… not bad. Third is good.”

Nari struggles not to roll her eyes at how transparent all three of the newcomers are, and if she can tell what they’re up to, Namjoon certainly can.

“I’m fine, hyung,” he says at last. “Just letting loose a little bit.”

Yoongi scoffs, so softly that Nari takes a moment to realise. “What have you been the last two hours then?”

“Keeping your date company,” he shoots back calmly. “Good thing I didn’t bring one, turns out.”

On her other side, Yoongi nods, his jaw hard and his tongue in his cheek. “Not by choice, though.”

Namjoon freezes and even Nari winces inwardly. In front of her, Seokjin purses his lips as though bracing himself for something, while Hoseok openly flinches with his entire face.

“Is that what this is?” Namjoon asks after a moment, looking around at them. “You’re… what? Trying to keep tabs on how much I’m drinking because I went through a break-up?”

“Of course not,” says Seokjin the same time that Hoseok says, “Not exactly.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “I’m doing a lot better than him,” he points out, gesturing at Hoseok, whose face is a brilliant red and is gently swaying next to Seokjin.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights at being called out, before his face relaxes slightly. “Ah, don’t feel bad, Namjoon,” he slurs slightly, placing a sympathetic hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We’ve all had fights with girlfriends, so we - we get it,” he says, gesturing towards all three of them.

Yoongi scoffs again. “Yeah, except we don’t make it everybody else’s problem.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. “Yoongi,” he snaps admonishingly, sneaking a hesitant glance at Namjoon.

“I need some air,” he mutters, not looking at Yoongi. He places his glass on the bar in a deliberate motion and makes a show of displaying his empty hands to everyone, before leaving their small circle and striding away.

There’s some truly awkward silence while Nari sips at her drink for lack of anything better to do. Seokjin is still giving Yoongi a pointed look that the latter is avoiding while Hoseok, rocks back and forth on his feet before letting out a loud breath.

“Okayyy,” he says slowly. “So, I’m going to go find Chaeyoung. You know… make sure she’s doing okay and everything.” Nodding at his own words, he walks away in careful, straight steps.

Nari immediately foresees further discomfort, whether or not either Seokjin or Yoongi leave next, so beats them to it. “And I’m going to go…” She looks around hopefully, spotting Seulgi with Jungkook and deciding that even that is a better pair to be with right now. “... somewhere else.”

Yoongi avoids Seokjin’s gaze, interrupted briefly as he watches Nari walk away, before it returns to him.

“You really had to go there? We all know why he is in such a bad mood,” says Seokjin sternly, “but why the hell are you?”

Yoongi can’t bring himself to respond, for the answer is simply too ironic. The image of Miso walking away from him, her face when she’d first seen Sera speak to him, and her stinging rejection of his desire to help her make him want to yell into a dark tunnel.

Seokjin shakes his head in disappointment and walks off, leaving Yoongi alone to stew in his hideous mixture of anger and stress, and now guilt and shame. His feet take the lead, directing him automatically to Namjoon who has stepped outside near the smoking zone, both his hands in his pockets.

Yoongi stops beside him, half-hoping he’ll walk away. But he doesn’t; in fact, it doesn’t even seem like he’s registered the presence of another person.

“It’s a lot of second-hand smoke,” remarks Yoongi weakly. When Namjoon doesn’t respond, he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Namjoon shakes his head once, slowly, presumably indicating his acknowledgement. Yoongi nods and is about to leave, except now that this topic has been broached, he can’t seem to follow his usual habit of not prying.

“I don’t get it, though,” he says, trying his best to be gentle. “How bad was this fight that she broke up with you? Is it the long-distance thing again? Because you’re on tour? I mean, it’s understandable that -”

“It wasn’t a fight,” interrupts Namjoon, not looking at him. “And she didn’t break up with me. I broke up with her.”

Yoongi frowns, for none of them would have guessed that. “What?” he exclaims, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Why?”

Namjoon is quiet for so long that Yoongi thinks he may not answer at all. “Someone broke into her house,” he answers finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A ripple of shock flows through Yoongi. “What? Like… by a burglar?”

“No. By fans. Our fans,” he clarifies, clearer now. “My - “ He breaks off, his tongue sharp in his cheek.

