#jimin scenario

[borathae]

"You and he aren't supposed to fit so well together. You aren't supposed to work and yet somehow destiny seems to tie you to him tighter and tighter. Will you be able to cut the string of fate before the knot gets tight enough to suffocate or will you accept it and allow yourself to entangle with him?"

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Jimin

Genre: Forbidden Love!AU, Fantasy!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers!AU, Romance, Smut

Warnings: fluffy moments are sprinkled in between, but also angst :(, so much yearning, secret kisses & secret meetings, multiple smut scenes where one is more detailed while the others are implied-ish, she's fighting her feelings for him, he loves her so much, death, grief & guilt, the tension!!!, i'm clawing my skin off i fucking love yearning and forbidden love, consumption of alcohol, oral (m. & f.receiving), indications that she jerks off with his sword handle, strength kink, body worship, sex in nature, semi-public sex, the next warnings are for the detailed smut: sub!Jimin, Dom!Reader, sex in a broom cabinet, mutual stripping, desperate making out, handjob, he kneels as he gives her sloppy head, she pins him against a shelf, and rides him on the floor, he's sensitive and needy, fuck besties they need each other so bad, cumming too soon ehehe, this has a happy end!!!!!

Wordcount: 23.9k

a/n: i blame you guys for making me suffer. you fucking begged me for more knight!jimin and therefore gave me PAIN i am not oKAY OMFG them them them 😭 i don't think i'll ever shut up about them and their bond and the fact that they've known each other since childhood fndnafn have fun besties, this is so fndnfnasnf 🖤

~ To Prologue ~

His gasps are the loudest thing in this silent night. He tries not to make any sounds, but it is difficult when your touch drags pleasure to his skin.

“Mine. All mine”, your whispers are quieter than his gasps, swirling against his length before your warm mouth replaces them again. 

“Please”, Jimin begs, feeling his knees buckle as his senses begin to blur.

You ambushed him tonight. One of your queendom’s viscountess hosted a dance in her castle today and you visited it with your most trusted members of the council. Jimin escorted you as well. As your Queen’s Guard and nothing more. The dance was a two edged sword. You had incredible fun, the food was delicious and wine plenty but the knowledge that you couldn’t even steal as much as one dance with Jimin laid a sad blanket over the evening. And so you danced. You danced with everyone but Jimin, whilst having to resort to sneaking longing glances at the dark haired knight. Glances he retorted with just as much longing in his beautiful eyes.

You arrived back at your castle late into the night. Drunk on wine and good dance, but also burning up in yearning for your knight. And so you visited him in his chambers once your servants helped you get ready for bed and the castle was asleep. 

Jimin came out of his bathing chambers when you ambushed him. He wore nothing more than a drying cloth around his hips and pearl necklaces around his neck, while his black hair was pushed out of his face. You kissed him right where he stood, pushing him until he collided with his dresser and you could touch his every inch. 

“I need to have you”, you sighed against his lips. 

“I need to have you as well, my Queen”, he allowed you and while he believed the night to bring the taste of your cunt, you proceeded to worship every inch of his sculpted torso. With your fingers, your palms, your lips and tongue. You traced every outline, kissed every scar, licked the spots most sensitive and left marks where he arched his back the most. He will trace the marks once he is alone in his chambers and you weren’t with him.

And Jimin felt weakened in pleasure, barely keeping himself upright when you proceeded to fall to your knees, take off the drying cloth and worship his aching length. 

“You taste so heavenly, oh Jimin”, you moan as you abandon his length for the sake of worshiping his heavy balls. Your hand is busy jerking him. He is so wet already, pulsating in your hand. 

“Oh- it, it feels so good ah”, Jimin moans squeakily, scrunching his face, “my Queen...”

It hasn’t been long since you fell to your knees, but Jimin is already grasping the edge of the dresser for strength. He hasn’t experienced such untamed hunger from you before. Such gluttony for his length. It is difficult to handle for someone as sensitive as your beloved knight.

“Please, I will soil you please”, his voice is breathy in ruin, his eyes are glassy as they look down at you, “please, you have to slow down. Ah please.”

His begs have the opposite effect on you. Instead of giving him a break, you take him into your mouth until his groomed hair tickles your nose and he throbs in your tight throat. 

“No I-”, Jimin whimpers and throws his hand over his own mouth to muffle the loud moan escaping him as you force him to climax down your throat. He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as pleasure courses through him. His knees buckle and make him stumble. If he wasn’t that strong, he would have crumbled to the floor. 

It isn’t often that you are the one on your knees. But tonight you were drunk, jolly from dance and starved for him. He didn’t wear his usual armour tonight. He dressed in leather attire adorned with your queendom’s symbols and wore a pale, silken shirt underneath. He topped it off with pearl jewellery and his sword and styled his hair in a noble way. Truly, every second spend with looking at him was agonising paradise and turned you into the hungry woman you were right now. 

You slip off his length as he whimpers for a break, finding your heaven by kissing his hard abdominal. It is sculpted from the strenuous training your Queen’s Guards have to do daily and ripples under your lips as he fights for air.

“This was incredible”, you moan, swirling your tongue over his lower abs. You are panting and gasping with him, looking up at him with love drunk eyes, “you are the sweetest thing I tasted tonight.”

Jimin swallows heavily, meeting your gaze. His heart swells. He grabs your face and pulls you to your feet, claiming your soiled lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, feasting on his lingering taste like a starved animal. Seconds later, your feet leave the ground as he lifts you to carry you to bed. Even more seconds later, your dress is lifted up and his length is breaching you as he rocks his hips into you in a desperate rhythm. 

The only thing which keeps the castle from knowing what was happening, are the passionate kisses you share. Otherwise you would be way too loud. 

Jimin is part of your life. It began when thirteen full moons ago, you claimed his innocence and loved him passionately for a night. Since then, he began trickling into your life more and more. You invited him to your bedroom more and more under the guise of wanting his services, which most nights ended in his length deep inside you. You began sneaking to his bedroom more and more and at first, you always left after the fun ended, but then those nights where you stayed with him began. And after that, the nights where he stayed in your bed began. 

And while you should have stopped it then because it reached levels such a secret should have never reached, you didn’t stop. You kept going. And so you kept going until one night, Jimin stood by your door in nothing but his sleeping clothes and he asked to have you. He asked for the first time since you began this forbidden love affair. And while you should have send him away and ended it because it had become something too much, you dragged him into a kiss and allowed him to have you. And he stayed the night. 

That is when the secret became something which never should have happened. You continued to visit him and Jimin began visiting you more and more. You stayed the night, he stayed the night and then one faithful morning, you woke up with him still next to you. Until this point, you and he had always made sure to sneak away before the other – and most importantly, the castle – woke but not that morning. He stayed with you, meeting your gaze as you opened your eyes for the new day. And he gave you a smile, cupped your cheek and whispered that you are the most beautiful person on earth and then he kissed you. 

And you kissed him back eventhough you should have sent him away and ended it. You and he became a secret so forbidden and yet you didn’t send him away.

Jimin stays with you tonight. Your bodies were spent and your dress has found its new home on the floors. You are on your stomach, propped on your elbows and covered by the blanket as you look up at Jimin. He is returning from his small dining table with two jugs of water, climbing back under the warm sheets.

“Thank you”, you accept the water, drinking it gladly, “I felt truly parched”, you say, handing him the half empty jug. He discards it on his nightstand, placing his own jug next to it once he took a healthy sip.

“Yes, I felt the same”, he says and shimmies under the blanket. He rests on his side, propped up on one elbow and with his head supported by his hand. He places his hand on your lower back, rubbing circles on your skin, “it’s not often that you ambush me in such ways”, he says with a smile that reaches his eyes. His damp hair is terribly tousled, his soft cheeks flushed. He looks so beautiful after sex. You could look at him for hours.

“I feel no shame in what I did tonight. The dance was agony. All I wanted was to dance with you and you looked so dashing in your clothes that I almost made a whore of myself in the middle of the room.”

“Oh heavens”, he flusters, letting out little giggles as he throws his head back. He covers his mouth with his hands, speaking in a higher voice, “don’t say such things.”

“I am truthful”, you laugh.

“Oh, I’m aware that you are”, he says, leaning in for a gentle kiss to your temple. You lean into the kiss with closed eyes, feeling utterly calm in his presence, “you looked beautiful as well. I wanted to steal you away from all others.”

You giggle, “you talk the sweetest things.”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling his face against yours to begin kissing you.

“Mhm and you talk the most indecent of things”, he coos, tickling your face gently as he nips on your cheek.

“Jimin, please”, you squeal and moments later, you are on your back while Jimin attacks your face with loving kisses and shares in your giggles.

There is this tree not far outside the capital’s walls. It wasn’t really alive, but it also wasn’t really dead. All its branches were bare, except for one which climbed high enough to reach the light. One has to walk a narrow path along the cliff side, find their way through a cave and climb natural stairs down until one reaches a small plateau in the high cliffs to find it. It is a secluded spot, only the sea and its birds are witness to what happens there. It is the middle of the day and Jimin is beneath you with his mouth latched onto your heat while you stroked his length. You left the castle for a walk and because Jimin was your most trusted guard, he escorted you to keep you safe. At least that is what you let the court believe. You held his hand the second you entered the cave and haven’t let go of it since then. Well, until you couldn’t take the yearning any longer and began kissing him with the sole purpose of connecting with him in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Oh this feels so good. Ah Jimin”, you moan, arching your back as his tongue laps at your heat eagerly. He growls against you, rolling his hips into your touch as he chases the pleasure you bring him.

It has been a few weeks ever since you last touched each other. The night after the dance was long ago and since then, you weren’t able to be with one another again. Your husband returned from his travels, bringing stories to tell, clothes to try on and foreign foods to taste. And so you had to pretend to be a wife most delighted to see him, while Jimin had to pretend to be nothing more than your guard. Your husband didn’t sleep in your bed, but he stayed in your chambers long into the night, telling you stories of his adventures or fulfilling his duties as your husband. He wasn’t terrible and knew not to touch until you allowed him, but he also wasn’t Jimin. That is all the knowledge one needs about this topic as you didn’t truly want to remember the nights with your husband. Yes you allowed him, but you only did so because you feared that if you didn’t at least pretend to want him, he would grow suspicious about how you could go so long without a touch and not be starved for it. And so you shared intimacy with him, finding your release only once you began thinking of Jimin.

Other than the nights of duties you had to share with your husband and having to push away Jimin, having your husband back at the castle wasn’t terrible.

You and he are good friends after all and you always shared wonderful conversations with each other. He also knew how to make you laugh and brought many books filled with stories about foreign cultures. You enjoyed learning about other cultures, so his presents were truly appreciated by you.

Once the sixth week passed, your husband left again, taking his favourite ship to sail east. He promises to return by spring and you told him to be safe and to come back bearing wonderful stories and books filled with knowledge. You kissed him goodbye and he told you that he would write to you the moment he had a quiet moment to himself and then you stood by the shore until his ship was but a small dot on the horizon.

Frigga, your advisor, was with you, as was a small group of the court, some guards and Jimin as your personal guard. You turned to him once your husband’s ship was gone.

“I want to take a walk to clear my heart of the agonies of seeing my beloved leave”, you lied and gave Jimin a look.

“Shall we come with you, my Queen?” Frigga asked.

“No, I want to be alone with my thoughts”, you told her and left the shore.

Jimin followed you and nobody in the court questioned it because he was your personal guard after all, meant to tail you like a shadow and keep you safe. It was truly the perfect disguise to keep the truth hidden. That you left so you and Jimin could finally catch up on six weeks of distance and that you couldn’t wait for the moment your husband’s ship disappeared on the horizon.

“Jimin! Now!” you gasp, throwing your head back as his tongue pushes you over the edge.

He moans into you, intoxicated by your high and charmed by your touch, he finds his own release in the palm of your hand.

Jimin wasn’t always part of the Queen’s Guard. Only a handful of knights will have the honour of serving you in their lifetime. Selected by you and with hard training keeping them strong, the Queen’s Guard is truly a small yet mighty group of knights. 

Jimin became leader of it seven full moons ago. Not only because he was a capable and strong warrior and he proofed himself worthy of such a position, but also because being your personal protector, and the leader of the Guards, meant that people would ask lesser questions about why he was always leaving your chambers or following you to secluded places. After all, you and he must be talking strategies in your chambers and he most definitely follows you to keep you safe. Truly the court was a credulous bunch.

You roll off of Jimin, lying down on the ground beside him. It happens naturally that Jimin stretches out his arm so your head wouldn’t touch the dirty ground. You rest on it comfortably, looking up at the high cliffs. A rock overhang hides the sky from your eyes. The harsh, salty air of the sea made it so that over thousands of years the black rock became dark grey in colour. 

“You truly feel like no other”, you say, “I feel breathless.”

“Yes, I feel breathless as well”, Jimin says as he rests beside you with closed eyes. 

You turn your head to study his features. It is as if every single inch was sculpted by magic. His proportions are perfect for his face. He is so beautiful. 

“I missed you, Jimin.”

“I missed you as well”, he says and turns his head. He looks into your eyes, smiling softly, “you look ruined.”

“Do I? I feel ruined”, you say and laugh.

Jimin laughs with you, reaching out to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I love when you look this way.”

You draw closer to him until your head rested on his upper arm and you could steal a kiss. 

“Mhm”, Jimin smiles into the kiss, stubbing your nose with his own.

“I feel so lucky that he will be gone till spring. Eight months, Jimin. We will be able to do so many wonderful things during this time.”

“I know. I’m excited.”

“Yes, me too.”

You fix your head so you could look at the rocks again. Jimin does the same, smiling to himself as you reach up to hold his hand.

You share a few moments of silence until suddenly you break it with chuckles.

“Why are you laughing?” Jimin asks.

“Oh, I was just thinking.” 

“Tell me.”

“I was just thinking that I can be lucky to have such skilled sorceresses in my castle. Imagine if they didn’t use their prevention magic on my belly. Oh Jimin, we would be producing children like rabbits.”

Jimin laughs, “you think of such crude things, my Queen.”

You giggle, “I know, oh I know. I’m terrible. I can’t help it. I always think of you and what we did.”

Jimin rolls to his side, pulling you into a gentle forehead kiss. 

“I think of you as well. Most of my days even.”

You giggle, seeking his closeness, “oh Jimin, you are wonderful.”

He rubs his hand up and down the back of your head.

“It saddens me that I can’t share my stories with Frigga.”

“It doesn’t sadden me. Don’t make me an indecent man in front of her”, Jimin jokes, making you laugh.

“Oh you”, you nudge his chest, “I wasn’t speaking of our intimacies. I just meant that I find it saddening that I cannot tell her how happy you make me”, you look up into his eyes, “and that I think of you every waking second.”

A sense of sadness washes over Jimin’s face as quickly as a wave crashes the shore. A smile replaces it.

“I know”, he whispers, tracing your brow with his fingertips, “it is already enough that you and I know”, his eyes fill with insecurities, “isn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, of course it is enough”, you say and lean in for a kiss.

It has to be enough.

“The Queen Consort is dead! He is dead!”

It was a sunny day when the news reached the castle. You enjoyed the ray of warm light in your courtyard, playing card games with Frigga and your maids, when a messenger interrupted the peace.

“He is dead”, he wheezes with tears in his eyes, “the sea took him. Him and his crew! He’s dead!”

It was a sunny day when the funeral happened. There wasn’t much of him to say goodbye to. Only pieces of his ship and a small heap of books survived. They washed up on the shores and at first you didn’t want to believe that they belonged to his ship. Until your guards found two members of his crew. Their bodies were bloated from the waters and their eyes were already missing from their sockets. Animals must have gotten to them.

Their funeral was held two days after.

It is sunny. It is blinding your eyes. It hurts. You cried all night. And the night before. And all day when the news met you. It has been sunny since. You hate that it is. How dare the sun shines when life is so cruel.

It is custom in your Queendom to give a dead beloved a sea burial. The body was sent out on a wooden boat with food, drink and riches for a safe journey to the afterlife and then the best archer will light an arrow and sent it straight to the boat to set it aflame.

Your husband can’t have such a burial. An empty boat with useless riches and food is sent from shore. You are tasked with shooting the arrow. You light the resin soaked tip and draw the bow. You let go. The arrow flies fast and misses.

The people stay silent, but the humiliation is there in your heart next to the paralysing grief. Most of your queendom is standing by the shore and watches you. You feel useless now that you missed.

One of your servants hands you a new arrow wordlessly, avoiding your eyes. You light it, draw the bow and miss again.

The same servant hands you a third arrow. The boat is getting further and further away. You force down a sob and try again. It misses.

The first whisper sets off a choir of whispers. It isn’t your fault. The sun is too bright and your heart aches too much. You have no strength in your arms. Why are they whispering?

Another arrow is handed to you. You light it with shaking hands and try to draw. The string barely wants to budge. The boat is far away. The whispers grow.

“She won’t do it.”

“She’s not strong enough.”

They don’t know that you can hear them, but you can. You struggle with holding the string, but you have to draw more. It is so difficult to do.

“Her husband’s already died at sea without proper burial and now she can’t even send him off.”

You fight for air and lower the bow. The gasps are deafening in your ears. You can’t do it. You couldn’t love him right and now you can’t even send him off right. You are a failure of a wife.

You try again. You have to send him off properly. The string barely moves. A small sob escapes you. The whispers are so loud. You can’t do it and all they can do is whisper. Your head turns. You are going to pass out.

Strong arms lie themselves around you, an armoured chest presses into your back. You tense up, but feel yourself relax when Jimin’s face comes into your vision.

“Trust in me, I can help you”, he whispers as he helps you draw the bow.

The whispers are still in the back of your head, talking about how you cannot do it alone.

“Don’t listen to them. Concentrate on me. They don’t know what they’re saying”, he tells you and aims the bow, “once I stopped talking, we will let go together. Understood?”

You nod your head.

“Okay. Let go.”

The arrow flies fast and it flies straight, connecting with the boat far, far in the distance. It lights up within seconds, painting a bright orange spot on the blue ocean canvas.

The music starts and people behind you begin cheering. It is custom to send off the dead with song and cheer. But you can’t cheer. You are humiliated and at the end of your strength. You turn, falling into Jimin’s arms as you sob uncontrollably. Only a handful of people look at you, while the rest was busy celebrating your husband’s safe journey to the other life.

“I do not wish to be here. Please take me away”, you beg Jimin.

“Of course. Come, hide in me”, Jimin tells you and leads you away from the festivities. Some people try to fetch a touch, but he pushes them away skilfully, sending each a deathly glare.

You can still hear the festivities from your castle. The building is empty as everyone is by the shore wishing your husband and his crew a safe journey. You wanted silence and yet the music and cheers still meet your ears.

Jimin manages to lead you as far as the dining halls and then strength forsakes you.

“I can’t do this”, you wail, falling to your knees.

“Oh”, Jimin gasps and stumbles as the sudden drag surprised him. He catches himself quickly, helping you back to your feet. Together, you and he manage to stumble to a bench, “sit down here. Sit down”, he tells you, helping you with it.

You sink into yourself once you are seated, burying your face in the clammy palms of your hands. Jimin squats down before you, trying to calm you down by rubbing your arms.

“I can’t do this anymore”, you cry.

“Oh my treasure”, Jimin gets out with comradery tears in his eyes, “I’m here. I’m right here”, he promises and pulls you into a hug. He kisses the side of your head, swaying you from side to side gently, “I’m here.”

You and he will hug by this bench until the first voices of people returning meet your ears. And you won’t be able to tell anyone, but you were so incredibly happy to have Jimin by your side.

It shouldn’t have to be mentioned that the weeks after your husband’s early death were filled with grief. You didn’t spend a lot of time doing things a Queen should do. Your once colourful clothing caught dust in your dressers as only the blackest of garments cover your body. Your jewellery stayed untouched and if it wasn’t for your servants, you wouldn’t even have bothered to do your hair. Jimin brings food to you each night. Sometimes Frigga is faster than him and they meet in your chambers with slight awkward surprise between them. Thankfully nobody questions why he spends time with you each night. The court thinks that Jimin is solely doing his duty as your guard and he does. Of course does, but more than anything he attempts to be there for you as your lover, offering you arms to fall into when you needed it and a shoulder to cry on when the tears didn’t want to stop.

“My Queen?”

He brings dinner tonight as well. Your chambers are empty and the scent of vanilla oil fills the room. He knows the origins of this scent like a lover knows the scent of his beloved’s skin. You are bathing.

