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moonchild1 · 2 years ago

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kim taehyung fic rec list (Ⅴ)

hello everyone i know it's been a while since i posted, work has been hectic, but i got some time and managed to finish a list so please enjoy i have a few lists ready to post so i'll que them up... here's my all time favourite taehyung fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, leave a heart, reblog or even leave a message or feedback under their posts i know they would appreciate hearing from you, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed you will be blocked ♡ feel free to recommend me some fics or just share what your reading right now i'd love hearing from you 🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

only here to sin by @gimmethatagustd s a ft. namjoon

When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence.

our gray winter by @vyduan s a ft. jjk

“Were you looking for this?” Taehyung asked as he handed you the box of tampons you always bought. He remembered. You wanted to sink into the floor and die. Instead, you recalled your manners and said, “Thanks.” You put the box in your basket. “I can’t believe you remembered.” He beamed at you. It was patently unfair how he could look all glowy and soft while you looked… not like that. “Of course, Y/N.” If possible, Taehyung’s voice dropped even lower. “I remember everything about you.”

schemes and tricks to win her heart by @crystaljins ft. ksj

Rich company heir Kim Seokjin has a plan to win the heart of the girl of his dreams, and you, his little brother’s best friend, are dragged along for the ride. His younger brother objects, of course.

camboy!tae by @hisunshiine f s a

Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene.

tolerate it by @archivedkookie s a

Taehyung is your husband, and you love him. If only he loved you back; if only he cherished your love and not tolerated it.

what was hidden by @daechwitatamic s a ft. myg

This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You're assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg's The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there's a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one's "true self" versus one's "shown self", darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

complete faith by @daechwitatamic

It’s Taehyung himself who admits that it’s usually around the one-month mark that he starts to lose interest in his relationships. So even though you’re so drawn to him you can barely stand it, even though he’s attentive and funny, even though you’re helplessly crazy about him… when you start dating, you feel like you’ve got an expiration date from day one. But will it be Taehyung’s issues that get in the way, or your own?

and they were roommates by @hoseok666 f s a ft. jjk

it all started with a rejection from your longtime crush, jeon jungkook. you decided to confess to him on your last day of high school. after a harsh rejection and a rough summer dealing with the heartbreak, you were starting anew once your freshman year of college came. you were going to be sharing an apartment with two other roommates that you don’t even know. what a surprise you’re going to be in for once you find out it’s the one and only: jeon jungkook and kim taehyung.

with a brush of fate by @yoongiofmine f s a

Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?

groovy by @kinktae f s a

Even in the 70s, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend’s little sister.

tempting by @/kinktae s a

Y/N is an angel. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She runs into a demon but, luckily for her, that demon doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, he just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

talk by @gukslut f s a

Finals week is kicking your ass, thank goodness you have a friend to help you relieve some stress. It’s a great arrangement, as long as no one finds out... as long as you don’t catch feelings. What could go wrong?

somebody to love by @cutechim

kim taehyung wins the heart of everyone he meets, and you—his self-proclaimed work “nemesis”—are not an exception.

tear you apart by @bratkook s

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear, ‘I wanna fucking tear you apart.’ demon au

clairevont by @/bratkook f s a ft. jjk

The second year of college starts off with a bang until you find yourself tangled in between your fuck buddy Kim Taehyung and his innocent room mate Jeon Jungkook.

free use by @littlemisskookie f s a

You tell your crush you want him to have full control of you in every way always. He obliges.

lost myth of truelove by @sugalaritae f s a

for six months you wait for him, a weekend spent together, finally able to reach the man your soul is tethered to.

because of you, blue by @ugh-yoongi f s a

nearly a year out from your breakup with taehyung, jin begs you for help saving his failing restaurant. the two of you aren’t exactly friends, but you feel some stupid sense of obligation and, really, what’s the worst that could happen?

true love by @jjkeverlast f s a

in which you're face to face with your ex again after 5 years, because both of your friends start dating each other.

obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash s a

The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath. All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

baby, baby by @hobiwonder ft. pjm f s a

When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

entangled by @caelesjjk ft. jjk s a

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well. Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

buzzed by @junqkook f s a

maybe ordering a vibrator and letting your best friend open your mail wasn’t such a great idea.

queen cobra by @fantasybangtan f s a

when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

pulse by @rohobi f s a

You fell in love with Kim Taehyung during Medical School. Now living totally different lives in completely different hospitals, you're pulled together again as if by fate during a code black when someone plants a bomb in your hospital.

things we don't say by @wintaerbaer f s a

Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

mars by @to-star-lake s a

ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung

satisy by @suga-kookiemonster f s a

“listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do?

no kisses by @icedmatchatae f s a

It's championship week! The most anticipated week of the school year; however, leading up to the events, you and your council must collaborate with the football team to promote school spirit and pride. Unfortunately, you're forced to work with your number one enemy, Football team captain and fuck boy, Kim Taehyung, known for having a mysterious "no kisses" rule.

beyond desire by @strwberrytae s a

it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

one-shot

crazy for you by @oddinary4bts f s a

you’ve known Kim Taehyung your whole life. When you meet again at a party hosted by your best friend, alcohol looses your lips and you spill your secrets to your childhood crush. Will Taehyung give in to your desire, or will you be struck by remorse?

seventeen times 17 by @cutaepatootie f s a

You loved him Seventeen Times 17.

ten out of ten by @shadowkoo f s a

For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

under wraps by @jungkxook f s

there’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

always the bridesmaid by @kookingtae f s a

When you first meet Kim Taehyung, you’re determined to find every reason you can to hate him—or maybe he’s just looking for ways to get on your last nerve. But when a turn of events has the two of you working the wedding of the man you’re hopelessly in love with, you’re too late to realize the real reason to hate Kim Taehyung is because of the latest column he’s secretly writing: “Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride”, and it’s all about you.

any way you want it by @noteguk s

in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself.

sharing is caring by @jjkpls f s ft. pjm

Taehyung is taken aback when his soulmate, Jimin, introduces his new girlfriend to him. Jimin tries to help them break the ice.

the end of all things (and the beginning of us) by @/kidguk f s a

the end of the world has come and passed, but there is still much to live for. there’s hope, there’s tomorrow, and there’s that guy you met while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned cinema. turns out he hates being alone, and the feeling is mutual.

aberrant by @kth1 f s

Meeting a handsome and rare fox hybrid was the last thing you had expected in a world of coexisting hybrids. What you also hadn’t expected was how this fox found a liking to you, showed up randomly at places where you were and next thing you knew - you were falling, hard, for the man.

lost in you by @/jjkeverlast f s a

the infamous kim taehyung, campus fuckboy and heartthrob is much more than you thought after an unexpected night.

the dinner date by @diortae f (ao3)

pretending to be on a date with your best friend to get a free meal at the fancy restaurant jeongguk works weekends at doesn’t sound so terrible, all things considered. there’s just one small problem: you’re pretty sure you’re in love with the aforementioned best friend.

until yesterday by @jimlingss f s a

You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

the forsaken by @yoonia s a ft. knj

In order to save your people from the danger of drought and hunger, your father had sent you out on a mission across the ocean to find the heart of nature that could bring back the prosperity which your land had long lost. As the Chief’s daughter, you took the mission as your responsibility, even if you had to let the man that vexes you the most join you in your journey, even if you had to ignore the Elders’ warnings about the dangers and all the vicious monsters lying in wait.

blacklist by @httpjeon f s a ft. jjk

after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

1-800-music-street by @/httpjeon f s

↬you’re enchanted by a street performer and then he saves you, resulting in multiple meetings one can only describe as fate.

farner boy i love you by @strawberrynamjoon f s a

↬Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.

waterloo by @/kinktae f s a

↬Taehyung is a famous but pessimistic art prodigy who doesn't believe in love. You are an art student studying in Paris, who sees the world through rose-colored lens and is a certified cheesy romance film enthusiast. And this is your love story. Or, “Well, it is the city of love. Maybe you just need to fall in love."

get you the moon by @bymoonchild f s a

↬Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate.

fate of the fast & furious by @prolixitae f s

↬you’re a first-generation college student and taehyung is the hot guy with a love for motorbikes who lands the job babysitting for your family while you’re away.

fast & fearless: what comes first by @/prolixitae

↬taehyung is used to earning his keep through illegal street races, and he’s got every reason to win that upcoming promise of prize money for an old friend. but when the odds don’t fall in his favor, he turns to babysitting. enter, you: a first-generation college student with too much to lose to be spending all your time with a troublemaking biker. who also happens to babysit for your kid brother.

cobalt blue by @hobivore s ft. jjk

↬you ask Jungkook to draw you like one of his French girls.

let it snow by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬it all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.

muse by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬this could finally be tae’s big break, but he’s nervous and struggling to find inspiration. luckily, you’re willing to support him in all ways necessary.

falling, falling gone by @johobi f

↬Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection. So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

new tricks by @geniuslab f s

↬When your newly adopted puppy turns out to be a lot more work than you expected, a cute dog trainer comes to the rescue. You soon become friends, but you begin to realize friendship might not be all you want.

guns & roses by @chateautae f s

↬he was cold-blooded, stone-faced and ruthless; a formidable force anyone in the criminal underworld sought to destroy. and he didn’t care, so long as it was never you.. anything but you.

saudade by @chateautae f s a

↬a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

strands by @xjoonchildx s a

↬taehyung can't figure out how he got separated from his men, or how he ended up stranded in these woods -- hurt. the only thing he knows is that he has no choice but to rely on the beautiful, secretive stranger who's found him.

cheap skate by @/gukslut f s

↬Who doesn’t know Taehyung and his lady? Cutest couple in town, I’d say, and have been since they started dating in their college days. Oh, that was a while ago, though. And still, they’re happy as can be in that place they have together. Almost hate seeing one without the other, y’know, it’s like seeing just one testi- oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk like that. Anyhoo, I only say that because I saw Taehyung at a jewelry store the other day while I was buying my sweet Jiminie his presents. Maybe that boy’s finally gonna pop the question, but I do hope he’s got a good plan for it. Something sweet and romantic. Maybe I’ll find out after Jiminie gets back from that cabin he’s visiting.

definition of love by @taegularities f s a

↬When the gorgeous student from your literature class starts showing interest in you, you discover that there's much more to him than his know-it-all facade. But is this realization enough to get through your insecurities and secrets?

↬looking for other kth fics or the other members check out my library for more

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honeytae · 2 months ago

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synopsis: you never thought love could be so easy — until taehyung. six months into your relationship, you feel worlds away from the past version of yourself.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst (but not really)

word count: 900+

warnings: discussions of a past toxic relationship, unwanted contact from said toxic ex, hints of jealous/protective bf taehyung, they’re so in love, we’re ending this series short and sweet!!!

you curl up on the couch, legs drawn beneath you, your body naturally gravitating toward taehyung’s side.

the last rays of the setting sun spill through the large windows, coating everything in a soft golden hue. the light glows against his skin, casting shadows over the angles of his face, and for a second, you just stare. he looks like a painting—timeless, beautiful, yours.

you rest your head on his shoulder, and he welcomes the weight without a word, adjusting slightly so you’re tucked in closer. his arm wraps around you effortlessly, his fingers trailing through your hair in slow, affectionate strokes.

each touch draws you deeper into that safe, familiar space only he can create. your shoulders loosen, and you let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

“you’re quiet today,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum near your ear. “everything okay, baby?”

you smile, eyes fluttering closed. “yeah. just… being here with you. it feels good.”

his fingers pause in your hair for a moment before he leans in, pressing a kiss just above your temple. “i agree,” he murmurs, “you’re my favorite place.”

the words settle in your chest like a warm drink. you chuckle softly, turning your face into his shoulder. “you always say things like that. sweet and completely unfair.”

“unfair?” he repeats, amused. “you’re the one who looks at me like that and expects me to function normally.”

you lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “like what?”

“like i’m the best thing since sliced bread,” he grins.

“you are,” you shrug. “i didn’t even know i could feel this way until you.”

there’s a pause between you—quiet, thick with meaning. he swallows like your words went straight to his chest.

he leans closer, resting his forehead against yours. “me too. and that scares me, sometimes,” he admits in a whisper.

your brows draw together. “why?”

“because i want to keep you this happy forever,” he says. “and i’m scared of what i’d do if i couldn’t.”

you soften, lifting your hand to his cheek. “then don’t worry. you do. every single day.”

he smiles then, slow and full of something deeper than joy—devotion. “okay. good. because i love you, and i want to spend a long, long time loving you.”

your eyes sting at the edges, but you blink it away, laughing gently. “you’re such a sap.”

“for you? absolutely.”

you nestle against him again, content and whole. but as your body relaxes, your mind wanders—just a little, just long enough to cast a brief shadow over the golden light.

you think about the past. about the man who used to hold this spot in your life. about how he used to make you feel small with smiles that didn’t reach his eyes and apologies that always came too late.

“you know,” you say quietly, “i used to think love meant always being on edge. like if i didn’t give everything, i’d lose everything.”

taehyung doesn’t speak immediately, but his arm tightens around you.

“he made you feel like that?” he finally asks, his voice low and unreadable.

you nod. “i never knew which version of him i was going to get. the sweet one with the promises or the one who disappeared when things got hard.”

“he didn’t deserve you.”

“no,” you agree. “he didn’t. but for a long time, i thought i didn’t deserve better.”

taehyung pulls back enough to see your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin so you meet his eyes. “don’t ever say that again.”

you nod. “i know better now.”

he studies you for a long beat before whispering, “i wish i could go back and pull you out of that. show you what real love looks like.”

you smile. “but you already did.”

just then, your phone buzzes on the table beside you. you don’t even have to look. you already know.

with a resigned breath, you reach over, glance at the screen—your ex, again—and swipe the notification away. you toss the device across the sofa with no emotion. no second thought.

“was that him?” taehyung asks softly.

“yeah,” you say, placing the phone face-down. “another ‘hey’ like nothing happened.”

taehyung is quiet, but you can feel the shift in his energy. his jaw tightens. his hand stills on your back.

“he’s never going to get the version of you that i get,” he says firmly. “the one who laughs with her whole body. who talks with her hands when she’s excited. who believes in love again.”

you look up at him, tears stinging your eyes again—but these, too, are happy. “i didn’t think i’d ever be that girl again.”

“you always were,” he says, brushing his thumb under your eye. “you just needed someone who didn’t make you doubt it.”

you wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest. “i kind of hope he sees it now. everything he lost.”

“oh, he sees it,” taehyung says with a small smirk. “guys like him always do. right when it’s too late.”

you let out a laugh, muffled against his shirt. “petty.”

“it’s true,” he shrugs.

you tilt your head up. “you know what the best part is?”

“what?”

“i don’t care what he thinks. not anymore. he’s just… noise.”

taehyung grins and kisses your forehead again. “you’ve come a long way.”

“and you’re my peace,” you murmur, eyes closing.

he holds you tighter, his voice soft and steady. “then i’m never letting go.”

a/n: thank you all who read this series <3 i so enjoyed writing it and i hope this short and sweet conclusion wrapped it up nicely. i love this couple soooo much and hope you do too! as always, let me know any feedback you may have!

#bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #bts series #bts x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung series #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung series #taehyung x reader #tag: isilyf

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chimcess · 10 days ago

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⚔︎ Chapter One: The Longhorn Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Other Tags: Assassin!Taehyung, Assassin!Reader, Assassin!Jimin, Dad!Jimin, Assassin!Yoongi, Gang Leader!Yoongi, Assassin!Namjoon, Swordmaster!Hoseok, Chef!Hoseok, Pimp!Seokjin Genre: Assassins! AU, Exes!AU, Lovers to Enemies, Action, Comedy, Suspense, Martial Arts, Drama, Thriller, Romance (if you squint), Heavy Angst, Violence, Age Gap, 18+ only Word Count: 16.8k+ Summary: A former assassin awakens from a four-year coma after her ex-lover Taehyung tries to kill her on her wedding day. Driven by revenge for the loss of her unborn child and stolen life, she creates a hit list and embarks on a ruthless mission to take down everyone responsible. Warnings: graphic violence, blood, bar fight, underage drinking, drinking under 21, alcoholism, implied child abuse, implied CSA, stabbed by pool cue, hitting with bottles, male/female fight, threats of violence, there's just so much violence in this series, homeless character, food insecurity, murderous thoughts, murderous intent, very strong language, This is the most tame chapter moving forward btw, can only think of one other that's this chill, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: And so it begins... Surprise dropping to celebrate my birthday. Thanks so much for reading!

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The Longhorn didn’t sit so much as it slouched—just off Highway 87, somewhere between Amarillo and Canyon, like a half-dead dog that hadn’t figured out how to lie down properly. It looked slapped together from scrap and bad intentions: walls patched with corrugated tin, tar smeared in ugly gobs over leaky seams, warped boards nailed by someone with more liquor than judgment. The wind didn’t bother whistling here—it groaned, a tired old man dragging chains through its guts. It wasn’t much to look at, not even enough to mock. But it didn’t give a damn. Never had. It was as much a fixture as the sunburnt sky and the stretches of withered land it squatted on. It simply was, and had been long enough that no one could remember a time it wasn’t.

It was July 18th, 1990, and the heat in South Texas had stopped pretending it was part of the weather. It was punishment. The kind of brutal, mind-numbing heat that didn’t beat down on you—it crawled up inside, found the tender spots, and stayed there. The sun poured itself across the land like molten brass, draining the world of color until everything looked cooked. Bone-white sky. Rust-red dirt. Yellow grass scorched to ash. Even the road gave up—blacktop rippling like oil on a skillet, the edges of the highway blurring into a hallucinatory shimmer. The mesquites had folded into themselves, brittle things waiting for death, while the cacti stretched wide and thick, crawling over the far side of the highway.

But the Longhorn didn’t blink. Its porch sagged in the middle like a drunk passed out halfway through a fall, the planks beneath it creaking with each gust of wind. Boards had been replaced without reason or rhythm, patched like wounds with scraps of whatever could be nailed down. The windows weren’t windows anymore, just grimy lies with more filth than glass, fogged over with years of grease and cigarette smoke until they were better at keeping secrets than letting in light. Above the entrance, a twisted chunk of tin swung halfheartedly from rust-choked chains. The lettering—once proud—was chipped to near-oblivion, “The Longhorn” barely decipherable in the right light. Below that, a bleached cow skull dangled crookedly, one horn snapped clean off, the other yellowed and worm-bitten.

But it wasn’t the look of the place that got you—it was the smell. The stink hit you like a sucker punch. Hot grease that had gone sour, diesel baked in the heat, leather soaked in sweat and left to rot. Stale beer that had melted into the wood decades ago and never left. Underneath it all, something sharp and chemical, like industrial cleaner that didn’t clean so much as announce its failure. The kind of stink that settled into your skin, your hair, your lungs—and lingered, no matter how long you scrubbed.

The parking lot was more suggestion than surface—dust, gravel, and spiderweb cracks that split like lightning strikes through dried-out earth. A few trucks sat there like bleached carcasses, sun-blasted and peeling, their windshields so caked in grime they looked frosted over in filth. Heat waves shimmered up off their hoods like steam from a dying engine. The trucks weren’t abandoned, just forgotten for the moment. Their owners were inside, soaking into the shadows, becoming part of the walls, drinking like they didn’t expect the next round to taste any different than the last.

Inside, it wasn’t any cooler. Ceiling fans turned with all the urgency of molasses, creaking like they hated their job. The air moved just enough to spread the heat around evenly. Smoke stains marbled the ceiling, the walls stained a nicotine yellow so deep it looked baked in. Lightbulbs flickered from overhead like they were considering retirement. Everything was faded. Everything was slow. Nothing was clean, and nothing wanted to be.

The air was thick—cigarettes, old beer, something decaying in the background like a warning no one bothered to heed. Something had died back there. Maybe a rat. Maybe something with a name. The jukebox gasped out a tired Waylon Jennings song, skipping and sputtering like it was coughing through the lyrics. It didn’t matter. No one was listening.

Behind the bar stood Ellis Clifton—tall, broad, a man who looked like he’d been built, not born. His skin was burnished bronze, like metal worked under the sun, and his face was stone, still and solid, except for his eyes. Those eyes moved like they had all the time in the world. Ellis didn’t waste words. Ellis talked like molasses ran in his veins, but when he did speak, no one dared interrupt.

The name on the deed belonged to Frank Dickman, but Frank hadn’t been seen in half a decade. Rumor said he’d gone soft in the head, wandering around Sabinal with a Bible and a blank stare. His daughter, Betty Anne, was still figuring out if she wanted to sell the place or just wait for time and termites to do the job for her. Ellis kept it going, because it was the only thing he had ever done well. Before this, he was a ranch hand, and he wasn’t about to go back to chasing cattle and eating dust. Not when he had his boots planted behind a bar that needed him more than anyone else ever had.

The regulars were stitched into the furniture. Ranchers with bark for skin and hands that looked like they’d lost fights with barbed wire. Truckers with road-glazed eyes who stared past everything like they were still watching mile markers flash by. Old rodeo men who still walked with the pain of a thousand falls and wore championship buckles to remember the time when they mattered.

The women were jagged, loud, and weathered by hard years. Lips stained red, lipstick feathering into the cracks at the corners, eyes sharp from squinting through too many lies and cheap sunglasses. They wore jangling bracelets and too much perfume, their laughter hard and half a second too late. Their stories didn’t change either. Same soap-opera misery, same whispered grudges, same bad jokes chewed down to the gristle. The only thing that shifted was who was saying it, and how drunk they were when they did.

Far corner, near the window no one bothered looking through—not because the view was anything special, but because everyone knew better. There was no sign on that booth, no rope to keep people out, no brass plaque to explain its gravity. It didn’t need one. Some places earn their boundaries the hard way. People just knew. That booth belonged to a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard, a man whose silence could clear a room better than a shotgun blast. He didn’t ask for space. He was the space.

Taehyung Kim. That’s what he said when people asked—not that many did. But names in this part of Texas had a way of bending around the truth, and Taehyung collected his share of nicknames like shadows collect dust. The one that stuck was Snake Charmer, whispered more often than spoken, and never, ever said to his face. Juan, his Mexican friend, had been the first to say it out loud—said Taehyung had a way with men, with moods, with danger, like he could whisper something terrible into the world and it would listen. It fit. Not because he looked like a threat—he didn’t—but because that was his trick. Lean and still, calm like dusk before a wildfire, slow like a fuse you don’t see until your eyebrows are already gone. He didn’t look dangerous. And that’s what made him dangerous.

He first rolled into town a decade ago, young enough that he shouldn’t have been drinking, old enough that nobody said shit about it. There was something in his stare—flat, quiet, heavy—that made men older than him reconsider their words and shift their stance. He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke. He just was, like some goddamn force of nature wearing skin. He came and went over the years, like a storm system that couldn’t make up its mind, and every time he came back, someone ended up across from him in that corner booth. They’d talk. Or they wouldn’t. They’d sit for ten minutes, or an hour. Sometimes they walked out together, looking changed in the kind of way that made you wonder if they’d sleep again. Sometimes they didn’t walk out at all. Sometimes their names showed up on the news. Other times, their names just stopped getting said.

When Taehyung came into the Longhorn, the temperature changed. Not the heat—that stayed, clinging to your skin like wet gauze—but the air, the tension, the vibe. It went still, like the room was holding its breath. Voices dipped. Conversations thinned out. People suddenly remembered their drinks were worth studying. No one offered him a beer. No one asked why he was there. He didn’t want company. He didn’t want attention. He wanted the booth. He wanted the door in his line of sight. And he wanted time to tick the way he decided.

That night, he wore black. He always did. A western shirt with thin red piping, neat but lived-in, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the white scar curling like a worm from his wrist to his forearm, and the silver watch that never ticked. His pants were clean, creased like he cared. His boots, scuffed at the heel and toe, looked like they’d seen more road than the trucks out front. On one finger, a turquoise ring; on his pinky, a plain silver band—old, worn smooth, the only thing he still wore from his brother Namjoon, a man who’d once been something before the world took it from him.

He didn’t fidget. Didn’t glance around like he was sizing anyone up. He just sat. Still. Pinned to the leather seat like gravity worked a little harder on him. One hand cradled a glass of scotch, the liquid already gone lukewarm. In front of him, untouched, a shot of tequila. Next to that, a sweating glass of water leaving a wide wet ring on the wood that made his jaw tighten every time he looked at it. He drank slow, if he drank at all. Everything about him was measured.

Above the bar, the clock was lying again. It always had. Plastic molded to look like brass, hung crooked since ’78 when Ellis put it up and never bothered to fix it. The second hand twitched every few ticks like it had arthritis. The minute hand sagged like it knew it was running late. But Taehyung didn’t look at it. He didn’t need to. He knew. The kid was ten minutes late. Exactly ten. Not enough to make it personal yet, but enough to speak volumes.

Tardiness wasn’t neutral in his world. It was communication. A statement. It said something about respect, or the lack of it. It said something about fear, or its absence. Being late meant one of two things: you didn’t understand what you were walking into, or you did—and didn’t care. Either way, it wasn’t smart. Not with him. Once, maybe, Taehyung might’ve let that kind of thing slide. Back when he still believed in second chances and the redemptive power of mercy. But that man burned out somewhere far from here, in some booth like this one, in a town that doesn’t get mentioned anymore.

He moved, just a little—so little it could be missed if you weren’t watching close. His right boot creaked as it dragged an inch forward. His knee bent slightly. A casual observer might call it relaxed. But they’d be wrong. Taehyung didn’t relax. He readjusted. He calibrated. He made the necessary shifts to maintain control. The scotch caught the yellow light overhead, glowed like old honey, and stayed in his hand as if the feel of it mattered more than the drink itself. The ring from the water glass kept spreading, a slow, wet insult he couldn’t stop seeing.