Yoongi remembers the few weeks of intense scrutiny and stress in the aftermath of that leaked video. It’s not hard to put two and two together. “Oh, shit,” he mutters, feeling another stab of guilt he wasn’t expecting to feel tonight. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s…” Namjoon trails away, then shrugs. “They didn’t hurt her this time.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Wait… is that why you ended it?” He tries to keep his tone neutral but isn’t sure he’s succeeded.

“I had to. This can’t happen again.” There’s a note of finality in the way he says it, and Yoongi knows he’s not meant to argue with him. He bites his lip as he watches Namjoon, his jaw tight and his eyes frozen straight ahead.

“How - how did she take it?”

He makes a sound of defeat. “She hates me.”

Yoongi tries to picture Kaya - beautiful, mature, dusky-skinned Kaya with adoring eyes when she looks at her taller boyfriend - hating Namjoon, and he decides he can’t. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. She’s probably angry, maybe -”

“Oh, she is. But I don’t care.” He does a double take at Yoongi, then looks away. “I mean… of course I care… but she’s safe. She’s angry but she’s safe.” He swallows and continues looking resolutely ahead. “I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her.”

Something in the way he says it makes Yoongi feel extremely sorry for Namjoon. The logic of his decision aside, it occurs to Yoongi how his twenty-six year old leader probably wrestled with this alone, and suddenly his jab at the bar seems extremely petty.

“Namjoon…” he begins, feeling distinctly like a bad friend and brother, “why didn’t you tell us?”

He shakes his head. “We’re on tour. And it’s not your problem.” He says it matter-of-factly, a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his thumb and middle finger against them. “But I’m sorry,” he adds. “I haven’t - I haven’t been a good leader.” He sniffs and exhales, not responding to Yoongi’s resolute shake of the head. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he says, giving Yoongi a momentary glance.

Yoongi nods and grips his shoulder supportively before heading inside. The hall suddenly seems too small, too crowded and too stifling. He needs a cigarette, he decides, and heads to the lobby after checking that it’s devoid of photographers or fans. He passes by the powder rooms on the way to the coat check, when the door opens and Miso steps out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Oh.” He halts, not knowing what more to say to her. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but apparently thinks better of it, side-stepping him and starting to walk away.

Namjoon’s words play in his mind. I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her. It’s not the same situation, but it’s enough to spur Yoongi into action.

“Miso -” He waits until she turns around, then grabs her hand and motions towards the coat room. “Just one second,” he insists, immensely relieved when she rolls her eyes and follows him. Closing the door behind her and surrounded by designer shrugs, wraps and summer jackets, Yoongi finally breathes.

“You are impossible,” she states, but there’s less anger and more exasperation in her tone. “I swear, Min Suga, sometimes you act like you have nothing better to do than -”

Yoongi interrupts her. “I don’t care if you’re angry,” he declares.

She looks taken aback for a second at being cut off, but then her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” she asks icily.

He hesitates; somehow, the words sounded far more impactful and heroic when Namjoon uttered them. “I just mean…” He closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He really doesn’t want to go overboard. “I don’t want you… to be angry with me. I’m not trying to make you angry but… Miso, I’m not afraid of your parents, okay?”

Miso sighs. “Yoongi -”

“And if I should be, at least tell me why,” he continues. “Because asking me to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist is not working. If you’re afraid of your mother, then -”

“I’m not afraid of her,” she blurts out, sighing and placing her hands on her hips before dropping them to her sides. “God, Min Suga… I can’t believe you’re making me say this. Do you remember that time I told you that my mother was sleeping with my twenty-four year old maths tutor?”

Yoongi frowns in surprise, remembering a cold night outside the Big Hit studio, shared cigarettes and mutual bickering. “Uh… yeah. You said you made that up,” he reminds her.

She gives him a look. “Obviously, you know I didn’t. She was sleeping with him… but I was sleeping with him first.” She doesn’t give Yoongi time to process this statement. “Right before I left for Australia? I was in a… situation with a classmate of mine. But then I ended it with him because I found my mom’s earring in his car and I left the country.”