Jimin places the tray of food on your dining table and takes the path to your bathing chambers. 

You have your back turned to him as you look outside at the sea. The full moon reflects in the unruly waves. A storm is brewing. The kind of storm which took your husband. Jimin knows by just looking at your hunched posture that this is what you are thinking.

“My Queen?”

You turn your head upon hearing Jimin’s voice, meeting his gaze with exhausted eyes. You hum as acknowledgement but otherwise stay quiet.

“Why are the windows open? Aren’t you cold?” Jimin asks, hurrying to the open windows. He closes them, locking out the cold winds. He turns back to you. You are looking at him with tired eyes and your chin resting on your knee. 

“Do you want to leave the water?”

You nod your head.

“I shall call the servants.”

“No. Stay. Don’t call them.”

Jimin watches you stand up and point at the drying cloth. He hurries to it and picks it up instantly, carrying it to you. He holds your hand as he helps you out of the stone tub and wraps you up in the cloth. You lean into him, resting your head back against him as he rubs his hands along your body to dry you. 

“A storm is brewing on the horizon”, you whisper.

“I know. It will be a cold night, but we are inside where it is warm.”

“Do you think that Mino was cold before he died?”

Jimin falters in his touch, looking at the side of your face. You never called your husband by his name before. At least not in front of him.

“I cannot say”, Jimin says quietly. 

“To imagine that he died wet and cold. Storms are so scary. Oh, he must have been so frightened.”

“I am sure that he thought of you, which made it easier to bear.”

“Don’t say that”, you gasp and tear up, “why would you say such a thing?”

“I didn’t think that it would hurt you. Forgive me, oh please don’t cry.”

“I was such a terrible wife to him. He thought of me as he died while I laid in your arms and wasted not a second with thinking of him.”

Jimin would be lying if he said that your words didn’t leave an ache in his heart. He swallows it down and wraps his arm around you.

“Perhaps he didn’t think of you. I just merely said such words because this is what I would do.” 

“Oh”, you let out, spilling tears, “oh what have I done?” 

“Come. Let us get you in some clothes. Come”, Jimin says and leads you outside the bathing chambers and also hopefully away from your emotions. 

He sits you down by your dressing table and hurries to your drawers to get a warm sleeping gown. 

“Jimin, do you believe me to be a terrible person?” you ask him with emotion in your voice, but thankfully no sobs.

“No, my Queen. I believe you to be the most precious person on this planet.”

“If you didn’t love me, would you still think this way?”

“Yes. But I love you and I do not want to imagine a world where I don’t”, he says and hurries back to you, “now, stand up and allow me to dress you.”

You allow him. You stand up and raise your arms so he could slip the sleeping gown on. Then you turn and allow him to tie it in the back. Jimin gives your shoulders a gentle massage once you are dressed, pushing you down carefully until you fall onto the chair. He leans down and places kisses from your dressed shoulder up to your neck. 

He looks at you in the mirror, expecting you to have your eyes closed as you always have when he kisses your neck but instead you are looking at him with sad eyes. 

“I’m frightened”, you confess. 

Jimin furrows his brows in worry. 

“I should be relieved that I am not betraying my husband behind his back anymore, but I am not. I grieve for him deeply and I am frightened.”

“Frightened of what?”

“I do not wish to marry into royalty again. I want to marry you.”

Jimin smiles.

“And yet I am frightened that I will have to. My queendom is so small compared to others. What if people want to attack us now that we lost such a strong ally?”

“Who would want to attack us? We are a peaceful queendom.”

“We are, but the Queens of Stormveil aren’t, neither are the Naritauri. Danger lies beyond the sea and I am frightened.”

“Please don’t be. Those are futures which won’t happen”, Jimin assures you and wraps his arms around you. His cheek is resting against yours, he is swaying your bodies slowly, “for tonight the future you should think about is dinner and how I will rub your back until you fall asleep.”

He expects a smile but receives a sad frown. 

“What’s the matter? Do you not want me to?” 

“I have to send you away tonight”, you press out. 

Jimin feels weird in his stomach. This isn’t going to end well. This is going to hurt him. 

He keeps holding you in an attempt to drag out the inevitable.

“I am sure that none of your maids will come here tonight”, he acts oblivious in hopes of steering the conversation into another direction.

“No. No, I have to send you away. I cannot do this right now.”

“Do you want me to stop hugging you?”

“No, of course I don’t, but I have to send you away. I need time.”

Jimin falters. He shakes his head.

“Please, Jimin”, you whisper, placing your hands on his lower arms, “find it in yourself to understand me. I have too much going on, I cannot drag you along for it.”

“I’m your guard. There is no situation more suited for me than what you are currently experiencing. It is my duty to protect you from harm”, he slides his hand to where your heart races, “especially harm on the heart”, he whispers.

“Jimin please”, you beg, “I cannot do this right now. I need time.” 

Jimin blinks his tears away.

“Time for what?” he asks quietly.

“Time to think and to come up with what I should do and how I should handle the dangers of being such a small, unmarried country with such dangerous neighbours.”

“You can do those things with me by your side.”

“Yes, indeed I can. As my guard.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can think about these things with me as your lover as well.” 

“I’m sorry. I need time. Everything feels like too much.”

“I don’t want to leave tonight.”

“Neither do I want you to, Jimin!” you say loudly, standing up and therefore breaking the hug. You turn, placing your hands on his chest, “I have to do all this thinking so I do not have to send you away anymore. Do you not understand? I am widowed, Queen of a weak country and I cannot be caught with my guard sleeping in my bed. If people caught you, rumours would start. Rumours that you were compliant in my husband’s death so you could seduce me.”

You shake him by his collar, squeezing out tears.

“And I would have to choose between executing you to make an example or running away from here and making us a target for every possible assassin on the continent.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“You speak of impossible futures. Such things would never happen.” 

“I cannot risk it, Jimin. I just simply cannot. Please give me time. Please, I will fix this. Please, I simply need time.”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He will do something that he will hopefully not regret.

“Very well”, he gives in, “I will give you time. I will fulfil my duties as your guard and give you time.”

“Thank you so much”, you say, cupping his cheeks to pull him into a kiss. This is the last thing you should be doing right now, but you can’t help yourself. You need him like you need air.

Jimin deepens the kiss with his hand on your lower back and his other cupping your cheek. He doesn’t want to stop, to let go, to end this. Once that kiss ends, you will send him away and he will return to being nothing more than your guard. You speak of temporary distance. Jimin sees that you need it as your mind produces futures most impossible and you clearly need the time to rid your mind of them. But he is scared that this isn’t temporary. That perhaps your heart won’t change, but fate will. That life will be cruel enough to force it to change. 

You break the kiss.

“Not yet please”, Jimin begs, chasing you. 

“Jimin, please”, you beg, fleeing him, “please make it easier for me.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kissed me. You shouldn’t have given me a glimpse of you.”

“Please…I….please.”

“Just one more kiss. Please.”

“And then you will beg for one more and then we will end up in bed and I couldn’t possibly send you away.”

“And what would be so terrible about this? A storm is coming. The night will be cold. Allow me to keep you warm”, he caresses your cheek, “___.”

You let out a small whimper, twisting the hair at the back of his head.

“I curse you”, you get out and pull him back into a kiss. 

Jimin doesn’t leave your chambers tonight. But he leaves them tomorrow with the same promise between you and him which he gave you last night. He will give you time.

He shouldn’t have given you time. 

Jimin finally knows why he never should have made such a promise. 

Fate proved him right and now he has to pay the consequences. Your queendom was attacked. But not in the way one might expect, but in a way far worse anyone could have ever imagined. It was attacked by a flood of suitors begging for your hand in marriage. It has been weeks and the proposals won’t stop. He has to stand by your side and has listen to the disgusting yapping of boring men while you pretended to be somewhat interested in what they had to say. 

Perhaps the weeks would have been easier to bear if you gave him a feeling as if you and he weren’t over. But you didn’t. You didn’t call for him at night, didn’t visit him in his chambers, stopped visiting the secret spots you and he so often had found yourselves in to kiss and hug. You even stopped looking at him from the other side of the room or going on walks just so he could follow. 

You acted as if he was just another one of your guards and it ripped him apart. He aches for you and yet you seem so indifferent about him. Jimin already began wondering if you ever really loved him as he loved you. 

Today, the fates were especially cruel to him. 

One of your suitors invited you to a hunting party and because Jimin was your most trusted guard, he had to come along, trailing behind you as this boring, ugly man spit his attempts at seducing you. Jimin could speak to his fellow knights or listen to some of the other noble people coming along for the hunt, but he didn’t want to listen. Not when he had to watch you get seduced by someone as ugly as Lord Frail. It should be a crime that someone like him even looks at you. 

The hunt takes your party of ten noble people, a handful of servants and ten guards deep into your queendom’s forests. Tough conifer trees filled the forests and sharp thorns covered the parts which weren’t paths. Dark green ferns broke up the thick thorn carpets and the scent of the ocean followed you.

“The weather’s good for a hunt. Wouldn’t you say, Sire?”

Jimin turns his head to the right as someone clearly addressed him. One of his fellow Queen’s Guards. He joined them a year ago and looked up to Jimin a lot.

“I guess”, Jimin murmurs, looking back at you and the boring Lord Frail.

“The winds are in our favour. I am sure we’ll be successful.”

“I am sure we will.”

“Have you been on many hunting trips before, Sire?”

“Yes, the late Queen, ___’s mother, took me on trips the moment I began serving as her knight.”

“Huh. I sometimes forget that you and the Queen shared adolescence with each other. I would never dare to call her by her name, but it must be common to you.”

Jimin tenses his jaw for a moment. It stopped being common when you and he both passed your second decade on this earth. Before then, you and he always addressed each other with the other’s name. You played together, danced together, ate at the same table and called each other like two childhood friends. But as age changed you and him, your different ranks became so painfully obvious to both of you. You grew up to be the Princess and future Queen of Windfell, while Jimin stayed a common knight. But even as your name stopped being a common thing for Jimin, you and he never grew apart. Age just tied you tighter together until your husband died and you asked for time. The cliff between you and him had never been that big before and Jimin is aching.

“Yes”, he presses out with a heavy heart, “yes, it was common once.”

“I see. You seem to care a lot for her, Sire.”

Jimin sneaks a glance at the knight.

“As someone, who watched her grow up to be the Queen she is these days, can care about her. Yes.”

“This is good, Sire”, the knight says and takes a deep breath, “the winds are on our sides, I can smell it.”

Jimin relaxes his shoulders now that the conversation shifted back to something less nerve wrecking. One wrong word and he could destroy what you and he built. He glances at you. That is, if fate hadn’t already destroyed it.

The hunting party reaches a clearing, gathering in a small circle so you could converse. Jimin places himself next to you, scanning his eyes over your surroundings.

“We shall go in five groups so we can cover more ground”, you order, “I shall take Lord Frail and we shall meet back here once the sun moved past this mountain.”

The hunting party looks at the high mountain in the distance. The sun will take some time to pass the mountain peak.

“Understood.”

“Very well, take two guards each and be careful not to get hurt. We have seen enough death this year”, you say and turn your horse, looking into Jimin’s eyes, “I want you to come with me.”

“My Queen”, he says, nodding his head. He waves his hand so the knight, who talked to him, follows as well and then your small group is already off.

The hunt turns out to be less painful as Jimin imagined it to be. And it was Lord Frail’s fault. Your small group had put some distance between the party and the group when he broke the silence.

“You spoke of death this year. Have you lost someone, your highness?”

Jimin almost cursed at the stupid man, but stayed silent, looking at your face instead. Shock, anger, disbelief. It all washed over your features upon being asked such a tactless question.

“Did you truly just ask me that?” you press out angrily, “I lost my husband but two months ago.”

“Oh yes! Oh how stupid of me! That is why I am here!” Lord Frail laughs, “please forgive me, I am quite forgetful in my old age.”

“Yes, you seem to be”, you say and turn your head away from him. It was clear to Jimin that you were furious.

“The weather seems to be on our side today, wouldn’t you agree?” Lord Frail continued the conversation as if nothing happened.

“Yes, indeed it is”, you answered each of his questions coldly.

“It is already long into the year, but the autumn takes its time this year. I am quite pleased with it. My old joints do not agree with the cold.”

“That is awful.”

“Yes, yes indeed it is. However, colder weather also means more frequent baths. I do not believe in bathing for cleanliness, but I enjoy warming my old bones in a bath once the weather is cold.”

“I couldn’t even tell that you do not believe in baths, my Lord.”

Jimin has to bite down on his tongue in order not to laugh. The sarcasm drips from your voice.

“Of course, of course”, Lord Frail runs his eyes up and down your body, “do you enjoy baths, Your Highness?” he asks and the implications are obvious in his voice.

Jimin almost drew his sword on him, sending him a deathly glare over your shoulder.

“Yes I do.”

Jimin looks at you in surprise. Why would you say that?

“I prefer to take them alone.”

Jimin relaxes again.

“Oh, ohuohuo”, Lord Frail laughs, “you are a jester, Your Highness.”

“Hahaha”, you practically pronounce your laughter, “I am indeed. A fucking jester.”

“Forgive me?” Lord Frail gasps.

You look away, studying the trees, “nothing”, you murmur and roll your shoulders, “we should split up. I believe that I heard a hog along this path. You should check it out, Lord Frail. I will take this path down along this stream.”

“But shouldn’t we-”

You do not give him time to finish his sentence and then you have already turned your horse and nudged it into a full sprint.

“Hya! Hya!” you encourage it.

Jimin follows you close by, keeping a careful watch on you because a sense of recklessness surrounds you.

“Slow down!” he calls out, “there is a slippery bridge coming!”

He knows that it is slippery because the ground never dries in these forests and nature has grown over the stone bridge and made it slippery. You and he took this path countless times before. Up until now these forests witnessed nothing but good memories between you and him. 

“My Queen, slow down!” he tells you.

You are too fast, speeding up on the last meters.

“___ no!” Jimin screams and watches with horror as you leap over the small stream. He tugs his horse into a stop, gasping for air as he tries to recover from the shock.

You slow the horse down on the other side, turning it skilfully. Your face is glowing from your skin catching the fog, the creases between your brows disappeared.

“Did you see that?” you call out to him, smiling, “I managed this so easily.”

“Yes and almost killed me from fright in the process”, Jimin says, trotting over the bridge.

You laugh, “nothing happened. You worry too much.”

“Worrying is my duty, of course I do”, he says, joining your side.

You snicker. You and he have a comfortable tempo with your horses, swaying from side to side naturally. You take a deep breath, lifting your head.

“I haven’t ran like this in ages. It felt good to do.”

“I worried that you might hurt yourself.”

“Wasn’t I the one to teach you how to ride?” you ask in a chuckle, “you should trust in me more.”

“Of course you taught me, but I also remember the countless times where you ran recklessly and fell.”

“Indeed and yet I never hurt myself.”

“I remember differently. You cried each time you fell.”

“This is a lie and you know that”, you say, reaching over to slap his arm gently.

Jimin laughs with you, reaching over to slap your arm right back.

“I don’t lie.”

You nudge him again, “yes, you do. You liar.”

You and he laugh together and in this moment it felt as if you were fourteen of age again, laughing in the forests after an afternoon of mischief. You and he exchange a look. It was clear to each of you that you thought the same. Growing up is cruel when it meant that two friends of mutual respect have to act as if one was more important in society than the other.

You break the eye contact first, taking a deep breath. Jimin twists the reigns, swallowing down the heavy lump in his throat.

“I cannot stand Lord Frail”, you confess.

“I could tell. You cursed.”

“You heard that?” you laugh, throwing your head back.

It has been too long since Jimin last saw you laugh so honestly. It fills his heart with happiness and so he finds himself laughing with you.

“Oh, I couldn’t help myself. He angered me so much”, you are still laughing as you speak, shaking your head in disbelief, “I mean, who in their right mind forgets something as detrimental as my husband’s death? That is the very reason why I agreed to this charade in the first place.”

“As you said, he’s not right in the mind. He doesn’t believe in baths.”

“Yes, one couldn’t smell this at all.”

You and Jimin laugh and it felt so good to do. Life was correct right now. Life wasn’t cruel because you and he could laugh together.

“Oh, how wonderful”, you end the laugh with a soft swipe under your eyes as if to dry your tears.

“You know”, Jimin begins.

“Mhm?” you hum, granting him a warm look.

“Jinus made me think of us and how long we have known each other already. How long has it been? Fifteen years?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen?”

You nod your head, “we were eleven when I found you on the streets of your village. Remember? You were covered in ash and threatened to beat me with a stick.”

Jimin laughs, “I did! Oh, I forgot.”

You laugh with him, “but you changed your mind once I brought you food. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. I was starving and scared. I wouldn’t have been able to beat you.”

“Oh, I was aware. You looked weak.”

You and Jimin laugh. The forest paths fill with sunlight and the sweet scent of resin. Neither he nor you had noticed until now, how much sunlight fell down on the earth today.

“But we helped you grow strong, didn’t we?”

“Yes, you really did. I found my home with you.”

“Oh”, you let out, exchanging a sheepish look with him.

“Forgive me”, he whispers.

“Don’t worry”, you assure him quietly.

The sunlight dies down again. The scent of resin gets less.

You slow down your horses as the path melts into a small clearing. You jump off the horse. Jimin does the same. You and he choose two small trees to secure your horses on. Equipped with your bow and his sword, you leave the path to wander through the denser forest instead. He is by your side because right now, it is just the two of you and there is no societal rule keeping you apart.

“I apologise for what I said”, Jimin says.

“Don’t apologise”, you assure him, giving him a warm yet yearning look, “I feel glad that you found a home here. Life wouldn’t be the same without you”, you tell him and it is the first time in weeks where you show him that you cared for him. Jimin swallows down his overwhelming emotions to instead give you a smile.

When you retort it, he takes a step closer to you, brushing his finger against your hand. When you don’t pull away, he reaches for you truly and intertwines his fingers with you. You give him a squeeze instinctively.

“Fuck”, you whisper, looking away, “you have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Reminding me what I feel for you”, you say.

“I won’t ever stop doing this”, he says, eliciting a small laugh from you.

You shake your head, looking at him with fond eyes.

“You are too stubborn.”

“I know”, Jimin says and tugs you closer. You let him, falling into him while he places his hands on your waist. You and he stop in your tracks. Ferns surround you. The sunlight breaks through the trees and illuminates his features beautifully.

You want to kiss him. You want to cup his cheeks and trace his features. You want to call him yours and love him openly.

Seventeen years. There is no constant in your life which has been with you for as long as Jimin has. There is no person in this world who knows you as well as Jimin does. In front of everyone else you have to pretend, to act a certain way, to hide parts of yourself. But not in front of Jimin. There is no person who makes you feel more like yourself than he. 

And there is no person you want to be with more than him. 

He moves in, nudging your cheek with his nose to test the waters. You close your eyes because you couldn’t bear to look at him. 

“Jimin please”, you whisper, exhaling deeply as you move your head away slightly. You look at him even if it is difficult.

“It’s been weeks.”

“We had to go longer than this in the past.”

“But this is different.”

“Jimin, why can’t you-”

A blood curling scream interrupts you before the situation could escalate into a fight. You and Jimin look at where it came from.

“Did you hear this as well?”

“I did.”

“Help! Help!”

You and he exchange a look and spring into a sprint. The fight lies forgotten for now.

You reach your horses quickly, working skilfully to mount them and gallop off. You and Jimin ran together and rode horses next to each other ever since you were children. You taught him how to ride a horse and he taught you how to climb a tree. You didn’t even need words to find perfect synchronisation in your jumps and gallops because acting like a team has been a part of you ever since you were children.

The owner of the screams turns out to be Lord Frail. Covered in muddy water from the stream and without a horse or guard in sight.

“Lord Frail, what happened?” you gasp, slowing down your horse carefully.

“The foolish horse slipped on this bridge and threw me off! It ran off without me!”

You and Jimin exchange a look. What a fool.

“How terrible. Did you hurt yourself, Lord Frail?” you ask without honesty in your voice.

“Of course I did! Look!” he shows off the small graze on his elbow.

Jimin snorts, hiding his laughter behind his hand. You send him a warning look, fighting the toughest battle in trying not to laugh as well.

“How terrible. Where is your guard?”

“I sent him off to get the cursed animal. Horse stew should be made with it! Foolish horse.”

“I am sure that it merely startled”, you tell him and send Jimin a look. He retorts it. He thinks the same. Of course someone like Lord Frail would blame the horse and not his own inability to ride.