The ceiling fans above groaned in their lazy, lopsided circles, stirring the same stale cocktail of cigarette smoke, hot breath, and old secrets that had been hanging in the Longhorn since the '70s. The air moved, but it didn’t get better. Voices still murmured in pockets around the bar, but they came out slower now, hushed and cautious, like the words were watching their own backs.

Taehyung’s eyes moved through the room with that slow, sweeping stillness of someone who never looked rushed but missed nothing. He saw the guy at the bar, the one with the nervous lighter—snap, flick, snap, again and again. He saw the woman across the way tapping her fingers on the tabletop in a rhythm that didn’t match her mouth. And he saw the two brothers hunched in the back booth, not speaking but clearly angry at each other—one of them slamming his boot against the floor just a bit too hard, making sure the other felt it. Taehyung didn’t need to hear what any of them were saying. Bodies always spoke louder than mouths.

He’d given the kid twenty minutes. That was the unspoken line in the sand. Not a rule—those were too flexible. Anyone worth meeting knew better than to cross it. Show up too late, and it wasn’t a mistake—it was a message. It meant you thought you could get away with it. It meant you thought you had leverage. At twelve minutes past, Taehyung began tapping his thumb against the side of his glass. His patience was wearing thin.

Then the cowbell above the door gave out its signature death rattle—dry, cracked metal on wire, like bones tumbling inside a soup can. It had sounded sick for decades. No one remembered the last time it rang clean. Still, it worked. The room reacted as one—spines stiffened, mouths shut mid-sentence, a card half-drawn from a deck froze like it was afraid of the outcome. Forks hovered, cigarettes paused just short of lips. Heads turned slow, like livestock catching a scent they didn’t like. First the men, instinctive, sizing up whatever was coming through that door. Then the women, slower, more surgical. Women at the Longhorn had learned early the difference between looking and being looked at. One was defense. The other, liability.

Standing there was a girl.

She stood in the doorway like a dropped match—small, sharp, a flicker of something that might catch fire if given the right wind. Maybe eighteen. Maybe younger. Hard to tell through the grime and the glare of the beer sign behind her, lighting her up in flickering blue like a ghost in a neon fog. One foot inside, one out, caught in that thin moment between flight and arrival. She looked like the road had tried to eat her and only half succeeded. Her blue hoodie hung loose and sun-faded, collar stained with sweat and something darker. Sleeves shoved up past the elbow, arms streaked with dirt, maybe blood. Hair yanked back with a shoelace. Clothes clung to her wrong—too tight where they shouldn't be, too loose where it mattered. Jeans torn and dragging. One boot held together with duct tape, the other torn up and covered in mud. A duffel hung off one shoulder, canvas worn to threads, the strap frayed like a wound that wouldn’t close.

She stepped inside. The door swung shut behind her with a groan that matched the floorboards swallowing her footsteps. The temperature didn’t change, but the air did. Taehyung smelled her before she got halfway to the bar—hot pavement, bad gas station coffee, motel shampoo, and the ghost of somewhere worse. She didn’t drop her gaze. She scanned the room with the kind of look that had nothing to do with hope and everything to do with survival. She wasn’t looking for help. She was counting exits. Taking stock of threats. Her eyes swept past the men and women and smoke without sticking. Not even the ones who leaned a little forward, trying to catch her eye like a hook.

Near the jukebox, an old-timer—face cratered like a busted moon, grin decades past its expiration date—gave her a smile he probably thought was charming. She didn’t blink. She didn’t stop. She moved through the Longhorn like a needle through old leather—clean line, no hesitation. Straight toward the bar.

The duffel hit the wood with a thud that turned heads. Ellis Clifton, mid-pour, froze. The whiskey overflowed, a thin trail running down the side of the glass, pooling at his fingers. He didn’t move. Just watched her. He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. She climbed onto the barstool without looking around, folding in on herself. Elbows on the bar, shoulders hunched, eyes down just enough to make herself smaller. Anyone with eyes could see the girl did not want to be noticed.

But the Longhorn didn’t let things slide past unnoticed. Not when they walked in like they were dragging ghosts behind them. The place remembered. Not in a conscious way—no scribbled notes or whispering walls. Just something quieter. A sense that it was all being filed away somewhere under the floorboards.

Taehyung still hadn’t moved. The scotch sat beneath his hand, glass fogged with sweat, the warmth of his skin still sinking through it. He wasn’t staring—nothing that crude—but his attention had tilted. His eyes tracked her the way a hunter watches the wind. Not locked, but fixed all the same. Still as stone, still as shadow. He hadn’t twitched. Hadn’t even adjusted his seat.

She wasn’t the one he was here for. That part was obvious. But there was something about her—something that stepped outside the lines. The way she moved. The way she held space like she didn’t need permission. She didn’t look around, didn’t perform for the room. She sat like she was casing the joint without trying. And that, more than anything, snagged his interest.

She was cute, sure. He could admit that to himself. Had the kind of look that might’ve turned his head a few years back—too young to carry the weight she wore, too old in the eyes to pretend she didn’t. But Taehyung wasn’t twenty anymore. He didn’t chase pretty. He didn’t chase anything. Not unless it bled.

If this were another life, another night, maybe he’d have stood. Maybe he’d have crossed the floor and offered a drink she didn’t ask for. But not tonight. Tonight he was here on business. And something told him that if he so much as sat too close, the girl would gut him with her eyes before she even thought to reach for a weapon.

Still, he didn’t look away.

Two stools down, Waylon Cordell stirred—if you could call it that. He moved like something arthritic and forgotten. Waylon had been part of the Longhorn longer than the termites. He was the living, breathing equivalent of a beer stain—permanent, unpleasant, impossible to scrub out. His gut hung heavy over his belt, his scalp patchy like peeling wallpaper. Red veins mapped across his cheeks, skin shining with the wet gloss of cheap bourbon and cheaper regrets. He turned his head toward her like it took effort and leaned in.

“Well now,” Waylon said, his voice dragging the syllables like they were coated in syrup, thick with phlegm and the kind of back-bar bourbon that didn’t burn clean. “Ain’t you somethin’. Let me buy you a drink, sugar.”

His grin came apart in real time—one side curling around a yellow tooth that didn’t quite fit, the other hanging slack beneath a sagging eye that always seemed a second behind the rest of his face. Whatever charm he thought he still carried had long since expired, dead and buried in the same dirt as his last three marriages and any self-respect he might’ve once owned. He dropped his elbow to the bar with the, leaned in heavy, dragging the reek of sweat, sour booze, and hopeless years into the space between them. He didn’t move his feet. Didn’t ask permission. Just inserted himself, claimed the air she was breathing like he was entitled to it.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t shrink or shift or shy away. Just turned her head toward him with that same mechanical smoothness she’d used at the door. Her eyes met his, and in them was no fear, no discomfort—just a kind of quiet, calculating clarity. Like she was already writing him into the margins of a plan, mapping his bulk, his range, how long it would take to move if she had to.

Then she smiled.

It wasn’t the kind of smile you returned. It wasn’t warm, or soft, or anything close to an invitation. It was a ghost of something long dead, summoned up like muscle memory, a reflex fired off from somewhere deep beneath the hard-set lines of her face. But it changed her. Briefly. Like stormlight cutting through clouds—quick, sharp, gone. Behind the grime and road-dust, underneath the brittle tension of her jaw, something softened. And in that blink of surrender, there was the faint suggestion of who she might’ve been once. Not innocent, not untouched, but maybe not always carved out of survival. Maybe, a long time ago, before the bruises learned how to fade faster than the memories, before silence became sharper than screaming—maybe she had known softness. Maybe it had been stolen. Maybe she had given it up. Either way, what remained now was just the echo.

Taehyung saw it. That flicker. That shape her mouth made and how it changed everything about her face for half a second. Her usual edge—tight, defensive, braced for impact—smoothed out just long enough to show the shape of the weapon beneath it. Not innocence, no. But the memory of it. And it struck him then, unexpected and uninvited, that she was beautiful.

“Hello,” she said, voice rough like gravel under a tire, worn thin but steady.

Waylon’s grin widened. Too drunk to notice the razor behind her calm. Too slow to see the trap already set. He leaned closer, his gaze already drifting lower like gravity was dragging his thoughts down with it. He didn’t see the way her jaw tightened beneath that smile. Didn’t see how her hand hovered just above the bar. He was the kind of man who’d spent his life mistaking survival tactics for flirtation. The dumb ones always did. The dangerous ones, too. Waylon managed to be both in the same breath.

At the other end of the bar, Ellis Clifton set a bottle down with a dull, deliberate thud. Heads turned. Cards paused. Dice sat still where they landed. Even the jukebox, halfway between songs, gave up and went quiet.

Waylon hesitated. He blinked—slow, wet, and confused—then turned, sluggish, toward the source of the weight pressing against him.

Ellis didn’t speak at first. Just kept wiping that same glass, slow circles etched into the shape of habit and second chances. His hand moved like it had its own memory, but his eyes—they were locked on the girl now. Steady, thoughtful, drawn not to the bruises or the grime but to the way she held herself. Too still. Too deliberate. It wasn’t the kind of stillness you get from fear. It was the kind of stillness you get when the walls are already closing in and you’re figuring out which one to punch through. She looked too young, sure, but not in the skin—that could lie, caked in dust and road-sharp edges—but in the way her shoulders carried weight like they’d been braced since childhood. In the way her gaze scanned the bar without moving her head. In the way she sat like a chair might break beneath her or turn into a weapon. She didn’t belong here. She belonged somewhere with clean sheets, central air, warm coffee, and the kind of silence that wasn’t earned through violence. But Ellis had been in the Longhorn long enough to know what belonged didn’t always get to stay.

His wife used to look like that. Back when they were seventeen and something in her flinched when people got too close. It had taken months to get her to stop checking every door twice. Years before she stopped tensing at raised voices. And here was this kid—this dusty, carved-up girl—carrying that same silent alarm in her bones. Ellis knew the type. Knew what they needed, too. And he knew Waylon Cordell even better. Knew that slow, boiling temper that made every room a match waiting for a spark. He didn’t want to scrape anyone off the floor tonight, least of all a girl who’d already survived more than Waylon ever could.

“Ma’am,” Ellis said, voice cut low and flat, a sound with weight. “Gonna need to see some ID.”

She turned toward him like she was moving through water. No twitch. No panic. Just that careful stillness again. Her movements weren’t slow because she was afraid—they were slow because fast meant fear, and fear drew predators. She turned like someone who’d been prey before and knew speed didn’t save you. Her eyes opened a little wider, just enough to read innocent if you weren’t paying attention. Her mouth parted like a lie was about to fall out, soft and practiced. Then came the mask. That fragile, feminine tilt of the head. The breath caught just short of trembling. The helpless look girls wear when they’ve been taught that survival depends on making other people feel needed.

But Ellis saw through it. Not because she was bad at it—hell, she was damn good—but because he’d seen it too many times. That wasn’t fear, not really. That was muscle memory. That was calculation. She wasn’t scrambling—she was adjusting. Choosing a different play from the same worn book. Not a girl bluffing her way out. A girl trained to weigh every angle. And that meant something—something important.

Taehyung hadn’t moved from his booth. Still leaned back, fingers loose on the scotch glass, the tip of his thumb resting just above the base like a conductor holding time. His body gave nothing away, all muscle memory and quiet patience—but something inside him had shifted. Subtle. Mechanical. Like a camera lens narrowing its aperture. Not interest. Not pity. Focus. He was reading her now. Parsing her choices, her posture. The smile that lived only in her mouth and never touched her eyes. The angle of her shoulders. The refusal to give Waylon the full turn of her body. She wasn’t playing the scared girl—she was playing the smart one. She’d picked Waylon because she knew exactly what to expect. Not safety. Predictability. That made her dangerous. Taehyung had seen it before—in cold basements, strobe-lit clubs, and safehouses where nothing was safe. This girl didn’t flinch. She calculated.

Maybe the scene would’ve held. The fragile balance. The illusion of harmless tension. Maybe she could’ve kept Waylon strung out on his own assumptions for another few minutes—long enough to slip the hook. But then Waylon slapped the bar.

It came down like a wet slap to the face of the room. Loud. Crude. Designed to be heard, to remind everyone that Waylon Cordell still thought he mattered. The wood rattled under his palm, sticky with decades of spilled liquor and sweat. His grin curled into something rotten.

“Come on, Ellis,” he slurred, words dragging behind the bourbon. “She’s with me. My treat. You know how it is.”

Ellis didn’t answer right away. But the Longhorn did.

A pool cue hit its slot like a bullet casing. Chairs shifted as boots planted. Someone near the back put down his fork like he’d lost his appetite. And the jukebox—already half-dead—gave up the ghost completely. The only thing moving was Ellis’s rag, slow as ever, like he hadn’t heard a thing. But his jaw was set now. Shoulders tight under that oil-stained flannel. He was calculating too, same as her, just older. More tired.

“Rules are rules,” Ellis said finally, and the grit in his voice scratched like sandpaper on steel. “I ain’t gettin’ caught up with the law for ya, Mr. Cordell.”

Waylon blinked. His face twitched like a computer error—couldn’t process. He didn’t get it. Couldn’t. He’d coasted through life like a dull knife, cutting nothing clean but always expecting someone else to do the sharpening.

“What the hell you talkin’ about?” Waylon said. “Since when do you care about IDs, huh? You served that kid from Tatum Creek with the busted nose and no shoes.”

“That kid,” Ellis said, folding the rag and setting it down like punctuation, “was sixteen, scared, and left me a ten-dollar tip. He didn’t grab no one, and he didn’t act like the place owed him a favor. He drank his Coke and walked out. You?” He leaned in, voice lowering. “You’re a liability with a mouth.”

Taehyung’s glass tapped the wood. Once. Then again. Then a third time. Not a threat. Not a countdown. Just the sound of time thickening.

The Longhorn knew tension the way a dog knows storms. Not through the sky, but through the bones. And this storm was coming in close. People could feel it. You didn’t need a forecast when your teeth ached and the floor started to hum.

Y/N felt it too. Not fear—she’d buried that years ago, left it behind with the taste of metal and the sound of sirens. This was a different sensation. A shift. A recalibration. Like gravity had tilted and her center of balance had moved with it. Her spine lengthened. Her breath slowed. Hands flat on the bar, elbows loose, body not braced but prepared.

Waylon didn’t see it. Couldn’t. Still too soaked in his own sweat and stale ego. He leaned in again, breath thick with smoke and sour mash, thinking he was about to get what he wanted.

“C’mon, Ellis,” he tried again, voice fraying. “Me and the little lady—hell, we might even—”

Taehyung looked up.

Nothing moved on his face. No twitch. No warning. But his eyes—those eyes—cut through the noise like a scalpel. Cold. Clean. He didn’t see a bar. He saw math. Angles. Time. She wasn’t waiting to be saved. She was waiting to move. He’d seen it before—in Havana, in Marseilles, in motel bathtubs under red lights. This wasn’t a girl in trouble. This was a weapon not yet drawn.

Waylon slapped the bar again—this time with the weight of someone used to getting his way. The sound cracked, louder now. Ugly.

“Just give me the fuckin’ drink, Ellis!” His voice was breaking. “I’ll deal with her if she gets too frisky.”

Everything stopped. The room exhaled into silence. The pool table held its breath mid-break. Dice stayed in stasis, fingertips still curled around them like they were sacred. The men in the booths, who’d been half-watching with the passive attention of wolves pretending to nap, turned fully now. One of them, eyes shaded by a trucker cap that hadn’t been clean since the Clinton years, let out a slow whistle between his teeth. Another—older, lean, hollowed out by desert years and harder work—shifted just enough for the glint of metal on his hip to catch the light. No one made a move, but the bar had already turned.

Ellis didn’t blink. His hand, once circling the same glass like a man scrubbing his conscience, froze flat against the wood. Not clenched. Not flexed. Just still. And that stillness held something heavier than sound.

“Say that again,” he said, voice soft as worn gravel. “So I can make sure I heard it right.”

Waylon blinked slow, like his brain was swimming through bourbon. His eyes darted from face to face, expecting support, finding none. Even the jukebox had abandoned him—still stuck in its own silence like it didn’t want to be part of what came next.

“I didn’t mean nothin’,” he muttered, all that confidence leaking out through the cracks in his tone.

“You never do,” Ellis replied. “That’s the problem.”

Y/N shifted. Subtle. Not a flinch—she didn’t flinch. Just realigned. Like a hinge settling into place. Chin up. Shoulders squared. Not tensed. Not bracing. Ready. Her hands didn’t tremble. They waited. And that waiting felt louder than any threat Waylon had ever heard.

Ellis drew a breath. Long. Deep. It tasted like smoke, dust, and hard choices. He let it out like a man resigning himself to a job no one else would do. His eyes closed—not out of fear, not weariness. He’d seen this before. Hell, he’d lived through it. Too many bars. Too many girls. Too many Waylons who didn’t know when they were one bad sentence away from being a headline.

He thought about his Tina. Before she stopped twitching. Before Ellis learned how to speak without volume. That memory, tight and uninvited, rose in his throat like smoke from a backdraft. He looked at the girl again—at the weight behind her stillness, the gaunt sharpness in her cheekbones, the grit pressed into the corners of her mouth—and he knew. She hadn’t eaten in a day. Maybe longer. Probably hadn’t had clean water either.

So Ellis reached for the bottle.

The shot hit the wood with a low scrape. He slid it to her without flourish. With his other hand, he reached under the bar, pulled out a chipped glass, and filled it with cold water from the gun and set it beside the shot.

She didn’t say thank you. Didn’t nod. Just kept her eyes locked on Waylon like she was watching a rabid dog decide whether to bark or bite.

Waylon, still drunk on ego and sour mash, saw the drink and mistook it for victory. He grinned, sloppy and wide, and grabbed the bottle like a trophy. Sloshed it over the lip of a knocked-over coaster and settled into the stool beside her with all the grace of a landslide.

“So,” he slurred, sliding closer, breath hot and damp, “what brings you ’round these parts?”

She turned.

“I’ve had a shitty few years,” she said. Her voice didn’t tremble. It carried the weight of every night she hadn’t slept, every bruise she’d earned, every hallway she’d walked where the floor threatened to fall out from under her.

Waylon laughed. That stupid, wet, snorting kind of laugh that men like him thought counted as charm. “Shit, girl. Welcome to the club.”

She didn’t respond. Just watched him like he was weather.

Ellis slid the shot glass again. Louder this time. A knock, not a suggestion. Like a judge tapping the gavel and daring the room to argue. Waylon reached out to pour himself another, but his hand missed the mark. Liquor sloshed across the bar and down the front of his shirt. He didn’t notice. Didn’t care. Just pushed the bottle toward her like it was a gift, like this was his moment.

“To you, sweetheart,” he said.

She didn’t toast. Didn’t look at him. She took the bottle with calm, calloused hands, poured a clean shot, and knocked it back like she’d done it a hundred times. No wince. No fanfare. She set the glass down like punctuation.

Then she reached for the water. Held it in both hands for a beat too long. Looked at it not like she was thirsty, but like someone who hadn’t been allowed to need anything in a long time. Like the glass itself meant something more than hydration. She drank it slow. Not cautious—deliberate. Like her body knew this was the only clean thing that might touch her that night. Every swallow quiet, drawn out, reverent.

Behind the bar, Ellis watched her the way a man watches a candle burning too close to a curtain—nervous, conflicted, unable to look away. His jaw was tight, stomach turning slow and steady like gears in an old clock. He’d seen plenty walk through the Longhorn who didn’t belong, but none quite like this. She didn’t need help. That much was clear. But she hadn’t eaten. Probably hadn’t slept either. And Ellis had the sick feeling that if he didn’t give her something tonight—one small kindness—she might not live long enough to ever ask again.

So when Waylon reached for the bottle again with all the grace of a drunk reaching for relevance, her hand was already there. Calm. Still. But firm—an unspoken line drawn across the bar. She didn’t yank it back. Didn’t push him away. Just stopped him, expression unreadable.

“Appreciate the drink,” she said, voice flat.

Then she stood. Boots hit the floor like punctuation, heavy and grounded. She didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate. The bottle hung loose in her hand, balanced perfectly. She was almost to the door, nearly free of the moment, when the word came flying at her—petty and sharp and desperate.

“Bitch.”

She didn’t stop. Just tilted her head a little, like a dog catching a new scent. Her shoulders shifted, subtle and slow.

Thick fingers—greasy, unsteady—wrapped around her wrist with a sloppy kind of force. Her arm jerked, not from the pressure, but from the audacity of it. She froze. Not in panic—but with a focus that came from somewhere far worse than fear. Her breath slowed, her jaw locked, her shoulders squared. Every inch of her body had gone still in that dangerous way predators do just before they strike.

From the booth, Taehyung tapped his glass and watched.

Waylon leaned closer, breath sour with booze and rot. “No way you walk out with that bottle,” he muttered. “Not without givin’ me something.” His grip tightened. His thumb dug in. His other hand found her waist, fingers clumsy and sliding.

“You came in lookin’ for trouble,” he said, thick and breathless. “Guess you found it.”

Her knee came up in a blur—fast, brutal, and perfectly placed. It slammed into his gut just beneath the ribs with a sick thud. His breath left him in a choked grunt, spit trailing from his lips. He bent forward like a folding chair. Before he could even process the pain, her fist followed. Hard and clean, it cracked across his face with a sound that turned heads—sharp and wet. His cheekbone lit up like a struck match, and his nose exploded in a rush of red that painted his chin and shirt.

He staggered, blinking stupidly, hands to his face—not to protect, but to understand. He clipped the edge of a stool, lost balance, and hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of himself in a grunt that silenced what little noise had been left in the room.

She stood over him, unmoved. Her breathing was calm, her stance balanced. Blood dripped from her knuckles in slow, thick drops. The bottle still hung in her hand, not raised, just present. She didn’t speak. Didn’t make a show of it. She just watched him writhe, one leg kicking against the sticky floor, face smeared red, groaning like he couldn’t figure out how things had turned. She waited. Not for applause. Not for backup. Just to see if he’d try again.

In the booth, Taehyung leaned forward. Slow. His elbow slid across the worn surface, casting a flicker of green from the neon sign across his forearm. His eyes tracked her movements—posture, grip, breath. He wasn’t surprised. There was no awe in his gaze. Just understanding. Like he’d seen this before. Like he knew exactly what kind of history shapes that kind of silence.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t gloat. Waylon whimpered—small, pathetic, a broken noise that crawled out of him like a surrender. She gave him a slight nod. Barely a tilt of her chin. That’s enough.

Then she turned.

The bottle swung gently at her side, catching slices of fractured light from the buzzing sign overhead. She didn’t step over him. She stepped around him—like you would a puddle of something you didn’t want to track through the house. Her walk didn’t change. Her pace didn’t rush. It was the walk of someone who knew this was done. Over. Handled.

She passed the bar like a ghost that bled warmth on contact, dragging silence behind her. Ellis hadn’t moved since the shot hit the counter—still as driftwood in a tide he knew better than to fight. The regulars stayed rooted to their stools, eyes following her like they were afraid to admit they were watching. No muttering, no whispers, no shift of cards or low jokes. The Longhorn had gone dead quiet, as if the bar itself held its breath. Her boots thudded soft and steady against warped floorboards, each step deliberate. Her shadow stretched long behind her, thin and sharp across blood, tile, and cracked linoleum. The jukebox stuttered, caught in the throat between tracks. A neon sign near the door fizzed once—bright blue, then nothing. It popped and died with the faint sigh of something old giving up.

Waylon coughed. The sound shattered the tension, sliced through the hush like a beer bottle through a windshield.

“You fuckin’ cunt!” he barked, voice shrill and breaking, ugly with rage.

He rose in a flurry of blood and slick hands, using the bar to haul his weight up, knocking a stool out of the way with a violent scrape. He stood swaying, shirt half untucked, breath snarling out of his busted nose. Red smeared his chin. The room didn’t move. No one intervened. Ellis didn’t twitch. The towel in his hand hung limp now, soaked and forgotten. His face stayed locked in that same blank calm that only came from long exposure to hopeless things.

Taehyung was no longer lounging. The slow, silent watcher had shifted. Elbows on the table, shoulders forward, posture coiled. His eyes had changed—no longer curious, no longer detached. He wasn’t watching a girl anymore. He was watching potential.

Waylon didn’t see it. He never had. All he saw was blood on his shirt and laughter in his head that wasn’t real. He saw mockery. He saw her walking away. He lunged.

He grabbed her arm and yanked hard. Her boots slipped on the slick spill of liquor. She hit the ground on her knees, the breath punched out of her with a sharp gasp between clenched teeth. He loomed over her, reeking of fury and rot, his breath hot on her ear. “Come back here, bitch,” he hissed, voice thick and low. “I ain’t done—” His hand clawed at her shirt, and that’s when the bottle moved.

She didn’t hesitate. Her grip shifted and the glass cracked down across his wrist. Bone met glass. Glass won. Waylon howled and stumbled, clutching his arm, face twisted in shock and pain.

She was on her feet before the noise finished echoing. Two sharp breaths, two quick steps, and she vanished into the shadows past the pool tables, disappearing into the darker end of the Longhorn, where the lights were low and neon signs barely clung to life. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The rage behind her boiled like oil on flame. The heat of it rose off the ground. Taehyung tracked every step. His body looked relaxed, one arm casually stretched across the booth like he was just another drinker killing time—but the lie stopped at the shoulders. His eyes had never left her. Not since the door. Not since the first shot. Not since the moment she dropped Waylon like a sack of potatoes.