Yoongi’s throat feels stuck. “What are you -”

“My mother was very young when she got married. My father ignores her. She craves attention, especially when it’s someone else’s.” Miso shakes her head and looks away. “And for some reason, she’s got it in her head that I’m her competition,” she finishes in a low voice.

There’s something she isn’t saying, but it’s also clear from the way she folds her arms across her chest that she isn’t going to. Something tugs at Yoongi’s heart as he watches Miso stare defiantly at something behind him, until her eyes dart up to him and she rolls them.

“Jesus, don’t make me spell this out, Min Suga,” she snaps, dropping her arms. “Just… do what I ask and stay away.” She doesn’t move, though, her hard gaze subsiding.

Yoongi closes his fingers into a fist to make sure his hand stays at his side. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says softly.

Miso’s eyes flicker. “I’m not worried about anything.” But the annoyance and chagrin is fading and unlike every time she’s held his gaze while making some sort of sarcastic point, this time she’s struggling to hold it with the same confidence.

“Good.” His fingers loosen and he lets them. “You shouldn’t be.” He just about registers the statement dawning on her before he steps forward and kisses her, one hand in her hair and the other hovering against her elbow.

He can tell she wasn’t expecting it so he waits for her, waits until the shock wears off and she hesitantly responds, her eyes fluttering shut and her lips slowly increasing in pressure. He opens his mouth against hers only when she does, euphoric that she’s finally, finally telling him something.

She tilts her head up a bit more and places one hand on his chest for support, and Yoongi gently clutches her hair, suddenly resonating so desperately with Namjoon’s words.

The door of the coat room opens then and Miso jerks away from him. Both their heads whip around to see Nari in the doorway, the surprise in her face already fading away when she sees Yoongi. With a quiet scoff, she steps back and pushes the door shut again.

Miso lets out a shaky breath. “Shit. Who was that?”

“Nari. She’s a friend. Don’t worry,” he adds when she turns slowly towards him again. “She won’t tell anyone.”

She nods and Yoongi realises his hand is still in her hair. He retrieves it with care, his heart still racing with what just transpired. Miso bites her lower lip as her gaze falls to the floor, licking her lips before she looks up at him again.

“Min Suga,” she murmurs, pursing her lips slightly. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He shrugs, trying to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach. “Too late.”

She shakes her head slightly but doesn’t look angry, or sad, or afraid. But there’s something in her eyes, something conflicted that convinces Yoongi not to regret his impulsive act. She reaches up and rubs the side of his lower lip with her thumb and he has to stop himself from taking her wrist. The skin is clear now but the memory of the bruise around it, something he’s now sure he knows the cause of, stays burned in his mind.

“Wait a couple minutes before you leave, okay?” She raises her eyebrows until he eventually nods, watching her as she slips out of the room and closes the door behind her.

Alone, Yoongi muffles a groan into his hands. He obeys her, though, counting down the seconds until he deems it appropriate to leave. On his way back to that wretched party, however, he’s accosted by someone.

“Yoongi!” Kang Sera gives him a pearly smile, still guarded, still assessing. “What a coincidence. I haven’t seen Miso around for a while - would you have any idea where she is?”

Yoongi shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Oh. Never mind.” She tilts her head slightly and her eyes soften. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer I made, though. It would be so nice to have one of Miso’s friends over for dinner.”

He imagines admitting to Miso that she might be onto something, imagines the smugness that would accompany her response. She would be insufferable at his admission and for some reason, the thought excites him immensely.

“Thank you, ma’am, but that looks a little difficult. Have a good night.” He bows before she can say anything and continues past her, feeling more energetic than he has the whole night, his lips tingling.

—

Jungkook glances backwards at the appetiser station longingly, wishing they weren’t on tour so he wouldn't have to simply watch people eat. As fancy as the menu looks, they still haven’t served dinner and he is famished. Luckily, he’d managed to sneak in a protein bar in his jacket on Taehyung’s advice and in a fortunate turn of events, the coat room is out of the way enough from the main hall that they can break the rules.

He marches in a straight line, head down and careful not to draw any attention. Sneaking around the attendant at the desk, he slides towards the door, only to see it slightly ajar. He moves to open it a little further when he hears a voice inside - crying.