Lord Frail stomps his foot.

“So what now? Should I walk?”

You take a deep breath in order not to curse at him.

“Of course not”, you say with a faked smile, “Jimin, give Lord Frail your horse.”

Jimin tenses his jaw, “yes, my Queen”, he says and gets off. He leads his horse to the clumsy man and presses the reins into his hands roughly. The man seems confused at the dark look he receives from the knight, but doesn’t say anything. 

He merely points at the ground.

“You know what to do.”

Jimin considers drawing his sword and slicing this idiot’s belly open. But he doesn’t, instead he gets on all fours so the clumsy sack can climb on his horse. He presses into Jimin’s back painfully, forcing him to growl angrily. It goes unnoticed by the man as he is too busy yapping about how much taller this horse is and that it was too good for a knight.

Jimin stands back up, cleaning off the dirt from his clothes aggressively while his eyes murdered the man. 

“Now where to next?” Lord Frail asks, sitting proudly on the horse which you gave Jimin after he became a knight.

“The castle. I grew rather cold”, you say dryly, studying Jimin with guilty eyes.

“Cold you say? That is a bother. Let’s go then”, Lord Frail says and looks at Jimin, “I assume he walks. Oh, ohuohuo how tragic”, he says and rides off with snickers leaving him.

Jimin feels hot in anger. Perhaps if he threw his sword just right, he could knock this twat off his horse without killing him.

The sound of hooves beside him rips him back to reality. He turns and lifts his head. You are shielding the sun from him, standing right beside him and looking down from your horse.

“I understand. I’m walking”, he hisses and sets off. 

He gets as far as three steps and then he realises that you are riding next to him. He stops again, looking up at you.

You scoot to the front of your saddle. 

“I do not want you to walk.”

Softness washes over his features.

“Come up here”, you tell him, nodding your head behind you.

“Very well.”

Jimin gets on your horse without hesitation. The saddle is built in a way so that you and he could share it with some discomfort. It results in his middle to press against your behind. You rub against each other with every step the horse takes. You try to ignore how it makes you feel, while Jimin tries not to close his eyes.

“Is this comfortable for you?” you ask.

“Yes”, Jimin places his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands run up and down your corseted waist. His warmth seeps deep into your skin, “it’s comfortable”, he speaks softly and steals a kiss to your neck.

Lord Frail is enough steps ahead of you that he doesn’t notice it.

Your heart is beating unbearably. Jimin is so close to you, touching you and sharing warmth. His neck kiss still lingers on your skin, even now that he is resting his chin on your shoulder again. You brought yourself into this situation, but it is still almost impossible to bear. 

“What if he sees us?” you whisper.

“I truly wish that you wouldn’t consider this twat as a husband”, Jimin ignores your warnings, staring holes into Lord Frail’s head. 

���I’m not. It wasn’t mannerly of him to use you as a stool. I apologise. He is indeed a twat.” 

“Mhm, one that stinks as well. I will have to buy a new saddle and burn the other.”

He makes you laugh. Loudly. Lord Frail looks over his shoulder. Jimin was thankfully quick enough to change his position so he wasn’t resting his chin on your shoulder and his arms around you. His hands rest on your hips now, hidden from view in your coat. The touch is heavy on your skin, seeping into your deepest fibres. 

“That is a peculiar view. I thought he would walk.”

“It is quite far to the castle. I take great care of my knights.”

“I can see that. He’s an ill-mannered lad. He sent me dirty looks.”

“That is merely how he looks when he is on duty.”

Lord Frail looks at Jimin and his darkened eyes. He looks away again, fixing his collar. 

“I see. Well, I don’t like it.”

“If you know yourself to behave, you mustn’t worry.” 

“I am a very mannerly fella.”

“I doubt that, Lord Frail”, you say, masking the poison with a laugh, “after all, you used my knight as a stepping stool.”

“Oh well, yes”, Lord Frail laughs because he thought the situation to be a laughing matter, “he is sturdier than I thought.”

“You misunderstand me, Lord Frail. I wasn’t jesting. You do not use my knights as stepping stools.”

Lord Frail stops laughing. He looks at you with widened eyes. The smile from your face was gone. You weren’t jesting. 

“My apologies, Your Highness”, he presses out even if it clearly hurts his pride. 

“I am not the one to apologise to.”

Lord Frail looks at Jimin. The dark haired knight is carrying triumph on his features. 

“His name is Jimin. Say it with respect”, you say coldly.

Lord Frail flares his nostrils and opens his mouth.

“My apologies, Sir Jimin”, he mumbles, frowning in distaste afterwards.

“Very well”, you say and click your tongue, telling your horse to speed up with a gentle nudge of your feet. 

The horse listens well, galloping off so you could put some distance between you and the ill-mannered lord. He should know that he wasted his chance. 

Galloping on a horse with Jimin behind you is difficult. Not only because sharing a saddle minimises the support you have, but also because he is rubbing against you. The thick, sturdy leather of his pants against your own thick leather thankfully masks some of the sensation, but it was there nonetheless. 

You slow down soon, passing the convoy in a slow trot. You ignore the curious looks people send you, calling out orders instead.

“If one may see a horse without a rider, return it to Lord Frail. The fool lost it!”

“Yes, Your Highness”, they answer you and pretend that seeing your knight ride behind you without any distance between you and him was a normal sight to see. 

“We will ride straight back to the castle. Is Jinus back already?”

“Yes, my Queen he is back with the others.”

“Very well.”

There were two reasons for why you decided to ride to the front. You were the Queen and you needed Lord Frail to know that he lost his spot by your side. And being in the front meant that Jimin couldn’t touch you again. He has been running his hands up and down your hips and thighs ever since you put Lord Frail into his place and it is getting very difficult to concentrate. Thankfully, your riding coat covers his hands from creeping eyes, but you knew that they were there and it is making your thoughts blur. 

“I will assume that your sword needs fixing”, you tell him quietly enough that hopefully only he can hear.

“Mhm yes, my sword needs polishing”, Jimin answers you, sending heat to your face. 

You hide the giggle wanting to escape by covering your mouth, lowering your head for just a second. Jimin squeezes your softness under the coat, chuckling deeply. Even through the thick layer of leather you could feel the strength behind his touch. 

You straighten up, “Jimin, I am serious. Please fix your sword.”

“It is hard to fix when it’s in my pants.”

“Lower your voice”, you hiss. 

“It is hard to fix when it is in my pants”, Jimin whispers, letting the words swirl against your neck.

“I am not jesting.”

“Neither am I.”

You swallow heavily. His touch is unbearable to handle. 

“My Queen”, thankfully – or perhaps sadly – Frigga catches up to your side. Jimin slides his hands from your coat, placing them on your waist instead. He needs to hold on somewhere and this was the most logical place. It isn’t easier to bear. 

“Yes, Frigga?” you ask her, hoping that your breathlessness goes unnoticed. 

“What shall I tell the cooks to prepare tonight now that the hunt bared no fruit?”

“Whatever they find on the markets. I am certain there are lovely fish to buy.”

“Understood. Is Lord Frail staying for dinner?”

“No. No, as a matter of fact I wish to eat dinner in my chambers. I have had enough of dutiful chattering.” 

“I understand”, Frigga looks at Jimin with a sense of knowing in her eyes, “will Jimin bring you dinner?”

The knowing grows. You feel yourself panic. Jimin’s presence behind you feels burdensome. 

“Why would you ask such a thing?” you gasp. 

“Because he always brings you dinner. My Queen, what did you believe that I was saying?” 

“Nothing. I, uhm, nothing. It doesn’t matter”, you stutter. 

Frigga studies you and Jimin together. 

“I understand”, she says and slows down her horse to put some distance between you and her.

The rest of the ride back was silent until Lord Frail gallops to the front clumsily.

“Your Highness, I must ask for clarification. Am I staying for dinner?”

“No, you are not.”

“Is it because I used your knight as a stepping stool?”

“It is because you are ill-mannered and quite frankly, you reek.”

Jimin laughs quietly behind you, squeezing your waist. You could swear that he rolled his hips against you. You bite down on your tongue to distract yourself.

“Oh that is”, Lord Frail searches for words. In the end, he decides on scrunching his nose in distaste and leaving with a mumbled, “manner less wench.”

“What did you just call her?” Jimin hisses, trying to draw his sword.

“Let him be”, you say, “he’s just a lord. His house consists of him and his servants.”

Jimin sends Lord Frail one last dark look and then he won’t ever see him again.

The ride home continues to be silent from then on and Lord Frail will leave the castle without receiving another word from you.

The horse Lord Frail borrowed from your castle waits by the stables once you return. You greet it with pets behind its ears and apologies for having to carry someone as smelly as Lord Frail. The horse seems to care rather little about what you say. You leave it by the stables, making your way to your chambers.

Jimin follows you.

You turn when you realise his presence.

“Why are you following me?”

Jimin glances down at his crotch. Your eyes follow his line of sight.

“I think you misunderstood something. I am leaving to get changed.”

“So am I”, Jimin says, taking a step closer.

“Jimin, please.”

“Riding with you messed with my mind”, he says, closing in on you until he could touch your waist.

“I could feel it.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I keep thinking about you and being so close to you, it reminded me how much I want to be with you.”

You are so weak in his presence. You truly wanted to keep distance to him, to give yourself time to think and to perhaps give him a chance to move on and yet you are back where you started, craving nothing but his presence. You miss him when you wake, when you fall asleep and when you see wonderful stuff you know he would love to see. Sharing such a laughter-filled afternoon with him, having him close as you rode and being reminded of how far you and he go back, reignited every single flame you tried to kill. 

“Jimin, I…” you begin, placing your hands on his chest. His heart is racing just as quickly as yours does. 

Jimin closes in, lowering his eyes halfway as he gazes at your lips. You inch closer, getting lost in the view of his lips. 

“Oh, there you are my Queen”, Frigga says, stopping in her steps as he watches you and Jimin scramble to break apart.

“Are you feeling better now, my Queen? Do you still feel weak in the knees?” Jimin lies, holding your waist.

“Yes, I feel better. Thank you for catching me, Sire”, you lie, meeting Frigga’s eyes, “oh Frigga, how lucky that you are here. Might you help me out of my clothes? I suddenly feel terribly weak from riding.”

Frigga clears her throat, keeping her thoughts to herself. She hurries to your side and supports you, taking over for Jimin this way. She leads you away from him.

“Yes, my Queen. Shall I send for the physician?” she asks.

“No, no I am sure that food and something to drink will help me greatly.”

“I understand, then we will…”

The rest of the conversation dies out in Jimin’s ears as you and Frigga cross the corner and therefore disappear from his sight.

Jimin takes a deep breath, touching his chest where his heart races. He doesn’t feel bad, he feels hopeful. Of course he is upset that you and he got interrupted, but if Frigga hadn’t interrupted you and him, he would have been close to you again.  You leaned in for a kiss. You haven’t given up on him yet. He giggles to himself, doing a small jump before he hurries away in happy skips. Today wasn’t as terrible as he thought it to be.

He will wash up and then wait for you in the hallways. Knowing your traditions, you will leave your chambers for a book from the library and that is when he will catch you again. Yes, that is his plan for the remaining day.

Jimin eats food in the dining hall with the others. He listens to Jinus talk about how awful Lord Frail’s company was and in return, Jimin tells him how he had to act as his stepping stool. The two knights proceed to call the lord many names, which will not be documented in these writings but one can imagine of what nature they were. After dinner, he still had to partake in an hour of training, but different than on other days, Jimin felt good. He felt happy and hopeful and terribly excited for what the night will bring.

Jimin tells the knights to have a good sleep after training and he makes his way to the library. He meets Frigga and your maids on his way, greeting them with a bright smile. Frigga’s eyes keep lingering on him, but Jimin ignores it, continuing his way to the library. He won’t be witness to the knowing gasp Frigga releases once she realises where his path will take him.

The library is empty during this hour of the day, but Jimin doesn’t let it intimidate him. He knows where to find you. You particularly enjoy the cultural section and always find yourself lost in the books. Tonight is no different. Dressed in a simple night gown and with your hair vast of jewellery, you stand by the cultural section with a book in your hand.

Jimin increases his steps, smiling so brightly his cheeks hurt. He begins running those last few steps. He cannot wait to be with you again.

You turn your head at the sound of steps in sync with Jimin sweeping you off your feet and pressing you against the shelf. You wanted to scream in shock, but don’t get to as Jimin claims your lips in a deep kiss.

The book falls to the ground, your lips tremble against his'. Your surprised sounds get swallowed by him.

Jimin rolls his hips into you and sighs, sucking on your lower lip as his heart races in his chest. He missed your kisses so much. He missed surprising you with them and how you always clutch him especially tightly as a result.

Tonight however, your desperate touch doesn’t come. Tonight, your hand presses itself between your lips as you begin wiggling in his hands until he can’t help but drop you.

“I don’t understand”, he confesses.

“Why would you do this? I gave you no permission”, you spit, carrying anger on your features.

“I, I thought that, that. You love when I surprise you here.”

“You have no idea what I want. All you care about is yourself”, you spit and push him away.

Jimin stumbles back, hitting the opposite bookshelf. His heart aches in his chest. Your words cut so very deep.

You turn and run away.

“I don’t understand. Why are you saying this?” he gets out, running after you, “my Queen what happened? Why are you acting this way?”

“I never should have come here. I’m such a fool”, you murmur to yourself.

“My Queen”, Jimin insists, touching your wrist gently, “what happened? I’m sorry for surprising you, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

You turn around, looking at him with glassy eyes. Jimin closes in on you, carrying honest regret in his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Is it me? I’m sorry for acting like this.”

“She asked me about you, Jimin”, you get out with fear in your voice, “she knows what we are”, you add and continue your way back to your chambers.

“What? Wait, what?” Jimin stutters, “wait. What are you saying?” he asks as he begins running after you.

“Go away, Jimin”, you tell him, increasing your steps.

“Who asked about me?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We are so wrong.”

“Who asked about me?” Jimin insists with increasing panic in his chest. He doesn’t like how you talk or how you act.

“Frigga. She saw that we touched each other and asked what it meant.”

“And what did you say?”

“Please, leave me alone. Please”, you beg, leaving the library. It isn’t far to your chambers anymore.

“My Queen”, Jimin follows you, “my Queen, please.”

You increase your steps. Tonight is not a good night for this. You feel weakened in spirit and crave his gentle touch. Frigga asked about him. She asked if perhaps you felt more for him than just friendship. You didn’t know what to say and so you sent her away. Now you are frightened. You do not want the public to find out and therefore shame Jimin. You can’t be responsible for him losing his honour. You are so scared and the worst of this situation was, that you craved his hugs as remedy.

“My Queen, please allow me but a moment”, he begs, taking one step where you take two. He knows these hallways well enough to be aware that he doesn’t have long until you can flee into your chambers, “please just a fleeting moment. I do not require much time.”

“You should go to bed, Jimin. It is too late”, you tell him, taking a sharp turn to the left. Your chambers are so close to reach.

“___ beloved, please.”

You falter in your steps. Your name from his lips stole your ability to walk. No one knows that he calls you beloved, whispered when he is deep inside you or gasped when you sink down on him. It happened naturally, he didn’t realise at first that these syllables fell from his tongue until you kissed him deeper than you ever had before and stole his breath in the process. Ever since then, your name followed by a term of endearment leaves him during moments most intimate. To be called this way right now, here in the dark, cold hallway where longing gets so painful to bear, robs you of every step you wanted to take. Jimin stops in order not to run into you. You don’t turn, but you also don’t run away anymore. You are breathing heavily, balling your hands into fists.

Jimin steps closer and brushes his hand down your arm. You tense up, biting your own lower lip to stop it from trembling. His touch returns warmth to your skin. Warmth, you missed like lungs miss air and plants miss sunlight. 

“Please stop pushing me away. We can solve this together”, he speaks quietly, sharing a secret only meant for you. 

A step closer. 

His calloused hand closes around your elbow. You close your eyes. To be touched by him is the most painful of dreams. Why must he feel so good? 

“I know that you are hurting. Please allow me take care of you”, he whispers, looking at your neck with longing, “allow me to ease the aches. Like I always did.” 

You want to speak, but can’t. You can’t form words as the only word your tongue craves to produce is his name.

His arm lays itself around your waist and tugs you into his chest. 

His heart is hammering against his ribcage. His warmth engulfs you in burning flames. Tears escape your eyes and leave cold trails down your cheeks. 

His hand closes on your waist and squeezes. The touch digs into the deepest parts of you. It is so familiar and yet so foreign. A comfort estranged because of the distance you forced yourselves to be in. 

“I miss you”, Jimin whispers with trembling emotion in his voice and brushes his nose against your neck. Vanilla and honey. He missed your scent so much. 

You miss him as well. You miss his laughter, his voice, his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses. You miss him when you fall asleep, you miss him when you wake up and you miss him during the day. The grief for your late husband is only for the public, for the true reason you are grieving is your lost love with Jimin. You ache without him. 

“It’s late Sire, go to bed”, you force the words out, stepping out of the hug even if you didn’t want to. 

“My Queen…”

You leave without looking back because if you did, you would have fallen around his neck and begged him to stay. You can’t allow yourself to give in.

Jimin doesn’t follow you that night and you cry yourself to sleep. 

He is talking. He should be the one asking questions and listening, but instead he has been talking about himself for the past hour. His name was Landor. Another suitor begging for a chance to be your second husband. He promises you lands in the north and strong children in the belly. Both of which sounded terrible to you. 

He is currently laughing at one of his fooleries. You don’t think it entertaining and so you don’t laugh. He snorts as his way of stopping his bone twisting laughter, looking at you with self-assured confidence. He must think himself to be the most entertaining of fellow. He probably hadn’t even realised that you didn’t join his laughter.

“Thank you Sire, I shall send word with my decision”, you tell him and send him away with a flick of the wrist.

“My Queen, I await the splendid news with longing in my heart”, Landor says and leaves thinking that he completely charmed you. He won’t ever receive word from you. 

The doors close and so you turn to your advisor.

“How much yapping do I still have to bear?” you ask her.

“There are still six contestants left, my Queen”, Frigga tells you and shows you the list. You skim over the names. None seems familiar to you and none catches your attention. Because none formed the name of the man you truly yearn for. You catch yourself looking at him.

He is standing behind Frigga, staring at the closed throne room doors with a stern expression. To others he seemed concentrated, but you know that he was upset. The tension in his jaw is familiar to you. You know that it only tortures his muscles when he is upset. He had this habit ever since he was a boy and on many nights, you soothed it away with soft touches to his jaw.

Jimin’s eyes flit to you, meeting your gaze for but a moment before you quickly look away. Your heart races unbearably. He caught you staring.

“Six, I see”, you press out, touching your own chest in hopes of calming down your heart, “bring in the next contestant.”

The doors open. You hope that it is enough to distract the people in the room and most importantly to distract Jimin. You glance at him again, feeling your heart twist in your chest. He is still looking at you, carrying heartbreaking longing in his dark brown eyes. The longing grows when your gazes meet, the tension in his jaw riffles and tightens.

You seemed tired today. Jimin felt tired as well. He didn’t find a lot of sleep last night, repeating what happened in the dark hallways over and over again. He tried to find answers to understand why you keep pushing him away. He fell asleep without finding what he looked for. Even now, as he looks into your eyes, he can’t find it.

You are plagued by thoughts of your own. You miss him. You miss his embrace, his kiss and his hands which fit so perfectly in yours. You miss him.

“My Queen!”

The voice of the next contestant rips you back to reality. You break your eyes away from Jimin and look at the man before you.

The next contestant for your hand in marriage was taller than Landor. His hair was grey and a lot thinner already and he seemed to have used some sort of animal grease to smudge it back. You scrunch your nose at the view, already hating the interaction. 

“My Queen!” he speaks loudly and bows deeply, “my name is Sir Kanneth from Kanneth Height and I am here to ask for your hand.”

“Yes I am aware. Tell me why I should consider taking you as my husband.”

“I shall tell you through song, my Queen!” he says and slides a lute from his back.

You bite back your exhausted sigh. He is one of those men. Annoying peacocks who believe their mediocre singing and terrible song writing will impress you. You listen to the man sing about his great adventures, wishing that it was over soon.

No voice could impress you, not when you know how Jimin sings. He doesn’t sing often, mostly during quiet moments of the night when the candles are almost burned down and you feel relaxed in his arms, but whenever he does, you find yourself wishing for time to slow down just so you could listen to him longer. You glance at Jimin again. He is furrowing his brows as he is forced to listen to the contestant sing. He turns his head, meeting your gaze. 