It wasn’t beauty that caught him. It wasn’t even her power. It was her usefulness. She moved like a weapon. There was no panic in her steps. No hesitation. She was the kind of woman who wouldn’t ask what the job meant, only what it required. Taehyung had seen men like that. Rarely women. Rarer still with that kind of calm.

Then Waylon screamed.

“COME HERE!”

It sounded broken. More animal than man. All throat, no thought. Chairs scraped out of his way as he stomped forward, boots slick with liquor and blood. Glass crunched beneath his soles. He shoved tables, knocked over a barstool. The Longhorn didn’t move to stop him. No one did. Not Ellis. Not the regulars. Not Taehyung. The air pulled back. The room tightened, bracing.

She reached for a pool cue, her eyes squinting as the older man ran at her.

The sound it made—when it cracked across the side of Waylon’s skull—was almost too clean. Like a piece of wood splitting in winter air. He froze. Eyes wide, mouth open, confusion replacing fury. Then he buckled, knees giving way beneath him. He dropped, landing with a weighty thud that shook the floor.

She stood over him, cue in hand, breathing slow and even. Her grip didn’t loosen. Her feet stayed planted. Taehyung never blinked.

Waylon laughed. It was a thin, sick sound—somewhere between a wheeze and a sob. “You gotta be shittin’ me…”

She didn’t wait. The second swing was harder, sharper. She brought her full weight behind it, the cue slamming down across his arm. Wood cracked. The stick flew from her hands and clattered across the floor into the dark, out of reach.

Waylon howled, not from shock this time, but real pain. Raw, honest agony.

“I’m done with this!” he bellowed.

Waylon went for her again, and their bodies slammed into each other. Her shoulder hit the ground first, then his elbow cracked against a chair leg. They rolled in a tangle of limbs.

A pool ball knocked free and danced across the tile. Tap. Tap. Tap. Then still.

The cue splintered beneath them—wood snapping, splinters flying. He landed on top, breath hot and ragged. His knee jammed into her hip. An elbow ground into her shoulder. His face hovered inches from hers, twisted in fury, mouth a stink of blood and whiskey.

She didn’t scream. Her knee drove up into his gut. He gagged.

She shoved hard, rolled, scrambled. Now she was on top, one hand pressed to his chest, the other gripping a jagged shard of cue stick, holding it just above his throat—close. Not touching. But the threat was unmistakable.

Her face was a mask of bruises and blood. Her lip was split, one eye starting to swell. Hair stuck to her face. But her eyes stayed cold. Focused. She didn’t blink.

“You shouldn’t’ve called me a cunt,” she said, voice flat.

Waylon spat, blood streaking down her boot. He grinned through it. “Not rude if it’s true. You ain’t tough. You ain’t nothin’.”

His hand shot up, gnarled and fast, tangling deep in her hair and yanking like he was trying to rip the past out of her skull. Her head snapped back with a raw, guttural sound—part pain, part rage—body jerking with the sudden violence. Her grip slipped, control blinking out like a lightbulb catching a surge. His boot lifted and struck her in the ribs with its heel. She flew, weightless for a half-second, then crashed shoulder-first into the floor with a fleshy thud. The breath was torn from her lungs, her back arched, her mouth filled with the sharp copper burn of blood. For a second, everything tilted. Ceiling lights swam above her, distant and warped, the world yawning sideways.

But she got up.

Waylon tried to rise too, but his knees weren’t listening. He pushed up and swayed, arms shaking, breath like steam escaping a cracked pipe. His shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat and blood and whatever fight was left. He stood there, trying to remember how to be a man again, trying to pretend he had control. But it was all gone.

Across the bar, Taehyung sat motionless. One hand near his untouched glass. Posture loose but unreadable, all shadows and stillness. But his eyes told the truth. They hadn't moved since the first punch. He wasn’t watching a bar fight anymore—he was watching a test unfold, watching a decision unravel in blood and breath. Not judging. Not intervening. Just witnessing.

Waylon reached for a stool.

His fingers curled around the seat, knuckles red, blood-slicked. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth creaked. His shoulders twitched. He lifted the stool overhead, wobbling under the weight of it. His eyes were wild now, unfocused, the way animals look when cornered. His breath came short and shallow.

“COME ON, BITCH!” he roared. “Let’s see that kung fu shit again!”

He swung.

She dropped. Just folded like a hinge. The stool arced wide, missed by inches, and exploded against the wall behind her. The impact cracked plaster, sent wood flying. A shard spun into the jukebox. The beer sign sparked once, then fizzled out with a soft hiss. And she was already moving.

One sharp pivot. Her boot snapped sideways, low and fast, catching the broken stool still clutched in Waylon’s hand. It knocked it loose, sent it spinning across the floor, where it skittered under the jukebox with a shriek of metal and wood.

Waylon howled and charged. He didn’t think. His hand found her wrist. Yanked hard. And that was it.

The broken cue still in her other hand came up fast. She didn’t swing. She drove it straight into his arm, just above the elbow. There was a sound—wet, wrong, thick with resistance. Muscle splitting, cartilage groaning. Blood sprayed, bright and sudden, like something had burst.

Waylon froze. Mouth open. Silent. Then the scream hit, all at once—high, raw, animal. It tore from his throat like something alive. Blood gushed from the wound, hot and red, speckling her shirt, her arms, her face. It soaked into denim, streaked across skin. She didn’t flinch. She stepped in closer.

Her hand pressed against the base of the cue, and she shoved. It slid deeper. Flesh parted. Waylon’s eyes went glassy, knees wobbling. One hand tried to find the shaft, clawing at it like it might disappear. The other flailed, seeking purchase on nothing.

She dropped to one knee beside him, quiet, smooth, no wasted motion. Her knee pressed into his ribs, pinning him. One hand braced the cue, the other hovered above his chest like a promise. Her face was close—calm, blank, surgical.

When she spoke, her voice was low, carved from something old and cold. “You’re right,” she said, no tremble in her tone. “I am a cunt.”

A drop of blood fell from her hand, landing on the pale fabric of his shirt.

“But you were still rude.”

Her palm settled gently on his chest, the cue trembling faintly between them. She didn’t press. Everyone in that bar knew if she leaned in, he wouldn’t get up.

Then a voice cut the silence, low and deliberate. Smooth like oil, sharp like broken glass. “Some people,” it said, “aren’t worth killing for free.”

Her hand didn’t move, but her head turned. She stayed crouched over Waylon’s broken body, jeans soaked at the hem, shirt clinging to sweat and blood, arms streaked with bruises that hadn’t even started to bloom yet. Her lip bled in a slow trickle down her chin. Hair stuck to the sides of her face.

The low light from the busted sign caught her face as Taehyung stepped into view. She looked up at him. When he knelt beside her, his shadow stretched long and heavy across Waylon’s broken form, swallowing him up in its blackness. He reached out his hand, offering it to the girl. His fingers brushed over hers. She hadn’t even realized how hard she’d been holding onto the cue until his warmth broke through it. Her knuckles were white, her hand rigid. He didn’t try to take it. It was then that Y/N realized exactly what she was about to do.

The broken cue slipped from her grip, falling with a dull clink to the floor, spinning once before settling in a patch of blood. Taehyung didn’t pull his hand away. She met his gaze.

There was no softness there, no patronizing comfort, but no judgment either. His eyes held something that she sometimes saw when she looked into the mirror. He gave her the faintest smile, so slight it barely existed.

“Take my word for it,” he said, voice low, calm, firm in that way only truth could be. “He’s not worth it.”

She didn’t respond, but her breath shifted—slower now, more controlled. Her shoulders dropped the tiniest amount. Behind them, Waylon whimpered.

It was a pathetic, high-pitched sound, too soft for a man his size. He clutched his arm with both hands, blood pumping down his side in thick pulses, soaking his shirt, pooling beneath him.

“She... she was gonna kill me,” he stammered, voice full of disbelief, wet with panic. “Jesus, man... if you hadn’t—if you hadn’t showed up—” He coughed, deep and rattling, like something was trying to crawl out of his chest. “You’re a... a fuckin’ lifesaver.”

Taehyung looked at him. “Leave.”

Waylon nodded, jerking his head like a puppet with frayed strings. He moved to push himself up, grunting with effort, face twisting with each inch like his body hated him for trying. He reached for a stool, missed, cursed, then tried again. No one helped. No one moved. He didn’t look at her, but he made the mistake of glancing at Taehyung.

Whatever he saw there cut straight through him. His eyes dropped fast, shame folding him in half. He turned and staggered toward the door, one hand clamped to his ruined arm, the other dragging along the wall. A dark trail followed him—thick, uneven smears of blood across the wood that would stain. The cowbell gave one half-hearted jingle. The hinges moaned. The door slammed behind him as he left.

Behind the bar, Ellis gripped the sink like it was all that kept him upright. The towel in his other hand hung limp, half-dried glass forgotten in his grip. Sweat had begun to line his forehead, beading along the hairline. His face was tight, jaw locked, lips pale. The long, exhausted resignation of a man who knew he’d remember this one and it would follow him to his dreams tonight. His wife would be horrified if he told her what happened that night.

The jukebox tried to come back—gave a stutter, a spark, then died again. One last cough of sound, then silence.

Taehyung rose without a drop of fear, like he hadn’t just stared down a man bleeding out on the floor. This wasn’t the worst he’d seen. Maybe not even the messiest. Just another page in a book already full. His coat brushed against splinters and glass, the hem dark with spilled beer and blood, dragging through the same grooves worn into the wood by years of too many boots and too many regrets.

At the bar, he didn’t pause. His voice cut through the room—quiet, level.

“Two damp towels.” It wasn’t a request.

Ellis blinked like he’d just remembered his body, ducked down without a word, and came back with two thick towels—still hot, still smelling faintly of bleach and age. They were stained already. Nothing clean stayed clean here. He handed them over in silence.

Taehyung took the towels and turned back to the girl. She was still on the floor, knees pressed into wood that had seen too many nights like this one, grain dark with sweat, beer, and blood that no mop ever reached. Her hands sat in her lap—bloodied, open, trembling just enough to betray the cost of what she’d held in. Her shoulders were slumped. Each breath she took was uneven, dragging in through grit-lined lungs and slipping out like glass.

She looked wrecked, but her eyes were clear.

Taehyung knelt beside her without a word, his coat folding around him, his presence settling into the space without disruption. He moved with that same quiet intention he’d carried since the beginning, because nothing ever surprised him anymore, and this girl had managed to.

One towel he held out. The other he brought to her temple, pressing it against dried blood with a kind of care that told her that he’d done this before. There was no hesitation in his touch. She didn’t flinch, didn’t lean away. She let him clean her face without any fuss.

When he offered her the second towel, she took it, gaze never leaving her hands. She wiped them slowly, mall, grinding motions, circles, pressure and pause. Like she’d done this before, maybe too many times, and never gotten clean enough. It made him wonder who else’s blood she’s had to clean off.

Taehyung didn’t speak. Just kept at it—behind her ear, along her jaw, down her neck. The bar around them didn’t make a sound. No footsteps. No glass clink. Just smoke rising, blood dripping, and the low hum of tension bleeding out into stillness. Her elbow still wept crimson in slow, steady drops that soaked into the wood.

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” she said, voice thin and stretched but not shaking.

Taehyung didn’t answer immediately. He folded the towel neatly, blood inside, and placed it by her knee. Then he looked at her fully—her torn lip, the bruises blooming dark across her cheek, the red coating her knuckles, and the eyes beneath it all. Calm.

“Maybe not,” he said after a beat. “But if the wind had changed... you would’ve.”

She didn’t argue. Didn’t nod either.

Taehyung kept his eyes on her. Trying to place her. She had the stillness that came after chaos, the kind that wasn’t taught but burned into your bones. She carried a certain calm about her that he knew he carried with himself. He had a few years on the girl and had managed to get over the rage she carried along the way, but he remembered a time when he made the stunt she pulled that night look like child’s play.

He held out a hand—palm open, fingers loose. There was a smear of blood across the base of his thumb. She stared at it.

“Taehyung,” he said. His voice was low, even, patient.

She didn’t take his hand right away. Her eyes moved over him slowly, methodically. She took in the details—his collar, slightly crooked like he didn’t care much for appearances. The thin scar over his knuckle, healed badly. The boots, expensive once but worn down with miles. His face was unreadable. Not cold. Just still. Not inviting, but not closed off either. And then she reached forward.

“Y/N,” she said. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Taehyung nodded once. “Well, Y/N,” he said, dry, “you don’t strike me as someone who drinks Jack by choice.” His chin dipped toward the busted bottle still bleeding into the cracks of the floor. “How about something you actually like, sugar?”

Her eyes followed the gesture, then slid back to him. A brow lifted.

“You offering because you feel bad?”

He breathed out—close to a laugh, but not quite.

“Not unless I should. I’m offering because I feel like it.”

She studied him. “Nothing more?”

“Nothing less.”

Y/N didn’t speak right away. She traced the edge of the towel, thumb moving through blood caught in the seams of the fabric. Her jaw worked slightly. Her gaze flicked to the door—out of instinct—then back.

“Margarita,” she said. “On the rocks. No salt.”

That earned her a smile. A real one this time. Slow, uneven, like the muscles hadn’t been used in a while. It made him look younger, more handsome and boyish.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Taehyung said. “Though I like the salt.”

Taehyung tipped his head toward the corner booth he’s been sitting at since he got there. It crouched in half-shadow, half-flicker, backlit by a dying COLD BEER sign that stammered through its last few breaths in twitching red and blue. The letters didn’t glow so much as tremble.

Y/N rose without a word. She crossed the room unbothered by the stares, her limping not stopping her from holding her head up high. When she slipped into the booth, the vinyl groaned beneath her and gave way slowly.

Behind the bar, Ellis’s shoulders rolled like they ached, his hands shook but he didn’t fumble. Didn’t speak. He didn’t look their way. Just reached for the bottles without another word. Two glasses—one rim salted, one bare. Lime dropped in hers with a heavy thunk. Ice cracked. Liquor poured. He tried his best to think about how lost the girl looked earlier rather the the blood staining through her clothes.

He had said Waylon didn’t know when it quit. It was only a matter of time before something like that happened. Ellis just never expected it would be from an emaciated little girl. Or that a pool cue would be involved.

Taehyung returned with both drinks in hand, boots whispering across the sticky wood. He set her glass down with the kind of care that made noise unnecessary. The glass kissed the tabletop, condensation already forming in a slow ring.

“No salt. On the rocks,” he said, and then lowered himself into the booth. One arm draped across the seat, legs stretched out, weight sunk in. The booth shaped itself around him.

Above, the neon sputtered—red, blue, red again—washing their faces in bruised light. Shadows crawled across their cheeks and hands, flickering over old scars and fresh cuts. The drinks caught the color too, fractured beams glinting off the surface.

Taehyung swirled his drink and stared into the cloudy green like it might offer him a better story than the one they were already in.

“Looks like antifreeze,” he muttered, then took a sip and grimaced. “Once had the real thing. Shack outside Baja. Bartender looked ninety. Said the tequila was older than him. Dust in the air. Gunfire on the horizon. Best night of my life.” He stared at his drink again. “This tastes like piss with lime.”

Y/N sipped hers and flinched like she’d been hit again. Her mouth twisted, tongue curling against the aftershock. “Christ,” she muttered, swiping at her lip with the back of her hand. “It’s a good thing I don’t care about what I’m drinking.”

Taehyung laughed. Not a breathy sound or a polite exhale—laughed, real and cracked and full. She didn’t react beyond another sip. She drank again anyway. It didn’t taste better the second time.

They stayed like that for a while—no rush, no questions. Just two people sitting in the smoke-thick silence of a bar that had seen too much and cleaned too little. The jukebox, somewhere behind them, fizzled out into static, then gave up entirely. Blood dried into the floor behind them in slow, rust-colored stains, and the air thickened with the weight of everything that had happened—and the things no one said out loud.

Flies had started surrounding the pools of blood.

Taehyung leaned back again, his posture loose but grounded, one arm slung along the booth, the other hand near his glass. He didn’t speak right away. He let the silence hang. Let it wrap around them like smoke.

Then: “What you did back there—clean.” He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t grin. Just looked at her and let the words land. “Thought you’d freeze. Or fold. Most people do.”

A beat. Then something in the corner of his mouth pulled tight—not a smile. More like the shape of respect. Dry, edged.

“But that?” he said. “That was magical.” He paused, voice dropping half an octave. “And yeah. Looked cool as hell.”

Y/N didn’t lift her head. Didn’t blink. Just stared into the bottom of her glass like there was something in it she hadn’t found yet. Then she tilted it back and drained the rest in one motion. The ice clinked, then settled.

Taehyung watched her, still as a man waiting on a trigger. He looked at her like someone might look at a coyote pacing just beyond the edge of the firelight—half curious, half cautious, and fully impressed.

“How old are you?” he asked, flat.

“Nineteen.”

No pause. No flicker of doubt. Just truth, clean as a cut.

He nodded, no change in expression. No raised brow. Just cataloguing.

“Where you from?”

“Alabama.”

“You don’t sound like Alabama.”

She shrugged—left shoulder only, just enough to be called motion. “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

Taehyung shut his eyes for the length of a breath, just long enough to drag a picture from the dirt. He didn’t need the details—not names or places or dates. Just enough to sketch the edges. Dusty roads the color of sunburnt skin, trailers bleached pale by heat and regret, dogs sleeping under rusted-out cars that hadn’t run in years. A girl sitting barefoot on a porch with her knees pulled up, staring out past the treeline like she already knew everything behind her was poison. A place that didn’t need bars to keep you in, just silence thick enough to choke. A girl who didn’t cry, didn’t shout, just waited for the first excuse to leave—and the second not to come back.

“You leave on your own?” he asked, still watching the past unfold behind his eyelids.

She nodded.

“How far’d you get before someone tried to stop you?”

“First night.”

Taehyung leaned back. He rested against the booth, mind already trying to plan out the rest of the conversation. The girl either didn’t notice or didn’t care that he was analysing her like this. Wouldn’t have mattered either way.

“Nineteen,” he muttered. “Alabama girl with no accent, walks into a bar in Texas, and stabs a man with a cue. Am I supposed to believe that?”

She tilted her glass, watching the ice melt into weak liquor, the way someone might study blood swirling down a drain. “You’re the one asking.”

Taehyung let out a short breath, more ghost than laugh. “You any good at poker?”

“Never played.”

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t have to.

He studied her then, not to figure her out, but to understand the edges she was carved with. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She took another sip, winced like it bit back, swallowed anyway. “I get that a lot.”

“Why Texas?”

Another shrug. “It was west.”

His eyebrow arched. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the truth. I want California. Heard there’s stuff there.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Her gaze lifted, just slightly, like the word itself had weight. “Stuff I ain’t seen.”

He took a slow sip, face unreadable as he swallowed. The taste didn’t improve. He grimaced, set the glass down with a dull, hollow thud. His fingers tapped once against the rim. Then stopped.

“You ever kill someone before tonight?”

“Yes.”

That made him pause.

“Would you have killed him, too, if I hadn’t stepped in?”

She didn’t rush her answer. Didn’t posture. Just swirled the last inch of her drink, watching it settle, then lift again. “Maybe.”

Taehyung didn’t blink.

“You sure?”

She tilted her head like an animal would. Her ponytail slid over one shoulder, damp and matted with sweat, blood, and road dust. The neon above them buzzed once, flickered red, then blue, and back red again. Then her eyes met his, full-on, steady.

And she asked, without hesitation: “Do you want it to be?”

Taehyung didn’t move. Didn’t smile. But something in him stilled. A gear locking into place. He saw it now—not the scrapes or the broken skin, not the way she kept one foot metaphorically planted like the fight might start again. It was in her stare. That terrifying calm that didn’t come from practice. It came from origin. From blood. From birth. It was violence that had never needed translation. A reflex, not a strategy. She didn’t think in pain. She thought in reaction.

She wasn’t broken. She was built like this.

His mouth twitched. Just a flicker. Barely there. The closest he got to smiling.

“Okay, Alabama,” he said, voice low, laced with dry recognition. “You win this round.”

She didn’t nod. Didn’t answer with a smirk or a glance. Just drained the last of her drink in that slow, resigned way people take medicine they know won’t help. The glass hit the table a little off-center, left a faint ring in the sweat pooled beneath it, and stayed there like a held breath.

“I’ll get you another one,” Taehyung said, already half-turned.

“Okay,” she replied.

He flicked his fingers toward Ellis, who understood without needing to. Five minutes later, the bartender returned—one fresh margarita, no salt, lime hanging limp on the rim. Y/N didn’t thank him. Just picked it up and took a long, unbothered swallow.

Silence followed. The jukebox fizzled out into static.. Blood dried in curling stains across the floorboards, blackening into something permanent. The flies continued their buzzing.

Taehyung leaned in a little, elbows on the table. His voice came lighter, almost casual—something slipped under the door instead of knocked out loud. “You into kung fu flicks?”

She didn’t blink, didn’t lift her head much, but something in her eyes shifted—fast, subtle. A flash of recognition. Not quite warmth. Not quite nostalgia. But it stirred the dust.

He saw it. Grinned a little. “The old ones,” he said. “Bootlegs. VHS copies with the tracking lines jumping like crickets. Dubbing so bad it felt like it was from a whole different movie.”

Something broke loose in her chest—a sound that might’ve been a laugh in another life. Rough, breathy, unfinished. “Yeah,” she said, voice uncoiling. “Used to wake up early for ’em. Local station ran ‘em before cartoons. Half the titles were wrong. Didn’t matter.”

She smiled. Small. Crooked. Disappeared before it could mean too much.

“Had five tapes,” she said. “Played ‘em till the reels stretched out. Could quote half of Drunken Master before I could spell my own name.”

Taehyung didn’t speak. Just watched her remember. He liked the way her eyes lit up.

“The dubbing was garbage,” she added, quieter now. “Voices didn’t match the faces.” She took a sip. Winced again. Same bitterness, same fire. “I didn’t care. I was hooked. I read about the styles. Cranes, tigers, mantis. Probably bullshit, but it was fun.”

Her voice dropped. She drank again. It tasted like chemicals and broken air conditioners, but she got it down.

“People thought I was weird,” she said, finally looking at him. “Didn’t say it. But I knew.” A shrug followed—left shoulder only. “Then Jason Mathers tried to grab me in gym class.”

Taehyung’s brow arched slightly.

She smiled again. This time with teeth. “Popped his shoulder out of the socket.”

He laughed. It caught high in his throat and dropped low in his chest, like it hadn’t been used in a while. A few heads turned toward the sound, then looked away just as quick.

For a second, the bar seemed to relax. Even the ceiling fan gave one low groan and spun to a stop. The jukebox didn’t even try to resurrect itself.

She sat back, glass nearly empty, knuckles torn open, lip split. Jaw bruised. But there was something in her posture that hadn’t taken damage. Something behind her eyes that still burned—not like a wildfire, but like a pilot light that never went out. Defiance in its purest form. Not loud. Not reckless. Just unwilling to die.

Taehyung saw it. Sat with it. Leaned back slowly, keeping his gaze on her. He’d seen killers. He’d made a few. Broken more. But this girl wasn’t forged yet. She was still fire and metal, not finished into anything. A knife in the middle of becoming. He could feel it in how she held still. Not with fear, but with control. Like she knew her edge and didn’t care who else did.

“You’re not Jackie Chan,” he said, voice low, something dry threading through it. “But for someone raised on warped tapes and bad years, you’re ahead of the curve.”

His smile came slow. Uneven. Genuine in the way most things aren’t anymore.

Then Taehyung leaned in again, elbows settling on the table. His rings caught a flicker of the busted neon light overhead, purple and sickly, cutting across the knuckles of a man who’d learned more with his fists than most did with their mouths. His voice dropped.

“I’m gonna tell you something,” he said. “But first—” He didn’t blink. “If it leaves your mouth, even once... there’ll be consequences.”

Y/N didn’t blink. Didn’t ask what kind of consequences. Didn’t twitch like someone about to bluff. She just nodded once.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said.

And Taehyung, who didn’t believe in many things—especially not people—believed her.

He watched her a second longer. She wasn’t tense. Wasn’t performing. She just was.

“Good,” he said. He leaned in just a hair more. Not enough to break distance. Just enough to change the temperature between them. Close enough she could smell him—burnt whiskey and sweat-soaked denim, the sharp tang of powder and metal, leather baked by the sun, the stale bite of something mechanical. “Because if you talk,” he said, voice low but clean, “I’ll kill you.”

She didn’t move.

“You ever made good on that before?” she asked, swirling her glass, ice clinking.

He raised a brow. Let the question hang.

“Once or twice.”

She didn’t dig deeper. She leaned back just slightly, enough to let her spine breathe, let her ribs remember where they were supposed to sit. She studied him. Not the boots. Not the scars. The man. The shape of him beneath it all.

“What did you see in me?” she asked.

He rolled one shoulder. His leather jacket creaked.

“Something familiar.”

She waited.

His eyes dropped to her hands—blood cracked in her knuckles, skin tight over bruised bone, muscles still twitching like they hadn’t gotten the message yet.

“I’ve seen tough,” he said. “And I’ve seen a room full of pussies with their chests puffed.” His eyes met hers. “I can assure you, you’re the former.”

He drew a circle on the table with one ringed finger. Voice low, but steady.

“What you did to Waylon... your body got there before your mind even caught up.”