Or not crying, exactly, but there’s a shaking of the voice and some sniffling, and Jungkook feels his insides cringe at the awkwardness of catching someone in a moment of vulnerability. His stomach rumbles again at that moment and he closes his eyes, knowing he needs that protein bar before he snaps and swallows a tempura roll whole in public.

“- everyone else!” The voice cries, the voice high-pitched yet in a clear effort to not be loud. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but you -” The voice, a woman’s pauses, and Jungkook can hear the garbled sound of a response through a phone speaker, sounding far calmer than her.

“But everyone else is here! You didn’t come for the Spring Gala last month and now this - it’s so embarrassing every time!” She pauses again and scoffs. “She’s fine! How does that matter? Is she all you care about?” There’s another pause and a sniffle before the woman responds, this time sounding far more annoyed. “She has some friend here, apparently. Doesn’t seem very impressive,” she adds in a mutter.

Jungkook wonders if he can sneak in anyway. The hunger is killing him and this woman seems so invested in her phone call that she might not notice him at all. Biting his lip and holding his breath, he slips into the dim room and looks around for his jacket. There are rows of clothing, though, and he hasn’t a clue how to locate his own.

“You said that last time, too! Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” There’s the sound of a response again, followed by the unmistakable click of the call ending. The woman sniffles again but stops abruptly. “Is someone there?” she asks sharply.

Jungkook freezes, but before he can devise a way out, the woman appears from behind a row of coats and glares at him through red eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I was just looking for my, um -” He looks around desperately, hoping his black jacket will pop out to him from the sea of other black jackets.

To his surprise, the woman simply shakes her head and dabs at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. She’s beautiful, in an old-fashioned, seventies movie kind of way, her dress dripping with diamonds. Terribly uncomfortable, Jungkook clears his throat.

“Are - are you okay?” he ventures bravely.

She turns away and sniffs again. “Fine. Just alone.”

She says no more and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to get the hell out of here, protein bar be damned. He can survive a few more minutes before dinner; he’s survived worse.

“Well, I’ll just…” He trails off and makes a beeline for the door when she turns to him again. He halts, trying not to look too panicked at the sight of his exit behind her.

“You look familiar,” she states, frowning slightly. She smells of something vaguely sweet. It’s not perfume; it takes him a moment to realise she smells like Jimin - like cocktails. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, although she looks somewhat familiar as well, like one of the many faces on the socialite pages in Seoul’s local newspapers.

She gives him a watery smile. “Pity.” She reaches out and smooths down the collar of his shirt. “Such a handsome boy. I knew so many like you when I was your age. I’m sure you have a girlfriend, though.”

Jungkook shakes his head wordlessly, feeling his ears and neck heat up. She’s really close, this woman. Her nails are painted a calm nude and her cheeks and nose are rosy, probably from the crying.

“Imagine that,” she murmurs, reaching up and kissing him. Jungkook is too shocked to move, freezing in his spot and feeling with staggering clarity her lips against his, the taste of her lipstick and her hand cupping his neck. It takes a few more seconds for it to click and the horror to settle in, and he immediately steps away.

“Sorry, I - I’m not…” Unable to form a full response, Jungkook passes around her and dashes out of the coat room.

—

Nari hurries out of the hotel, welcoming the slight chill of the evening and the fresh air after the pervasive goldenness of the hall. She’ll miss the dinner but nothing is worth staying another second at the most boring party she’s ever been to.

“Nari!”

She ignores Seokjin and continues on her way, eager to make it past the gate to where Jason will pick her up. She hears him shout her name again but doesn’t turn until she hears his footsteps right behind her and he suddenly comes into view.

“You’re leaving?” He sounds slightly breathless. “Already?”

“Seokjin, this has been a crappy night and I really don’t want to do this with you, okay?” she states and tries to skirt around him but he stops her.

“What? What did I do?” he asks, looking genuinely baffled. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night but you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. Then I thought I should probably leave you alone because I saw you with Namjoon and then Yoongi for a little while -”

“You want to know what you did?” Nari feels as though she might burst. “How about setting me up on a date without asking me?”

Seokjin frowns in bewilderment. “Who are you - wait, are you talking about Yoongi?”