The terrible melodies drown out in your ears as you get lost in Jimin’s eyes. If you got up and ran away with him, would your life be happy?

“Wonderful! Oh how wonderful!” the cheers and applause of the court rips you back to your sad reality.

Sir Kanneth finished his song, bowing his head at you. You lift your hands and begin clapping.

“Impressive”, you say coldly, carrying no honesty in the statement.

Sir Kanneth leaves the throne room twenty minutes later. He won’t receive word either.

Neither will the third nor fourth contestant of the day. The fifth one enters the throne room, bearing gifts. Foreign food, which seem to be of his home country. He appears to be of your age and carries himself well. His ruby hair was long and reflected the light and his clothes were made of the finest of silks. You watch him with interested eyes.

He bows.

“Thranduin is my name. I come from far, far in the west”, he bows deeply, “my dearest condolences for your incredible loss, Your Highness. I too lost my first wife to the seas and I understand your grief.”

“Thank you for your well wishes”, you tell him, running your eyes up and down his body, “you don’t look like my other suitors.”

“Oh no”, he laughs and you think his laugh to be passable, “but when I got news that Queen ___ of the beautiful country of Windfell seeks a new husband, I had to get on my dragon and see you.”

“You have dragons in your country?”

“Yes indeed we do. We receive our companions once we pass two decades. Smogwyn is his name and he is a wonderful companion. I could introduce you to him if you wish.”

You don’t think that conversation with Thranduin is terrible or boring. As a matter of fact, he intrigues you, which hurts one person in the room more than anyone else. Jimin, stood behind you and with a careful eye on you, he stands witness to the laughable attempts of charming you the other men perform. He celebrates whenever one of your suitors gets send away by you, he judges whenever one says ridiculous stuff and he suffers now that you are standing up from your chair to descend the stairs.

“I would love to meet your companion, Sire. I have always dreamed of seeing a dragon.”

“Then I shall introduce you to him. I promise he doesn’t bite.”

You laugh and while Thranduin seems delighted, Jimin almost bites his own teeth out from tensing his jaw so tightly.

His agonies continue as his duties drag him with you. He follows behind while you and Thranduin talk. He clutches the handle of his sword tightly while his mind produced the most sinister of thoughts. If he was quick enough, he could cut Thranduin’s head off and throw his body over the edge of the railing. The cliff would be high enough and the sea punishing enough to take care of the rest. Naturally, he doesn’t give in to his thoughts even if every laugh you spill because of this stranger makes him wish he did.

Smogwyn, the dragon, is outside the capital gates. Down the windy road which leads to the rocky beaches of the capital. People had already gathered on top the walls to look at the foreign animal. The dragon covers an impressive amount of land, dragging a gasp out of you.

“By the heavens, this animal is enormous!”

“Indeed he is, eventhough he is still growing.”

“He is? Oh how incredible. How big will he be once he stops growing?”

“About twice his current size.”

“Oh, I am awestruck. This is the most unbelievable thing I have ever seen.”

“Shall I call him to us?”

“Oh heavens I am a little frightened, but yes call him.”

Thranduin whistles with the help of his fingers.

The red scaled dragon lets out a grumble so deep the earth shakes and lifts his head. He takes a step where humans would have to take seven, shaking the water each time he connects his clawed foot with the ground.

You are standing on the high bridge which connects the capital with the Queendom’s many islands. The dragon reaches above the bridge, taking up your entire vision as he moves his head close.

You squeak in frightened excitement, stumbling back. Your hand closes around Jimin’s in instinct. His heart stops in his chest, his stomach clenches. You haven’t noticed that you are holding his hand as you are mesmerised by the dragon. Thranduin hasn’t noticed either, he is too preoccupied with petting his scaled companion.

“Oh, this is frightening”, you say and squeak in laughter.

The dragon moves his head, taking in your scent.

“Oh heavens”, you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut as the dragon’s nose stubs your body. He breathes in and exhales, blowing warm winds around your body and Jimin’s. The dust on the ground swirls, your dress sways aggressively. The air smells like glowing coal. But everything Jimin can take in, is your hand squeezing his’ and your back pressing against his chest as you flee from the dragon.

The dragon grumbles and lifts his head.

“Oh this was thrilling!” you exclaim, letting go of Jimin’s hand to clap. You jump on the spot, beaming at Thranduin, “a dragon smelled me! Oh Sire, I am bouncing in excitement. This was incredible!”

Jimin balls his hand to a tight fist, staring at your glowing face with pain in his heart. You gave him so much happiness with the touch and yet you haven’t even realised that you did it.

“He seems to enjoy your company, Your Highness”, Thranduin says, “I must say that I share this feeling with him.”

“Oh dear”, you fluster.

Jimin tenses his jaw, gripping the handle of his sword. He would most definitely be eaten by the dragon if he tried anything right now, but it would be worth it. This man angers him beyond imagination.

You step closer to Thranduin.

“May I touch him? Please just once.”

“Of course. Give me your hand, I shall guide you to him.”

And so Jimin has to watch as you place your hand into the palm of a stranger. This is the hand he held mere moments ago and now you are giving it away. Jimin forces down tears and turns his back to you. He can’t bear to watch this any longer. He can hear you squeal and squeak behind him as Thranduin, the twat, guides your hand over the rough scales of the dragon. He can hear you laugh and giggle as Thranduin calls out your beauty once again. And he can hear you talk with great vigour in your voice as you ask more questions about the dragons and the customs of Thranduin’s country.

He doesn’t look at you until it was time to leave for the castle again. And while he puts more distance between you and him, you seem to walk closer to Thranduin.

You stop by the throne room doors.

“Will you stay in Windfell for long, Sire?” you ask Thranduin.

“I can stay for as long as you wish me to, Your Highness. I have many more stories to tell”, Thranduin says, making you smile.

“Then you shall stay for dinner. I want to know everything you have to tell and try the foods you brought.”

“As you wish, Your Highness. I shall stay for dinner. I am certain that my country’s cuisine will bring you great enjoyment. Food is very important in our culture.”

“You have me interested, Sire. I enjoy food a great lot.”

“It seems that we share yet another similarity, Your Highness”, he says and makes you laugh. 

Truly, Jimin wishes that he could slice him. 

The sixth contestant of the day gets sent home with the promise that tomorrow will be another day, while Thranduin gets led to one of the empty guest quarters to prepare for dinner.

You hurry to your own chambers, followed by Frigga and Jimin. While Frigga helps you with getting dressed behind your privacy screen, Jimin is destined to stand by your door. He tries not to, but still looks at you. The privacy screen feels like mockery to him. Your naked body is a landscape most familiar to Jimin and yet you hide away from him. He is aware why you do it, as his explorations were secret to even Frigga, and he also knows that he has no right to your body even if you and he were husband and wife, but he still feels mocked today. Your friendly nature with Thranduin made him irrationally jealous and upset.

“He seemed to have caught your attention, my Queen”, Frigga says, twisting a knife in Jimin’s heart with her words.

“Oh yes, his dragon is most interesting”, you say, “I hope to hear many more stories about them.”

“My Queen, you make it sound as if everything which was intriguing about the man was his dragon”, Frigga jokes and laughs.

You falter for a moment. Frigga can’t see it as she is busy tying your dress at the back, but Jimin can. The privacy screen is low enough that your heads are still poking out. Jimin watches how a sort of realisation washes over you and how embarrassment replaces it.

“Well, I”, you let out a breathy laugh, lowering your head as you shake it, “you speak of silly things, Frigga.”

Frigga giggles, “my apologies. You know that I jest way too much.”

You laugh, nodding your head. But the realisation still remains on your features.

Jimin stares at it with a racing heart. Perhaps he looked at the entire situation with incorrect eyes. Perhaps Thranduin was never exciting to you, but the dragon and stories he brings. Perhaps the man will ruin his chances with you just as all the other men did. A dragon and little stories will only be interesting to you that long before you realise that the man itself won’t bring you satisfaction.

Your eyes flit to Jimin and meet his gaze and for the first time today, he feels confident in holding eye contact. You break it sooner than him, touching the side of your own neck. You don’t look at him again while Jimin feels his lips curl into a triumphant smile. Your eyes said everything he needed to know. You just lost interest in the man.

Fate however soon shows him that it wasn’t as easy as he thought it to be. You seem entirely entranced by the man’s every word during dinner. You look at him, laugh at his jokes, ask for more stories and once dinner ends, you ask him if he felt in the mood for honey wine in the castle gardens. And while Jimin wanted to follow you as your guard, you told him that he was free for the night, leaving him behind as you left for wine with Thranduin. Jimin felt so angered by the entire situation that he dared to kick the sturdy stone wall when nobody saw him. 

The castle sleeps except for a few night owls still playing card games in the dining halls. They share wine and sweet delicacies of your country. Butter cookies with a pinecone jelly filling. The taste is most exquisite and goes excellent with the honey wine of the castle’s brewery. You drank quite a lot of the honey wine tonight, so much in fact that you try not to let the people see you as you hurry to your bed chambers. It would be beyond humiliating to show yourself in such a state to the public. It is already embarrassing enough that Thranduin had to help you to your feet as you felt too drunk to walk on your own. Speaking of the latter, you left him by his guest quarters, promising him breakfast in the dining hall tomorrow.

Frigga and your maids are asleep by now. You are glad that they are, because you couldn’t bear to hear their teasing comments about your intoxicated state. They would most definitely think your jolly nature to be of love drunk origin, but it wasn’t. You were drunk. Nothing less and nothing more. Thranduin was good company, his stories were thrilling and you loved learning about dragons. He was also very handsome and a scent of what he called a “coconut” surrounded him. But you didn’t find your heart beating faster for him. He felt more like a good friend to you than a potential husband. You were too drunk to think about the meaning of said feelings however, all you knew is that you had a good evening and that you felt ready for bed.

You slip inside your chambers, closing the doors behind you. You use them to catch your balance for a moment, propping your hand against the wood as you take a few deep breaths. You are jolly drunk, by the heavens.

You let a small giggle escape. It has been too long since you last felt that carefree. You missed the feeling so incredibly much.

“Ah heavens”, you let out and turn to hurry to the dressing area. You want to get out of your clothes. They have been torturing you for too long.

It is a rather difficult task to undress. It is already very hard to do alone on a sober day and with the additional help of alcohol, it gets almost impossible. You find yourself sitting down on the floor and undoing the intricate lacing of your dress this way. You also take off your jewellery this way, giggling to yourself because you felt rather silly sitting on the floor. Truly, you feel so entirely carefree tonight.

You abandon your clothes and jewellery on the ground, stepping from behind the privacy screen in nothing but your undergarments. You need to take the hair jewellery out and take care of your skin and then you can finally fall into bed. You stumble past your bed, letting out a loud scream when you see a figure sitting on it. You squint your eyes to see better.

“Jimin?!” you exclaim, stumbling closer, “by heavens, you gave me such a fright! I believed you to be an intruder. Oh dear”, you giggle at first until realisation overcomes you, “why are you in my chambers? Have you always been here? Did you sit in silence like a ghost while I undressed?!”

Jimin nods his head. He is wearing nothing more than a thigh-length sleeping tunic and some comfortable linen pants. His sword is on the mattress beside him and his hair lacks volume from brushing it.

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“You seem drunk”, he ignores your question, scanning his eyes up and down your body.

“Indeed I am. I drank way too much honey wine.”

“I can see that. You shouldn’t drink that much. You’re the queen.”

“Oh come now”, you let out a mocking scoff, “did you truly just say that?”

He nods his head, tightening his jaw.

“This isn’t yours to say.”

“I worry.”

“Well, don’t. It soils my mood.”

Jimin tongues his cheek, lowering his eyes in annoyance.

You break your eyes away from him and walk to your dressing table. You don’t feel as jolly drunk anymore as you did before. As a matter of fact, you feel rather terrible. He was the reason why you drank so much. You wanted to forget him and the burning feelings you harbour for him and seeing him on your bed presented in such an intimate way brought everything, you managed to forget about, back to the surface. You are so irrationally angry at him.

Jimin watches you barely manage to sit down. If the chair wasn’t as sturdy in its balance as it was, you most definitely would have doubled over. 

You begin taking out your hair pearls, doing so with swaying shoulders and lazy eyes. 

Jimin takes a deep breath and gets up from bed. He walks to the dining area of your room and prepares a jug of water for you. The waters in your queendom are as clear as crystal and healing to drink. While other queendoms struggle to find safe drinking water, your queendom lives in abundance. You especially enjoy the taste of it when you wake up in the middle of the night and its temperature feels especially cold on your tongue. 

Jimin places the full jug on the dressing table. You look at it, then at the reflection of him in your mirror. His jaw carried tension.

“Drink it. You will get a headache otherwise”, he tells you. 

“I didn’t ask for water.”

“And I didn’t ask to be treated like shit. It seems we both didn’t get what we asked for.” 

You break your eyes away from him, gulping the water down in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful lump in your throat. 

The silence is suffocating. He keeps staring at you, standing right behind you. You feel so much aching pressure on your heart, struggling to undo the pearls in the back. Jimin nudges your hands away gently and takes over for you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. He is frowning while you can barely keep the eye contact alive. He breaks it first, looking down at your head as he helps you with your hair.

Jimin helped you with your hair on many occasions in the past. He studied as your hair dressers styled it and studied how they prepared it for bed and then one night he asked if he could be the one preparing it for you. You allowed him and ever since that night, he often took care of your hair while you looked at him through the mirror.

To have him take care of you tonight breaks your heart into a million pieces. You are so lonely without him.

Jimin removes the last of your hair pearls, leaning over to place them in the big sea shell on your table. The seas of your queendom were filled with the most wonderful of shells, some even bigger than your head. It is a common occurrence that empty shells wash up at the shores and for the bowl makers of the capital to create the most wonderful bowls and trinkets out of them. Shell bowls and boxes are scattered all throughout your chambers, holding your jewellery and other treasures.

Jimin’s middle presses into your back as he leans over. The sensation steals your air. It ends too soon for your taste, but you know not to reach behind you and pull him closer like you so often did in the past. You shouldn’t do this anymore. As a matter of sad fact, you never should have allowed it to come this far that you began pulling him closer for more.

Jimin picks up the brush which your brush makers fabricated out of shells and natural bristles especially for your hair. It always leaves your hair feeling healthy and Jimin learned how to use it correctly in order to care for you.

It feels so good to have him untangle your hair, but it also makes you ache. He knows you so well and takes such great care of you. You miss him so much.

You reach for the jug of water quickly to distract yourself from your feelings.

“You held my hand today”, Jimin says into the heavy silence. 

You choke on your water, spilling some as you set the jug down hastily. You cough, looking at Jimin again. 

The latter lands gentle slaps to your upper back to get rid of your cough. It helps.

“What are you saying?” you get out, clearing your throat to rid yourself of the last tickles.

“Down by the beach, when the dragon came close. You held my hand.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. And then you gave it away to Thranduin”, Jimin scrunches his nose in jealous disgust, “the only thing this man can bring you, is the stench of dragon and boring stories. Even his food lacked flavour and I am sure he fucks just as bland.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” you gasp, feeling honestly shocked at his harsh words. It is unlike him to allow his dialect to come through.

“Nothing. I am merely saying it how it is.”

“Well, you are incorrect. I shared a wonderful evening with him. He is good company.”

“Good’s just passing in disguise. You deserve more than good company.”

“He has potential to become great company.”

“Of course”, Jimin says and scoffs, turning his back to you to walk back to the bed, “you’re a terrible jester.”

You stand up, looking at him with dark eyes. 

“I felt so jolly tonight. Why must you ruin it like this?”

“Because I’m in misery and I’m selfish and awful enough that I don’t want you to be happy with someone who isn’t me.”

“I see”, you let out and scoff, “you truly are selfish.”

“Yes, indeed I am. I am the most selfish bastard you will ever meet and you know who I learned this from?”

You don’t answer him.

“You. You made me your servant, took my innocence, gave me glimpses of a life with you only to push me away once your joke of a husband spent his time and rotted away and you finally began feeling guilty enough. You are the most selfish person I have ever seen.”

“Why would you say that?” you gasp, feeling yourself tear up.

“Because I am tired of being treated this way by you.”

“Treated this way? You are my knight and nothing more. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Leave you alone? I went from holding you in my arms and feeling your love to being pushed away and treated like vermin by you within the blink of an eye. Tell me how this should make me feel. How I should live with the ache in my heart.”

“You know why I had to push you away.”

“No. No, I don’t because you never gave me an explanation. He died”, Jimin points out at the sea, “and suddenly I wasn’t good enough anymore, because we are both well aware that your horrific futures wouldn’t ever have happened. They were never the reason why you pushed me away. I merely stopped being good enough and I am tired of running after you. Please just give me a reason why I stopped being good enough for you.”

“I do not owe you an explanation, I am your Queen.”

“Yes, you are my Queen, but you are also my best friend and the woman I love and you loved me as well. The least I deserve is an explanation.”

You loved him.

The word hurts.

Loved is incorrect.

You love him.

You still do.

You still love him. You never stopped.

But you have to push him away. You and he are wrong for each other. There are no two souls which are actually so right for each other, but society makes you wrong. In another life where no ranks or duties differentiate you and him, you could be happy. But not here. Not in the real world.

“There is no explanation. I am your queen and you did your duties. I apologise if I made it seem as if there was more behind it.”

Jimin tears up, but continues to talk. His heart aches too much not to. He isn’t rational right now, led by emotions and he needs to say everything which was on his mind.

“Why are you saying this? Why would you lie? Who are you pretending for? It’s just us right now. Why do you pretend to feel nothing for me?”

“I am not pretending. I feel nothing for you.”

Jimin closes the distance between you and him. You stumble back until the edge of the desk digs into your thighs. Jimin acts quickly, lifting you up on the table with such vigour that you make a sound without wanting to. He is between your legs, pressing his middle against your own while his hands are on your waist. You feel short of breath, gulping repeatedly in an attempt to get air back into your lungs.

“Go on tell me that this doesn’t make you feel anything”, Jimin whispers, drawing patterns between your eyes and your lips with his mesmerising gaze, “tell me that this means nothing to you and I will leave you to find unhappiness with a stranger.”

“Jimin I…” you breathe shakily, fighting your eyes as they flit to his lips. You lose the fight. His lips are glistening in the candle lights, looking like rose petals in colour even in the dim room. The scent of his vanilla lip oil meets your nose. You crave his kiss like water “…please.”

“Push me away, ___.”

“Why would you do this to me? Why can’t you listen?”

“Because I can’t give up on you. Not without help, so push me away. That is all you have to do. Push me away.”

You place your hands on his chest. His heart is racing uncontrollably. You give him a gentle nudge.

“This isn’t enough. Push me away”, Jimin insists, fighting your weak pushes.

You try again, spilling tears.

“Push me away. Do it, ___.”

You can’t push him away. You need him. You can’t survive without him. 

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. You drop your hands from his chest, grabbing his waist, “no”, you whisper and tug him into a hug. You rest your head on his chest, shaking it, “no. You are good enough, Jimin. You are too good for me in fact. I have to marry for power, but you should marry for love. I’m so selfish to keep you with me. You are not supposed to be a secret.”

Jimin closes his arms around you and presses you close.

“It’s alright. I’m just as selfish.”

“No. No, it’s not fair to you”, you shake your head.

“Sending me away will break me more than being your secret”, Jimin insists, stopping your vigorous head shaking gently. He brushes his palm down the back of your head repeatedly, “I know you are scared, but we will figure this out. We will do it together like we always did. Please don’t let seventeen years go to waste, ___.”

You exhale shakily, looking up at him with tears covering your cheeks.

Jimin’s eyes are filled with reassurance, a warm smile curls his lips. He cups your cheeks to dry your tears. You lean into the touch, finally finding the comfort you craved for too long.

“We will find a way together. Yes?” he whispers. 

You nod your head. 

“Yes, we will”, he says and watches as you furrow your brows sadly, “what’s the matter?”

“I want to marry you”, you confess, “but if I can’t find a strong companion, my queendom will be without protection. My late husband never expected love from me, we were friends and I loved him dearly as such and now he is dead and I am destined to find someone to fill his place. I am frightened, Jimin. I do not want to pretend to love a stranger. Why did he have to die and leave me to fend for myself?”

“You are not alone. I’m by your side. I will always be by your side.”

“I know”, you blink your tears away, “I’m so grateful that you are”, you say and cup his cheeks.