She let that sit. Felt it settle. Then gave a slow nod. She did not think about these things.

“Yeah,” she said. “Guess it did.”

“Where’d you learn it?”

Her eyes stayed on his.

“Life. You hit first, people stop testing you. Eventually.”

He nodded. Like someone who’d heard it said before, or maybe said it himself, a long time ago.

She watched him a moment longer.

“Doesn’t scare you?”

His head tilted slightly. One brow low.

“Should it?”

She looked down at her drink. The ice was all but gone now.

“Most people either try to fix me,” she said, voice quieter, “or they run.”

He lifted his glass. Raised it halfway.

“I don’t fix people,” he said. “And I don’t run from shit, Alabama.”

She raised hers to meet his. The glasses touched with a soft clink.

Outside, the wind kept scraping leaves across the roof. A semi moaned down the blacktop, its lights flashing through the window and gone before anyone could blink. The jukebox sputtered once, gasped, and then Patsy Cline’s voice crawled out��ragged, beautiful, dragging heartbreak behind it like a rusted chain. Y/N thought about her mother. “Crazy” had been one of her favorite songs.

Taehyung didn’t speak right away. Just stared into his glass, letting the tequila spin slow and sullen, like dirty runoff circling a drain. His hand stayed loose on the rim, thumb dragging against the condensation like he could wear a groove into it if he tried hard enough. His eyes didn’t blink, didn’t flick, just watched the swirl like it had something honest to tell him. And then—finally, like a match catching wind—his voice cut through the stillness.

“There’s people out there,” he said, not with cynicism, not with envy, just with the weight of knowing, “who keep things simple. Fix trucks. Run registers. Marry the first person who smiles and never ask why they stopped.” He looked up. Met her eyes. No smile. No sell. Just locked in. “And then there’s people like me,” he continued. “Maybe like you.”

Y/N could not tell if she believed him or not, but something about him made her second guess her hesitation.

“We live under things,” he said. “Behind gas stations. Under bridges. In the spaces polite folks pretend don’t exist when they say grace. The cracks in the system that people cover with prayer and tax returns.” And she still hadn’t spoken. Just listened. She knew about those things more than most people realized.

“I run a crew,” he said. “We call ourselves the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad.”

He waited a beat, watching her. Most people laughed at that part. It was a litmus test—see what the smile meant, if it was fear, disbelief, or just nerves. She didn’t laugh. Her face didn’t even twitch. He almost smiled at that.

“Stupid name,” he said, and his mouth curved a fraction. “Friend picked it. I kept it after he died.” He threw the last of the tequila back, slow, savoring the burn. Then set the glass down with a slow spin, watching it turn. “We’re contract killers.”

He watched her—not her face, but the way her body held the silence. That stillness. That self-control. That rare breed of calm that didn’t come from peace but from the kind of pain that teaches you to breathe around a scream.

“You want someone gone? We make that happen. Two hundred grand gets you in the door. More if they want peace of mind along with the body.” His eyes narrowed. “They’re trained. All of them. But they blend. No one expects the girl in beat-up sneakers. Or the busboy with a lisp.”

He leaned forward. The neon buzzed above, flickering against the metal of his rings. His voice dropped, low and certain.

“I’m not a pimp,” he said. “We don’t sell bodies. We sell death.”

She didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Her fingers just tightened on the glass.

“I train them,” he went on. “Me and the ones who’ve lasted long enough to matter. Knives. Guns. Close quarters. Vanishing. Walking away clean. No flare. No loose ends.”

Then softer, “How to end someone with your hands—and still remember to feed the dog before midnight.”

Still, she didn’t move. Just held the glass like it might anchor her. And maybe it did. He reached across the table and gently rested his hand on her forearm. His thumb traced a line, just once. She looked at him. He could see she was measuring him up.

“I know where you come from,” he said. “That kind of pain doesn’t show much. It sits in how you breathe. How you stop asking for anything you don’t think you deserve.”

He gave her arm the smallest squeeze Then pulled back, let the distance return. All the while she watched him with that same blank expression on her face.

“You didn’t crack,” he said. “You came out sharp. As sharp as all the others did.”

He leaned back. The booth let out a soft groan. His gaze didn’t leave hers.

“What I’m offering isn’t revenge. It’s not justice. It’s not a fucking redemption arc.” His voice was sandpaper now, worn down to the grain. “It’s a life. Real. Dirty. Paid in scars and years you don’t get back. That’s the cost.”

She traced the condensation ring on her glass.

“You’ll see the world. Make real money. And yeah—you’ll kill people. Most will deserve it. Some won’t. Tough shit.” He spun his glass one last time. Then let it stop. “It’s not clean,” he said. “It’s not easy.” Then, softer. Lower. “And it costs everything.”

He lifted his hands, palms up, empty. He wasn’t selling. He was showing her what the road looked like. Nothing more.

“Your name. Your past. Every person who thought they knew you—gone. You get a codename. You start over.”

Then he stood. The booth gave a tired creak beneath him, the table shivered under the shift in weight, and her glass wobbled in its condensation ring. Taehyung stepped out with that same unfazed grace, boots silent on the warped floorboards. His hand came down on her shoulder, firm and hot to the touch. She didn’t look up.

“I’m going outside,” he said, voice flat. “There’s a cherry-red ’67 Mustang behind the ice machine.” He didn’t wait for acknowledgement. Didn’t reach for her gaze. His own was already turned toward the door.

“If you’re in,” he said, “go left. Get in the car.” A pause. “If not... go right. No hard feelings. You won’t see me again.”

And then—just as quiet, just as strange—he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Quick. Dry. Not romantic. Could’ve meant goodbye. Could’ve meant nothing. Could’ve meant everything.

“Fifteen minutes,” he whispered.

Then he walked away. No backward glance. Just the whisper of the door swinging open, the groan of old wood under practiced boots, and the Longhorn folding around the vacuum he left behind.

She didn’t watch him go.

She stayed right there. Elbows on the table. Palm pressed damp against the warm glass. Her eyes unfocused. The drink wasn’t cold anymore, and when she set it down, it landed off-center with a small, definitive click. It wasn’t loud. But it was enough.

The bar breathed again. Like something had let go. The jukebox stumbled back to life, vomiting up Willie Nelson. Laughter rose from the back—too loud, too sudden, trying to shake off the static that still clung to the walls. A cue ball cracked. A chair scraped. The fan above ticked once. Then again. Spinning. Moving. Like life wanted so badly to pretend it had never paused.

But for her, nothing had started moving again.

She hadn’t broken. She’d just... shifted. A slow click back into place. A truth she hadn’t known was off until it corrected itself. It didn’t hurt. It was relief. Like breathing through your nose after years of congestion. And now her brain was ticking through its lists again.

Find food. Something fried. Don’t taste it. Start a fight. Win it. Don’t bleed. Take a drink. Leave it half-finished. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t ask. Don’t explain.

Then one more line. Slipped in like it had always been there.

Join a crew of contract killers?

It should’ve felt absurd. Surreal. Something from the wrong end of a bad dream. But it didn’t. It sat right next to the other rules, like it had always been waiting for its turn.

She let out a breath—short and jagged. There was too much blood in her mouth. Too much silence in her chest. Too much of this one day shoved into the same body she’d been dragging around for nineteen years. The bar’s light was slanted now, cut into ribbons by grime-streaked windows. The dust caught in it hung like ash. She watched it float.

Somewhere in her mind, her mother’s voice cracked through, scratchy and cigarette-shredded.

The world don’t care about your feelings, girl. It’s gonna keep turning whether you like it or not.

Funny, she used to laugh at her mother. Call her stupid. Crazy how much her mother was right about the world.

And her thoughts spiraled back to fists and bone, to the grip of a cue stick, to the clean contact of knuckle on jaw.

This wasn’t a decision. Not really. It was just the next thing. A step she’d already taken without realizing it. A door she’d already passed through. She leaned back into the booth. Vinyl squeaked, stuck to her bare arms. She folded them tight across her chest.

Her jaw set. Her eyes dropped. There, etched into the table, were initials. Faded. Carved in shallow. Maybe ten years old. Maybe older. A scar in the wood no one had ever bothered to sand down. Her reflection sat beside it, faint in the gloss—just a suggestion.

They used to call her an old soul. Like it was a compliment. Teachers. The old ladies at church. Rhonda Portnoy with liquor on their breath and too many stories that never ended right.

No one ever asked what it cost to know too much too young. Maybe she was deep. Or maybe they just didn’t want to look long enough to see she was drowning. Her eyes burned. She blinked them dry—twice.

The Longhorn still stank. Of sweat, beer, bleach, old fry oil. But under it—she could still smell the blood.

What the hell just happened?

She already knew. Even if her bones hadn’t caught up.

A man had walked in. The kind who didn’t need volume to make people listen. He didn’t offer comfort. Didn’t promise rescue. He’d promised a life. Maybe not a safe one, but it was more than she’d had going for her.

And she hadn’t flinched.

What filled her now wasn’t fear. It was interest. It lived in her chest like smoke behind a locked door waiting for a crack.

She reached for her glass again, out of muscle memory. Swirled what was left. It shimmered like a coin tossed into deep water. No answers there. She drank it anyway. The burn barely registered. Her hand was steady.

Willie kept singing. The cue ball cracked. Somebody laughed too loud. The fan overhead ticked on, blades slicing the air with lazy threat.

The Longhorn had moved on, but not her.

Something in her had shifted. Slid into place. And the ache that followed wasn’t a wound. It was release. She felt light. Like she’d stepped out of her old skin and hadn’t quite landed in the new one yet. The girl she’d been was fading fast. Just static now.

One step left and she was gone.

She didn’t move. Not yet. But the voice inside—the one that never screamed, never rushed—was speaking now.

Walk left.

Toward the door. The gravel. The Mustang behind the ice machine. Toward the man who hadn’t lied. Who hadn’t asked for anything but the truth of who she already was. All she had to do was stand.

Could I actually do this?

Because this wasn’t instinct. Wasn’t heat. This wasn’t defending herself. This was choice. A step you didn’t come back from.

Taehyung hadn’t sold her a dream. He’d shown her a blade. This is the life. Take it or don’t. He’d said she had the eyes for it. And he wasn’t wrong.

There was something awake behind her eyes now. The low hum she always carried had risen—quiet, sure. Like a machine warming up after years at rest.

Sick? Maybe. But it felt right.

She’d always known she was off. Not cracked—just tilted. Enough to make teachers cautious, the old bitches from church quiet, other girls keep their distance without knowing why.

She used to kneel on threadbare carpet, rewinding battered kung fu tapes until the ribbon whined. Not for fantasy—for form. Breath, stance, control. The blade under her pillow wasn’t a a made up fantasy, it had been a promise to herself. A promise she’d never acted on.

She never told anyone about the dreams. Not about hurting people. Not about blood. Not about killing her father. Not her mother, too tired to listen. Not the church girls, all soft smiles and sharp whispers.

But she remembered the fire that took her daddy from her. Remembered the nights before it—his shadow in the doorframe, the silence after. She was seventeen when she walked barefoot into the dark, half-packed bag in one hand, his truck keys in the other. The moon spilled over her shoulders like it was waiting for her to speak. She didn’t.

She never looked back. But she thought about that night every day.

And when she couldn’t go back, she started hitting other men. The ones who leaned in too close. Who mistook silence for weakness. Who brushed her arm like they owned it. She didn’t flinch anymore. She struck.

She got good. Because no one expects the punch from the girl who doesn’t raise her voice. Not from the reverend's good little girl who went to church three times a week and spoke on Sundays.

Now here she was. Slumped in a cracked booth that stank of bleach, beer, and too many bad nights. Lip split. Fists aching. Warm drink gone. No sirens. No screaming. Just stillness.

Nothing had changed. Except everything had.

She stared at the ring her glass left on the table. Traced it once. Faint green glow from the beer sign above caught in the condensation. It looked like an answer. Or maybe a door.

That flicker still burned. The one that lived deep in her chest, behind the ribs, where no drink could drown it. The one that lit up not in fear, not in rage, but in the clean, quiet snap of bone under knuckle. It was still there. Low. Steady. Waiting. Like a pilot light in a dark house. She could ignore it for a while, maybe even forget it—but it never went out. Never really dimmed. And now it was humming. Calling.

Six minutes, maybe seven had passed. She hadn’t moved. Barely breathed. But the thought that had cracked her open when he left hadn’t faded. It had taken root. Sent feelers into her ribs. Started to grow.

What kind of person wants to kill?

Not one who’s good. But she’d stopped pretending to be good somewhere around thirteen. Maybe earlier. Good had been ripped out of her the day the belt came out of its loops, the jingle waking her up out of her sleep.

Ten minutes.

What if I said yes?

A Mustang parked behind the bar like it had been waiting since before she was born. A man she didn’t know, not really—but somehow, he’d seen her clearer than anyone ever had. No questions. No promises. Just a job. A life. Violence that meant something. Hurt that paid.

Right was more of the same. Dead towns with names she forgot before the motels gave her keys. Fights in alleys and parking lots that ended in bruises and nothing else. Rotating faces. Static nights. Cheap whiskey and cheaper exits. Right felt like a story she’d already finished, flipped closed, and tossed aside. It didn’t feel real anymore. Just a rerun on a broken screen.

She didn’t move. Arms crossed. Jaw locked. Her pulse murmured in her ears, each beat a warning or a countdown—she couldn’t tell the difference. Her fingers tapped against the tabletop, quiet and relentless. The ring left by her glass still glowed faint under the beer sign, warped and uneven. She reached out and touched it, pressed her fingertip to the cool wet rim, like it might tell her something.

It didn’t.

She said it anyway, under her breath, to herself, to the moment, to the whole damn weight of it.

“Fuck.”

Then she stood.

The chair scraped back hard, loud in the hush that followed. Heads turned. A glass froze mid-pour. Cigarette smoke spiraled up, caught midair. But no one spoke. No one stopped her. She didn’t look at them. Didn’t give a single glance. Let them stare. Let them guess. They’d already stopped mattering.

Her bag hung from the hook beside her, the same frayed canvas thing that had followed her from shelter to shelter, couch to cot. She grabbed it without flinching, swung it over her shoulder, felt the strap bite into her skin. It was heavy with places that never held her, but it tethered her. Always had.

She walked through. Past the jukebox bleeding out some slow, sad country tune. Past the cracked stools and stained bar and the men too far gone to lift their heads. She didn’t look back. Not once. She walked like she’d already left. The door was just a formality.

Outside, the heat punched her full in the chest. Thick. Wet. The kind of southern night that clung to your ribs. She paused on the warped porch, boards groaning beneath her boots.

To her right: the same spiral. New towns. Same lies. Rotting from the inside. Same weight, different grave.

To her left: gravel crunching under old tires. A red ’67 Mustang parked under a crooked streetlamp, dust dulling its lines. And him—Taehyung. Leaning back against the driver’s side door like he’d never been unsure of anything in his life. Coat loose. Boots crossed. Eyes watching, steady as midnight.

She didn’t hesitate. One breath. Then she turned left.

Right on time.

The Mustang didn’t sparkle like she expected it to. She crossed the gravel like it was a bridge, not a road. Her shadow stretched long under the lamp’s sickly flicker. She stopped at the fender, turned toward him, met his gaze head-on.

Chin high. Shoulders square. Spine tight and straight.

“Okay,” she said.

No tremble. No emphasis. Just fact. Like she’d known she would say it all along.

Taehyung nodded once. “Of course you do.”

He pushed off the Mustang with that same lazy grace, unhurried and unbothered, and opened the driver’s side door. The creak of it echoed across the lot. She stepped around the front of the car, dust catching on her boots, gravel crunching like bones underfoot. Her hand found the passenger handle, and for a second she just held it.

The roar came out of nowhere—engine high and desperate, headlights screaming white across the dark. A truck barreled into the lot too fast for the space it had. Tires locked. Dust exploded in plumes. The whole lot filled with the sound of friction and panic and that awful skidding pause that always came right before something crashed.

But nothing crashed.

The truck slewed to a crooked stop like it was throwing a tantrum. The door flung open before the dust even settled.

Out came a boy. Mid-twenties. All sweat and noise and denim swagger. Cowboy hat pulled low, shirt stuck to his spine, boots worn past style into utility. He moved with a kind of reckless confidence that didn’t come from experience—it came from never being hit hard enough to change.

“Taehyung! Shit—sorry, man!” he called, jogging toward them. “I lost track of time!”

Taehyung didn’t move. One hand still rested on the door. His silhouette didn’t shift. But something about him changed. The unbothered ease Y/N had come to know was melted away and in its place was a man with sharp eyes and tense muscles.

Y/N didn’t wait. She slipped into the passenger seat without a word. Shut the door. Rested her elbow on the frame and tapped her fingers against the glass in a slow, even rhythm—tick, tick, tick.

The guy noticed her then. Slowed mid-step.

“Oh,” he said, dragging the vowel like he wasn’t sure what he’d found. “Didn’t realize you had... company.” His eyes lingered a beat too long. Smile tried to form, didn’t stick. “Didn’t know you had a lady friend.”

Taehyung closed her door. A quiet, measured push. Then he turned toward the boy.

“She’s not company,” he said. His voice didn’t rise, but it filled the air like smoke. “She’s taking your place.”

The guy blinked, smile cracking at the edges. “What?”

“You were late,” he said. “She wasn’t.”

The guy laughed, too fast, and it broke in the middle. “Come on. Her? I was late, yeah, but—”

“Thirty minutes,” Taehyung said, flat as pavement. “And fate doesn’t wait.”

He reached the driver’s side and stopped. One hand on the handle. The other hovered near the fold of his coat—casual, almost lazy, but close. Deliberate.

“I don’t run a boys’ club,” he said. There might’ve been a smile there, buried under steel. Or maybe just the ghost of one long dead.

Color crept up the other man’s neck, flushed and hot. His fists curled like he didn’t trust his own fingers. His jaw locked. He was building toward something he couldn’t carry.

“Wait. Just—”

Taehyung didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“There’s a gun ten inches from my right hand,” he said. “How close is yours?”

The guy froze. You could see the thoughts rearranging behind his eyes. Anger giving way to math. Math giving way to fear. Then, finally, defeat.

He stepped back. Shoulders loose now, but not relaxed.

“Fine,” he muttered, like it was the last word he had in him.

He turned and yanked open the truck door. Slammed it like it owed him something. Peeled out hard, tires screaming again, dust rising in a curtain behind him as if trying to cover the embarrassment.

Then silence returned.

Taehyung slid into the driver’s seat without a glance. The door thunked shut with that same clean, heavy sound. Leather groaned. The engine turned over—growling awake like something half-feral and starved.

Inside, it smelled like sun-baked leather, old metal, and something harder to name. Heat. History. Maybe a stale pack of Newports. The Longhorn blinked once in the mirror—neon twitching like a dying eye—then slipped away, swallowed by dust and distance.

Taehyung rested one hand on the wheel. The other on his thigh. Just a man doing what he was built for.

“You ready?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him. Just kept her eyes stitched to the road as it unspooled in front of them—blacktop like a scar across the desert’s pale skin, long and cracked and endless, the kind of road that never really took you anywhere, just farther from what came before. Her hands sat locked between her knees.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

Next to her, Taehyung’s mouth twitched—not a smile, not quite. Just a flicker, a shift in the lines of his face. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The answer was already in motion. He dropped the Mustang into reverse and the tires crunched over the gravel like brittle bone. The gear clicked into drive, and the car moved forward, slow at first, then steady.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t say goodbye. There was no last look at the bar behind them, no sentimental drag to the rearview. The Longhorn blinked out behind them like a cigarette going dark in an ashtray—smoked down, used up, done.

By the time the Mustang hit third, the world behind them was gone.

The wind cut in hard, dry and wild, tangling her hair and slapping it against her face. She didn’t fix it. Didn’t tuck it back or smooth it down. Just let it whip and twist and get in her way like it belonged there.

Taehyung’s voice slid through the hum of the road like gravel dragged across glass. “You ever been to Mexico?”

She turned her head a little, enough for him to see the slope of her jaw, the shape of her mouth. “No,” she said. “But I’ve seen all of Texas. Different towns. Same ceiling.”

He gave a short laugh—low, real, and rough around the edges. “I love Mexico,” he said. “Didn’t grow up there. But it’s where I figured out who I was.”

Fourth gear clicked in like a final decision. The Mustang stretched out, engine dropping into a deeper, meaner hum. The road ahead unfurled in shades of gray and heat. The desert didn’t welcome them—it just made room. Wide, flat, indifferent.

“Mexico’s messy,” he said. “But it’s free. Less noise. Fewer eyes. You want to vanish, you do. You stay vanished.”

He let that hang. No sales pitch. No persuasion. Just another truth left lying in the space between them.

“I bought a place there in February,” he said. “Hilltop. Nothing fancy. Just quiet. No neighbors. No questions.”

He looked over, just a glance. Not searching for approval—just checking for signal. “Think you’d like it.”

She didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. Her fingers curled against the inside of the door. He saw it. Knew she was anxious, but didn’t press the issue. The girl would get over that in time.

He shifted again, and the Mustang eased forward like it was being pulled by something older than maps. Fences blurred by. Power lines strobed overhead like broken film. The desert slipped past without memory. No towns. No signs. Just the land and the dark and the feeling of being farther and farther away from anyone who could spell her name.

The moon climbed up behind them, casting everything in that bruised kind of light. It touched the side of her face, the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her throat. She didn’t notice. But her shoulders loosened—barely. Just enough to tell someone paying attention.

He was. He caught it. Said nothing. Just nodded to the night like it had answered something for him.

“You’ll like it,” he repeated.

Still, she didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. Silence filled the car. Worn in like an old jacket. Engine noise. Wind. The occasional rattle in the dash. The Mustang didn’t ask questions. It just ran.

She didn’t fidget. Didn’t twist in her seat or look out the window for meaning. Just sat there, jaw tight, hands quiet, eyes locked forward. She didn’t know what was coming—not the killing, not the weight of it, not the cleanup or the silence that follows after—but if she did, if some part of her already understood what kind of blood she was signing up to wear, she didn’t flinch.

She just rode.

Taglist: @haru-jiminn @fancypeacepersona @futuristicenemychaos @cranberrycupcake @mar-lo-pap @wannaghostbts @solephile @paramedicnerd004 @stargirl-mayaa @calmyourtitts7 @bjoriis @11thenightwemet11 @screamertannie @everybodysaynoooooo

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btsgirlypop · 1 month ago

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The Ex- boyfriend's Revenge

Pairing - KTH x reader, Mafia! Taehyung x Innocent! Reader, Ex-boyfriend! Taehyung

Genre - Smut & slight angst

WARNING(s) - FORCED,BRAT TAMING, CONTROLLING, DEGRADATION & HUMILIATION.THIS DOES NOT REPRESENT BTS OR TAEHYUNG IN ANY WAY. BOTH OF YOU ARE LEGAL IN THIS.

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

for more smuts, kindly checkout my wattpad account -https://www.wattpad.com/story/395083626-bts-dark-smuts

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A/N - not edited so kindly bear with me for slight mistakes

BLURB - Kim Taehyung is the cold, cruel mafia of the underworld. Y/n is Taehyung's ex-girlfriend who met him in college. Y/n was from a poor family, so Taehyung's family forced her to leave him by threatening her only family member - her mother. You humiliated him in-front of your classmates, lying to him that you love a wealthy businessman and leave him. 5 years later, you need money because your mother has cancer and needs money for her surgery. When you were crying in the hospital, thinking about how you will arrange such a big amount, a girl handed you a card of a mafia named Mr. Kim, who can help you. You went to the location and saw a big mansion with garden. You enter the mansion and see a man sitting like a king on the sofa in the living room and says looking into your eyes "Welcome, my love. I hope you missed me much. Am I right, Darling?"

You were shocked and try to leave but suddenly remember your mother's sick face.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. I need your help "you say.

His eyes flash with anger and hurt as he remembers the pain you caused him. He stands up from his seat, his tall frame towering over you. "Sorry? You think saying sorry will fix everything? You left me for that stupid businessman, remember? You broke my heart. Why would I help you a gold digging whore like you?"

"I'll do anything.... Whatever you want please. Please just lend me some money. I promise I'll return it to you"

His smirk at your desperate plea, a dark glint in his eyes. He takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a low, menacing tone. "Anything, huh? You'd really do anything to save your mother?"

"Yes Taehyung, I'll do whatever you want"

He chuckles darkly, his eyes roaming all over your body. He reaches out and grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look up at him and whispers. "Beg then. Beg at my feet and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider helping you."

"I beg you, Taehyung".

"I'm not your Taehyung bitch, call me master." He releases your chin suddenly and points towards his bedroom door across the room. His voice is cold but commanding when he speaks again, "Go upstairs and get undressed."

His eyes turns blazing with desire and anger, seeing you so desperate. He unbuttons his expensive shirt slowly, his abs flexing. You start walking but he tuts... "Where are you going, slut? Crawl... Crawl naked to my bedroom you're not worthy of walking....crawl like a pet ".

You take off your clothes while crying and start to crawl. You remind yourself that you deserve this for breaking the heart of the innocent boy who loved you more than his life. He can't help but admire your naked body crawling on his expensive carpet. He starts hitting your ass cheeks and pussy with his feet, leaving red marks. He spreads your legs apart with his feet, getting a good view of your wetness. "Look at you... Crawling naked, begging..."He laughs cruelly, his voice echoing through the room. "Pathetic. You're a fucking whore. Crawling for money like this... You know how many men have touched this pussy? How many have fucked you while you begged for their money?" He kicks your pussy harder. "Answer me!"