“How about setting me up on the worst date of my life, with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me all night?” she continues, ignoring him because now that she’s begun, she can’t seem to stop. “And then there’s Namjoon, who seems borderline suicidal, while Yoongi is making out with some girl in a coat closet and Hoseok seems to be on the verge of passing out while you’re -”

“Okay, wait, wait - hold on!” He interrupts her, looking thoroughly confused. He doesn’t speak until Nari falls silent. “Who was Yoongi kissing?” Nari turns to leave in a huff but Seokjin grabs her arm again. “And also… I’m confused. I thought you liked Yoongi.”

“I do like Yoongi. He’s a good guy - but a terrible date,” she informs him. “And I can’t believe you’d set me up with him! It’s like you don’t know anything about me - when have he and I ever had anything in common?”

“But -” Seokjin shakes his head. “Nari, I didn’t set you up. You said you wanted to go and he had an extra ticket, so I suggested he check with you. That’s all.”

Nari swallows, her heartbeat loud in her ears. “Yeah… he checked with me and asked me to go with him?”

“On a date?” Seokjin doesn’t look convinced. “Did he actually say it was a date?”

“Yes, he - oh, my God. He didn’t.” She freezes and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my God.” Did she just imagine a date? She feels light-headed, suddenly reminded that she hasn’t slept properly in thirty hours. Her stomach crawls in embarrassment and she squeezes her eyes shut before turning around on the spot and starting to walk away in bigger steps.

“No. No way.” Seokjin darts in front of her again. “You don’t get to be mad at me and yell at me for something I didn’t even do.”

“Oh, believe me, I know this was all me, okay?” She shudders, unable to meet his eyes out of sheer humiliation. “I’m leaving. We’re on the same page.”

“No, we aren’t. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Tough. Move, Seokjin.”

“Nari -” He grabs her shoulders for one moment, stopping her in her tracks before releasing her. “You are mad at me. You’re mad at me about something but you don’t want to talk about it, so you’re just looking for other reasons to be mad at me, just so you can be mad at me. But I’m done,” he declares, and she hasn’t seen him look this serious in a long time. “I’m done being your punching bag and I’m done letting you chew me out until you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

Her heart races uncomfortably. “Seokjin… I’m sorry I blamed you, okay? But I… nothing’s bothering me. I just want to leave.”

“Bullshit.” He fixes her with a look, his jaw sharp and his eyebrows slanted. “For heaven’s sake, Nari. Seventeen years. We’ve been friends for seventeen years - what is so bad that you can’t tell me?”

“It’s not… bad.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t do anything wrong!” she blurts out, frustrated. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeats. “But I’m mad at you anyway, which means this is my problem. I can’t tell you because… because you can’t do anything about it.”

Seokjin swallows. “Tell me anyway,” he says quietly.

There’s a loaded silence between them and Nari knows it’s because they’ve reached the crux of the issue, the thing they’ve been avoiding all this time.

But maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time. It would make a mess of everything, but maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would become easier if she put it into words, if she took a risk and stepped over the line once in her life.

Taking a step forward, she takes a deep breath. Her hands go up to his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, only an inch above her own. She bravely meets his gaze. He isn’t stopping her, or stepping away. His eyes flicker, and it’s anticipation. Nari glances from his eyes to his mouth, pink and plush, and touches it with her thumb before moving closer.

Do it. Every cell in her body wants to do it, to take the plunge and deal with whatever comes out of it. But even as she talks herself into it, her heart sinks because she knows, she knows that despite what she feels, it will make no difference if she drags him down with her, if she is the reason he becomes a cheater. So, she drops her hands from his face and steps back, feeling her heart bang against her ribcage painfully.

“Nari - ”

“I wish,” she says, looking at the ground as she searches her heart for the moment it all went wrong. “I wish… that after you kissed me at Hyeri’s house… I wish I hadn’t left.”

The last word lingers in the night. “So stay now,” he murmurs, almost pleadingly.

But Nari shakes her head. “It’s not really the same thing. It’s fine, Seokjin. Really.” She takes a deep breath. “I need to sleep anyway.”

Seokjin looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. “How are you getting home?”

“A friend is picking me up.” She doesn’t mention a name but something in how he nods makes her quite certain that he knows she means Jason. “I’ll just…” She trails off when she sees someone else behind him. “Jungkook?”