He leans into the touch, lowering his eyes in the fondest of ways. He slides his left hand to the small of your back, while his right engulfs the nape of your neck. He tugs you closer, eliciting a whimper from you. You tilt your head up, closing your eyes to get lost in the kiss. But the kiss never comes. At least not on your lips. He kisses the tears from your cheeks before placing soft kisses on your sensitive neck, on the spots where it feels the best.

“Jimin….” you sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. Your fingers grasp his tunic and twist it desperately, your legs close around him to tug him closer. You feel breathless. This is the kind of feeling you know to be attraction. This is how you feel when you crave someone’s touch. One kiss to your neck is enough to send your body into a blurred state of happiness.

Jimin lifts his pillowy lips from your neck. You chase him, even going so far as to slide your hand to his neck to pull him back, but he is stronger. He brushes his lips over your ear as he speaks.

“I won’t go further than this tonight. You are drunk and I am the last person who would make an indecent woman out of you.”

“I don’t care. I’m indecent with you”, you say, grabbing his hair to pull him close, “kiss me, Jimin. Please.”

Jimin allows you to win the fight and drag him into a kiss. It is a messy kiss. You are so drunk that you barely have coordination over your mouth. To you it felt like the most wonderful of kisses, but to Jimin it felt wet and just a little sloppy. He still kissed you back because he missed your kiss so much it became hard to breathe. He swallows the crude moans you let out while his hands touch your backside. You arch your back, rolling your hips into him. His calloused hands slide under your behind and lift you from the table. You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you to bed. You are rubbing yourself against him, feeling suffocated in need. You missed him so much. You missed him. Missed him. Missed him.

Jimin places you in the sheets, but doesn’t climb on top of you. Instead he keeps one foot grounded on the floor, while the knee of his other rests between your opened legs. He breaks the kiss, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek.

“Sleep tight, ___ beloved”, he whispers and steps back.

“Jimin…please…”

He gives you a bow before turning his back to you and leaving your chambers. He keeps his sword on your bed as a symbol that he hasn’t left your life tonight.

The doors fall closed.

You touch your lips, gasping for air. He left you. He did so little tonight and yet your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Fuck”, you whisper, staring at his sword.

That night you do unspeakable things with its handle. Things so indecent that they couldn’t possibly be mentioned in these writings. And the most humiliating part was that you weren’t ashamed of them.

You don’t let the court know how hungover you felt. Frigga and your maids woke you two hours after the sun rose and helped you freshen up. They asked how you enjoyed the evening with Thranduin and you could simply smile and tell them that you had a good time with him. They missed how you ogled Jimin’s sword as you spoke the words.

Once they dressed you for breakfast, you left your chambers. You take Jimin’s sword with you, even if your servants seemed confused about its presence for a moment.

“He must have forgotten it as I got ready for the evening with Thranduin”, you lied and they didn’t probe any further.

“My Queen”, Jimin joins your side on the hallways. He is dressed in his armour and carries his spare sword. He bows at you, giving you a miniscule smile as he straightens up again. Happiness surrounds him today and you feel the same.

“Sire”, you greet him with a curtsey, stifling a giggle, “I noticed that you forgot your sword in my chambers.”

“Truly? I did? Oh how clumsy of me. I already looked for it everywhere this morning”, he says, “I must have forgotten it as you got ready for your evening with Thranduin.”

“I already figured that much. Worry not, I brought it with me”, you say and offer it to him.

Jimin accepts it with a bow of his head. He holds it by his sheath at first, furrowing his brows as his eyes scan over the handle. 

Your heart flutters. He noticed.

He touches it, lifting his brows in surprise when he feels the sinful residue you left on it.

His eyes meet yours and widen. He knows. You allow a small smile to curl your lips. Oh how you are fighting with your giggles. His shocked face is such a delight.

“You should take better care of your swords, Sire”, you tell him and continue your strut to the dining hall.

Jimin stands and stares until even the last of your servants passed him. He waits until their chatters and giggles became quieter in the hallway and only then, he dares to brush his fingers against his nose. If he wasn’t yet sure about what covered his sword, he received all the reassurance he needed with just one inhale. He gulps and finds himself feeling dizzy. You pleasured yourself with his sword. With burning cheeks and his heart racing in his chest, he sets off to follow you. Today will be a difficult day. Oh how he yearns for you.

Thranduin is already in the dining hall when you enter it. He stands up and closes the distance between you and him. “Your Highness, you look lovely this morning”, he greets you and reaches for your hand to kiss it. 

Jimin places the sword on his wrist. He kept it in its sheath, holding it by its soiled handle. Only he gets to touch it on this spot. You feel beyond excited at the view, which further proves how no other man could ever inflict the same feelings in you. You have a handsome suitor kissing your hand and yet the thought that Jimin touches the handle you marked brings you more joy than such a romantic gesture.

“The Queen prefers to be asked before she gets touched”, Jimin tells a baffled Thranduin. He glances at you, giving you a small smile. One you retort with a fluttering heart.

“Oh? I, I”, Thranduin stutters, “please forgive my manners. I must have believed that I had a right to a hand kiss after last night.”

You pull your hand free. 

“No please, I took no offense. You must forgive my guard. He is overly protective”, you say and strut to the tables, “now, shall we have breakfast? I must say that I am starving.” 

Conversation with Thranduin is great again. You feel comfortable with him and honestly laughed. Jimin didn’t mind bearing witness to them today. He knew of your true feelings, the sword he keeps clutching was proof enough. What you are currently doing was for show. 

You ask Thranduin if he and his escorts felt in the mood for a game of Stickball in the castle’s garden. He agreed and so you find yourselves playing stickball in the gardens. 

Stickball was an incredibly fun game which originated in your queendom long, long before your time. Back in its beginnings, people used sticks they found on trees to carry a spherical stone to a basket on the ground without dropping it. Over time one basket became multiple baskets placed over the playing field. These days, there are tools for the game and it is played whilst sharing honey wine and pine cone jelly biscuits. You refuse the wine today. 

Thranduin is busy with his play and the others on the court are busy with exchanging cultural stories, so only Jimin bears witness to your refusal.

You stand under the shadow of a tree, leaning your weight onto your sticks, when he closes in to whisper.

“Does someone regret last night?” he is teasing. 

You still feel drunk enough to feel the need to tease as well. You turn your head so your noses almost touch.

“You carry proof of how much I regret last night in your hand. Need I say more?” you whisper, ending it with a seductive look to his lips.

Jimin flusters, taking a step back. 

You chuckle, leaving him under the shadow as you join Thranduin’s side. 

“You seem to know your way around this game very well, Sire.”

“You must be mocking me right now. I am truly terrible at it.”

You laugh. 

“But you are talented for your first time. Not everyone manages to keep the ball balanced for such a long time.”

“You believe so? Well, then I feel good in my play”, he jokes and seconds later, drops the ball. You and he share in laughter. 

“See? I am terrible.”

“Fret not, it took me a long time to get good at the game”, you say and pick up your ball, “I shall show you how it is done.”

“I have to look thoroughly then”, Thranduin says and laughs when seconds later you drop the ball as well.

“Oh by the heavens, I-”, you let out and glance at him, “I must insist this only happened because I am still drunk.”

“Yes, yes tell yourself such lies, Your Highness”, Thranduin teases and picks up his ball for another try.

The game is amazing fun. Thranduin is wonderful company. You joke, exchange stories, laugh and have fun. He feels like a friend you have known for a long time. But this is as far as your interest for him goes. Friendship. 

Your feelings for the situation became so painfully obvious to you now that you had the memory of last night replaying in your head. You liked Thranduin as a friend and hope to continue this friendship, but your heart lies with your knight. You do not want to deny those feelings any longer.

Thranduin is currently busy exchanging stories with Frigga. You and he already moved on to the fifth basket on the playing field. There were still ten more to go. Now experiencing a moment of silence, you begin looking for Jimin. He is standing with the other guards under the shade of the trees. His eyes meet yours instantly and light up. He smiles, you retort it. 

The heat of the sun, the lightheartedness of the game and the lingering wine in your veins blurs your sense of care today. And so you listen to the voices of your heart and make your way to Jimin. 

Not before interrupting Thranduin’s story for a quick, “I feel the need to freshen up. I shall return shortly. Frigga, you can play in my stead.” 

“Are you feeling alright, my Queen?” she asks.

“Yes, yes I just drank too much and need to use the private chambers.”

“Understood, my Queen”, she says with a nod of her head. 

“I shall attempt to get better till you are back”, Thranduin jokes, eliciting a small laugh from you before you officially excuse yourself. 

Jimin straightens up in giddy nervousness once he sees you strutting to him confidently. His heart is racing. He didn’t expect to be approached with such confidence.

“I need to freshen up”, you tell him. 

“Yes, my Queen”, he says and leaves his spot to tail behind you. 

You pass a few people on your way through your gardens. They greet you with bows while you greet them with a smile. You manage to get as far as the lower hallways and then loneliness surrounds you. No other people are in sight. 

Jimin looks around. Left, right, front and back. You and he are alone. There is a broom cabinet to your right. Jimin looks at you and grabs his soiled sword. This is his chance.

He closes the distance and touches your waist. 

“Oh”, you gasp in surprise, squeaking when he twirls you and pushes, “what are you doing? Jimin, what-”, an unflattering, yet honest cackle leaves you, "heavens, you."

Jimin pushed you into the broom cabinet. It is big enough to house hip high dressers and ceiling high shelves. Your gardeners use it to store their equipment in here, as well as pillows for the garden. He kicks the door closed and uses the soiled sword to seal it from inside. Then he turns, grabbing you again to lift you off your feet and onto the dresser. 

You grab for him, pulling him into a kiss in sync with him leaning into it. It results in your teeth colliding with each other. 

“Careful”, you giggle, smiling into the kiss.

“Forgive me”, he mumbles and claims your lips in a passionate kiss. He doesn’t care about the clumsy mess-up, not when he wants you achingly. 

You moan and pull him closer. Your limbs wrap around him, your hands grasp him desperately. You need him closer and no matter how close you and he are, it isn’t enough. This is everything you wanted for weeks. To go without his kiss was torture.

“I can’t breathe”, Jimin confesses between kisses, “I’m ruined.”

“Jimin, closer”, you beg, pulling him into a kiss. Your tongue traces his lips. He grants you access instantly, allowing you to show him the tempo. Desperate. Messy. With barely any honour. You grind yourself against him and in return, he can’t stop rolling his hips into you. This is scandalous. No decorum is left. You have never needed each other more than you do right now. You can’t be mannerly, not when your very souls need to be connected. 

You tug at the straps of his shoulder plates. It takes some time to take off his armour, but you have practice with it. Too many times you and he had to be quick. Too many times, you had to be fast in undressing each other because little time was all that you had. You learned how to do it in a haste. You studied his armour until you knew where it was easiest to open. 

You tug the correct strap open. His shoulder plates fall off of him. Jimin moans and pulls you closer. His right arm is around your waist, pressing you into him. The kiss to your lips breaks because he needed to worship your neck. He does it sloppily and with desperate whimpers leaving him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you”, he moans between kisses, “what you did with my sword. It drives me mad.” 

“I had to. You left me alone”, you moan, struggling as you open the straps for his chest plate. He is sucking on your skin, kissing the spots most sensitive and kneading your flesh with desperate fingers all while his hips keep rolling into you as if he was already fucking you. 

You open the strap. His chest plate falls off, his back plate follows as well. Now he is before you in nothing but his linen shirt tugged into his pants. You grab it desperately, feeling him up through the fabric. It is damp because it was a hot day and armour makes one very hot. The sensation makes you moan. He is so heated up, so undoubtedly him. There is no one else who gets to feel him when he is this way. 

“I need to have you, please”, he begins begging because your touch through such a thin shirt is hard to bear.

“Open my dress”, you order as you are busy tugging his shirt from his pants.

“You have too much lacing. Why must you wear such a dress today?” he whines as he tries to open it.

You giggle, Jimin does as well. You and he shared this struggle on many occasions, but today it feels special. It fills your hearts with happiness because such a struggle meant that you and he were finally together again. 

“I felt beautiful.” 

“You are beautiful”, Jimin says and struggles, “fuck, I can’t do it this way”, he says and swoops you off the dresser to put you down in front of him. He twirls you so your back is facing him.

“You are so indecent”, you giggle, pressing your behind into him while he gets busy with your lacing. 

“I learned from you”, he answers you, meeting your hips in rolls of his own.

Jimin manages to unlace your dress quickly in this position. He tugs it open and pushes it down your shoulders. It falls to the floor. You turn and allow him to lift you out of the fabric heap. You squeak and giggle as you do, pulling him into a kiss. 

He feels weakened. He stumbles and falls against the shelves, sliding you down until your feet touch the ground. You pin him against the shelves instantly, kissing him so deeply Jimin finds it difficult to stand. His hands are holding you by your waist, his fingers dimple your flesh. Your underdress is made out of a thin fabric. It is as if he was already touching your bare skin. You are heated up as well, forcing moans to the tip of his tongue. There is no better feeling than that of your warm body.

His sword falls to the ground. You opened the belt, allowing it to drop. The sound doesn’t startle Jimin. In fact, he barely hears it as his ears are filled with nothing but your moans and heavy breathing. 

Seconds later, he feels your hand slide down his pants. You find him instantly, rubbing him vigorously.

“___”, he moans breathily, breaking the kiss just so he can rest his forehead against yours and shudder in pleasure. He throbs in your hand, soiling your palm with his wet pleasure.

“You are so hard”, you croak, playing with his sensitive tip. You squeeze it gently, forcing more of his wetness to leak.

“Please can I h-have you?” he begs in a pitched voice and his knees trembling uncontrollably.

“I shouldn’t allow you. As punishment for abandoning me last night”, you taunt.

 “Please, oh-” he nips at your jawline, “I wanted to be respectful, I- oh please.”

“I had to pleasure myself with your sword. Do you have any idea how desperate that left me? How humiliating it was? I couldn’t stop until my legs shook, Jimin.”

“Please”, he breathes out, collapsing into you before he catches himself again. His forehead rests against the side of your face, his pillowy lips brush over your cheek as he fights for air, “I’m sorry.”

“Mhm Jimin, you are such a treasure when you beg”, you rasp, slipping your hand out of his pants, “you can fuck me.”

“My Queen”, Jimin mewls and falls to his knees before you. He runs his hands up your legs, gazing at you with utter devotion in his eyes, “my beloved ___”, he croaks, punching up your dress with his hands as his lips worship your inner thighs. 

Your breath shudders, your heart skips too many beats. He is so out of breath, so obviously ruined, kissing his way up your inner thighs until your heat is under his lips. The dress covers most of his face this way, his strong hands are on your hips keeping you close. 

His wet tongue suddenly laps at your heat, sending fiery pleasure through your veins.

“Ah! Jimin!” you moan loudly, throwing your head back as your hands try to grab his hair. You sway because it gets difficult to keep yourself standing when he is using his mouth in such desperate manners. 

He is sucking and licking you vigorously, producing the most sinful of sounds. He is moaning as well, letting you know how much enjoyment he finds in the taste of you. His strong, calloused fingers keep kneading you desperately, leaving marks of sensitivity all over your skin.

“I missed you”, he gets out, pulling you onto his face until there is nothing but your scent filling his nose and your taste coating his tongue. He flicks it quickly, slurping up the masses of saliva his greedy mouth produces. He is untamed in the way he tastes you.

Jimin is a very mannerly lover. Too much he worries to soil your treasured heat with disrespectful oral. Most times it was you who had to tell him to let manners by the door. So to have him so unapologetically feast on you as if you were his last meal truly ruins you. Especially when you had to go without his touch for months.

Jimin takes your clit between his puffy lips and sucks, growling and moaning around you as his lips truly come to good use in massaging you just right.

“Oh Jimin, I’m close”, you confess in a squeak, fighting gravity. Your fingers tug on his hair painfully.

Jimin chuckles, sucking on your clit one more time before he tilts his head up. Your dress ruffled his hair, his puffy lips are wet in your sweetness, as his chin. His eyes gleam in dark pleasure and hungry desire, running up and down your body.

“I barely did anything”, he is teasing because he knows that he is allowed to do so.

“It has been months for me as well”, you defend yourself, giving his hair a gentle tug, “do not make fun of me.”

“I’m not. I love when you are like this”, Jimin smiles, squeezing your hips, “I want to fuck you so good”, he rasps as he rests his chin against your lower tummy, gazing up at you like a love drunk puppy. He sticks his behind out for it, looking truly to die for.

You ruffle his hair, “you and your dirty mouth. Get your cock out. Now.”

“Yes, my Queen”, Jimin obeys.

He takes his cock out of his pants, sitting on the ground as you keep him down with just a look. Jimin loves following your orders and there are no orders sweeter than when you tell him exactly what to do during sex.

He kneels once he is bared, keeping his hands on his sculpted thighs. His tunic, punches up on them, hiding his cock from you. You glance at it. Jimin fixes it instantly, stuffing the fabric behind his cock so it was visible to you.

“So good for me”, you praise, running the back of your hand down his cheek.

Jimin closes his eyes halfway, chasing your touch with a sigh.

“Sit down so I can get comfortable.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

You place your hands on his shoulders once he fixed the position and lower yourself, sitting comfortably on his lap. He touches your waist, meeting your fond gaze with even greater fondness. 

“I’m happy”, you confess.

“I’m happy too”, he answers you and gives you a gentle tug, “I want you. Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I want you as well”, you say and lift yourself to fix your positions. Jimin wraps his hand around his length, keeping it straight so you could slide down on him with ease. There is no friction, no discomfort. Just warmth and the overwhelming feeling of reconnecting with each other. 

“___”, Jimin moans, looking up at you with glassy eyes. His lids flutter, his fingers dimple your behind, “I missed you so much. Oh, you feel so good.”

“I missed you as well”, you croak, bottoming out. You grab his face, “Jimin. Beloved”, you whimper, pulling him into a kiss. 

“Beloved”, he sobs, keeping you close as his trembling lips kiss you back desperately. 

Your hips dance on his lap, chasing the feeling of him. There is no other person who fits as well as Jimin does. He makes you feel whole, as if a missing piece finally returned. Being with him not only heals your body from the aches of desire but also heals your heart from loneliness. 

“You feel so good”, you keen, panting desperately as your lips chase him. It is difficult to kiss, but you just can’t get yourself to stop. You need to make up for months of lost connection.

“Yes, yes, you do”, Jimin moans, holding you close. He is helping you with the movements, finding his only support by grasping your hips. 

It doesn’t matter if you and he love each other slowly or if you fuck like animals, it always heals your hearts. Because what you and he are doing isn’t just simple fucking, it is yet another way to confess each other’s love. And today it leaves you especially breathless. 

You were so lonely without each other, your hearts were so broken. Every second spent reconnecting with each other mends the deep cracks in your hearts. 

“Oh, my Queen”, Jimin whimpers and drops his head into the crook of your neck. He hugs you against his chest, forcing your desperate hips to slow down. Like this, he is deep inside you while your movements are reduced to movements back and forth. 

“Jimin”, you whimper, dropping your own head as your arms close around him. He rubs against the most sensitive spots this way, reminding you how wonderful it felt to be with him. 

“I love you”, Jimin presses out, twisting your dress at your back to pull you closer.

“I love you too”, you answer him, spilling tears while your warmth convulses around his length.

“I love you so much”, Jimin sobs, squeezing you tightly.

“I love you too”, you moan, twisting his hair, “I want to be so much closer.”

“Me too. Oh me too, it isn’t enough”, Jimin croaks and grabs your behind just to press you against him. Your clit rubs against his toned stomach, his cock bends just right to stimulate your favourite spots.

You tighten in reaction, struggling with your movements. 

“Ah”, your voice pitches, “ah, Ji-Jimin.” 

“You’re so warm and, and ah…tight”, he keens, “does it hurt?” 

You shake your head vigorously, “no, but it, it brings me close. Please don’t stop.” 

“If you let go, I have to as well.”

You shudder, grabbing for him. You want to hold him so much closer but you can’t. You feel charged in pleasure as if his touch enchants you. 

“I love you, Jimin beloved. I love you, I love you”, you chant, finding it harder and harder to move whilst at the same time, speeding up more and more. You need to be with him. You need to experience sensations only he can make you feel. You need all of it. You need him and him and him.

“I love you too. I love you, so much”, he answers you each time a new confession of your deepest feelings roll off your tongue. He means it more and more with every repetition, finding it hard to function when you feel so good. His toes keep curling, he keeps gasping for air between his pitched moans.