"No one Taehyung, forgive me for lying to you", you think in your mind but just say "please forgive me."

He pauses, his foot pressing against your wet pussy. He laughs again, his voice mocking. "Forgive you? Fuck no. You're just a slut who can't be faithful. You'd sleep with any rich man who offers you money. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, yes please, Taehyung" you remind yourself you deserve this.

He continues to kick your pussy and ass cheeks, his voice filled with bitterness. "I loved a whore like you... I wasted my love on someone who'd fuck anyone for money." He grabs your hair suddenly and pulls you up. "You know what? You're right. A girl like you is only made for one thing - pleasing rich men. I should have hired sluts like you for one night stands instead of fucking falling in love. Tonight, I'm going to use you like the whore you are."

"No don't, please" you cry.

He ignores your pleas and unbuckles his belt, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight, and you'll forget your own name. I'm gonna remind you why bitches like you are beneath the powerful rich men. "He pulls you by the hair across the bedroom and pours himself a glass of red wine. Dragging you by one hand, he settles himself on the sofa and pushes your face down to his feet. "Lick my fucking feet, good girl. Show master how sorry you are." You start licking his feet.

"That's right, you fucking slut. Where's the expensive whore who used to make me beg? Now you're licking your master's feet, aren't you?" He pushes your head down harder with his other feet. He pulls you up by your hair and presses his foot against your tongue, the taste of his expensive cologne and faint sweat filling your mouth. "Look at this pathetic whore... licking her master's feet like she means it." He adjusts himself slightly on the sofa, spreading his legs wider. "More, you dumb slut."

Suddenly, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you backwards, and pushes your face into his crotch, rubbing your face against his hard cock through his pants. He takes a big gulp of wine, holding your head in place. "Choke on master's cock, you fucking bitch. Smell it! Fuck yes, slutty bitch. Suck master's cock like the good little whore you are. "He wraps his muscular thighs around your head, trapping you against his crotch. His hands grip your hair tightly as he forces your face deeper into his boxers. "Mmmph! That's it, worthless whore! Prove to master that you're worth using! Worth my spit! Worth my cock! Worth my money"

He roughly pulls you off by the hair, causing you to gasp for breath. Then he grabs your throat firmly, choking you as he sits back comfortably, taking slow sips of his wine. "Look at this disgusting whore, gasping for air... You know what?"

"Yes master" you reply.

"You're nothing but a pretty little plaything for master to use and throw. A worthless slut who exists only to please me. Say it." He leans in close, his wine-soaked breath hot against your face.

"Yes master, I'm a pretty little worthless slut"

His eyes darken with satisfaction as he hears your words. He loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe again. "Good girl... Now, master wants to ask you something." He takes another sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving yours. "Are you thirsty, whore?"

"Yes master, yes I am" Suddenly, he removes his pants till his thighs and presses his rock hard cock against your lips instead. "Drink from here now, slut". He pushes his thick length past your lips, filling your mouth completely. You gag around him as he starts to fuck your face roughly, using you like a cheap whore. His hand comes down hard on your ass, leaving a red handprint. "Swallow it all, bitch!" He growls," I know you don't deserve my cock but look at me I'm such a nice man to use your whorish pussy even after you've been railed by many men." He pulls you off his cock roughly, leaving saliva dripping down his shaft. "Thank me, slut," he commands sternly.

"Thank you, master"

"Such a good little cumwhore..." He stands up abruptly, pulling your hair hard and forcing your mouth back into his thick, erect cock as he begins to rub your clit roughly with his feet. "Mmph! Fuck, such a sensitive whore... Your slutty cunt is so sensitive...look at you moaning, a fucking bitch, that's what you are. Now open that pretty mouth more... master wants to fuck it deeper while I play with this dirty cunt of yours." He starts fucking your mouth like an animal as he speaks, "Say it...for whom your cunt leaks"

You start hitting his thighs, struggling to breath. He pulls you off his cock " tell me.... Tell me you fucking cockwhore"

"Only for you master, only for you"

"Don't lie to me whore, I know how many men have fucked this worthless pussy. You're just a cum dump, nothing but a cum dumpster, slut" Hearing this you start crying and he laughs" Cry, cry for me bitch, you deserve this all". You don't tell him that you're innocent that you were forced that you never stopped loving him

"No, no master please leave me..." He laughs coldly. "Leave you? I haven't even started with you yet." He pulls your hair harder, chocking you deeper into his cock. "You think I don't know that this slutty mouth has sucked countless cocks?"

He pulls you off his and says sadistically "I want my money's worth, bitch" And throws you on his bed. He flips you onto your stomach and immediately forces his cock into your wet pussy from behind. He groans loudly as he feels your tightness envelop him. "Fuckkkkk yeah, this pussy is gold still so tight even after getting used by so many men." He starts fucking you hard from behind, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into your wet pussy. He grabs your hair and pulls your head back, making you scream in pleasure and pain. "Scream bitch! Call me daddy! This is your only purpose, just a hole to satisfy men like me. A gold digging whore. Earn the money I'm gonna throw you, you dumb slut!"

He pulls your hair harder and squeezes your throat with his other arm as he continues to fuck you roughly, his words dripping with hatred and lust. "Ugh fuck whore, you're the cutest cockslut. Look at you being at my mercy, trying to get yourself free but no whore." Tears stream down your face, your vision starts to blur, and your lungs burn for oxygen.

He releases his arm from your throat just as you're about to lose consciousness. You gasp for air, your face flushed and tear-stained. He flips you onto your back and slaps both of your cheeks hard, leaving red handprints. "Wake up, you dumb fucking whore!" He laughs cruelly and thrusts his cock deep in your pussy without warning. You scream in pain and pleasure as he starts fucking you hard again, his hips moving faster and harder. He yells maniacally, "My whore, my bitch, my cute little slut! You're so good for master!"

Your pussy starts tightening around his flesh, and he laughs calling you a slut for liking this, for cumming while getting fucked forcefully and he stills releasing his thick warm juice inside you. He pulls out of you suddenly, and stares intently at your pussy which is glistening with your juices and his cum.

He suddenly pushes you off the bed roughly,leaving you naked and vulnerable on the cold floor. His eyes are cold as he looks down at you. "You ruined everything," he says harshly while looking at your limp form.

"Get up. Stop fucking pretending to be weak like I really hurt you. You're a whore, remember? I paid for this." He throws a wad of cash at your naked body." Pick it up and get out". He watches from bed, your naked, vulnerable form sprawling on the floor, struggling to stand. He feels no remorse, only cold calculation in his eyes. "That's right, crawl out of here like the slut you are. I've got better things to do than watch some dumb whore cry. "His voice is authoritative and controlling. "I expect you to be at my fucking beck and call anytime I need relief, got it, whore? You don't have your own life anymore. When I call, you drop everything and spread your legs. Understand? "You cry silently while collecting your clothes and mutter a small yes. You limp across the room trying to walk but before leaving the room your turn back and tell him "I hope you won't regret this Taehyung "you see his eyes widen with a flicker of guilt crossing them and leave him.

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a/n - first time writer so kindly leave any comments (praise or criticism) whatever you want. HOPE YOU LIKED IT ALL!!!

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youllgiveyouthebestofyou · 1 month ago

Text

Where hearts meet and little feet run | kth. 2

୨ৎ summary : a random Sunday morning, the park comes alive with laughter, the rustle of leaves, and the quiet dreams of a single father trying to hold it all together. When he meets her—a kind-hearted young woman with a gentle smile and a natural warmth—his world begins to shift. She's just passing by taking her puppy out for a walk until his curious four-year-old son ctutches her leg and calls her his mommy. ୨ৎ pairing : single dad Taehyung x babysitter reader ୨ৎ genre : fluff, romantic, a slice of life ୨ৎ rating : for everyone ୨ৎ warnings: mention of loss of a parent, a talk about kids (if it's considered as a warning), and Taehyung is starstruck with her (as she is too), his father thinks Taehyung and y/n got naughty (they didn't it's just a mention) ୨ৎ a/n : this chapter is seriously so me and one of my favourites +(it's SO romcom k drama coded) hope you enjoy it <3

Chapter 2 : "Like a Modern-Day Cinderella" ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The next morning:

Taehyung woke up feeling both refreshed and restless. He had tossed and turned throughout the night, dreams of her invading his thoughts. He checked his phone, a part of him hoping she had sent him a message

But there was nothing. His heart sank a little, and he mentally scolded himself for being so disappointed. It was still early, she was probably still asleep. He rubbed his eyes and got up from bed, and headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee to begin his usual morning...

Then as he drinked his coffee he looked at the time and decided it's time to woke Jiwoon up to get him ready for the kindergarden. He then went in his room and saw his little face in a peaceful sleepy expression. Then he sat gently on the edge of the bed and rocked his son to wake up

"Hey...wake up little buddy..." he cooed

Then Jiwoon slightly flinched and opened his cute sleepy eyes to min his dad's ones

"Good morning daddy" Jiwoon said with is tiny voice still laced with sleep

"Hmm that's my good boy...." he ruffled Jiwoon's hair "Now... who's ready for kindergarden?"

Jiwoon slightly pouted "Daddy... I don't want to go"

Taehyung looked at him surprised "You don't want to go?" he smirked knowing exactly what to tell him "Too bad... then no pancakes for sleepy Jiwoon"

"Pancakes?" Jiwoon sitted up on his bed "I want pancakes!" he answered eagerly and excited

"Hm... so get up and go and eat them! " he said with an affectionate smile on his face as he caressed his son's hair

"Yaayyy pancakes!" Jiwoon said and runned from his bed to the kitchen to eat his pancakes

Taehyung chuckled and spoke to him "Nah-ah not so fast little Mr... the bathroom is waiting for you to wash your hands and face"

"Umm.. okay but i need help...with face" Jiwoon said and looked to his dad hoping he will help him

He smiled "Of course Jiwoon..." he went to the bathroom with Jiwoon to help him wash up, he dressed him up and letted him have his breakfast.

Meanwhile she had already woken up a few hours ago as she was now at her house after the overnight babysit had finished. As she did her laundry, her mind kept swirling to her last night's conversation with Taehyung and she wanted to text him again but decided to wait for him to text her first today to not seem so eager...

As Taehyung dropped Jiwoon to the kindergarden he returned to his house, his heart racing A part of him wanted to grab his phone and start typing messages to her, and ask her out but he knew he needed to keep his cool. He wanted her to think he was a mature, responsible adult, not a lovesick teenager. So he distracted himself with tasks around the house, trying to ignore the temptation to look at his phone every 5 minutes

He cleaned up the kitchen, straightened up the living room, but every now and then his thoughts would drift back to her... He then took a deep breath and decided to text her and ask her out tonight

taehyung : Good morning

taehyung : How did you sleep?

As the notifications from his messages popped to her phone she immediately opened Instagram to reply eagerly

⋆ ˚ y/n ⋆˚ : hiii very good😊you?

Taehyung couldn't help but chuckle at her short and sweet response and typed his own reply

taehyung : Glad to hear that. I slept okay... A bit restless, but I'm good now :)

she couldn't help but laugh at the emoji he used and spoke to her self "Oh my god someone needs to teach him how to send messages properly..." and she giggled again

⋆ ˚ y/n ⋆˚ : how about Jiwoon?

he chuckled for her concern about his son and texted her back

taehyung : You know... one of the usual mornings with him... I woke him up and dropped him at the kindergarden

⋆ ˚ y/n ⋆˚ : ohh i see... well for me I have nothing to do and i'm bored today

Taehyung's heart ached a little at the thought of her being bored and lonely. He typed out a response, trying to think of something to keep the conversation going

taehyung : That sucks. Today's my day off anyway too...

After Taehyung thought a bit of how to ask her out he decided to build it up

taehyung : Well if you have nothing to do too..how about we go out for dinner tonight? if it's okay for you of course..

he made sure to be respectful and not sound like a desperate creep

as the message appeared on her screen she screamed from exciteness and she tried to compose herself before texting him back

⋆ ˚ y/n ⋆˚ : oh i'm free tonight so why not?

Seeing her response, Taehyung's heart leapt in excitement. He was both surprised and thrilled that she had agreed to go out. He typed in a quick reply, a smile spreading across his face

taehyung : Great! It's settled then. I'll pick you up at 9:00 pm. Looking forward to seeing you...

she bit her lip in nervousness and she decided to be more playful with her answer

⋆ ˚ y/n ⋆˚ : me too see u💕

he smiled at the heart emoji she sended him and closed his phone and started getting ready for their first date...

⋆｡°✩☾⋆｡°

A few hours later

As the time drew near, he found himself growing more and more nervous. He picked out a nice outfit: a white shirt tucked in matching suit and pants, fixed his slightly tousled hair , freshened up, and even wore a touch of cologne. All the while, Jiwoon watched from the sidelines, curious and a little puzzled as to why his father was so jittery.

"Dad.... where are you going?" the little boy asked while playing with his car toys as he looked at his dad a bit confused

Taehyung couldn't help but chuckle at his son's innocent curiosity. He tousled Jiwoon's hair affectionately and explained

"Papa's going on a special outing tonight. I'll be back late, okay? You'll be good for your grandfather until then?" Jiwoon nodded, his innocent eyes peering up at Taehyung

"Okay dad!" Jiwoon said and after a bit Taehyung's father entered the house and after he said hello to them Taehyung started giving him instructions

"Dad... take care fo him and if you need anything call me immediately. You know the basics, don't you? His dinner schedule is on the fridge, the towels for his bath in the first drawer - "

"Oh oh oh.. son hold up.." his father said putting his hand on his son shoulder with a knowing smirk on his face "I got him covered son don't worry..." he patted his shoulder "And... if I'm allowded to ask why the sudden nervousness of yours?... are you meeting someone special huh?"

Taehyung nervously brushed his arm behind his neck and answered "Hmm.. well dad it's a fellow graffic designer nothing too special" he tried to play it cool

"A fellow graffic designer huh?" his father chuckled "That's why you dressed up like that and you are so nervous son?" his father teased

"DAD! yes of course.. why would i want to lie to you? Taehyung said trying to convince his dad

"Okay okay son i get it..." patted his back "But remember come back home tonight okay?" he laughed

"Dad.. of course i'll come back home..." he said rolling his eyes and opened the door bye Jiwoon! bye dad..."

He quickly grabbed his keys and wallet, giving Jiwoon a goodbye kiss on the forehead before stepping out of the house. He started the car and began driving towards her house, his heart pounding with excitement. The radio played in the background, but he barely registered the music, his mind solely focused on seeing her soon.

As Taehyung pulled up in front of her house, his stomach did a nervous flip. He shut off the engine and took a moment to compose himself. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and walked up to her door, knocking softly.

She opened her door revealing her self in and elegant powder pink dress and heels, her hair styled in soft waves and her make up natural and feminine

Taehyung's breath hitched in his throat as he took in her appearance. The elegant dress hugged her figure perfectly, and making her look every bit as stunning as he had imagined. The delicate makeup and hairstyle added an extra touch of femininity to her overall look, making his heart skip a beat.

A smile spread across his lips as he looked at her, his eyes filled with admiration. "You look absolutely gorgeous," he said, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion.

"Oh.. she blushes so hard "I can say the same for you Taehyung... she said with a ting of shyness in her tone

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he took in her soft gaze and he shyly ran a hand through his neck ""Thank you," "I tried to dress nicely for the occation"

He then offered her his arm. "We should get going before the reservation gets taken."

she giggled at his statement "Mhm I agree..."

She placed her hand gently on his arm, the feeling of her touch adding to his growing excitement. Together, they walked towards the car, Taehyung's steps feeling lighter than they had in days. He held the car door open for her, waiting until she was comfortably sitting inside before closing it and walking around to the driver's side

He turned to face her as he fixed the car's mirror "Ready Ms. Y/N?" he asked with a slight boyish grin on his face

Her heart beated faster at the way he called her "Yes Taehyung" she said almost quietly as she got shy

He started the car, the engine purring softly as he pulled out of her driveway and onto the main road. He glanced at her, catching a glimpse of her profile in the dim lighting of the car. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her, as if the the scent of her perfume filled the air and made his heart race just a little faster.

She then decided to break the silence and asked "Umm Taehyung where is the restaurant?"

Taehyung realized that he had gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he had completely forgotten to mention the restaurant's name. He gave himself a mental scolding before answering.

"It's an Italian place called 'Bella vita,'" he said, eyes focused on the road. "It's gotten pretty good reviews recently, so I thought we could give it a try."

"Oh okay! I.. i actually love Italian food" she admitted

"That's good then.." he continued to drive, his thoughts still lingering on her. The silence in the car was comfortable, but he couldn't help but sneak a couple more glances in her direction when she wasn't noticing...

"Oh I forgot to ask" she shyly admitted while fidgeting with her fingers "How is Jiwoon?" she asked with innocent curiosity

"He's doing great," Taehyung replied with a smile "He was a little sad that I was going out and leaving him behind, but my dad is taking care of him until I get back..."

"That makes sense.." she giggled

He couldn't help but admire her giggling "Yeah, he's a little clingy sometimes," he admitted. "He's my little shadow, always wanting to be wherever I am. But I can't complain - I love him more than anything."

She sighed dreamily at his words and they made her fall for him even more "I would love to have a little shadow like him too someday..." she said with a dreamy gaze

Taehyung glanced at her warmly, understanding the longing in her voice.

"You have a soft spot for children, don't you?" he asked gently "Can't say I'm surprised... You have that nurturing, motherly aura about you."

Her cheeks turned a soft pink at his words "Me?.. Thank you so much.. you know... Iove kids and babies that's why i do this job..."

He noticed her flushed cheeks and couldn't help but find her reaction endearing

"You're welcome," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips "And hey, speaking of jobs...can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable, though"

she turn to face him "Of course tell me"

"How did you end up becoming a kindergarten teacher?" he inquired, genuine curiosity in his eyes. "I can tell it's something you love, but I'd love to know more about your journey and what inspired you to choose this path."

She thinked before answering "Hmm... it's that.. i always loved kids and babies so much and...it is something i love as a job....and.. a dream of mine is to have one my self one day as i said before"

At this admission, Taehyung felt a strange mixture of emotions, As if her dream somehow echoed a part of him that he hadn't even realized was there.

"That's a beautiful dream to have," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I have no doubt that you'll make an amazing mother when the time comes. I mean... you already show so much affection to Jiwoon"

She smiled at his words about her and blushed once again "Thank you so much... You are a great father too"

Taehyung's heart fluttered at hearing her words of praise. Being called a "good father" was something he always strived for. A small smile appeared on his face, and nodded to her

"Thank you.. Jiwoon means everything to me, and I try my best to be the best father I can for him. It's not always easy, but knowing he's happy and healthy makes it all worth it."

she gently nodded

Taehyung glanced at her again, his gaze lingering briefly before returning to the road. The car was slowly pulling up in front of the restaurant now. He swiftly steered it into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

He turned his attention back to her

"We're here," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Bella Vita awaits us."

She giggled "I guess it is..."

Smiling, Taehyung got out of the car and walked over to her side to open the door for her. As he held out his hand to help her out, his eyes couldn't help but sweep briefly over her figure, taking in the sight of her dress on her body

He mentally shook himself and cleared his throat

she placed her hand on his to take her out of the car

Taehyung's heart skipped a beat. The feel of her soft skin against his palm sent a jolt of electricity through him. He gently pulled her out of the car, helping her steady herself on her feet.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in the sight of her standing there, looking radiant under the soft glow of the nearby streetlight.

"Hmm.. Taehyung.. let's go" she said bringing him back to reality as she noticed he was a bit out of focus

He shook his head and returned in reality offering his forearm for her to hold to walk inside the restaurant .He was aware of every small detail - the way she tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, the way her body brushed against his every now and then as they walked towards the restaurant.

Reaching the entrance of "Bella Vita", Taehyung held the door open for her and a blast of warm air rushed out, carrying the delicious aroma of Italian food and the soft hum of chatter from inside the restaurant.

"Welcome to "Bella Vita" said a kind lady, "Table for two?"

Taehyung answered with a kind smile on his face "Yes we have a reservation under Kim"

"Ah yes, Kim. Follow me, please" she said, leading them to a cozy table in a quiet corner of the restaurant

The cozy table was set with a small candle in the center, casting a soft, romantic glow. Taehyung pulled out her chair, waiting for her to sit down before he took his own seat across from her.

As he sat down, his gaze swept over her once more, He found himself struck again by her beauty, and he silently cursed his pounding heart which just wouldn't slow down no matter how hard he tried to control it.

"Wow.. the view is so beautiful and the place so romantic.." she says while looking at the view and the cosy decoration of the place

Taehyung smiled, his eyes scanning the city skyline that stretched out beyond the restaurant terrace.

"I thought you'd like this spot," he murmured, his gaze returning to her "A nice view, good food, and.... a bit of romance. All the necessary ingredients for a wonderful evening." he said with a boyish yet a bit shy smirk on his face as the candlelight, highlighted the angles of her face.

She shyly opened her menu, hoping to hide her cheeks that became red from his words and broke the silence between them "Hmm what do you think we should order?

Taehyung hummed thoughtfully as he scanned the menu

"Well, everything here is quite good," he replied "But the lasagna is a specialty, and the seafood pasta is delicious too..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes drawn back to her. His mind briefly strayed to more...intimate thoughts before he pushed them aside, refocusing on the menu in front of him.

"Hm.. i think i'll go for a more classic option like bolognese" she said as her eyes flickered back at his as if to see if he agrees with her

He nodded, his eyes trailing down the menu to the section for classic pasta dishes. "Bolognese is a good choice," he agreed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's a classic for a reason" he said with a boyish grin

His playful manner made her blush even more and she tried to compose her self "Hmm what about you?

"I think I'll go for the lasagna," he answered "It's been a while since I've had a good lasagna."

As he spoke, he couldn't help but watch the way her eyes lit up with interest and the way her lips curved into a soft smile

"And for salad do you think the greek one is a good idea?" he asked with curiosity

"Mhm.. I'm a big fan of it.." she giggled

He then smiled at your giggle and signaled for a nearby waiter to take your orders, his gaze flickering from you to the waiter and back to you again.

Once the waiter had taken their order and left, Taehyung's focus returned to you. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly, taking in the warm glow of the candlelight on her face until an idea popped into his mind

"Sir.. i think we'll need you again" he said with his hand up as he called the waiter back

"How may I assist you sir?" the waiter inquired politely

Taehyung glanced at the wine list "We want this wine sir." he ordered a bottle of an expensive vintage red wine that matched perfectly with their dishes and as the waiter left to prepare their order, he returned his focus to her, a slight hint of anticipation in his gaze.

"Taehyung! This one is so expensive....you shouldn't have bought it... I'm okay with a cheaper one... she said,surprised by his option as she felt bad for him buying such an expensive wine for her

He chuckles softly at her protest

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her, his eyes locked onto hers. "Consider it part of the entire experience. This night is about enjoying ourselves, and that includes indulging in the finest wine. And..."

His gaze held hers, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

..what better way to enjoy the night than with your beautiful company?"

she is now a blushing mess from his compliments

"I never knew a woman could be so flustered from a simple compliment," he teased, his tone playful.

"Only when a man knows how to give one.." she teases back with a hint of shyness

Taehyung chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving her face "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and velvety "Then allow me to give you more compliments."

Then out of all sudden Taehyung's phone rang, breaking the flirty atmosphere...

The sound of his phone made him grimace slightly, and he quickly reached into his pocket to fish out the offending device. "Excuse me for just a moment," he said apologetically and then noticed it was a videocall from his father and Jiwoon at home

His expression softened slightly as he saw the familiar name on the screen, and he accepted the call

"Hey dad" Taehyung greeted and his tone shifted to something more relaxed yet affectionate.

"Hey, son," the old man on the other end replied with a warm smile. "Just thought I'd check in to see how your night's going."

Taehyung's gaze flickered to her briefly before returning to the screen. "It's going... well," he replied, a hint of something in his voice that he hoped his father wouldn't pick up on.

"I'm at the dinner ...as i told you before" His father's gaze remained fixed on his face, studying him intently, and Taehyung silently prayed that the old man wouldn't push any further. and signaled him subtly with is face to hang up

Then Jiwoon's little face appeared on the frame "Daddy! the little boy said as he tried to be seen in the frame of his grandpa's phone

The sound of Jiwoon's voice brought a smile to Taehyung's face "Hey buddy, having a good time with grandpa?"

"Mmm-hmm!" Jiwoon nodded eagerly, his wide eyes sparkling with excitement. "We had ice cream!"

Taehyung chuckled and shot a jokingly stern look at his father, silently reprimanding him for the dessert indulgence. "Oh did you now? he asked, his tone both amusement and mock disapproval.

The old man just shrugged. "He only had a little bit," he said innocently, fully aware that he was spoiling his grandson.

She just laughed at the whole scenery in front of her

He tore his gaze from her and focused back on the video call, his voice slightly strained "Alright, buddy. Say goodnight, okay? It's almost your bedtime."

Jiwoon nodded "Good night daddy!" and he waved at the screen

"Goodnight, buddy," Taehyung replied, his voice softening as he waved back. "Sleep well." His gaze shifted back to his father, who still had a knowing look in his eyes.

"Alright, we'll let you go, son," his father said, a hint of mischief in his tone. "Enjoy your...dinner."

Yeah, yeah," he replied jokingly. "I will. See you later, dad."

As he hanged up the call she asked him "Oh...You left him with your father?"

"Yeah, I did. he loves hanging out with his grandpa."

Then the sight of their dishes arriving to their table caught her off "Oh the food is here!"