Seokjin frowns and turns around and they both see Jungkook ambling out of the hotel, looking dazed. “Oi, Jungkook!” Seokjin exclaims when he doesn’t answer.

Jungkook’s head snaps up, and he looks slightly unfocused. “Hey,” he mutters, trudging over to them.

“Are you okay?” Nari asks, observing his quiet demeanour.

He nods immediately. “Yeah, yeah. Just… not feeling well.”

He’s clearly lying, but Nari doesn’t pry. “Okay. I’ll drop you home in that case. Come on.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods gratefully. “Yes, please.” He looks over at Seokjin. “I already told Namjoon hyung and he said we don’t have any pictures left…”

“Go,” agrees Seokjin, glancing at Nari. “And… take care.”

Nari doesn’t move for a moment, sharing a look with Seokjin before following Jungkook out of the gate.

—

“Careful, careful…”

Chaeyoung takes careful, deliberate steps as she helps Hoseok up the steps. Her heels dangle from one hand and his shoes dangle from one of his, from when he’d insisted on taking them off because he didn’t believe that she should be the only one barefoot.

“That’s not what it means to be a date,” he’d slurred as they crossed the street to her apartment building a few minutes ago.

Chaeyoung had given up on trying to make him put them on, focusing instead on ensuring that his phone, house keys and car keys were with her, along with her own belongings, and getting him into her apartment in one piece.

“I still don’t understand why you kept drinking,” she says admonishingly as they begin ascending the last flight of stairs. “Just because one guy says he won drinking games in college doesn’t mean you make it your mission to compete with him. Especially when you’re clearly out of your depth.”

“Hey, now wait a minute,” he replies, his words flowing into each other. “I didn’t do it for fun. I did it for a good reason.”

“Which is?”

“That he was being an obnoxious jerk.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes as they reach her doorstep. Fumbling a little with her keys, she manages to open the door and drag Hoseok inside, who stumbles into her tiny living room and flops onto the couch.

“Is it just me or is it sweltering?” he asks, taking off his jacket and groaning.

“It’s just you,” she confirms, chucking her heels to the corner and heading inside to the kitchen. “Don’t move,” she instructs him on her way out. “I’m going to get you some water.”

Hoseok smiles dreamily in acknowledgement. “Careful, caterpillar. You’re starting to sound like an adult.” But his tone is filled with fondness and endearment, enough that Chaeyoung is willing to overlook the ancient nickname.

“I am an adult,” she informs him, returning with a bottle of water and dropping it softly into his lap. He leans back and grins up at her, cheeks red and hair ruffled. “In fact, after tonight, I think I’m the adult here,” she points out, sitting down next to him. “Drink.”

He obeys without fuss, downing almost half the bottle before emerging breathlessly. “Wow, that was…” He glances at the bottle and squints “... cold.”

“It’s summer.”

“Thanks.” He sighs hugely. “Okay, I’m going to take off.”

“Wait, what?”

But Hoseok is already standing before he halts, swaying slightly before stumbling into Chaeyoung when she stands up to stop him.

“You are wasted, Hoseok,” she reminds him, pushing against him to make him sit back down. “Unless you can get one of your friends to come pick you up, you’re not going anywhere. I didn’t drive your gigantic car all the way here just for you to crash it into a lamp post.”

He pouts. “Buzzkill.”

Chaeyoung sticks her tongue out at him but is relieved when he doesn’t argue further. “You should lie down or something, oppa,” she tells him.

To her surprise, he nods, looking drained and on the verge of passing out. “I should,” he agrees weakly.

“Come on,” she says, standing up and helping him up. She steers him to her bedroom, glad he’s taken off his shoes and jacket already. “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll see if -” She breaks off when he falls on the bed onto his stomach, groaning.

Chaeyoung purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any clothes that will fit you.”

“Issokay,” he mumbles into the pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut before he opens them with some effort. “Don’t you want to sleep, too?”

“Yeah, I will.” She pauses, taking a moment to register how absurd this would be to ten year old Chaeyoung; taking care of Hoseok, the love of her life, because he got drunk trying to keep up with every person she talked to tonight. “Hoseok,” she says after a moment, her own voice sounding slightly different. “I’m going to get you the rest of that water and one of those Pop Tarts you brought me back from America. You shouldn’t sleep on an empty stomach. Okay?”