“I have to let go”, you confess, muffling your desperate moans in his neck.

“Please don’t hold back, I need it”, he begs, squeezing your hips.

“Jimin”, you moan, letting go of the tension. 

“___”, Jimin follows instantly, spilling tears as his arms cradle you tightly.

You and he had orgasms more intense in your time together. Orgasms which left you disoriented and out of breath and yet somehow the high you share today feels the most intense a high has ever felt. You and he stood at the edge of the cliff, you tasted how it would feel to live without each other. So to be finally reconnected and to share such a vulnerable state with each other feels like medicine to you and him.  

You are finally together again. The painful loneliness is no more. 

You stay seated on Jimin after your highs died down, sharing silence. You fill it with heavy breaths and small whimpers of recovery. Jimin does the same, holding you so tightly without once moving his hands from the spots he has grabbed. He needs to make sure that you stay with him, that he can truly live out the full potential of the hug.

“Do you feel alright?” he checks up on you 

“I feel so good. You?”

“I feel so good”, he says and exhales shakily, “I don’t want you to leave again”, he whispers.

“I do not wish to leave”, you answer him, squeezing him gently, “I will tell Thranduin that I do not wish to marry him. I never did.” 

“I’m so happy to hear that. My heart ached unbearably these past months”, Jimin says and squeezes you back, “my beloved ___, don’t ever push me away again.”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for causing you so much grief. I wanted to keep you safe and yet hurt you in the process. It hurt me as well, my Jimin, you mustn’t think that it didn’t.”

“Don’t apologise, I understand.”

You take a deep breath of relief, scratching your nails over his scalp softly.

“It will be difficult. We are still a small country without a strong ally on our side.”

“No matter what will happen, I will stay by your side”, Jimin promises. 

A warm smile curls your lips. You lift your head, meeting his eyes. They soften instantly. His left hand comes up to cup your cheek. He caresses it with his thumb.

“You’re my best friend as well, my Jimin and you’re the man I love. I do not want to hide my feelings anymore”, you say, painting soul-consuming love onto his features.

“I love you too”, he whispers, cradling your cheek in his calloused hand, “and I always will.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes halfway.

“Now we must figure out how to get back to the game without causing suspicion”, you say, making Jimin laugh.

“Ah putting on your dress will be a bother”, he chuckles, making you laugh with him.

“As will be your armour. Do not pretend to wear easier clothing”, you tease him, basking in how much more he laughs because of it.

Now everything is truly right in the world again.

You invite Thranduin into the garden for a conversation come the next day. You were a little sad to see him go because he had the potential to become a great friend, but more than anything you were excited for what was to come. You will be with Jimin and that is the sweetest future you can imagine.

“I think that I might not be ready for new marriage yet. The loss of my late husband affects me deeper than I thought it does”, you tell Thranduin.

You expected Thranduin to meet your confession with shock and disbelief, but instead he is smiling. 

“I understand”, he says, “but you mustn’t feel as if you needed to lie to me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I know when someone’s heart is already taken. I can advise you to follow it, even when he is merely your guard.”

“Oh. Heavens, I- how did you…”

Thranduin laughs.

“It is as simple as that I was on the way to the private chambers when I passed the broom cabinet as you…well, I am certain that you are aware of what you did.”

“Oh by the heavens, this is humiliating. I must apologise. Such behaviour isn’t like that of a Queen.”

“Fret not. From one ruler to another, I can keep a secret. However, I wish that your love can be public soon. He seems very fond of you and very protective as well. He would make a good husband for you, Your Highness.”

You fluster, “I thank you Sire, for keeping this secret and for understanding. I deeply regret if I gave you hopes of a future together.”

“There is nothing to apologise. I came here to meet the wonderful Queen of Windfell and I will leave having made a new friend. If that is what you desire as well, that is.”

You smile. 

“I like the sound of that. I grew quite fond of you as a friend.”

“Then it is decided. From this day forward, Windfell and Dragonrock are united by friendship. We will aid each other in times of need, stand side by side in battle and trade with our countries’ finest goods. And we shall meet up for more Stickball. I must win at least once." 

You laugh, "I am quite certain that you will, Sire. And I cannot wait to meet you again. You are always a welcome guest at Windfell.'

“As are you on Dragonrock. I must show you around the capital then and the white sand dunes.” 

“Yes, I would enjoy this a great deal. I will try coconuts as well.”

Thranduin laughs, nodding his head, “you must bring your knight with you then.”

Your cheek feel hot, your heart flutters.

“Heavens”, you murmur, fanning air to your face. 

Thranduin chuckles fondly. 

“So it is decided then. Our nations are united by friendship. Shall we shake hands on it or will your knight slap my hand away again?”

You laugh, “I am sure that he can excuse a friendly handshake.”

You enter the throne room. It is busy with the court. They bow as you pass them.

“Frigga!”

Conversation dies down now that you are talking. 

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Send word to every possible suitor that I have decided to stop looking for one.” 

“My Queen, I don’t understand.”

“It is easy, dear Frigga. I have found my husband.”

Jimin stiffens up in his chair, feeling his heart sink. You promised him that you would send Thranduin away and yet you come back bearing news of marriage. His heart is shattered and he feels like death would be easier to bear.

“Oh truly that is wonderful-”, Frigga stops in her celebrations when outside your window, Thranduin leaves Windfell on his dragon, “-but why is he leaving?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. Windfell gained a loyal and strong friend in Dragonrock. I will visit his country soon and we shall seal our friendship bond with a contract. But he is not who I want to marry”, you say, walking up the stairs to your throne. 

“My Queen, I don’t understand. Who caught your eye then?”

You smile. 

“Jimin.”

The court gasps, staring at the baffled guard. Jimin stares at you with disbelief on his features.

“If you feel the same as me and it is what you want as well, come up here and allow me to make you my husband.”

“What are you saying?” Jimin gets out. He is already crying.

“You heard me”, you say and laugh in unbearable happiness, “come up here and be my husband.”

Jimin squeaks and jumps into a sprint. He takes two steps at a time. You laugh with him, welcoming him with open arms. You squeak when seconds later, he sweeps you off your feet to twirl you and him as squeals of contagious happiness leave him. 

“Are you certain? Are you truly certain?” he asks, beaming up at you.

“As certain as breathing is, my beloved Jimin.”

“Oh my beloved ___”, he gets out and kisses you.

And to your happy surprise, the court celebrates with cheers and laughter. It may be terribly confused, but your happiness was truly contagious. Frigga exchanges a knowing and happy look with your maids. It was about time you and your knight showed the world your feelings. She had hoped that you would.

#jimin fantasy #jimin smut #jimin romance #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenario #jimin oneshot #jimin x you #jimin x reader #bts fantasy #bts smut #bts romance #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts x you #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bangtan fantasy #bangtan smut #bangtan romance #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #fanfic: queendom series

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | series masterlist

“It will take some time To find your heart And come back home You could walk for miles Cross every river And find your not alone ‘Cos I'll be there” - From McLeod’s Daughters theme song

🐴 Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite? 🐴 Pairing: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴 Characters: female reader (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴 AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au. childhood friends to lovers! 🐴 Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!) 🐴 Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴 Word count: TBA (approx. 180k) 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴 Warnings/tag: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain sexual themes, smut and a lot of sexual tension and a hell of a lot of angst! Like series is an emotional rollercoaster ride, it will leave you both happy, sad, frustrated, mad, angry and oh so in love. All through the series. You have been warned, lol. 🐴 Status: ongoing! 2 chapters a week. (to be completed on 2nd May 2024) 🐴 Fancy reading on AO3? It is cross-posted there! 🐴 Do you want to see the book cover (there's a teaser too)? [it's here]

🐴 Author’s note: this series is heavily inspired by the TV show McLeod’s Daughters. Some plot points will feel familiar, while others won’t (because I don’t follow that story structure to a tee). But If you love that show that I do, I’m 100% sure you’ll love this story too! Also, I don’t expect people to really be interested in this… this is more of a story about coming home, finding home, finding love and such… and I don’t know if you want to read that sort of thing? But I fucking love it! ✨

Chapter #1 - Inheritance | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter one

Chapter #2 - It’s a Long Road | word count: 9.1k | read → chapter two

Chapter #3 - Sometimes | word count: 11.8k | read → chapter three

Chapter #4 - It Comes to This | word count: 7.5k | read → chapter four

Chapter #5 - Our Home, Our Place | word count: 11k | read → chapter five

Chapter #6 - Wild Horses | word count: 11k | read → chapter six

Chapter #7 - We Got it Wrong | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter seven

Chapter #8 - Love You, Hate You | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter eight

Chapter #9 - Take the Rain Away | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter nine

Chapter #10 - The First Touch | word count: 16.4k | read → chapter ten

Chapter #11 - This Perfect Day | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter eleven

Chapter #12 - Broken Dreams | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter twelve

Chapter #13 - Love Letter | word count: 13.4k | read → chapter thirteen

Chapter #14 - I Wish the Past was Different | word count: 10.5k | read → chapter fourteen

Chapter #15 - Did I Tell You? | word count: 13.7k | read → chapter fifteen

Chapter #16 - The Stranger | word count: 14.1k | read → chapter sixteen

Chapter #17 - Love of Your Life | word count: TBA | read → chapter seventeen

Chapter #18 - By My Side | word count: TBA | read → chapter eighteen

Chapter #19 - Home | word count: TBA | read → chapter nineteen

Chapter #20 - My Heart's Home [Epilogue + Q&A] | word count: TBA | read → chapter twenty

Please let me know if you're excited for this??? I'm still writing it, and honestly... I love it! But it's tough to write such a long series without any feedback or knowledge whether it's good or sucks... so.. yeah....

#jimin x reader #jimin fic #jimin smut #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #jimin x you #park jimin imagine #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader #park jimin smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fanfic #bts jimin fanfic #my heart's home series #bts #jimin scenario #bangtan x you #pjm x you

[yoonia]

About Time | story masterpost

⟶ Summary | Be careful of what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with it once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

⟶ Character | Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. Taehyung)

⟶ Genre | Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au, Reincarnation/regression!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; involving explicit smut/mature scenes, mentions of cancer and characters death, appropriate warnings will be applied on each chapter whenever necessary.

⟶ Story Notes | Written in 1st person POV; in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs

⟶ Status/Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Chapter 20.5 | Taehyung - 278,298 words of n/a words 

⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Ko-fi

➥ ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

⇢ Prologue | The Awakening ⇢ Chapter 01 | The Beginning ⇢ Chapter 02 | First Step ⇢ Chapter 03 | Will ⇢ Chapter 04 | Disintegrate ⇢ Chapter 05 | Choices ⇢ Chapter 06 | The Forgotten ⇢ Chapter 07 | Dawning ⇢ Chapter 08 | Motion ⇢ Chapter 08.5 | Jimin ⇢ Chapter 09 | Secrets ⇢ Chapter 10 | Homecoming  ⇢ Chapter 11 | Loop ⇢ Chapter 12 | Spiral ⇢ Chapter 13 | Caught In A Lie ⇢ Chapter 13.5 | Jungkook ⇢ Chapter 14 | Rue ⇢ Chapter 15 | Reverie ⇢ Chapter 16 | Ruins ⇢ Chapter 17 | Friends and Foes I ⇢ Chapter 18 | Friends and Foes II ⇢ Chapter 19 | Shadows  ⇢ Chapter 20 | Boundless ⇢ Chapter 20.5 | Taehyung ⇢ Chapter 21 | Elusive Dreams ⇢ More soon...

➥ 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢

⇢ Spotless Minds trilogy

➥ 𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔠 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫

⇢ Spotify playlist: About Time

➥ 𝔉𝔦𝔠 𝔭𝔬𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱

⇢ (coming soon)

➥ 𝔉𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔰 & ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

⇢ Fan Edits | 01 |

➥ 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔰

⇢ Visual moodboard (Pinterest link) ⇢ Excerpt of final chapters

➥ ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱

⇢ Inkitt | Wattpad | AO3

𝔄𝔩𝔩 ℜ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡 © 2016-2024 @yoonia

#misc: masterlist #series: about time #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

[bebejungkook]

‧✧̣̇‧ Kissing Snowflakes teaser

‧✧̣̇‧ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

‧✧̣̇‧ Genre: Daycare worker!Jimin & reader, angst, fake dating au, coworkers to lovers au

‧✧̣̇‧ Summary: You’ve always dreaded Christmas with your family, you have always been in your cousins shadow, being compared to her beauty and social ways. But this year will be different, this year you’re bringing a date that will make you the talk of the party. The only problem is, you’re single as hell. Fortunately for you, your sweet and handsome coworker, Park Jimin, owes you a favor. Unfortunately for him, he’s in love with you and doesn’t know if he can handle pretending to be yours.

‧✧̣̇‧ Warnings: 18+ jealous and insecure y/n, y/n cousin is a big ole bitch, mentions of past cheating, y/n cries, jimin gets upsetti, toxic family, drinking alcohol, y/n overthinks like crazy.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Jimin almost chokes on the baby biscuits, which makes him wonder if these were safe at all, or he’s just trying to distract himself from getting too excited. You look uncharacteristically serious and he won’t let his heart get ahead of itself since nothing about you was ever predictable. Instead he grabs another biscuit and asks you to repeat yourself.

Just to make sure he heard right, he swears you said you wanted him to be your boyfriend.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

You smile as if you didn’t just make all of Jimin’s dreams come. He blushes and smiles, his whole world just turned into roses and sunshines. The lullabies in the background sound as clear as ever, a beautiful score for the start of your relationship.

“Ok, not a real boyfriend, a fake one!”

Oh.

The disappointment is clear in Jimin's expression but you don’t really notice, your plan is too clear in your head and you feel like a villain finally getting their character arch. You don’t see Jimin's world crashing down and burning. He’s quiet so you continue talking.

“Every year my stupid—“

“Language.” Your aid reminds you even though they’re all sleeping.

“My clown family always Interrogates me, it’s always, where’s your boyfriend, when are you quitting your job, and why can’t you be like your cousin,” The annoyance is clear in your pout and Jimin wonders if it might be worse than you let on.

“But this year when they see someone like you with me, they’ll see I’m totally worthy and leave me alone!”

He won’t unpack how messed up that whole sentence was, not now at least. Jimin’s a little heartbroken but at least with this arrangement, he’ll be able to see you more outside of work. He also wouldn’t mind not being alone on Christmas for once. He only really sees one con but for you, he’ll pretend his heart isn’t on the line.

“So what do you say?” You break him out of his thoughts with an eager smile that was borderline maniacal.

“I guess I do owe you.” He bites his lip in contemplation even though he already knew his answer.

“So yes?” Your round shiny eyes are his kryptonite, he just can’t say no when you look at him so adorably.

“Yes— yes I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” You muffle your squeal and hug him across the baby gate like he’s always dreamt you would.

Jimin doesn’t know what he got himself into, he just hopes his heart is in one piece at the end of this.

My first Jimin one shot 🫰🏽 how are we feeling besties? It’s almost Christmas and I’m excited!!! Anyways, let me know if you want to be tagged🖤

Love, Che

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin scenario #jimin scenarios #jimin x yn #jimin x y/n #jimin x oc #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin imagine #jimin imagines #jimin oneshot #jimin fic #bts #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts oneshot #jimin one shot #bts fic #jimin fake dating au

[bangtanficsforyou]

They Reject You (maknae line)

Pairing: maknae line x reader (fuckboi! Jimin x Reader, Co-worker Taehyung x Reader, Idol Jungkook x Reader)

Warnings: swear words here and there.

Word count: 4.6K

Park Jimin

"Well if it isn't my favourite girl." A voice slurs slowly, right next to your ears which makes you flinch in surprise.

"Jimin, gosh, what's wrong with you?" You say in an annoyed manner, immediately recognising the person. "Also, maybe keep some distance?"

Jimin pouts exaggeratedly and puts extra effort into widening his eyes for special effects. "Don't you find me being this close to you, heart racing-ly desirable?"

"Heart racing-ly? That's a new one," you snort and roll your eyes. "But to answer your question; no. It is not heart racing-ly desirable." 

"Lie all you want but we all know the truth," Jimin smirks and you can't help but wonder how on earth he manages to remain this cocky even when drunk.

"Cut the crap and stop wasting my time." You turn around to leave, not wanting to give Jimin the time of your day. From your previous experiences, you know that Jimin only ever causes trouble.

"I'm not feeling good, Y/N," he whines, all cockiness suddenly gone from his tone as he pleads gently. "Don't leave me."

You contemplate for a split second before huffing in defeat. "What do you mean by you're not feeling good?" 

"I don't know," he shrugs with a sad frown. "I just don't feel good."

Instinctively, you place your palms on his forehead only to find his skin to be burning hot. 

"Jimin!" You exclaim, your feelings of indifference instantly turning into that of concern. "You have high fever."

"That might explain why I was feeling so hot," he nods. "But I thought that was because of how attractive I am."

Any other time, you would have retorted with a comeback but right now you pay no attention to his words. "Come with me, we need to get you back to your room. You need rest." 

Much to your surprise, Jimin doesn't throw a protest and lets you hold his hand as you make way for the both of you through the partying crowd. 

Thankfully his room is only upstairs (one of the many pros of being a frat boy living in a frat house) and you don't have much trouble getting there.

Making Jimin sit on the bed, you look for medicines that can help with his fever. "How long have you been feeling unwell?"

"For about an hour."

You have half a mind to lecture him on how drinking should be the last thing he should have done while feeling unwell, but you decide to keep it in. Maybe when he's sober and in a better health condition, you will give him an earful.

Right now, it's more important to understand the severity of the situation.

"Did you stay out for too long at night? Or stayed with wet clothes on? Or something that might have led to you having a fever?" 

Jimin's drunk mind feels perplexed by the series of questions you're throwing his way. "Does it matter?" 

"Yes, it does," you respond shortly.

As a nursing student, you know how important it is to know the source of any sickness. If his fever can be tracked down to any possible cause, you'd have this reassurance that there's most likely nothing to worry about. However, if the fever seems to have appeared out of nowhere, there are chances that it may be a symptom of some underlying infection.

Your response makes Jimin think. Has he done anything in recent days that could have led to this? At first, nothing comes to mind. But after a few moments of intense brainstorming, something clicks in his brain.

"Does having two hours of shower sex count?" He queries seriously.

Your hands momentarily falter on their journey of looking for the first aid box but you recover quickly. 

"Should have expected something like that from you," you grumble in annoyance.

"Don't be mean," he complains in a whine. "It's not my fault that the sex was so good. Plus, she kept asking for more and you know I can't say no to that."

You slam the drawer shut and aggressively open the box, having finally found it. You take out a tablet and hand it over to Jimin with a glass of water. 

Once Jimin has taken the medicine, you arrange the pillows for him and take a blanket out. "Go to sleep. Let your body have some rest."

"Are you leaving?" He asks in a quiet voice, reminding you of a small child asking a question they already know the answer to.

"I don't think I have any purpose being here. I'll ask Jungkook to stay with you in case you need something."

"Jungkook won't take care of me the way you do," Jimin replies with a huff, thoroughly displeased with the idea of you leaving him.

"That's not my issue," you shrug.

Jimin switches to his last option, one that works every time and on everyone; his famous, irresistible puppy eyes. "Do you not have any sympathy for me?"

You scoff, your patience running thin. You really don't want to have a fight or speak your mind while he's having a fever, but if he continues to prod you this way, he will be responsible for the inevitable outburst.

Jimin feels unhappy with your lack of response and he attempts once again. "Won't you do this much for me? Please?"

That's it. The way his soft voice pulls at your heartstrings does it for you.

"Can you, for once, not think only for yourself?" You snap.

Now that was not the reaction Jimin was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"Don't try to play dumb," you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Don't tell me you have no idea how I feel about you."

Although drunk, Jimin's mind registers the seriousness of your words and he immediately looks sheepish. "I don't."

Well, that's a lie and both you and Jimin know it.

A sarcastic smile appears on your face. "I'll spell it out for you, again. I like you Jimin."

Jimin looks down and starts fiddling with the end of the bedsheets as he nods, having no other response. 

You sigh, wondering why you expected any other, perhaps a more thoughtful reaction from him. Feeling disappointed with yourself, you make your way out without another word.

On your way, however, you make sure to find Jungkook and ask him to look after Jimin. 

Once you're out of the frat house and have booked a cab to your rented apartment, you sit on a small bench and take a deep inhale to relax. Sadly and much to your frustration, the emotions that have come to the surface refuse to let you have your peace of mind.