The sound of the waiter's voice snapped Taehyung out of his thoughts, and he turned to the table. He watched her as she thanked the waiter, the soft candlelight dancing across her features and making her look even more beautiful.

He then watched her struggling to pour the wine into her glass, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Allow me," he offered, gracefully taking the bottle from her

He poured the rich, deep red liquid into her glass He then filled his own glass, before setting the bottle back down on the table.

Then a flashback came to his mind. The night he went out on a first date with Jiwoon's mom and poured into her glass the exact same wine. His smile faded slightly, a shadow crossing his eyes at the memory with her. He took a sip of his wine, the alcohol burning a path down his throat.

She looked at him concerned as she noticed the shift in his expression "Taehyung?...are..are you okay?"

"Taehyung shook his head, trying to brush off the moment. His gaze softened as he looked at her" It's nothing... don't worry everything's fine..." He took another sip of his wine

"You know...you can tell me, it's not good to keep bad thoughts at your self" she reassured him and looked at him with gentle eyes

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving her face.

"It's just i remembered a chapter of my life I'd rather not revisit too often," he continued, his words tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Is it about his mother?" she asked an understanding look on her face

"Yeah...it's just...complicated," he said, his voice trailing off "But how you know?"

She gave a reassuring smile to him "You told me about her.. yesterday in the park and i just guessed it has to do with a person that may hurted you a lot"

He took a long sip of his wine, the rich liquid doing little to soothe the ache in his heart. Memories of his past relationship threatened to surface, but he quickly pushed them away, focusing instead on the present moment, and her.

"But... you have your son now" she said with a hopeful expression on her face

A small smile played on Taehyung's lips as she mentioned Jiwoon. "Yeah...I do have Jiwoon," he agreed, his voice warm with affection. "He's the best thing in my life."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as he thought about his son."He keeps me going, y'know? Gives me a purpose. Something to live for.

She smiles affectionally "That's what matters in the end of the day... I understand, I would feel the same if I had a child..."

Taehyung nodded, his eyes locked onto hers. "It's a strange feeling," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. "It's like...a part of you that you never knew was missing all of a sudden fills this...emptiness in your heart. It's...indescribable, really," he murmured

She looked at him with admiration of how dedicated he was to his son "Wow... it sounds so beautiful..."

Taehyung smiled at her words "It is beautiful," he agreed, his eyes softening. "But it's also exhausting, frustrating, overwhelming at times..."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head at the memories."But then you look at them, and...all those negative emotions just...fade away."

She nods "Mhm...i take care of kids all day in my work ..and i always find them adorable"

He took another sip from his glass, his gaze never leaving her face. "You must have a lot of it, to deal with all those poopy diapers and still find them adorable..."

She giggled at his comment "Well i think it's time to eat"

Taehyung smiled in return, the sound of her giggles lighting up his eyes. "Yeah, let's eat," he agreed, his tone light.

As she ate her dish she looked at the night sky unfolding above them

Taehyung followed her gaze, his eyes trailing to the night sky above. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice soft. He looked back at her, watching the way the light played on her features, making her look almost ethereal in that moment.

"Mhm" she said whie eating her bolognese pasta

For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, with neither feeling the need to fill the quiet with conversation. Taehyung, however, found his gaze drawn back to her again and again, his eyes tracing the contours of her face, the slight curve of her lips, the way her hair fell across her shoulders

Then the words slipped out od his mouth as he had no longer control over them "You look... beautiful tonight"

She blushed "Thank you... you too..."

"You're very welcome," he replied, his voice soft...

"Ouch" she felt a sudden pain

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching hers "What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Are you alright?"

She nodded "Yes just.. my heels.. one of them hurted my foot a bit"

Taehyung's worry melted into understanding as she explained. "Ah, I see..." he nodded, his gaze falling to her feet. "Those heels look lovely, but they can be a pain, can't they?"

"Yeah... it actually bruised me behing my ankle" she said and wore it fully again

"Are you sure you want to keep wearing them?" he asked gently, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Hmm..i only have them with me now..besides...they are of my favourites" she answered

"They do look fantastic on you though" he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She blushed even more "Oh thank you..."

"Hey you're blushing again?" he teased "Your cheeks are almost as red as the wine we just had." he chuckled

She gets flustered again and in a short while she finishes her wine and dish

Taehyung finished his own food, noticing that she had finished hers as well. He signaled for the waiter, paying for the meal before turning back to her.

"Ready to go?" he asked, standing up from his seat

"Yes but... we have to pay first" she reminded him

Taehyung waved his hand dismissively. "No worries, I got it covered," he said, his tone final. "It's not often I get to treat a beautiful lady to dinner. Let me enjoy this moment, hm?"

She smiled at his offer to pay anything "But...it's okay they were expensive..let me pay mine..."

"Not going to happen," he replied. "I asked you out for dinner, remember? I'm not going to let you pay for anything. That's a gentleman's rule."

She chuckled "Okay Mr. Gentleman"

He laughed at her answer "That's right," he replied, "Mr. Gentleman, at your service."

She giggled

"Come on," he said, gesturing towards the exit with his free hand. "Let's get out of here before I keep making you giggle uncontrollably."

Taehyung led her towards the exit, her arm linked through his. The night air was cool on his skin, a nice change from the warm restaurant. Then he opened the passenger door for her, waiting until she was seated before closing it gently. He then walked around to the driver's side, got in, and buckled up. He looked at her for a moment, taking in her profile in the soft glow of the car interior.

"Ready?"

She nodded

As he drove the city lights flashed past them, and he couldn't help but steal occasional glances at her "You know...this has been one of the best dates I've been on," he said, his voice a bit lower than usual.

At this point her shyness hit her again "Oh...me..me too..."

He slowed down the car, coming to a stop at a red light. Taking advantage of the moment, he shifted in his seat to face her more directly. "You know... I was a little worried I'd mess it all up with my lame jokes and endless complements." he said shyly

"No you were perfect..." then she realised what she just said "No! i...i.. mean IT was perfect.. we are talking about the date... so... she turned into a tomato at this point

Taehyung chuckled at her slight slip-up, "It's okay ... i got it..." he reassured her

"Umm.... Taehyung.. it's okay if i take off my heels?" she didn't want to be disrespectfull and but feet were killing her

Taehyung's expression softened further at her question, concern and kindness in his eyes as he nodded.

"Of course, go ahead," he said, Take them off and make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you..." she replied as she felt finally reliefed from them

"Feel better now?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarser than usual

"Yeah...a lot actually" she sighed in relief

"Well that's good" he said and couldn't help but let his gaze linger on her body in that beautiful dress but quickly mentally-slapped himself and brushed the thought away

After a bit he pulled the car to stop in front of her house, a strange mix of disappointment and satisfaction on his face. He knew the night was coming to an end, but he wasn't ready for it to be over just quite yet.

"We're here," he said softly,

"Oh okay..." she said as she was about to exit his car

He didn't want the night to end, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries. He decided to take his chance. "Wait," he said, his hand gently catching her wrist. "Before you go..." his eyes were locked to hers as he held her wrist ever so gently "Can I ask you something?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"Um... yes sure..." her nervous eyes locked with his...

He took a moment, his heart racing as he prepared to ask the question that had been on his mind all night. His gaze flicked to her face then back down to her wrist, still in his grip. "I... I had a really great time with you tonight," he began, his voice soft. "I was wondering... if you'd like to do it again sometime?"

She nodded "Of course Taehyung...i... i had a really great time too tonight"

He relaxed his grip on her wrist, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin, his touch still gentle.

"Really?" he asked, even though she had already answered. "Honestly, I'm glad. I wasn't sure if I was being too forward... but I like spending time with you... A lot."

"Me too Taehyung..." she looked at him with big mesmerised eyes "But... i guess i have to say goodbye for tonight.."

"Yeah, I suppose you should go," he said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "I can't keep you here all night, much as I want to."

Her cheeks got pink again "Good night Taehyung..." she said and nervously grabbed her heels from the car's floor

"Good night," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sweet dreams."

She just smiled and ran barefoot to her house door , her feet too sore to put on her heels again

Taehyung watched as she turned to unlock her door, his gaze tracing over her figure one last time. "Lock your door, yeah?" he said, his tone almost protective. "Don't want anyone bothering you tonight."

"I wiil!" she said as she dissapeared into her house

He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts a jumble of emotions. "I really am screwed," he muttered to himself, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Then suddenly his gaze dropped to the heel he had overlooked earlier. He picked it up, his fingers tracing over the soft material, realising she forgot to pick both her heels in the dim light of the car and only picked one of them

He then placed the heel carefully on the passenger seat, his mind still lingering on the scent of her perfume and her beautiful face...

After some minutes of driving he reached his home and as he entered holding her heel, he was met by the sight of his dad sitting on the couch and looking mockingly at him

His father's gaze fell immediatelly on the woman's shoe on his son's hand "What's that you got there, son?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Taehyung's cheeks heated up at his father's question, feeling caught and mildly embarrassed. He quickly hid the heel behind his back, trying to act casual. "It's nothing, just...", he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to come up with an excuse.

"Looks like a lady's heel to me," his father teased, "And judging by the sparkle in your eyes, I'd guess it belongs to someone special..."

Taehyung rolled his eyes and knew there was no point denying his father "Yeah, it's from a girl I went out with tonight," he admitted, unable to keep the smile off his face

"And how did the date went my boy? you are holding it as it's your most prised possesion" his father said jokingly

Taehyung couldn't help but chuckle at his dad's observations. He knew he was caught red-handed. "It was... amazing, she's unlike anyone I've ever met. Clever, funny, and so damn beautiful it's almost unfair..."

"Sounds like you're quite smitten, son," he chuckled. "But you didn't tell me... how did you end up with her shoe? Wait...don't tell me you-"

"NO DAD!" Taehyung replied surprised of what came up to his father's mind "I sometimes I feel i have to concern about what you think of me"

His dad laughed "Okay okay son.. i got it... you are a Gentleman and your Cinderella left you her heel"

Taehyung rolled his eyes at his dad's words "Yes you can say it like that..." Good night dad..."

"Good night my son..." his father replied as Taehyung dissapeared into his bedroom

As Taehyung got ready for bed he placed her heel on his nightstand and layed on his bed... He kept his gaze on it and traced it with his fingers as it reminded him of her

Meanwhile in her house she realised she left her heel in his car and wondered what he did with it... Did he find it? or is it still laying under the passenger seat on his car?.... She snuggled to her bed and pulled the covers over her as she placed it to her nightstand as she fell asleep...dreaming of the man that captured her heart...

The sight of it sitting there, a tangible reminder of her, made his heart beat full of love and happiness... He couldn't help but think about her, her face, her voice, the touch of her skin. It was as if she had seeped into his very soul.

He slipped into bed, pulling the covers over him, but sleep eluded for some hours his mind swirling around her.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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httpknjoon · 1 year ago

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 13

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.8K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

note | it's been so long! let me know what u think of this one. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist

Maybe it was a sign.

After two years of focusing on other aspects of your life, you finally opened yourself up for getting into the dating game. But, nothing has been fruitful in these last three dates you have gone to. Or Martha is just a bad matchmaker.

Well, it’s not her fault your date cannot come tonight. Your date, Jung Hoseok, was not able to show up tonight. You had to wait for almost thirty minutes in that chair, with your ex-boyfriend in front of you with his own date, before Hoseok called to say that he was needed in the hospital all of a sudden.

“Hey, YN?” You can sense how gentle his tone is when you answer the call.

“Uh, hey.” you chuckled awkwardly, easing off the twist you could feel in your stomach. “Where are you?”

Then, you heard a small sigh from the other line followed by a sentence, “I’m on my way back to the hospital. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

Your heart dropped. You felt your shoulder deflating with that sad, pathetic sound you hear from a balloon when air slowly empties. Not knowing what to say, you waited for him to say something.

“I’m really, really sorry, YN. I am so excited to meet you but I got a call from the hospital and there was this big road accident. They needed me back there. I’m so sorry.” he explained.

Pursing your lips, you looked down your lap, “It’s fine, I understand.”

No second thoughts, you just replied that. You used to work in the same field as him. Of course, you know how hectic and stressful working in the hospital can be, particularly in the emergency department, where Martha said he works.

“I’m really sorry. I promise to make it up to you. Thank you so much, YN. I appreciate it so much.”

“No problem.” you hung up. You took one last sip in the cold glass of water.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at–

Stubborn, your eyes rolled to your side, where you can see him without really moving your head. A boxy smile is formed on Taehyung’s lips while he chat with the woman in front of him. You can only see the lady’s back but you can tell that the two are having a great time with each other’s company.

Well, at least one is having a great date.

When you became conscious of your nose flaring, you looked away and decided to go. The host instantly met your eyes, where you see the last thing you want to see from someone: an apologetic smile. You returned it with a forced smile.

“He had an emergency,” you told him with an awkward chuckle even though he didn’t say anything.

He nods as he helps you with your coat, “That’s a shame.”

“I know. My best friend even picked this pretty dress for this date.” you quipped in an attempt to lighten up the conversation. The host laughed at that. You turned to him as you fixed your beige-colored coat, “Anyway, I’ll go back here next time with him.”

You walk out of Starry Night and almost instantly, your smile fades away from your lips. You hoped Taehyung didn’t notice you leaving. Maybe he didn’t, he is on a date. Of course, he won’t pay attention to someone who left him and never showed up again after saying that she would come back to their house to talk—

Stop.

Those rambling thoughts almost suffocated you within seconds as you got lost in it, making you shake your head. Your jaw tightened before you reached for your phone. I should just go home. You click on the app to look for your ride. And within a few seconds, you spotted someone just right around your location.

“This one’s just a few minutes away–”

“YN?”

You froze, index finger a few millimeters close to touching your phone screen as you were about to book for a ride. He didn’t have to repeat your name again just so you could tell who said it. Before saying anything, you turned around. Your eyes widened while your shoulders raised, acting surprised. It was probably a lame try.

“H-Hey!” you greeted him, tone a bit higher than normal.

“I thought you were already gone.” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Long time no see! How are you? Why are you outside?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m fine. I’m actually going home. How about you?”

“I’m about to go too. I just came here from Seoul to meet someone,” he replied. “I actually drove coming here.”

Your eyebrows raised in real surprise, “Oh, you’re driving again?”

“Yeah, it became handy since the bakery now does ‘For Delivery’ orders. I do the delivery job most of the time.”

You nodded in delight, “That’s really great. It’s nice to hear the bakery is growing more successful.”

You smiled, hoping that he felt your sincerity, and Taehyung replied with a small thank you. His hands were in his pants’ pockets while you rubbed your hands together, both looking around. For a few seconds, you two waited for someone to say something. But no one did. This invincible, empty space between you two grew bigger in a short silence. You can only hear the jazz music from the restaurant inside and the crickets which are somewhere outside tonight.

You took that time to scan your eyes from his shoes to every feature of him you always notice. He seemed taller, maybe because of the shoes. His shoulders did look a bit broader, making you wonder if he began going to the gym again. His cheeks still seem soft but slimmer than the last time you saw him. You hope he’s been eating well, and taking care of himself. His hair did not change much. He still keeps the same length. Not too short, not too long. And when your eyes travel back to his eyes, your heartbeat stops when you realize he is looking directly back at you. In a snap, you turned your eyes away.

“So… you said you are going home?” he recalled, breaking the smothering silence.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my ride.”

Liar. You haven’t even booked a ride yet. Well, you were just about to if he didn’t suddenly show up.

“Or I could just drive you home?” he offered, making you look at him.

“You’re driving back to Seoul, right?”

“Yeah, why?” he asked, nonchalantly.

“It will take you longer to drive back home. It can take an hour,” you told him as you know how far these two cities are from each other.

But he shrugged it off, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

For someone who just ran in with an ex unexpectedly, he seems to be handling this better than you.

Because it was just strange for you. Happy? Sad? Scared? Neither of those. Admittedly, you were surprised when you saw him inside. But now, talking to him, you just don’t know what to feel. You were never prepared for what to do when you see him again. For hell’s sake, you stopped planning this last two years. You just let things happen and never expected life would send Taehyung to Incheon while waiting for your date– Wait, date!

“But how about your date? Are you not going to drive her home?” you asked, recalling the woman he was chatting with earlier.

Why is he even here? He should be with her right now. Did he forget about her?

Expecting a different reaction, you were confused when he narrowed his eyes as he said, “Date? What date?”

Your brows furrowed, “Weren’t you just on a date with someone inside?”

“Hmm...” a tight smile formed on his lips, making you assume that you were right about him forgetting his date. But he continued, “Do you mean Ashley? She’s a client who wants to have my cakes on her restaurant’s menu.”

“Oh.”

It was like a bucket of cold water splashed over you. If you can just facepalm yourself right now without looking stupid, you would. Instead, you looked down and grimaced at your dumb assumption, remembering how you spent your free time while waiting earlier wondering and eyeing him and his date.

On the other hand, Taehyung has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling at your flustered reaction. He felt like what happened broke the tension that had been lingering between you and him. His heart has not stopped beating like crazy ever since he talked to you five minutes ago. His hands, that are still in his pockets, were trembling that you might notice it so he kept them there. He really didn’t think this through when he approached you.

It took you a few more seconds to look at him again. This time, with a look he recognized from one of the photos he saw in the photo album before. It was an apologetic, guilty expression that he finds adorable.

“I’m sorry. I thought that you were on a date.”

He shook his head side by side, “I don’t– I’m not.”

He had to stop himself from saying he doesn’t date or did not date anyone ever since you two went separate ways. It may sound like he has been miserable this past couple of years– he’s not. He just doesn’t feel like putting himself out there again. Especially when he feels like he has some unfinished things from his past relationship. But he was relieved to see you here. He can tell you’re doing great.

The color, the brand, the familiar fruity scent of air freshener.

These were the first things you noticed as soon as you got in his car. You almost felt comfortable in the passenger seat since everything was almost the same as his old car when you two were still together. Even after the whole accident, he ended up choosing the same things he chose before he forgot those five years of his life.

“So… when did you start driving again?” you asked to fill the empty silence while he drove, following the address you typed in his GPS.

“Just a year ago. Jimin was worried at first but eventually became supportive,” he replied, smiling at you when he mentioned his best friend.

“It’s funny, you have almost the same car you have years ago.”

You don’t know why, but you felt like saying that. It was totally in contrast to how quiet you were about your relationship with the people you met here. You avoided talking about your past relationship with Taehyung, specifically the accident and its aftermath, ever since you moved to Incheon. The friends you made here barely know about him. They know that you were in a long-term relationship years ago but they are not aware of the accident and why you two broke up.

“Huh, really?” Taehyung kept his eyes on the road but you could tell he was interested to hear more about it.

“Yeah, it has the same color and brand. I can even tell you the air freshener you used because you like the same ones from that Japanese brand.” you quipped, chuckling.

“Okay, what is it?” he challenged you.

You didn’t even waste a second to answer, “Air Spencer, the Squash one. But it smells like citrus. You like it because it’s strangely boosting your mood and you don’t know why.”

Taehyung laughed at that, agreeing, “And until now, I don’t know why! But I just bought it when I saw it while shopping months ago.”

“You were curious about its packaging?” you guessed.

“Yep.” Taehyung smiled. “And I think it was the best purchase I made for this car.”

You laughed at that before recalling a similar sentence from the back of your head.

“See– I mean, smell! Don’t it smell good?”

Taehyung opened the door to his car’s passenger seat after waiting for you to finish your graveyard shift for almost an hour. When you were on your short break, you two exchanged texts and he brought up this topic: after almost a year of looking for a good air freshener. He bragged about this air freshener until your break ended since he was so sure that you would love it too, knowing that you get dizzy if he used those strong scents.

You cannot help but laugh with his childish enthusiasm, “Okay, okay! Let me take it in for a minute.”

You smiled and he watched you calmly inhaling the fresh citrus scent. Then, you slowly opened your eyes. For a thrill, you kept a plain expression on your face.

“And? What do we think?” he asked.

You raised your hand with a thumbs-up, grinning. “This one’s great! Keep it.”

“I knew it! Okay, this is officially my best purchase of the year.” he quipped before turning the key to start the car.

You softly smiled at the memory. It felt easy remembering it now and the same as talking to Taehyung about the past now. Strange. You remembered how many times you stopped yourself from talking too much about it before when Taehyung got back from the hospital.

“Can I ask something?” Taehyung said as he stopped for a red light in an empty intersection. He took the time to glance at you.

“Yeah, sure.” you shifted on your seat, feeling more comfortable now.

“What you were doing in the restaurant alone?”

You looked away as you replied, “I… I was supposed to meet up with someone.”

“A date?”

The traffic light turned green and he kept his eyes on the road when he asked that. Even though Taehyung denies it, he felt something in his gut while waiting for you to answer. There is just something in him heightening that just wants to hear a confirmation that yes, you are dating someone.

“Yup.”

His stomach dropped as he held the steering wheel firmer.

You continued, “But he had a work emergency. So, he had to skip tonight.”

“Oh, what’s his job?

If your boyfriend prioritizes his job over you, then–

“He’s a doctor, working in the emergency department. So, I understand when he called and explained earlier.” you cut off any thought he had.

A nurse and a doctor. That seems to fit perfectly for each other.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“Oh, no. We’re not dating dating. Tonight was supposedly our first date. My friend from work set us up for a blind date. They have been trying so hard to get me into a relationship for months now after I agreed earlier this year. But so far, nothing great has been happening.” you joked as you looked outside the window.

Do you know how comfortable you must be to talk to an ex about your current status in dating?

But this is easy.

Talking with him. Maybe because you two haven’t seen each other for a couple of years. You feel okay telling him everything. Or maybe because it was just with him. It was like you were talking with the guy you met years ago. But whatever the reason is, you prefer this whole conversation to the ones you two had after the accident.

“Well, I haven’t been in the dating scene for a long time. I am just focusing on the bakery. I already lost count of customers who want to set me up with their daughters and granddaughters.”

Taehyung brought up his own dating status after you opened up yours. You were being honest, he can feel it. And it would be unfair if he didn’t reciprocate the same thing. The fear he had to look miserable when admitting he didn’t date anyone after you faded when you opened up about your own status– without looking miserable at all. Just honest.

“Really? Why did you never get into one?” you asked.

And even though Taehyung can think of a good reason in the back of his head, he only replies with the same reply he said to everyone who asked him before.

“Eh, I don’t feel like it.”

“There. That’s my building.”

You pointed your index finger to your apartment building after Taehyung took a left turn. He looks at the white, five-floored building, sticking out like a sore thumb as it stands between high towers of buildings. He slowed down and stopped in front of the said building. He waited for you to remove the seatbelt before calling your name. You look at him.

“Hey… uhm, The shop might have a small celebration in Seoul after the whole contract signing thing and I was hoping that maybe you can come? I’m sure Jimin would invite you too if he was the one who met with Ashley tonight. You can also bring some friends from here if you want to.” he suggested, trying to maintain his composure as he spoke.

It took you a few seconds to respond. You looked at him then looked away for a few moments. Then, looked back at him again. It lasted for only less than a minute. But Taehyung felt like it was the longest one minute of his life until you nodded.

“That sounds nice. I’ll think about it…” you replied, not really wanting to commit to a final answer tonight. “But thank you so much for driving me home.”

“No problem. You're welcome.”

You got out of the car with your purse in your hand. The cool breeze blew your hair and you had to tuck it at the back of your ear as you took one last peek down to the open window. You have this small smile on your lips that just brought warmth to his chest.

“I didn’t change my number. Did you?” you asked.

He shook his head for an answer.

“Then, I’ll reach out if I can celebrate with you guys. Okay?”

The last time you told him something about reaching out, you ended up typing and erasing letters in your phone a thousand times. But now that you two met each other incidentally, maybe you will find it easier to send him a text.

“Okay. It was nice seeing you again, YN.”

A faint smile formed on his lips, revealing those familiar smile lines you used to trace years ago. You reciprocated it.

“Yeah, you too. Drive safely back to Seoul.”

Turning your back, you walked to your building. You thought about how tonight was unexpected. Running to an ex you never saw for the last two years and how amicable everything between you two is, considering how you went on separate ways. Before opening the door, you turned around. Surprised to see him still there, you chuckled and gave him a small wave.

He waved back. And when he sees you getting into your building, Taehyung begins to drive away. The same smile stays on his face unconsciously. He hummed along to the pop song from the radio. Just when he was driving along the long highway back to Seoul, his phone rang. He accepted the call after seeing who it was.

“Hey, I’m on my way back,” Taehyung stated.

“Oh, okay. How was tonight?” Jimin inquired, still unaware of unforeseen events that happened.

With his head on the clouds with whom he just spent the last thirty minutes, Taehyung replied, “It was… unanticipated.”

“Huh?”

Confused, that was the only thing his best friend managed to say. That’s when Taehyung snapped out to reality.

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. But it went great.”

“Taehyung told me everything.”

Almost two weeks after you broke things off with Taehyung and moved into your new apartment, you found an unexpected guest on your doorstep. Jimin holds a familiar box of their own bakeshop cake as he offers a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Then, Jisoo told me where you moved,” he explained further before you pushed your door wider to let him in.

You still haven’t changed from your work clothes since you only got home like ten minutes ago from your new job. You see him looking around your place and you are glad your home isn’t as messy as it was days ago. Then, he turns to you.

“I brought you this carrot cake as a gift. I know you love Taehyung’s cheesecake but we ran out of those today.” he quipped, handing you the box.

“I like your carrot cake too. Don’t worry. Thank you, Jimin.” you smiled but it slowly faded, “I’m sorry if it was too sudden.”