He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed. “You smell nice.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t bother suppressing her smile at that. When she returns from the kitchen, Hoseok is asleep.

—

Hoseok wakes up the next morning and immediately wishes he was asleep again. His head pounds with a vengeance and his stomach feels bloated and empty at the same time. As soon as he thinks it, he feels the bile in his throat and immediately scrambles out of the room and into the hallway bathroom, and throws up all the contents in his stomach.

Ten minutes later, after puking his guts out and lying down with his forehead pressed to the cool tiles, he emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen and dining area. Chaeyoung is scrambling eggs and the smell of fresh coffee wafts from the machine in the corner.

“Wow,” she comments, looking up with the spatula in her hand. “You look like hell, Hoseok.”

He responds noncommittally and sits at the small table, dropping his head onto his arms. He remembers two things right then: the first, that he has dance practice starting in exactly one hour, and the second,

“Would you like some eggs?” she asks cheerily. “There’s coffee, too.”

“How are you not drunk?” he demands, raising his head and wincing.

She glances back at him with a frown. “Because I didn’t drink enough for a whole army? I was able to come home, change, drink water, scroll through Instagram for a while and wake up after a nice sleep.”

Hoseok is about to remark that he must have been dead to the world to not notice her awake when he catches a glimpse of the sofa. “Wait,” he says slowly, taking in the pillow and folded covers. “You slept on the sofa?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”

“But -” His shoulders fall. “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own room. You could’ve slept there, too - there was enough room.”

“Yeah, I thought about it, but I didn’t want it to be accidentally weird this morning,” she reasons calmly, bringing him a mug of black coffee with ice floating in it. “And the sofa is totally comfortable. So don’t worry about it.”

“But -”

“Eggs?”

He opens his mouth to continue arguing but stops. “Yes, please,” he mutters sheepishly. “Thanks, Chae. Really. I owe you one.”

“Even after the braces and schnapps thing?”

“Especially after that.”

She grins and places a plate of toast and scrambled eggs before him. “Eat. You’ll need the energy. Especially if you were serious about the whole Harry Potter marathon thing. Actually,” she adds, frowning, “don’t you have dance practice?”

“Um -” It’s a simple question but he can’t seem to answer it. “Why?”

“I distinctly remember you mentioning it to me in the car. I definitely remember you warning Namjoon not to be late or you’d throw a shoe at him,” she adds dryly. “If it helps, he promised he would do his best to be on time.”

“Huh.” The schedule is on his phone; Hoseok suddenly remembers he hasn’t seen it at all this morning.

“Your phone is on the centre table,” she supplies, pre-empting his question when a soft ding sounds. “Oh, that’s the Pop Tarts.” Both of them leave the table in opposite directions.

Hoseok checks his messages and then his calendar. Yep, dance practice in forty-five minutes. He bites his lip; while he is feeling remarkably better than he had when he’d woken up this morning, his head still feels a bit heavy and his throat feels dry as sawdust, despite the coffee.

Just then, his phone pings.

Jimin [8:15] Leaving in 5. Suga hyung, Namjoon and Jungkook are already in the building. What’s your ETA?

It’s a good question. If he’s planning to drive his car home, shower, change and then leave, he might make it on time by the skin of his teeth.

“Everything okay?” Chaeyoung asks from the dining table, legs long and lean in her cotton shorts as she leans slightly over the table and places the Pop Tarts in the centre.

Then there’s the alternative. Chaeyoung’s sofa, Chaeyoung’s food, Chaeyoung’s Harry Potter marathon. He wonders how he would ever justify it to himself when he realises he already has.

Hobi [8:18] Threw up this morning. Might have food poisoning. I’ll try to come in after lunch. Sorry.

Sending it, he slides the phone into his pocket and tugs open the collar of his dress shirt. “No practice,” he says as he returns to the table. He returns Chaeyoung’s surprised expression with a shrug. “This is good toast, by the way.”

She beams, taking a bite of her own. “Thanks.”

Hoseok grins back, feeling his stomach do a backflip. “Now,” he says, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “when are we starting this marathon?”

—

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