You really should have stayed away from Jimin, from the very start.

Your brain chimes at you and it reminds you that perhaps there's no one else to be blamed but you. You are the one who has been entertaining Jimin all in the name of not entertaining him. 

It was a frat party much similar to that of today's when Jimin had first tried to add your name to the long list of girls he has had sex with. You were surprised, caught off guard and admittedly a little flattered by his flirtatious actions but irrespective of that, you weren't willing to be a part of his list.

You had asked him to fuck off and to leave you alone. Which he had done at the time but only to return later with much more determination to win you over. By then, you weren't feeling flattered by his repeated attempts, you were annoyed. Something, which Jimin found amusing.

The more he tried, the more your annoyance flared and so did Jimin's amusement. It went like this for a couple of weeks.

Things started to change when you stumbled upon a drunk Jimin sitting alone on the terrace. That was the first time the both of you had a proper conversation with each other. It made you realise that the whole fuckboy thing he has going on, is only a small part of him. You realised that there's much more to the guy than what meets the eye.

From then on you stopped treating him like a guy whose sole identity was that of the 'campus fuckboy'. 

That doesn't mean that his actions stopped annoying you. But you sure found it more tolerable.

However, exactly when your feelings for him turned romantic, remains debatable. Was it the night when he drunkenly kissed you? Or was it when he drunkenly confessed that he enjoys your company more than anyone else's? You don't know. 

But you do remember, exactly when you realised that your feelings for him don't fall under the category of platonic. It was when you saw Jimin making out with a petite blonde in a bar. The pain and jealousy that shot through your veins was an indication enough for you to see how your feelings have bloomed into something more.

You, upon realising, did not hesitate to confess. His response to your confession was simple. He does not do relationships and he sees you as a friend.

You could do with that. You weren't expecting Jimin to return your feelings or to commit to you. After all, you were well aware of his lifestyle and how he likes having lovers instead of a lover. 

The only reason you had confessed to him was in hopes that he would stop trying to bed you and realise that it isn't just fun and games for you anymore.

Unfortunately, Jimin didn't stop with his antics.

Annoyed and angry, you had decided to cut Jimin off. But of course, he wouldn't have that. He would, in some way or the other, sneak into your daily life and cause a ruckus as if it were his birthright. 

Truth be told, you weren't hurt by his rejection as much as you were by his total disregard for your feelings and how his actions and choices could affect you. 

The events from today serve as another example of the kind of emotional turmoil he stirs within you. The question is how long will you put up with this?

Your cab honks to announce its arrival and it causes you to break out of your thoughts. You give a small nod to the man in the driving seat and get up. As you walk towards the cab, you make up your mind. 

You're not going to entertain him any longer. 

Kim Taehyung

You: that's very mean of you 👿

You type with a wide grin plastered on your face.

Tae 🐻: mean? me? Never 🥺

You: putting that emoji won't help you 👿

Tae 🐻: ☹️

Tae 🐻: I sent you the snap of the chocolate because it reminded me of you 😔

You: that was NOT your intention 😤

You: you do this every time and then i start craving chocolates 😭

Tae 🐻: then have some 🙇

You: i have to complete the excel sheet by today :(:

You: which mean i can't go out

You: and if I opt for ordering online, I'll end up ordering a bunch of other stuff along with it and that won't be good for my wallet 

Tae 🐻: awwww

Tae 🐻: It's okay! I'll bring you chocolates tomorrow 

Tae 🐻: from your favourite brand 😉

You: you sweetheart 🥺

Tae 🐻: says the sweetest ❤️

A bashful giggle escapes from your lips when you read his text. He sure has a way with words.

You: now let me do my work

You: shoo

Tae: ☹️

Tae: I'm being chased away 

Tae: but okay xD

Tae: I'll let you get back to it. 

You bite on your lower lip to stop smiling like a fool and try to focus your attention on the computer screen. Keyword; try.

The butterflies in your stomach and the fluttering of your heart make it extremely difficult for you to think about anything else that's not Taehyung.

Gosh, he really is the greatest distraction of them all.

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

The next day, you find a big pack of chocolate from your favourite brand, on your desk. Attached to it is a note that reads for my favourite girl ;). You smile involuntarily and wonder what you ever did to deserve someone like Taehyung in your life. 

You sit on your chair and while the computer boots, you take a small bite from the chocolate bar. As you relish the sweetness that spreads in your mouth, you can't help but think of Taehyung and how much he has come to mean to you, in the few months that you have known him. 

When he first joined the company he was shy, barely talking to anyone and having a hard time socialising with his co-workers. It took him about a couple of weeks to get comfortable and once he did, there was no going back. He somehow became everyone's favourite. 

However, the way you two became friends is a bit different. 

Four months ago, on a fortunate day, there was a huge mishap with the data files. Small groups were formed to work on the mistakes and correct them as necessary. As fate would have it, you and Taehyung were a team. And the amount of jokes you two made about your higher-ups, were perhaps the only source of energy for you both to carry on with the work and ultimately, finish it. 

And those three intense working days were enough for the two of you to become friends. 

It started with having small conversations via text, which then turned into full lengthy regular conversations. In the midst of all of that, when the flirting began, you have no clue. All you remember are those nights when you stayed up late, talking to him and smiling into your pillow, feeling like a teenager. 

He would sneak little compliments and warm affectionate words that would have you looking like a tomato in a matter of seconds.

Most importantly, he has become one of your closest friends. He has been there whenever you needed him and has confided in you whenever he faced challenges. The bond you two share is something you treasure deeply. He has become such an integral part of your life that there hardly goes by a day when the two of you don't talk to each other.

It's one of those 'more than friends' but 'not really dating' scenarios.

You had never given much thought about giving a label to what the two of you were. You were happy having him the way you do. But recently, you can't help but think of taking things to the next level. You find yourself wondering what it would be like to call him your boyfriend. 

As the all too familiar windows tune plays, notifying you of the booting process being completed, you decide to subtly ask him about it. 

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

"Did you like the chocolates?" That's the first thing Taehyung asks as you take the seat opposite to him.

"Do you think I would not like it?" You answer his question with a question of your own. Because honestly, that's a very silly question to ask. Anyone who knows you knows how much you love chocolates.

Taehyung grins, his boxy smile making an appearance. "I mean, it would still be nice to hear it from you."

"Well, then, I loved it." 

He nods, satisfied with your answer. Placing one of his hands on his chest, right above his heart, he bows. "I'm honoured to know that."

You chuckle softly, endeared at his actions. "How was your day so far?"

He rolls his eyes. "Eh, the usual. Mina got some files messed up and I had to do twice the work to fix that."

"That sucks," you grimace. "Work has been so tiring lately, I wish we could take a small break from all this shit."

"Oh, that reminds me–" Taehyung exclaims suddenly, startling you, "–I have got these free tickets to a movie, would you like to go with me?"

Excitement bubbles in your stomach. "Sure! I'd love to."

"Then it's set! I'll let you know of the date and time later, okay?" 

You nod, feeling giddy at the thought of watching a movie with him. It won't be the first time for sure, but it has been a while since the two of you last did something like this. Work hardly leaves any spare time for rest and fun.

However, the thought of spending some alone time with him, makes your mind go back to what you had decided while you were devouring the chocolate. You clear your throat before bringing the topic to the table. "Tae?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing?"

He looks up from his food, with a confused smile. "What do you mean by that? We are eating lunch." 

You shake your head softly, and make your question more obvious. "What are we?" 

You see as his confusion clears out and his smile fades. A look of discomfort appears on his face as he swallows the food. "Well, we are friends." 

"Are we just friends though?" You raise a brow in question, not willing to accept his answer. 

A soft sigh escapes his lips when he realises he can't really back out of this or push the conversation away for some time later. "You aren't just a friend to me. I like you. I like you a lot."

You stay quiet, sensing that there's a but coming. 

"But I don't think I'm ready to be in a relationship." He adds, figuring out that there's no way to put it subtly. 

That wasn't the answer you were expecting and naturally, you feel disheartened by his words.

Taehyung notices the way your face has dropped and he immediately feels guilty. "I know I should have told you this before. My intentions weren't to string you along, I genuinely do like you–"

"Then why?" You cut him off, confused and unable to understand what could be the issue if he really likes you the way he claims to.

"I am scared it will distract me from my career."

Your first instinct is to counter his statement and say, it doesn't work that way. That relationships are not a distraction. But you hold yourself back from saying so. 

If he believes that having a relationship will distract him, you cannot force or persuade him to believe otherwise. If anything, you understand where he might be coming from. He has only recently joined the company and you know he has experienced financial issues while growing up. You can see why he might be scared of something making him lose his focus. Having an established career is what he wants and what seems to be his priority.

Although you have been hoping and looking forward to putting a label, you know you can't expect that from him anymore. You could try and ask him to reconsider his choices but what good would that do? 

Even if he were to get into a relationship, he would most likely still have that thought in the back of his mind and will keep worrying about getting sidetracked. What's the point of committing to someone if you can't really enjoy it to the fullest? What is the point of calling someone yours, if you can't fully feel the beauty of it? You see none.

"Maybe, we can wait for each other?" He suggests meekly, too scared to see what your reaction to the question is.

Now, waiting for each other and whatnot sounds really romantic in movies and romcoms but you have to remind yourself that this is not a movie. In real life, irrespective of the intentions the individuals may hold, somewhere along the line, something usually happens that causes chaos and turns things sour. 

"How about we just let things flow and see where it takes us?" You suggest as that seems like the best possible choice at the moment.

Taehyung nods knowing he's in no place to bargain. He will take whatever you will give him. However, it bugs him to no end when you spend the rest of the lunch in silence and with a frown on your face.

Jeon Jungkook

"Can you sit still for a moment?"

The person in question, aka Jungkook, pays no attention to your words and hollers when something exciting occurs on the screen of his mobile phone. 

You sigh and place your palms on both of his cheeks and make him look up. However, the adorable sight of his squished cheeks, pouty lips and doe eyes wide in surprise, has you snorting. When you let go of your hold, he frowns, offended by your laughter.

"What's so funny about my face?" He grumbles.

You shake your head and apply blush on his cheeks. "You just looked like a real bunny for a second there, couldn't help but laugh at that."

He pouts. "That's supposed to be cute, not funny."

A fond smile appears on your face at his displeasure. "You're both cute and funny, I guess."

Jungkook grins at you, now satisfied. "Now make me cuter."

"I'll be able to do that if you stay still for a moment," you retort. 

Jungkook huffs and closes his eyes. "Fine! I'll stay still."

You hum in response and get to work. 

Being Jungkook's make-up artist was fairly easy. You just had to make his beautiful face appear flawless for the cameras. Nothing too difficult. Jungkook was friendly and so were the other BTS members. The pay was, of course, more than satisfactory.

Recently, however, being Jungkook's make-up artist hasn't been easy. It hasn't been easy being this close to him and keeping the fluttering of your heart under control. It hasn't been easy to see his eyes this up close and not let yourself get lost in them. It hasn't been easy to notice that small mole under his lips and resist the urge to kiss it. Oh no, it hasn't been easy at all. 

One might call you unprofessional and to be honest, you don't have much to defend yourself with. Rather, if someone questions your professionalism, you'd challenge them to take your job and not fall for the guy.

You think it's simply impossible.

But you see, that's the simple part. Falling. The consequences of falling, however, are where the complications begin. 

The very first question that comes to mind is; what are the chances that they might feel the same? Then one realises that there's no way to answer this for sure as it's only the other person who's aware of what they feel. Which leads to a major dilemma; to confess or not to confess. 

Confessing your feelings is a very vulnerable thing to do. It feels like exposing yourself at one's mercy. Like a delicate bud that you hand over and whether the flower will bloom or wilt, totally depends on the other person. 

It's beautiful yet scary.

For a long time, you haven't been willing to be that vulnerable with Jungkook.

All anxieties that come with confessing aside, you can't ignore the fact that he's a world-famous idol.

You are not worried about word getting out about you falling for him. You hardly think that it will cause a stir. If anything, the fans will probably make memes out of it and will agree with you on how impossible it is to not fall for the guy. The memes will be all over the internet for a few months and after that, they will be gone and will resurface every once in a while. That doesn't seem like much to you and you think you can handle it.

What does worry you is word getting out and you getting fired and not getting a job henceforth (you're pretty sure that the agencies won't take up on your 'don't fall for Jungkook' challenge). 

This particular fear is what has been holding you back from letting Jungkook know of your feelings. 

However, the thing with love is, you cannot bury it no matter how hard you try. It's like the sun that comes out to shine no matter what. Love blooms in the heart and it refuses to stay hidden for too long behind whatever fears the mind comes up with.

After all, in the battle of mind and heart, when has the former ever won? 

Once you're done with the finishing touches, you let Jungkook know that you're done.

Jungkook opens his eyes and they automatically land on yours. The sharp spike in your breathing rate and the loud thumping of your heartbeat, makes you look away immediately.

You clear your throat and take a slow deep inhale to calm your racing heart. "I'll put the lip balm and foundation in the kit. Just in case you need it."

"You say that every time before a performance as if you're not going to be backstage," he chuckles in amusement.

"Jungkook, the performance is in fifteen," Taehyung says loudly from the other side of the room.

It's like a switch being flipped on. Jungkook's eyes widen and he gets up from his seat instantly. Bidding you a quick goodbye, he exits the room in a hurry. 

You sigh in relief, finally feeling like you can breathe again. Taking a seat on the chair previously occupied by Jungkook, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You notice the red hue on your cheeks and your lips part in awe at how flustered you look. Almost, as if you have run a mile. 

Something about this moment makes you come to a quick decision. For a long time, you have been toying with the idea of confessing but have always backed out every time you had a chance. But not anymore. 

You grab a small piece of paper and a pen and write down what you have been wanting to tell Jungkook.

You make it direct and simple and put it in Jungkook's handbag. 

The moment you zip the chain, you feel this urge to take the chit out and throw it in the dustbin but you somehow, withhold yourself from doing so. 

You are aware that he won't notice the chit until he's back in his dorms. The bag contains all the skin care products (handpicked by you) he uses before going to bed. Which also means you would have to wait until tomorrow when you're back to work to know Jungkook's answer. 

Seems like it's gonna be a sleepless night for you.

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

The next day, you go to work with nervous excitement. While in the car, you couldn't wait for your destination to arrive yet at the same time dreaded it. It's this mixed feeling where you can't decide what you want but in the end, realise that it's better to just get over it.

However, while you're walking towards Jungkook's make-up room, Namjoon calls your name.

"Y/N," he shouts to get your attention. Once he notices he has it, he walks up to you. "My dressing room is the other way." 

"I know that," you say with a small frown, wondering why he is telling you this.

"Oh," Namjoon realises that you're unaware of the changes. "You don't know, do you?"

You shake your head, your confusion only increasing. "Know what?"

"Jungkook has requested a new make-up artist. So now, you're in charge of my make up," he replies. 

Namjoon's words ring in your ears and you feel the world around you fade. You knew that there was always the chance that he doesn't feel the same way. You knew if that were the case it'd hurt but you'd accept it. However, you didn't expect Jungkook to do this. 

It feels like the unbloomed flower has been stomped by someone and you're left to feel the crushing pain. 

A/N: if you wish to support me and want to have early access to all my works, consider visiting my patreon!

#Jungkook reaction #Jungkook angst #Jungkook scenarios #Idol Jungkook #Jungkook au #Taehyung reaction #Taehyung angst #Co-worker Taehyung #Taehyung au #Jimin reaction #Jimin angst #Jimin scenario #Fuckboy Jimin #Jimin au

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ best friend!jimin ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request: closed

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @kekerrreke @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

jimin has always found you pretty.

the day you announced to be best friends with him, he quickly accepted his fate and pushed the idea of being with you aside. it didn't matter to him back then. he was just happy to be yours.

but it's different now.

after a long internship abroad, you've finally returned home. he picked you up from the airport and if he could live through the moment where your eyes met in the crowd again—he would.

it was the way your eyes lit up when he found yours.

it was the way he pushed through the crowd to reach for you again.

it was the way you smiled as he pulled you in by your waist, resting your chin on the crook of his neck, murmuring; "god, i missed you."

during the drive back to your place, he asks about your flight. to his dismay, you talk about something else.

someone else.

there's an unsure feeling that forms in the pit of his stomach. it could be jealousy. it probably is jealousy.

you tell jimin about the boy you met during your internship. how he treated you well in the beginning and even considered sleeping with him. how natural it was for you and the other guy to bond. jimin feels sick with every word about him that escapes your mouth. was he replaced? was that why you barely called? was that who you were with and posting in a soft-launch style? oh, his blood boils.

when you arrive at your place, jimin helps you carry your suitcases to your room. but before that, he greets everyone in your family. they waited for you too. they missed you too.

in your bedroom, you immediately fall to your bed. you take a deep breath and stare at the ceiling as jimin sets your suitcases aside. you pat the space beside you and jimin mimics your fall to join you. now, in the silence, you two let your thoughts consume you.

he should say he missed you. he should say he missed you more than you missed him. he should... say something, right? confess or whatever? he isn't sure. all he knows is that he's happy you're back and doesn't think he could do this again.

he can't be without you again.

"___, can i—"

"i think i'm over love," you sigh, turning to your side and facing him. you reach for his hair and play with a few strands. "he was so nice in the beginning. i thought i was going to bring him home and introduce you to him... but it didn't last. why doesn't it ever last?"

jimin's throat goes dry.

"feels like i went to hell and back with him," you admit. "was i always bound to be with guys like him? i've had enough. from here on out, i'm going to commit to the cat lady thing."

he laughs. "really, now? the cat thing? you're allergic."

you huff. "i'll replace you with yoongi. he's a cat. same shit."

jimin pouts.

you laugh and apologize.

"not all guys are like him, ___. you know that." he attempts to comfort you. "i'm not like that."

you smile and nod in agreement. "i know... it's just... what ever happened to love letters? to fresh flowers and picnics by the lake?"

jimin squints at you. "you hate the lake. you say the ground is too mushy and the ducks are scary."

you shrug. "i want to go on a row boat ride. like allie and noah from the notebook or something... you know? i want romance."

"knowing you... you'd fall into the water."

"well, then that's his cue to save me."

"what if he doesn't know how to swim?"

"then he's not the one."

a beat.

"i'm a good swimmer."

you blink at him.

before you can reply, jimin continues. "you seem to be flip-flopping between wanting to love and wanting to be loved. which is it, really?"

you think.

"both," you answer. "how romantic would it be if it was both?"

jimin doesn't answer you.

instead, he looks at you in a way you've never noticed he has. it makes your heart beat faster. it makes you forget to breathe in. you hiccup, he laughs, and suddenly you two feel at ease again.

then, he reaches for your hand.

gently, he intertwines your fingers together. you gulp, unsure if you should say something or move... you figure not to. instead, you lay there and stare at your ceiling. jimin does the same.

in a split moment, you hold your breath. you didn't expect this. neither did he. but it happens. he says something that changes everything between you two forever. from friends to lovers; in between is romance.

this moment is your in-between.

this is romance.

"to love and to be loved," jimin breathes, "... is to be with you."

#bts fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin friends to lovers #bts f2l #bts imagine #jimin imagine #jimin x oc #bts jimin x yn

[taegularities]

love me better | pjm (m)

thank you so much for this absolutely stunning banner, maggie @kth1​​​​​ <33

Summary: “And your kisses taste bitter now after all.”

Park Jimin still remembers you from a fervent night, not expecting in his wildest dreams that you’d join his team to solve the case of the most dangerous thieves in the country. But he soon realises that of all things, you might be the hardest riddle he’s ever had to crack.

⋙ pairing: Jimin x reader ⋙ rating: 18+ ⋙ genre: strangers to lovers, bits of fwb, detective!au; angst, fluff, smut ⋙ warnings: quite some angst (don’t say i didn’t warn you), secrets secrets!, past minor character death/drowning (only mentioned), guns, (talk about) fears/past trauma, thefts and detective stuff, injuries, car accident, crying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, betrayal, bottled up feelings, some pov changes, hyung line cameo !! explicit sexual content: multiple (3) sex scenes, dom!jimin, sub!reader, unprotected sex (be responsible y’all), teasing, flirting, heavy sexual tension, fingering, oral (f. & m. rec.), dirty talk, lots of mid-sex convos lol, petnames, breast play, soft & rough sex, some aftercare, ... lmk if i forgot smth the fic is huge ⋙ word count: 36.7k (just like that.... sorry 😐) ⋙ a/n: GOSH IT’S FINALLY HERE. it took me 7. damn. months to finish this and !!! i so hope you guys like it 😭 thank you for beta’ing and for your patience, precious angels @missgeniality​​​​ and @jimilter​​​​, you fixed this mess and were there for me alllll this time 😭 and thank you also to @btsmosphere​​ for brainstorming with me when i found myself clueless 🤍  let me know what you all think. feedback is highly appreciated !!! <3 ⋙ uploaded to AO3, too (for those who prefer pdfs or mobile readings!)