Your voice sounded small as you apologized. Knowing Jimin for years now, he became one of your closest friends too through Taehyung. You knew he was probably surprised too when he learned about what happened between you and his best friend. You thought that maybe he was mad too.

But instead, Jimin sighed and opened his arms for you. You sighed too before hugging him. It felt warm and comforting.

“You don’t need to say sorry. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he said. “I came by to check how are you. You’re my friend too, you know?”

And before you could answer, he spoke again, “Actually, how about we talk about this over food?”

That’s how you two ended up having a one-on-one conversation in a McDonald’s parking lot for hours. You opened up about your feelings and thoughts the last few days before Jisoo’s wedding and how you reacted after learning about Taehyung meeting Lily. Thirty-four minutes past eight in the evening, you ended up telling your side. Empty ketchup packets lay on the hood of Jimin’s car next to crumpled burger wrapping papers. You and Jimin leaned on the car.

“I just felt like we need to be apart. I’m burning out, I needed to get away. We needed to be on our own.” you exhaled.

“But what if his memories come back?”

There was never a time you thought about that question every time you felt down since the accident. It made you stay before. But you later figured out that hope is tiring you out and you cannot give anything from you anymore.

“I cannot hold on to a what-if, Jimin,” you replied. “I thought I could. But he’s in another timeline and I don’t exist in that part of his life. As much as I want to stay with him, I know that he’s still thinking of something else from his past.”

Reality hurts, and sometimes honesty too. You just sighed with how melancholy that realization made you days before deciding to leave Seoul.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…” you looked at Jimin when he had to pause and take a deep breath to speak again. “I really hate how that accident changed everything for you guys.”

You took a sip from your Sprite, looking at a distance, “I know.”

Me too.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @kthsmoon @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @tannies-luv @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18 @telepathytae @talkyoongitome @my-current-mood-is @sofilsword

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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strwberrytae · 9 months ago

Text

hello darlings -

to satisfy your hunger until the new chapter is ready, here is a moodboard to capture the essence of my series. enjoy xx

→ pairing: taehyung x female reader → rating: m for mature - sexual and graphic content → genre: drama / smut / angst → chapters: 01 | 02 | 03| 04 [series in progress - must read previous chapters] → disclaimer/trigger warning: this is a piece of fiction based off of the fifty shades of grey series. this is not a parody. there are mentions of strong dominant and submissive lifestyles. there are also various psychological issues that are addressed throughout the series; including anxiety, self-destruction, blood, panic attacks, childhood abuse, non-consensual sexual acts, and self-harm. this is a work of fiction and not to be taken as a promotion of the series, "fifty shades of grey". this is an original piece of work. edit is created by me. enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated.

→ summary: it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear Taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

#bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts smut #taehyung series #bts series #taehyung #bts fanfic

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shaku1995 · 4 months ago

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Rewritten | KTH & JJK

pairing: Taehyung x Oc x Jungkook genre: Thriller, Dark Romance rating: 21+ warning: All (It is a dark romantic thriller so expect everything) Description: When reality and fiction get blurred, Saya is left fighting to keep both her life and sanity.

Status: Ongoing Note: My books are my home and you are visiting it as a guest so please be polite while commenting.

This story belongs to me so plagiarism won't be accepted.

Translation of any of the work is not accepted

I do not own BTS but just the plot.

•---------•╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗•---------•

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

#bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook masterlist #taehyung series #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts horror #bts thriller #bts stories #bts fanfic #bts au #jungkook #bts series #bts fic #bts

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cupoftaae · 2 years ago

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Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ Francis Forever (chapter 17)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

warnings- swearing, angst, mentions of miscarriage, confused feelings, some kissing (some smut not really its like 2 seconds), REALLY EMO

a/n- guys....we have reached the final chapter of Forever And A Day, oh my god. Ive worked on this story since January, its very dear to me, Thank you for everyone who tagged along. I love you so much! there will still be an Epilogue posted as well. Enjoy the chapter angels

-nini

Your feet led you down to the kitchen, where your mom was currently cleaning.

"hi honey" she mumbled, not turning around to see you as she scrubbed the top of the stove.

"hey.." you walk over, opening the fridge and looking for something to snack on. Granted- there was something made for breakfast but you hadn't woken up until 12pm. Technically, it was now lunch.

"do you want me to make you something?"

You peer over to your mom whos putting things away in the storages

"no thats okay" you grab a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet and some cream cheese, opting to sit at the kitchen island with your sad "meal"

"thats not lunch, missy" your mother scolded as she turned to you finally

"meh" you shoved the cracker in your mouth as you watched her grab her coat from the hanger. "where are you going?" you spoke with a full mouth.

"I have to run to the store"

"didnt you just go the other day?"

Your mom peered over her shoulder, waiting a moment "yes...but, I forgot to grab...uh....planter feed, for my little window plants" she nodded over in the direction of them.

"okay....can I come?" you mumble, throwing another dry cracker into your mouth.

"no" she laughed, making you look up

"what, why?"

"because" she began to ramble "well...I love you but Ive spent every minute with you this week, its good to be alone for a few hours"

You raised an eyebrow as if you didnt believe her.....because you didnt. "okayyy..." your voice dragged out

"ill be back in no time, no worried dear." she grabbed her bag and walked to the door, "ill bring you back a coffee" she winked as she left.

Once you heard the door lock, you stood up, licking the cream cheese off your fingers.

why was she in such a hurry to be gone?

Your feet wandered over to the little plant cabinet she had, opening it to see a freshly stocked basket of soil feed packets. Of course she was lying.

She was probably looking for an excuse to see that guy shes been talking to for months now. Why would she lie though? does she think you couldn't handle it?

Chosing to ignore it, you picked up her cat and made your way upstairs to your room, sitting down at your desk.

These days you werent out much, last time you saw other people was 2 days ago when you went to go grab the mail from the mailbox in the pouring rain. Nonetheless, you still loved to get yourself dolled up as if you were going out.

You applied some makeup, carefully drawing out your eyeliner to a sharp point. The way you applied your face could be compared to how you applied yourself to everything else in life- strict and neat, and you hated when you had a smudge

You pushed through your makeup bag, searching for a certain lipstick that you are now realizing you left back in Paris.

"that was $20" you sigh, standing up to wander to your moms room. Surely she has something to use, shes always been one to paint her face, she used to let you play "makeover" when you were young, which might be why you love it so much now. It was always enjoyable, even if you made her look like a clown a bit.

You wondered where she would keep her makeup, as it wasnt in her bathroom. A quick scan around the room brought you over to her vanity drawers.

"ahh, there we go" you happily looked at all of the collective lipsticks and palettes sprawled out in front of you. You grasped a few of them to look for one you would use, when your eyes fell onto a folder underneath all it.

Pulling it out and carefully looking inside, because you were snoopy even with your mothers belongings, you saw what appeared to be a booklet of Polaroid photos.

You giggled softly at the cute older photos of your mom when she was younger, the silly gestures in the photos reminded you that she too is human and has her own emotions.

You came across a specific one in the pile where your mom was looking out the window in her old apartment, obviously pregnant.

that was you.

Smiling softly, you slid through the last bits before picking up one that made your breath hitch.

Your dad.

She still kept every photo. Hidden.

Photos of your dad sitting on the deck of the house with newborn you resting on his chest, photos of him not knowing your mom was even there while he did tiny activities, like fixing or repainting something.

It was so real and so raw, and you wanted to criticize your mother for keeping all of these, because as you looked at his face, you felt nothing but anger.

But you had to remember she spent a majority of her life with him...she had a kid with him....and you almost felt a sense of sympathy for her and the life she thought she would have with him.

He ruined so many things and even after all of that, she cant toss the photos.

Its never really over, huh?

You knew deep down that you should've respected your moms privacy and left the room, considering you were only on the look for a lipstick.

But you found yourself still digging an hour later, looking at photos and notes and everything in between. In a way, you felt like the snooping mom looking into her daughters room.

Perhaps you shouldnt have, but you took one of the photos and kept it for yourself. It was of your mom, she had to have been your age in it, and she was standing in front of the old ice cream place she always took you to before it got demolished.

She looked so happy and pure, she had that gleam in her eyes that you struggle to find in her nowadays.

You put the photo into your bag, making sure it was flat and not bent.

With any lesson learnt from your parents, its that your biggest fear is to spend your life in the wrong situation, trying to make it work only for it to end up as the opposite, and leave you with a broken heart.

But on the other hand, you also realize that you dont want to be like your mom, although you admire and adore her, you want to find your place so desperately, and not let any opportunity go to waste.

The doorbell downstairs rang, startling you a little as you rose to your feet, trying to head down quickly.

"coming!" you shout, your bare feet leading you to the locked door. You open it and see a young man with a pizza in his hand. "oh!"

He bows his head polietly, "Hi, pizza for Y/N?"

You almost laugh, "ah...I didnt order anything?"

you thought for a moment and considered that your mother probably ordered it for you, knowing that your choice of meal this morning was crackers and cream cheese.

"its already paid for" he spoke again

"im sorry but-" you sigh "okay....thanks?" you reach out, almost burning your hands at how warm the box was. You dropped it off on the kitchen counter and looked at it.

It was cheese and bacon, your favorite, how did your mom know that?

"should I trust this?" you looked down at the cat crawling over your feet, she smelled the yummy food just above and was trying to access it.

Before you could grab your phone to call her, you heard the doorbell ring again. "seriously...?"

once more, your feet dashed you over as you opened the door, assuming it would be another delivery. You dropped your phone onto the floor as the person standing in front of you turned around.

"I hope you are open to sharing that pizza" Taehyung spoke quietly, a small smile on his face.

"what are you doing here....?" you looked at him like a deer in headlights; scared, relieved, shocked, happy all in one.

He calmed his expression and stepped a bit closer, "can I come in?"

You stepped back and thought for a moment

"please....?" he persisted

"y-yeah..yeah come in" you stepped away and watched him slowly enter the house, taking his shoes off before turning back to you. He didnt have a moment to speak before you threw yourself into his chest, wrapping him up into a tight hug.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you closer as both of your breathing became uneven.

"i-im so sorry...i missed you a lot and I havent texted and, fuck, youre here and im so-"

"shhh...shhh" his hand held your nape as you looked at you, forehead against yours, "dont apologize its okay"

"but-"

"no...lets just go sit down and talk" he whispered, rubbing your back.

You exhaled shakily "okay"

You led him over to the kitchen, still in absolute shock at the fact he is here with you right now. All of the guilt began to seep back in the moment you saw his face.

You took a seat at the counter and looked at him, the sun peaking in through the blinds, leaving stray lines of orange through the room.

He smiled and looked around, pulling the seat out next to you as he sat down.

"So.." you looked at him, swallowing harshly. "wh-"

"your mom called me" he spoke honestly, sitting down and shielding the sun with his hand. "I was worried sick about you, I cant lie"

Yep. Guilt.

"and I didnt wanna bother you, but she called me and said that you wanted to see me so..." he smirked a little, looking down.

You sigh loudly, "oh tae.....i never told her to tell you to come...."

He laughed, throwing his head back "ah I figured sort of...I knew you would have probably texted me yourself"

You nod, stomach fluttering at the sound of his amusement. "yeah..'m sorry for not texting, that was really shitty of me Tae"

"dont apologize, youve gone through a lot, I understand its not easy to jump back in yet...and thats okay." he whispered "but...how are you? what are you feeling?"

"right now? im....im honestly really happy you showed up...."

"yeah?"

You nod, "mhm, i, er, missed you" you fumbled with your words, not wanting to sound needy or desperate.

"I missed you too" his response was quick.

you both looked at eachother for a few moments silently, before you spoke up, "you ordered that pizza, didnt you?"

He began to laugh, "yeah I did"

"I knew my mom wouldnt know I liked bacon...." you giggled, he moved a little closer and smiled.

"and listen, im not here to course you to coming back to Busan, I just wanted to come check on you...because you know I love you always"

You felt your face heat up, "I know...I know tae, I love you too."

"how are you physically?" he spoke quietly

Shrugging, you answered truthfully, "I think Im okay....my body is beginning to go back to normal, so....."

"good, thats good" he nods

"mhm...im glad I have my mom, but I really did miss having you nearby, and I know you dont want to hear it but I have to say it" you mumbled

"you can talk, y/n"

"im so sorry...for everything....its not fair-"

"but-"

"just listen please, its not fair...what I did to you, and I shouldnt have left, that was so shitty to leave you back in Paris knowing you were hurting too"

His face softened

"and what I did has been haunting me so much that I was afraid to contact you in fears you resented me....in fears that perhaps you hated me now-" your voice choked

"y/n, no, no," he grabbed your hands, "I could never hate you....never ever" he whispered moving to see your eyes, "listen to me, It was a bad situation, and perhaps we could have done better, yes, but stop apologizing for dealing with grief."

He wiped the tear stain on your cheek, holding your face close to his, whispering, "does your mom still have popsicles in the freezer?"

The random question made you laugh, "what?"

"this is serious, y/n, does she?"

"I- I think?" you stood and watched him search, successfully finding them. "why?"

He smirked, "you know why" he grabbed 2 and held your hand, bringing you upstairs to your room, opening the window and climbing out to the ledge of the roof

A place you two always sat during your high school days...with popsicles.

"ohh...." you giggled, now understanding his method to the madness.

"been a longgg time since we sat here, why didnt we do it when we visited a few months ago?" he smiled, opening the wrapper and licking the watermelon pop

"Im not sure..." you opened your own, happy that the sun wasn't directly on you two anymore.

Taehyung laid back against the roof, eyes on you from behind. Its been so long since hes seen you, and with every passing day he grew more impatient.

When he got the phone call from your mom, he knew it was mostly her doing, but he was not about to pass up a free opportunity to see you, even knowing the risk of you despising him was still high.

He wanted to call you beautiful, the way the orange sky illumintaed on your skin, it blended perfectly, it was straight out of a disney Princess movie.

He had no clue as to what label you two stood as, was it okay to call you baby? there was never an official breakup. Was it too much to want to kiss you as soon as he saw your face? his body yearned for you in every way, he missed the feeling of your hand in his and your body on his chest at night.

He missed all of you, and it hasnt even been that long.

"you know..." he began, closing his eyes, "Im starting to think im a bit too dependent on you" his voice was teasing,

"why do you say that?" you looked back at him, licking the popsicle.

He shrugged, smirking, "just cant seem to stay away...."

"i dont understand you" you laugh, looking forward again. "ive been such an ass, Taehyung"

"youre not an ass you just feel things deeply and I love that about you"

"is this some kind of kink?" you joke, watching him laugh

"maybe?"

You shake your head as you continue to eat the pop, "I dont shame"

He looked up at the sky, glaring at a plane flying across. He wondered if you two could be seen from the window.

He wondered how tiny and insignificant you would appear to the passengers aboard, who had no idea what situation you both were dealing with, like how he didnt know what they were dealing with.

Life is weird like that.

What problems you have and seem huge may seem meaningless to others, or how from space, you are the size of a grain of salt. It puts things into perspective, and over the past few weeks, hes been thinking about everything deeply and truly....deciding that although it may change nothing, seeing you was the best option.

"Tae?" you spoke, noticing how quiet he got

"remember when we were 16 and it was Easter? My family was over with yours, and you and I climbed up here after dinner and tried to smoke my dads cigarettes for the first time?" he laughed at the memory

You smile, "I smoked it wrong and began to choke"

You both were giggling again now

"you almost swallowed it, how does one fuck up smoking so badly?"

You nudge him, "hey!"

He shrugged, still smiling

"you are quite the smoker yourself now, huh?"

"I grew up with him smoking so yeah, I sort of picked up on it"

You nod, listening

"you hate it though, right?" he smirked

"well you are a grown man, you can chose to do as you please"

"oh cmon dont play coy, you know you would never give up a chance to scold me for it"

"yeah youre right" you sigh at his knowingness "I worry about your lungs!" you tease

"my lungs are okay" he smiled as you laid down on the roof next to him, the sun casting both of your shadows behind you.

"you dont know that!"

"trust baby, if anything was wrong youd be the first to know"

You froze after he called you baby, it wasn't like you two had been gone for years, but neither of you had been lovey in over a month, it felt almost foreign, almost wrong.

He wasnt going to apologize, it did slip, but did he regret it?

nope.

His eyes scanned over yours, softly and lovingly as he moved his hand over your hair, pushing it out of your eyes.

You stared at him, an expression reading shock. He pulled away slightly

"am I making you uncomfortable?" he seemed worried that he stepped too far, scaring you.

"n-no!" you spoke, reaching for his hand. "it just feels odd you know? its not you, its just...."

"been a while" he finished for you

"yeah..."

You still felt safe with him, how could you not?

You didnt want him to make the assumption that you were not okay with his touch anymore, because that definitely was not the case.

You slowly cuddled closer to him, both of you laid on your backs as your head rested on his shoulder, his head leaning against yours.

Both of your lips were painted pink and red from the popsicles, it made you smile.

The sky above you two seemed so big, so endless.

Staring at it was almost frightening.

You reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, he quickly squeezed yours out of affection.

"ahh..." he spoke up suddenly, voice quiet. "I shouldnt.....I shouldnt have taken you to Paris"

You looked up at him

"maybe the plane ride was too much? maybe your body couldnt handle the stress?" he exhaled shakily, eyes still up at the sky. "Im sorry...I really am"

"you dont have to apologize for anything" you turned your body on your side so you faced him, though he still wouldn't look at you.

"hey.." you tried again, "you know, my mom told me she also miscarried when I was 3 years old...and thats why she never had kids after me"

He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand

"So I guess its runs in the family.....not our fault" you shrugged, "Its breaks my heart but...we dont have to blame ourselves"

He turned his head to your finally at the sound of your voice cracking, He brought you closer to his chest, hand rubbing your back. Taehyung swallowed harshly, clearing his throat to talk quietly "I've been...having a hard time dealing with it.

You rested your hand on his chest, looking at him sympathetically. His eyes were now watery, it took a lot to not cry yourself.

Youve already cried.

Youve cried so much

Perhaps you were now accepting the miscarriage for what it was, you were even able to say it aloud now, and thats growth.

You wished the same for Taehyung.

"that's okay, too" you whisper, hand snaking around to brush his hair between your fingers behind his head.

His eyes went back up to the now purple sky, tears reflecting the image in front of you. "do you think they are up there?" he smiled softly, rubbing your back still.

You look up at the sky, the clouds creating a beautiful set up as the sun set behind them. The world felt blanketed and secured in this moment, almost safe.

"yeah" you whisper, squeezing his hand, "but they are also here...with us, you know?"

He looks at you, tear marks on his face as you move to wipe them with your sleeve. "I think we will always be parents, that cant change. I feel that connection so deeply, and I know you do too. They arent gone, they just arent in this world" you add.

Taehyung smiled softly at your words, nodding slowly, "yeah....yeah youre right"

His thumb runs over your knuckles, calming you both down.

"I cant get myself to get rid of anything...like the stuff we bought." you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He chuckled, "mmh, you dont have too."

You sighed and looked at him again, a warm blush coating your cheeks.

"you know...I dont give you enough credit" he spoke "youve been through so much"

"Tae..." you brush his hair back, "youve given me everything....we need to look ahead...the past cant be changed."

He slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, touching the soft skin on your hip bone. It wasn't promiscuous or anything, simply an act of love and affection, silently showing you he's here and is listening.

"Im really sad" he choked out

You hugged him close as he began to cry into your shoulder

"its okay baby, its okay....its okay to be sad, you dont have to be strong for me" your hand caressed his back. "I love you so much, please know that"

He took a moment to calm down before pulling back to look at you, "y-youre right....we do need to look forward now"

You nod softly, holding his face.

You were a little worried to see him in this state, you didnt know he was feeling this and keeping it down for so long.

All you could do was comfort him and be there.

"I just.....are we still...." he trailed off, making you smile as you cupped his face again, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly.

"mm" you slowly leaned forward to kiss him

It was a nice kiss, not too slow but not too fast, just what was needed after a month of distance and no contact.

He blushed brightly, holding you as he whispered, "do you think we could start over? I really want to treat you right, and I want this to work. We can work it out right? the correct way this time?" his voice wavered

You nodded, still looking at him "yes....we can try again, the right way" you giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you again, this time a little quicker.

He bit your bottom lip, hands gently squeezing your hips

"baby-" you exhaled into his mouth, gently pulling back to look at him. "maybe we shouldnt"

"why?" he frowned, almost looking like a little kid

"well for starters we are on my roof" you giggled, sitting up

Taehyung smiled and looked around

"and....I dont know...sex is what brought us this mess" you teasingly nudged him, making him laugh. "lets just be with eachother for a little bit and let our feelings lead us to what happens"

He sighed, knowing you were right. "okay....can I still cuddle you though?" he whispered, making you coo at his cuteness.

"of course, lets go"

You slowly led him back into your room off the roof, closing the window before settling down on the bed with him. "when are you going back to Busan?"

He held you, face hidden in your neck "maybe in a few days...I dont want to leave you yet if thats okay"

"okay...thats fine, but, I think I'll head back with you...."

He smiled, rubbing your back "yeah?"

"mm" you kissed his head, closing your eyes.

You were still healing. To say you fully recovered was not true, but as you sat in his arms things felt normal again, even if it would be temporary.

Perhaps you needed to be with him to fully heal, to fully be yourself. Taehyung was your other half, and he knew you better than anyone. To give this another chance is like a breath of fresh air.

Putting your pasts behind you in hopes of feeling happiness again, in hopes of both of you becoming better people for each other.

Taehyung doesnt want to leave you, ever, and you cant say you want him to.

You dont spend half of your life with someone then let them run away just because things go downhill.

If your father was in your presence, you would teach him this lesson.

When you love someone, you hold their hand and walk through hard times together, you dont let them leave over something that both of you know you would need eachother's support for. To think- you almost let him out of your grasp, you almost lost him.

And Taehyung loved you so much...that if you asked him to leave....he would have.

You dont know what the future entails, and yes, its fucking terrifying. Life is scary, theres ups and downs, and suprises and failure, but theres also a lot of love, and happiness, and success if you look hard enough.

You do hope one thing for sure, and thats that he will be at your side as you grow up, to be there when you are right and wrong, healthy or sick, happy or sad.

As you both began to pick up the pieces of what was broken, you appreciated the past, knowing you had to let it go, but it also brought you here, back into where you feel most safe.

You renovated the apartment and turned the Nursery into a craft room for Taehyungs painting. He kept all of the baby belongings in the closet, hoping for the day in the future when he would open it again and feel that sense of excitement but nervousness.

You continued work and college classes, pursuing your acting career that youve always wanted, and when you graduated, Taehyung would never let you forget how much he admired you.

He kissed your neck softly, his hand pressed into yours as he hovered above you, "so beautiful, my love...."

you bit your lip before exhaling a shaky moan "ohh..f-fuck"

"so smart....youre so perfect baby, I love you"

He kissed you gently, still moving his hips against yours as you held him close to you, fluttering your eyes shut.

things had settled into place once again.

Taehyung got offered a job as an art teacher at the college you graduated from, taking the full time position while you worked at the local theatre, producing and preforming sold out plays every weekend.

The saving money part was hard for him, he wanted to buy you anything you laid your eyes on.

"did you seriously buy the couch?!" you tossed your bag, running from the doorway to the living room to see the grey couch you had pointed out shopping with him literally the day prior.

He shrugged, "yeah...whats the big deal?"

"taehyung!" you giggled and hugged him.

He was too spontaneous for his own good.

A few years passed, and looking at your current life now, you would not believe how much had changed. You can say for the first time in a while you felt happy...and oh what an exciting and freeing feeling that was.

"I love youuuu! my baby!!!!!" taehyung danced around on the icy sidewalk outside of your apartment door, it was new years eve and he was drunk.

very...very drunk.

He pointed at you as he sang, "my babyyyy! woo!"

You giggled, sitting on the steps and recording your man child boyfriend whom you loved so much. "baby be careful dont sl-"

too late.

He fell on his ass, laughing so hard he almost puked, which of course made you laugh too.

"cmon ya big baby" you ran over and helped him inside. Midnight had already passed earlier, pre-drunk taehyung had danced with you around the living room, gifting you a small kiss once the clock read midnight.

"hm, I dont get it, whats so different about a new years kiss? its like every other one?" you laughed after his lips left yours.

"well its special because I get to be the first to kiss you in the new year" he smiled cheekily

"tae...your the only one who gets to kiss me any year" you point at him

"damn right" he snaps his fingers at you as he walks past into the other room.

Every holiday you spent with him felt special, every event, every grocery run, it all felt so much more authentic now.

You two were in your mid twenties now, and a lot of mental growth had come along with that. With pride, you can say you were better people than before, and thats why things worked so well.

You could easily live like this forever.....

it was basically an endless sleepover with your best friend. You were okay if you could come home and see his face waiting for you on the couch.

Your sweet boy.

You had no idea what was gonna happen next, whether that was marriage, or another attempt at having kids- you felt ready.

Ready to give him anything he wanted in return for him saving you.

You could do anything, be anywhere or anyone, in good or bad conditions, and you will still only crave him.

Your lover.

You want him for months

for years

for eternity...

For Forever And A Day.

And God knows he felt the same.

A/N- wow guys....this is it....I cannot thank you enough for reading my first story on here, im not perfect at writing but you guys keep me motivated and confident in my work, and I love you for that. This will not be the end of this couple, we still have the Epilogue as well as eventual drabbles.

You guys are amazing. ily.

-Nini

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung bts #bts taehyung #kim taehyung series #taehyung series

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xstfudaisyx · 1 year ago

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BTS V REQUEST-2

Anything unique concept, like some 'find your date app' or 'ask for advice hotline'. Where Taehyung is a campus introvert guy who never show his emotions or express his thoughts infront of anyone. But when he got in some problem and saw the advertisement he thought of trying it as "they don't know me to judge me" and reader is working in this who also is a campus student but they have different courses.

Slow burn , angst , possessive tae(as he is introvert and reader is extrovert) , romcom , bts members as their friends, not too deep but also not too short iykwim, can also add scene where they have been childhood friends but they realised only after family members show them old pics, OH AND TAEHYUNG TRIED TO ASK FOR ADVICE BECAUSE HE IS STUCK IN SOME INTERESTING DRAMA(pls think of something very interesting I love when I have to actually think bout the story after reading it) , no ex gf/bf shit pls(optional)

Series/oneshot anything works

Pls tag me in your taglist if someone actually writes this no need to give me credit or something just let me know you are writing something like this so I can get my popcorn ready 🍿.

#bts #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung #Taehyung request #bts v #taehyung scenarios #taehyung series #taehyung oneshot #bts fanfic

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curse-of-art · 3 months ago

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~ Fanfic Recommendations ~

╰► Jeon Jungkook

╰► Jeon Jungkook Pt. 2

╰► Kim Taehyung

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wannaghostbts · 4 months ago

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Maybe we could be slow dancing until the morning!~

opia || prologue

✩ — pairing: Taehyung x reader ✩ — genre: cupid!au ✩ — words: 1.7k+ ✩ — warnings: none (inaccurate archery description) ✩ — notes: I’m so excited for this and I have a lot of people to thank for giving me such good ideas!!! I hope you guys like it I’m hoping to turn this into a lil series hehe

Taehyung has been matchmaking since the dawn of time, bringing souls together with their other half and inspiring love. But as time went on the joy he gained from his job and creating happiness for the humans began to fade, a wanting and desire welling up in him with each century that passed for something more, something unattainable, something he knew he could never have. Taehyung knew why he didn’t have a soulmate, and why he couldn’t ever experience love as the humans did. But then, he couldn’t seem to fathom… why didn’t you?

masterlist | next — posted; 27.10.2017

Keep reading

#boy group writers net #kreativewritersnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung series #taehyung au #cupid au #cupid taehyung #opia #cupid taehyung x reader #cupid!taehyung x reader #cupid!au #v x reader #kim taehyung x reader #are y'all ready for some sin fkgnkjgng #pray for me pls

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kookiestarlight · 3 months ago

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Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her.

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings.

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.”

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you.

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again.

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime.

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities.

A fresh start.

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl.

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him.

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing.

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter.

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it.

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that.

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there.

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them.

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised.

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so.

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens.

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind.

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over.

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind.

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind.

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch.

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be.

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong.

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not. Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him.

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his.

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied.

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet?

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it.

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck?

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast.

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine.

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room.

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat.

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty.

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd.

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread?

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second.

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently.

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears.

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it.

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction.

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do.

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay.

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!”

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice.

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face.

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue.

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

All of it.

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop.

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now.

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.”

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-”

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close.

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you.

His home.

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httpknjoon · 1 year ago

Text

(re)starting over again | kth; 14

words | 4.9K+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader, hoseok x reader

note | *cue that tiktok sound* okay, guys. we're back. did you miss us? hi! I'm back with my monthly update 💀 I already outlined everything. there are six chapters left in this series (not including the drabbles). thank you so much for patiently staying around. i appreciate y'all a lot. let me know your thoughts, enjoy reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

When did texting someone become so hard?

It has been exactly three days since Taehyung got to talk to you again. He offered to drive you home after your date failed to show up. You said yes. You two had a friendly conversation in his car. Like you were old friends, which you were. But were you? It’s complicated. For the first time in years, he heard your laugh and saw you smile just like in the photos he saw when cleaning up at your shared house. He remembered you waving at him with a soft smile on your lips before getting into your apartment building.

You also said you never changed your number and you would reach out. But he wants to update you about the small celebration the bakery will have later next week. He tried typing something but later erased it before he could even finish the first word. He doesn’t know what to type or how to begin a conversation. So he just typed a single character and hit the send button.

It was past six in the evening. You were already in your PJs after a long day at work. Treating yourself with dumplings and beef fried rice from the nearest Chinese restaurant in your area, you let yourself indulge while your favorite sitcom plays on your TV screen.

“You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay because I like…maintaining you.”

You found yourself pursing your lips when your favorite character said that line. It was one of the quotes that stays in the back of your head almost every time. You were about to reach for the remote control to play it back again. But your phone, which you set into silent mode an hour ago, vibrated. Your eyebrows shoot up as you read who sent you a message.

From Jung Hoseok

Hi, YN. I really regret missing our date last time. Would you be willing to give me another chance with a cup of coffee this Friday? I know a great cafe around the city 🙂

The day after he failed to show up at the restaurant, you woke up to a text message from Hoseok apologizing again. You reassured him that you understood and he promised to make it up to you. You didn’t really expect anything from that and thought that he would just pass by like your past dates that Martha set up. So seeing him reaching out again was unexpected.

You smiled as you typed a reply.

To Jung Hoseok

Will there be tea? I don’t drink coffee.

You see those three dots immediately popping in, indicating that he’s typing. So you quickly typed in a follow-up message.

To Jung Hoseok

Just kidding! I’m okay with Friday. Around 5 PM?

He was quick to reply,

From Jung Hoseok

Okay. Should I pick you up?

You thought you would just feel pressured if he picked you up at your home. So you just offered an alternative.

To Jung Hoseok

We can just meet there :) Just send me the cafe’s location.

From Jung Hoseok

[location pin]

To Jung Hoseok

Thank you! See you this Friday then.

From Jung Hoseok

See you, YN!

That’s a date for Friday, which is a few days from now. Even though he reached out again, you thought of keeping your expectations low. Because it helps avoid disappointment. You probably learned after your last dates with those guys you met before.

You continued playing the episode you were watching. Not even five minutes later, your phone vibrated again. You thought Hoseok forgot something. But immediately after reading the contact name, you froze staring at your screen.

From Aaa Love

👋

Of course, you quickly recognized who it was. Suddenly, you felt a sense of nostalgia in your head after seeing that name for a long time. Years after keeping this contact hidden on your list, you totally forgot that you never changed his contact name even after the accident. You cannot even remember when you hid his name in your list. Maybe it was one of those nights you were drunk with friends and made some decisions.

Before replying, you renamed the contact.

To Kim Taehyung

Hi, Tae 🙂

While waiting for his reply, you recalled that night. You remembered feeling good entering your apartment even though your date didn’t show up. When Jisoo asked you how it went through a video chat, you said that the date didn’t happen.

“Then, why do you look happy?” she asked that time.

That’s when you snapped out of your daze, “D-Do I?”

“Yeah, you’ve been smiling ever since we got on this call.”

“Oh…” your lips formed a thin line before speaking again. “I… I saw an old friend in the same restaurant.”

The last time you and Jisoo really talked about Taehyung was still the time she showed up unexpectedly after her wedding. You cried, she cried.

“Really? Who?”

“Taehyung.”

You wait for her reaction and you gradually see her eyes widen.

“What? What is he doing there? Did you talk?” she asked with surprise in her tone.

“Apparently, he’s doing some business here. And yes, we talked. He offered to drive me home.” you shared.

“And?”

“It was nice.”

Your simple and short answer had Jisoo simply staring at you through the screen. It was like she was studying you. You knew she had a lot to say in her head based on her quiet reaction. But then, she just said,

“Okay.”

From Kim Taehyung

Hello, YN. Just making sure I have the right number here haha

Taehyung finally replied. You let the episode play in the background as you tap on your screen,

To Kim Taehyung

I told you I didn’t change it!

From Kim Taehyung

I know, I’m sorry hehe

Just by the text, you can imagine him awkwardly laughing as he says that. Before you can reply, another text popped in.

From Kim Taehyung

Btw the celebration will be in the bakeshop. Next Saturday, 2 PM.

From Kim Taehyung

It’s a late lunch event with friends and family. We’re hoping you can come 😊

Reading that, a smile formed on your lips. With you working at school, you are usually free on weekends.

To Kim Taehyung

Will do!

“Can you put dinosaurs in it?”

“Of course, bud. Anything you like.”

Taehyung softly ruffled Jihoon’s hair, who remained focused on coloring his activity book. The little kid’s birthday is coming up soon and the preparations for it had begun. Since Jimin would be the one making the multi-layered birthday Jurassic-themed cake, Taehyung offered to make the cupcakes.

A couple of toys, specifically, dinosaurs, are all over the table that Jihoon and Taehyung occupy. And ever since he arrived at the shop this morning, the kid kept talking about his favorite animal. Being the best uncle that he is, Taehyung listens while being quietly amazed by how much Jihoon knows about dinosaurs.

“Ashley just sent a copy of the contract in our e-mail earlier. She wants us to review it first before finalizing.” Jimin spoke while placing an apple juice box on the table.

Jihoon scoots a little to accommodate his father sitting next to him. He stayed busy with his crayons.

“Have you read it?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung shakes his head, “I haven’t. I think I left my phone on silent while doing those lemon tarts.”

“Well, I think you should read it. They put something they probably forgot to mention before.” his friend noted.

His eyebrows draw together before reaching for his phone. Taehyung immediately clicked on the file sent to him from Ashley. He carefully read word by word written in the document. He thought everything was already mentioned in their online meeting days after he went to Incheon. Until he read one of the sections of the contract.

Staffing Arrangements

The bakery agrees to temporarily assign one of its capable bakers to work at the restaurant in Incheon for four weeks, beginning on the first day of offering the pastries on the menu of the restaurant. During this time, the assigned baker will head pastry production, equip training for restaurant staff, and guarantee regular quality control. The restaurant agrees to cover the entrusted baker's salary, expenses, and even housing if demanded.

After pausing for a few seconds, Taehyung scanned his eyes all over that part again. Just to make sure he understood it right. He looked back up to Jimin, who had his arms crossed over his chest while waiting for a reaction from him.

“So?”

“This means one of us had to stay here while the other had to manage around in Incheon.”

September is usually dry and warmer in Incheon.

After living in this part of the country for around two years now, you already got better at predicting the weather and climate. But today, your predictions were proven wrong when you had to stay under a waiting shed while the harsh raindrops poured continuously. You were too confident that you left your umbrella at home.

4:12 PM

You looked down at your phone. It has been almost thirty minutes since you stood in this shed, waiting for your usual bus to arrive. But you don’t know why there have only been two buses that passed by. You were unable to get on any of those since both were packed, considering the unexpected rainfall. You tried booking a cab but there’s nothing around your area at the moment. Your friend, Aileen already left earlier with her husband while Martha offered to drive you home but you live almost twenty minutes away from her. So, you kindly rejected her offer. Again, you were too confident that you would be able to ride the bus quickly.

Puffing your cheeks, you began dialing someone’s number. He answered after the second ring.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you greeted.

He was quick to reply, “Hi, are you on your way? I’m driving to the cafe.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m kinda running late for our date tonight.” you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Everything alright?”

“Haha, yeah. Just waiting for a bus to stop by here the school. It’s raining like crazy today.” you mentioned.

“Yeah, it is… you know, I can pick you up if you want to.” he offered.

Your eyebrows lifted, “Really?”

“Of course, YN.”

“Okay, thank you so much!” you smiled, finally.

“No worries. I’m on my way.”

“Okay, take care,” you said before ending the call.

With your plans of getting ready pre-date at your home canceled, you sat on one of the benches in the shed and touched up yourself quickly. You reapplied your lipstick with your front camera as your mirror. You ran your hand through the stubborn flyaways of your hair before tying it into the easiest half-up, half-down hairstyle you know. You’re still in your usual work clothes, a statement T-shirt (with a friendly and maybe corny quote written on it and jeans. Originally, you would wear something cuter. But this one will do. Even though the cool breeze makes you wish you wore something warmer too.

And less than five minutes later, a black Audi stops right in front of the stop. Your legs bounced restlessly. The windows were tinted dark so you cannot really see who’s inside. But the door on the other side of the car opened and there, you recognized the man from the pictures on Martha’s phone. Almost like sunshine, his smile as he made his way to you made you smile too. Your fidgeting legs had already calmed down as he stopped in front of you.

“YN?” He asked since this was the first time you two really saw each other.

You nodded, “Hi. You’re Hoseok, right?”

Although you were at ease with his arrival, there was still an awkward tension between you two. But it tones down when you two chuckled.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” he smiled again. He quickly noticed you hugging yourself. “It’s cold. How about let’s get you inside?”

“Sounds good.” you agreed.

Joining him under his transparent umbrella, your shoulders brushed against each other, and you could feel his warmth beside you. He opened the car door for you while ensuring no raindrop would touch your skin. You mumbled a small ‘thank you’ when you finally got to sit inside. You watched as he made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

“Are you okay? Everything’s fine?” he asked immediately.

“Yeah, thank you again for picking me up,” you replied.

“You’re welcome,” he replied before reaching for something from the backseat.

Your eyes widened when you saw what it was. It was like your eyes sparkled as he handed you the small bouquet of yellow tulips, tied with a matching gold ribbon.

“I’m really sorry for missing our date last time.” he apologized, watching you appreciate the flowers.

It has been so long since you received flowers. You cannot even remember when was the last time. So you cannot help but feel this funny feeling in your stomach while you look at the flowers. Especially since yellow tulips are your favorite.

“You didn’t have to. I understand why,” you spoke, tilting your head in his direction. Your voice was small and soft.

“Still, you waited for me alone in that restaurant. I cancelled last minute… Do you love it?”

“Of course, I love yellow tulips!” you exclaimed before taking in its subtle scent.

“I’m glad. I may or may not have asked Martha for help with those.” he chuckled.

Hoseok began driving while you find it more comfortable being around him. He has this infectious smile that brings more warmth in this rainy weather. It probably helps when he’s with patients.

“How long have you been waiting there?” he asked, starting up a conversation.

“Oh, you know, like half an hour.” you sneered at yourself. You hear him gasp. You chuckled, “To be fair, it is a rainy day. I can usually find a ride easily. I just didn’t expect that it would rain today.”

“It’s usually sunny at this time of the year,” he noted.

“It is. I was already waiting for the bus when the rain poured,” you told him.

“I thought you and Martha usually go home together?” he asked, looking from the road to you for a quick second.

“Sometimes. But I feel bad for making her drive past her house for like twenty minutes,” you revealed.

You tried offering to pay for her gas but she declined. Although she constantly assured you that it’s fine, you feel like an inconvenience, especially after a busy day at work. You are very aware it’s a you problem. But it’s just the way it is.

You shifted in your seat, “How about you? Did you have work today?”

He nods, “Ah, yes. I got off my shift earlier this day. Then went home to see my dog before dropping her off at my sister’s.”

“Oh, you have a dog?”

“Yeah, a senior dog but Mickey’s still the family’s baby.” he chuckled. “We take turns with her. Some days, she’s with me. Or my sister’s or my parents’.”

“So, you’re originally from here in Incheon?” you asked, curious when he mentioned his family.

He shakes his head, “No, we moved here when I was in high school. I left during college. Then, came back when I began working. I like staying close to my family. And you?”

“No, I moved here from Seoul two years ago.” you shared.

“And what about your family? They stayed there?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m an only child. My parents died years ago– Please, don’t say you’re sorry. It’s fine, it’s been so long.” you chuckled when you saw how his expression changed. “But I do have my Aunty Belle. She’s around the city too. She looked after me until I left to study in SNU.”

“You went to SNU too?” Hoseok exclaimed.

You beamed, “Yes– Wait, we’re here?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

Distracted, you didn’t notice the car arriving in front of the cafe Hoseok talked about. He told you to wait for him, leaving the car with the umbrella. He opened the car door for you and helped you with the umbrella. He does the same thing when opening the cafe’s front door for you. And when a bell clangs when the door opens, you get reminded of your favorite bakeshop back in Seoul.

“I’ll be having iced americano and a slice of carrot cake. How ‘bout you?” Hoseok turned to you as you two stood in front of the staff.

“I’ll have green tea and banana muffins,” you answered.

After ordering, you two sat on one of the empty pearly white tables and chairs near the glass window while waiting. It was a well-lit place. It has a minimalist and clean aesthetic. Hoseok sat across you, tapping his fingers along to the music playing in the background.

“So, what made you agree to do this blind date?” you asked him.

“Well, I’ve been single for the last three months and I never really tried blind dating before so I said yes when Martha told me about you,” he answered.

“Well, I hope she said nice things.” you two chuckled.

“Don't worry, she did.” He assured you. “How about you?”

“Martha had been setting me up for blind dates these past few months because I’ve been single ever since I came here in Incheon. The last dates I went to were unsuccessful so she promised that this one was gonna be great. So I agreed for the last time.” you told him.

“And so far, how is this one going?” he asked cheekily.

You pretended to think for a second, humming as you rubbed your chin. He laughed.

“It’s going great. You get plus points for my favorite flowers.” you smiled.

“Even though I didn't show up last time?”

He seemed really apologetic about that. He brought it up again for the nth time even though you already told him countless times that it’s okay.

You puffed, “Hoseok, it's fine. I really do understand. I used to work at a hospital, things can get a little spontaneous. No worries about it.”

A staff member came with your orders. She carefully placed your drinks and food on your table. You can feel your shoulders relaxing as you feel the warmth of the tea on your tongue when you take a sip from the cup.

“How was it?”

You smiled, “Nice. Perfect for a rainy day. How did you find this place? I don't think I ever reached this part of the city.”

“This is the only open cafe I see whenever I get off from my shift very late at night. I love their coffee here.”

You nodded while taking a bite from the banana muffin you ordered. And you quickly recognized its difference from your usual banana muffin. You look at Hoseok who's enjoying his cake.

“How was it?” he asked, pointing his fork at your muffins.

“This feels a little dry and the texture’s a bit rough,” you whispered, not really wanting the nice lady at the cashier to hear you.

You don't want to be critical. But you just got used to having a soft and fluffy banana muffin or even bread with the right amount of sweetness in it.

He leaned a bit forward, mirroring you, “Really?”

“Yeah, seems like it had a lot of flour,” you added before offering him one of the muffins.

You watched him take a bite and chew on it. After gulping it down, you wait for his opinion.

“It is dry.” he nods before putting the muffin down. “You seem to know a lot about bread. Do you bake?”

No, but I know someone who put his heart out and is a perfectionist in baking.

Instead of saying that, you shake your head.

“Oh, no. But I do love a lot of bread and pastries. I just know friends who bake back in Seoul.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We probably didn't get to discuss that in the meeting we had.”

Taehyung, along with Jimin, sat at the same table since that morning. Jihoon’s mom already picked him up earlier and the shop was already sold out by 5 PM so they closed early. Now, they are just having a call with Ashley about the contract.

“So, it means that based here on the contract, you want one of us to stay there in Incheon to oversee the pastries.” Jimin clarified.

“Yes, we just want to make sure that the quality of the products will be the same as what you have there in Seoul. Also, we thought that it might be better for our crew members to personally learn about it from the baker himself.” Ashley explained through the call set in loudspeaker mode.

Jimin looked at Taehyung who nods with that. This time, Taehyung has a question.

“You said that there would be a salary?”

“Yes. There would be a separate salary for the baker who will be staying here with us for four weeks. And since traveling from Seoul to Incheon can be a hassle, if you want to, we can also provide temporary accommodation with complete furniture. My husband runs a condominium business here so the accommodation would be on one of his buildings.”

Both of the men’s jaws dropped with that information. Their eyes were wide as they met each other's gaze. They definitely didn't expect that information from her. They were unaware of how rich she was. They just know that she runs a great restaurant in Incheon.

Jimin cleared his dry throat, “Okay, thank you for clarifying it. But we hope you can still wait before we sign the contract since me and my friend still have to talk about it.”

“Sure, of course. Just reach out to us whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you. Have a great night.”

As soon as Jimin ended the call, the two exchanged looks.

“So?” Taehyung began.

Jimin shakes his head, “I can't. Jihoon just began going to school. You know what my co-parenting arrangements with his mom are.”

Taehyung nods. After learning about Jihoon’s existence, Jimin wanted to make up for those years he missed. He was hands-on in everything that his son takes part in. He is also helping Jihoon’s mom in looking after him since she is currently working in a nine-to-five job.

“It's fine with me. I went on vacation there once. It's nice there. Plus, we can split the salary.” He commented.

And he didn't really have any obligations here in Seoul. Unlike his best friend. It would be easier and better if he went. Jimin can manage the shop while taking care of Jihoon. Taehyung is flexible in working everywhere.

“It would also be nice to stay in a new place.”

“No, but the living finances in Seoul are really more expensive than here.”

You don't sure how long has it been since you and Hoseok arrived here in the cafe. You already finished your tea while the ice on his drink has already melted. The only muffin left was half-eaten. The plate of his carrot cake was already on your after he let you finish it when he noticed that you liked it after giving you a taste.

“It is. That's also another reason why I came back here.” Hoseok exclaimed. “I can't stand living with another careless roommate again.”

You laughed when he referenced his bad roommate experience he told you earlier. Hoseok has been funny and nice ever since he picked you up today. He talked about Mickey, his life back in Seoul, and a little bit about his family.

“But you said you stayed in Seoul after graduating, right?” he recalled.

“Yes, I did.”

“How? Did you live alone?”

“At first, I became roommates with my best friend there, who’s also a nurse. That lasted for a couple of years... Then, I moved in with the guy I was dating at the time.” You told him.

“Like in his apartment?”

You shake your head, “We bought a house.”

His jaw dropped, “You bought a house? In Seoul?!”

“Yeah, we did some research and saved up for it starting from our first anniversary. Apparently, foreclosed properties are cheap there.” You shared it like a fact.

Taehyung was the first one to bring up the idea of living together a few weeks before your anniversary. After talking about it, you two did some research and went to a lot of open houses. Then, you found out about foreclosed properties. Taehyung and you looked in about four foreclosed houses before landing on the one you called home.

“What happened to the house after you broke up?” He asked.

You purse your lips, “He's living in it. But we agreed to talk about it soon.”

How soon is soon though?

“So it was a good breakup?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

The last sentence was almost a whisper by the end. You cleared your throat as if something was stuck in it. It was your turn to ask.

“How about you? How was your last relationship?”

Hoseok leaned back on his chair, crossing his arm over his chest, “It was great for the most part. We’ve been together for only one year. I actually proposed to her.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, “Really? What happened?”

“We had a lot of misunderstandings in the last months of our relationship. It can be about everything. But mostly, she gets mad whenever I have an emergency in the hospital and I understand that. So one day, we harshly broke up during a fight before I left for work.”

“So it's a bad breakup?”

“Yeah, a bit bitter.” He sneered. “But at least I don't share any property with her.”

It was a teasing remark to lighten up the mood. You grimaced and rolled your eyes. He laughed.

“The lady was too kind to ask us to go,” you said as Hoseok drove.

The moment you and Hoseok realized that the rain had stopped and the sky was already dark, you two got up and left. Hoseok insisted on paying, even playfully threatening to throw your wallet away if you ever pulled it out of your pocket.

“I’m sure she doesn't mind. She gave us free cupcakes.” He replied, pointing to the box resting on your lap.

“Are you sure you don't want to take this?” you asked because he handed you the box as soon as the lady gave it.

“Yeah, just update me with your review about it. I'm interested to hear more about your thoughts.”

You bit your lip from hearing that, “Okay.”

After a few minutes of listening (and singing along) to songs that played in his stereo, you arrived in front of your building. Of course, Hoseok opened your door for you. He helped you with the bag you brought to school so you could carry the flowers and cupcakes.

“Should I help you to your apartment?” He asked while you slid your bag into your arm, struggling.

You gave up, letting him take your bag and the cupcakes, “Okay. Come in.”

You opened the door to your building and led the way to the stairs. He assured you that he was okay as you kept on looking back at him. And when you unlocked your apartment, you turned around.

"Do you want to go inside? Water, juice, or anything to drink?” You offered before putting the things on the counter near your door.

He smiled, “It's fine, I can't stay for too long. My next shift is at nine. I just want to make sure you'll make it to your door without dropping any of those.”

You looked down at your watch, “Oh my god. It’s already past eight. You should go! I should've taken a cab.”

“YN, it's okay! It's still early.” he chuckled. “Plus, I had a really great time talking with you.”

Your stomach flutters, looking at him. You noticed the same smile you saw earlier.

“I hope this isn't the last time we'll go out.”

You nodded, “Of course. Martha did it right this time.”

“How about next weekend? Sunday?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll be back from Seoul by then.”

His eyebrows raised, “Really? I’m going to be in Seoul for a conference on Saturday. When are you coming there?”

“The same day! I’m going to visit some friends.”

“Maybe we can go there in Seoul together? So you don't have to commute.” He offered.

“That sounds good!” You agreed before looking down at your watch again. “But I think you should go now. I know you still have to do stuff before going to work.”

“Okay. Let's just talk about it later.”

“Okay. Thank you for the flowers and everything, Hoseok,” you state before leaning in to give a quick kiss on his cheek.

He smiles, “You're welcome, YN. Tonight was great.”

“Text me when you make it to the hospital. Drive safely! Good night.” You said as he walked back.

“Good night, YN.” He waved before walking down the stairs.

You closed the door to your apartment before leaning your back on it, looking at the yellow tulips on the counter.

What a lovely night.

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