➳ listen to the LMB playlist for the full experience 🖤 

MASTERLIST | WIPS

A sudden, bright red flashes and a loud thump of his heart sounds in his ears.

Jimin’s surroundings remind him that his favourite place in the whole wide world is the luxurious, dark grey sofa standing in his quiet office. He adores it when the sun rays shine through his large open window just enough to drench his face in the comfortable warmth. Loves to watch the snow’s soft descent in the darkest and coldest winter.

The solace and peace that come with lying on the warm upholstery fabric and thinking about his current case – or nothing at all – is an unmatched feeling sent from above. With his phone turned off, one arm draped over his eyes and the other dangling from the side of the couch, Jimin thinks there might never be a way of relaxation superior to this.

It’s what he likes to do. It’s his thing.

The club isn’t.

And he doesn’t think he’d find himself here at all if it was up to him. If Hoseok hadn’t dragged him all the way up here from the far-away office in the city, Jimin would most likely still be drowning in the work that seems to advance slowly.

He doesn’t know why he’s sitting on this very stool at this very corner of the town, letting the shrill music numb his ears and the lights blind his sight. With a small sigh, he closes the camera roll and darkens the screen, shifting his focus from the phone to his bitter whiskey. Staring at a stolen item without the chance to retrieve it won’t do much right now anyway.

Once he’s stuffed the device in his pocket, he drags his eyes back to the dance floor again, pressing his full lips together as he looks for the now-familiar face in the crowd of strangers. Despite the fact that you’re someone he’s seeing for the first time tonight, he can’t seem to get enough of the sheer confidence you emanate.

Perhaps it’s that very gaze you shoot at him whenever he looks at you, too. Perhaps it’s the gentle, almost unnoticeable smile that follows and the tongue that darts out to wet your lips. There’s something about you that’s been distracting him enough tonight to forget the entire case.

And with the mysterious glances you provide him with, he doesn’t think he has to keep pondering his options.

There aren’t that many anyway.

“Are you going to try something?” Hoseok asks, nudging his friend lightly with an elbow.

You notice very well that he doesn’t avert his focus while conversing with his handsome friend – and then again, you reckon he’s trying to make clear who his attention belongs to. Subtle boldness hidden behind a sweet yet dangerous smile – your absolute favourite.

“What makes you think I want to?” Jimin responds, cocking an eyebrow while taking another burning sip of his intoxicating liquid.

Hoseok shrugs his shoulders, heart-shaped lips forming a grin as he answers, “Just the look of absolute satisfaction from you everytime she smirks at you.”

“Hey,” Jimin retorts as he places the glass back on the counter, finally meeting his friend and colleague’s eyes, “you brought me here against my will. Might as well use the night to have some fun.”

“I’m not stopping you!” The music grows louder in volume, the annoying beat dominating rather than the voices that are singing the indecipherable lyrics, and Hoseok leans close as he yells, “In fact, I’m encouraging you! It’s exactly why we’re here after all.”

Jimin laughs and nods with a squint of his eyes, an enthusiastic smile spreading across his face before he tries to find you again. Which proves to be the easiest task of the century, and his arm nearly knocks off his drink when your idle steps distract him from every movement around him.

You’re inching closer slowly, his eyes clearly subject to your attention and your head tilted in mischief. He doesn’t know your name; doesn’t know how you feel; has never seen you before  – but from up close, you’re so undeniably pretty that he wishes he had. What higher power has hidden you from his greedy gaze until now? 

You plump onto the seat next to him, waving off the bartender with your hand before he even gets to take your order. The man in front of you watches your actions carefully, an amused twinkle shimmering in his pupils as you lean in and ask, “Is there something you wanna say to me?”

If you thought you could render him speechless with your sudden appearance or make him stumble over his own words, you were utterly wrong. Because he seems unaffected, one side of his mouth twitching upward when he starts, “Just that…”

He smacks his luscious lips, the smile so lovely that it almost makes you believe that you’re talking to a stranger who’s out for your heart.

One of his fingers point to the dance floor, and your eyes follow, blending out the music and listening to him explain, “The guy you were dancing with was trying so hard to turn you around and make you grind against him. Poor man never got his wish though.”

“That’s because I didn’t let him touch me. Greasy fingers… he’s gross. And he has a habit of…” You pause, crafting your words carefully until you nod and add, “Of being a cocky, irritating presence in every club of the town.”

He raises his eyebrows, his mouth forming an ‘o’, and you inquire, “Right? I mean, a sane man wouldn’t annoy his ladies like this, would he? You wouldn’t, right?”

The laugh he gives you, one that you join in, is coated with sugar and honey, the pure tenor so soft, but his words so contradicting, “Of course not. Respect is given. I know how to handle my women.”

“Ah. Alright, Mister Heartbreaker then–”

“Park Jimin.”

How lovely it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“Mister Heartbreaker Park Jimin. Tell me how you handle your women.”

Jimin’s sure he’s surpassed the stage of playing coy and innocent long ago, the reasons to play around words nearly vanishing as he adds bluntly, yet carefully, “I’m someone who prefers execution over explanations.”

He is only half aware that he’s stopped talking to his friend. Which is okay – Hoseok will let Jimin and you do your thing quietly, but not without a telling smirk on his face.

And Jimin’s gaze hasn’t strayed from your eyes once since you sat down to keep him company. Any other man you usually have the pleasure – or inconvenience – to meet, knows exactly where to look; one lick of the lower lip, a tilt of the head and a finger on your knees speak volumes.

But Park Jimin seems to contain his intentions inside this fascinating brain of his; almost as hard to read as you are.

“Interesting,” you say with a cocky smirk.

Your high heels clatter against the ground sharply when you stand; a sound so clear despite the incessant thrumming of the music. A gentle finger of yours comes up to remove the disturbing, blonde lock of hair out of his face, and you give him a smile before you say, “Execute then.”

Jimin’s tongue operates in a way that lets you glance into a mind far more intriguing and alluring than you’ve ever experienced before. Men could spend full nights with you and pin you under their bodies whichever way they wanted; but the attraction that his personality exudes remains unmatched.

And when you give in to his charm and find yourself behind the club, sandwiched between the wall and him, you realise just how well and elegantly his tongue truly moves. The dance he entertains you with isn’t a soft and gentle waltz, but a wild and fast tango that melts you in his touch.

As the muffled noises permeate through the heavy door next to your body, you indulge in the way his hand trails your body, unsure where to settle as he presses a knee between your thighs. Your faces hide in the darkness, only lit by the neon green exit sign above the door, and yet you see the hunger every time you part for a single moment and stare into his telling eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks breathlessly, his fingers holding your jaw in his soft grip as he searches your gaze for an answer.

You think he knows what you want – it’s always the same.

They don’t ever say no to more, and they never assume you’d walk away after exploring your skin so far. Sometimes it brings a sense of emptiness into your chest, knowing that you’re the all too ready prey that lets the predator take her home and bite.

But then again, doing this is all that you’ve ever known.

With a tempting smile and a palm ghosting over his bicep, you inch closer to his lips, letting him register the flowery scent blooming from your neck before you answer, “I want you to…”

A hand wrapping around his, you bring it to your ass, listening to him drawing a sharp breath. “...touch me here…” And then, his fingers travel to your heat through your guidance, an obvious bulge pressing against your thigh as you finish, “...and here. But not in this dusty alley and not against this cold wall.”

“Why not?” he inquires, lifting your dress before he kisses your neck softly. “A minute ago you wanted me so badly, please, Park Jimin.” 

You roll your eyes at his damned dimpled grin, tempted to remark something just as snarky before you change your decision and state, “I just thought you’d rather hear me screaming and crying at full volume for you instead of trying to stay quiet here.”

“Well, to be fair, the thought of you forcing yourself to st-”

A stray cat breaks his train of thoughts, suddenly flashing by your bodies as you both flinch at the sudden interruption. With the intoxication slightly broken, you laugh, letting go of his collar as you raise an eyebrow and say, “And that’s exactly why a bed would be a better idea.”

And who is he to deny your suggestion anyway?

No, you’re a mind-numbing existence among the boring faces of strangers; one who keeps him entertained even when Jimin tackles the long ride home. As he tries to catch every green traffic light, you’re there to laugh about his jokes and baffle him with your own wit, talking about everything that crosses your mind until he drags you into his room and silences you with his awaiting, ready-to-consume tongue.

For the life of you, you can’t tell what his bedroom looks like – his fingers and his lips exploring your body drive you insane so intensely that you can’t keep your eyes open for too long. It’s a night spent in lustful moans and sweet kisses, his body tiring yours until you grow weak and limp and your eyelids flutter shut.

With one of your legs sticking out from under the thin blanket, you let his fingers graze the expanse of your skin, humming in content until you finally fall asleep. You look like a dream on his satin sheets, your face lit by the shine of the half moon that gives you a fairy-like glow that Jimin wants to know more about.

And yet, when he wakes up in the morning, with your eyes being the first memory of the turbulent night before, he finds his mattress empty. The other side of the bed seems cold to the touch, the pillow and sheets so smooth that he wonders if he imagined you. If you were here at all.

But the obvious foreign scent that he inhales in the very next moment tells him that no part of you had been a breathtaking figment of his vivid imagination.

Your calmness and enchanting mystery don’t leave Jimin’s mind until two weekends have rolled by and ended again. It takes him one distraction too many to forget the hidden emotion in your eyes and the readiness with which you gave yourself to him.

Only to disappear the very next morning.

As Jimin stops wondering what happened that night and why you suddenly vanished into thin air, he finds himself hovering above more important things than your body. Sleeves rolled up and eyes drooping, he glances at the scattered files that contain hints, evidence and protocols of the last few weeks.

Trying to figure out what the group his case deals with might do next proves nearly impossible; even more so with each robbery they successfully get away with. Reading a pattern shouldn’t be this hard. Jimin has handled cases worse than this one; no matter whether they circled around vandalists or peculiar art thieves.

What is he not seeing?

His features remain calm, but his knuckles pale. A thumb strokes the piece of paper that has crucial information about the last theft, written black on white. Reading the lines over and over again turns out to be immensely tiring; he doesn’t think staring at them or breaking his head over the words might bring him any closer to the answer.

Right when his body begs him to carry it home, Jimin’s eyes blinking to rid themselves of sleep, the door to his office opens with a click. He doesn’t expect any company at this evening hour; he’s sure the floor is empty aside from his presence still lingering in his suffocating and dimly lit room.

“Do you like it better here than at home, Hobi?” he queries.

He lifts his gaze and runs a hand through his ash-blonde hair, the sight slightly blurry until his co-worker’s shadow takes a solid form. Hoseok flips the light switch, and Jimin protests with a grunt and a shaking head, motioning him to darken the room again – but his actions still when something else catches his attention.

With one foot on the threshold and a hand clutching a bag, serene, familiar eyes stare back at him; they don’t showcase any sign of confusion or fascination the way Jimin’s do. The mystery surrounding the not-so-stranger still glows as gloomily as the last time, and Jimin finds himself wondering if it’s the sleep deprivation that’s dipping his mind into hallucinations after all.

But then you enter the room, your shoulder lightly bumping into Hoseok’s and a laugh falling out of you at the coincidence of the situation. Your lips aren’t tinted red anymore as in the night he touched you for the first and last time; but you still look like he’s known you for longer than he actually has. Like this isn’t just the second time he’s meeting your eyes.

“You might remember her,” Hoseok says, smirking at Jimin knowingly.

The younger man catches himself fast, letting out an exhausted breath before he eyes you with something akin to boredom, nonchalance. You shift from one leg to the other, glancing to Hoseok and then back to Jimin as your tongue toys with the inside of your cheek.

“I do, yeah,” Jimin confirms, thoughts drifting back to his empty mattress. In some way, a scenario like this isn’t rare after a meaningless one night stand with a stranger that has the stare of a poisonous snake. Yet, the memory bothers him. “What brings you here, uh…”

He blinks at you, watches your lips part before he fakes a guess on your name despite being fully aware of the word he whispered dozens of times that night. A sweet melody that escapes between his lips so smoothly is hard to forget.

You nod, stepping closer and stretching out a hand for him to take. Behind you, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, hands on his slacks-covered-hips as he observes the awkward exchange.

You feel his stare more than you see it, well aware that Hoseok probably knows that you were once trapped under Jimin’s body, filled to the brim and a moaning mess like you’ve never been. Not before Jimin, not after Jimin.

“I’ll be joining you here. My division sent me here to help you out with the… the Swan case,” you explain, tilting your head. You’re hesitating; like uttering this sentence is burning your tongue.

Jimin knew another force would join his group all too soon – he just didn’t think it’d be you.

From what he gathered, it had to be someone he knew; perhaps that one woman who’s known worldwide for solving the case of a misunderstood art thief. Or maybe the detective he met at the last gathering of his organisation – he seemed promising and skilled enough to switch to this case.

But it’s you.

The woman who has somehow, inexplicably, been haunting him since the first time her lips touched his neck and her fingers grazed his thighs. What are the odds?

Jimin chuckles quietly, a lock of hair falling into his crescent eyes that he brushes back immediately. Then, he says, “Welcome on board, then. But next time you can come to my office in the morning, if you’d like. It’s okay to take a break and go home – both of you.”

“Says you,” you tease, a mocking lilt in your voice that sounds like the soft song of chirping birds at sunrise, “besides, I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“That I can imagine.”

Because who else would walk away at the ass crack of dawn after falling asleep late, leaving him questioning and irritated?

Jimin shakes off the incessant thoughts. Apparently, they rule over his mind with a harder force than he expected or ever wanted; but with you standing here, the scene keeps reappearing over and over again.

“Do you guys need some time alone?”

Hoseok’s voice chimes through the tension electrifying you both, bursting the bubble that had excluded him till now. You finally realise that he’s still standing there too, and so you let out a deep breath before you say, “No, no, I was going to leave anyway. I just wanted to stop by and… introduce myself again, I guess.”

“And you just happened to know that I’m still here,” Jimin voices. There’s no hostility in his sweet, small voice, but something about his words sounds sharp and intense, anyway.

“I just thought I could try,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders as you nod towards Hoseok, “and saw him leaving the building.”

The man in question mimics your movements, shoulders lifting before he waves his hands and says, “But just for the record – he’s always here. I bet he sleeps in this office sometimes.”

“I do n–” Jimin’s words die on his tongue when he decides to sigh instead, pinching the bridge of his nose with sleep fogging his brain. “Anyway. When are you starting?”

“Monday.”

Closing the files, Jimin readies himself for the drive back home, eager to end the day and to rid his thoughts of the investigation. In this state, he won’t be able to glue the pieces together anyway. Hoseok whispers something to you and you converse back, both your voices fading as the rustling of Jimin’s coat fills his ears instead.

“Then enjoy your weekend,” he eventually says, shooting an unexpected wink at you that you respond to with a raised eyebrow, “luckily we get these off at least. Can’t wait to work with you, Detective.”

Whiskey and noting down his thoughts keep Jimin’s mind on track as your face creeps its way into his brain constantly.

A weekend never felt this long, and the vacant and silent loudness in his apartment never this numbing. He doesn’t know where this excitement – or tamed rage – comes from, but the more he thinks of you, the more you distract him from the task at hand.

Working with you face to face doesn’t make things easier either. Monday passes, the week progresses and you’re blinking at the stack of papers sprawled on the table in front of you, but he finds his own focus drift every now and then, much to his chagrin.

It’s only when you slump back into a chair and tell him to read the files, that he loses himself in the riddle of the papers again. But it’s always the same; never a new clue jumping out. It’s like the answer is right in front of him and he is unable to pick it out. It tickles the back of his brain; a little as though he has all the necessary puzzle pieces, but doesn’t know how to combine them.

“It’s something obvious, right?”

You sigh when he repeats the same words for the umpteenth time tonight, throwing your head back as you respond, “I think so, yeah.”

“Then why the fuck…”

“Jimin.”

“No, no, look. Okay.” He lifts his hands in front of his body, closing his eyes as he summarises, “They always rob rich people. Like, public, known people. They’re too high class for simple robberies like banks and stuff. And they always steal jewellery, like necklaces, earrings or bracelets. Never any money or pure gold bars.”

“Yes.”

“But there must be a pattern–”

“Jimin,” you repeat, grabbing his wrist before you pull his attention from the files. He turns around slowly, exhaustion yet again written all over his countenance as he leans against the table. “Take a break.”

You place the fore and middle finger of your right hand between your eyebrows, massaging the space lightly before you let your hand fall again and say, “Do this. It’s gonna help you relax. And remove this scary frown of yours.” You laugh when he smirks, crossing your legs on the chair as you lean back. “I used to do that a lot in my old division.”

“If you’re saying that, then it must be true.” Jimin buries one hand in the pockets of his slacks, the other following your suggestion and calming his expressions. “By the way.” You look at him in question, not missing the slight judgemental tone of his voice. “Why did you never tell me you’d join us here? I’m sure you already knew the night we met in the club.”

The question catches you off guard, and your eyes stick on him for a second longer, unblinking. Then, you let out a deep breath, humming in thought before you confess, “I didn’t think you’d be part of the team here. For all I knew, you could’ve been a highschool teacher or… or, I don’t know, an architect?”

“Architect,” Jimin mocks, rolling his eyes, “not an architect.”

“Well, the point is that I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I never really considered my private life important enough for a stranger to know.”

“Hmmm.” He clicks his tongue, gathering the ball of disappointment of the last weeks between his lips before they form the words he’s been desperate to ask. “Is that why you didn’t spend that night? You wanted us to stay strangers.”

You shrug your shoulders, laughing off the awkward tension between you two as you explain, “Staying? That’s not what I do.”

“What is it that you do, then?”

“I like meeting new people,” you confess, your voice so calm that it feels like you might yawn any second now. “There are a lot of lovely men out there who have a talent of doing just what I like.” You pause for a second, your lips still parted and eyes moving to the ceiling before they find him again. “And women. Love women.”

“So,” Jimin drawls, clearing his throat, “you just go around burning yourself into all these people’s memories?”

“Why? Have I burned myself into yours?”

“I mean… It took me two weeks to remember Hoseok’s name despite seeing him every single day.” Fingers lifting from the already relaxed spot on his face, Jimin taps his shiny, black boots against the ground underneath. “What do you think?”

There’s something so undeniably attractive about his fearless openness and way of talking. Most people you meet aren’t exactly the epitome of timidness and silence either, but they often meet you with a brazenness that you can’t help but live through with a fake smile. But Jimin seems to mean each one of his words. He seems to calculate them, politely and genuinely.

You, however, are just as blatant and stupid as the people you meet. And in that sense, you don’t wait long before your rotten mouth declares, “Why do you make me wanna kiss you?”

Jimin’s eyes blow wide for a fraction of a second at your shameless approach as he realises that this is not just harmless small talk anymore. Just like the night in the loud, hot, uncomfortable club, you seem to follow ulterior motives. Your hips aren’t moving to the music anymore as they did back then, but your words and the sound of your voice lure him in anyway.

He pushes himself off the edge of the table, stepping closer, slowly, before he leans down in front of you. Hands still residing in his pockets, he stares at you for a small, fleeting moment; and then, he nudges your nose and places a finger under your chin. Lifts your head to take a better look at your seductive gaze.

You close your eyes and part your lips. Get ready for him to adhere to your wishes and give himself to you. You inhale sharply when his mouth brushes against yours, and only exhale after the lightest of pecks that he graces your lower lip with.

Pictures of both of you flash through your mind: your half naked bodies colliding, right here on his chair, you straddling him and moving gently, temptingly. In your imagination, lewd sounds of moans, gasps and kisses fill the air; and you’re ready for him. Ready for his touches.

But then, he suddenly retreats; cuts through your daydream with a knife.

“I’ll kiss you when I’m the only one you want to kiss.”

The smirk that follows shows his pride over the statement he just uttered, and your eyebrows come together in a frown as irritation fills your chest and your guts. Why does he care this much? Why is he saying what he’s saying?

To add to your demise, he lifts a hand, two fingers massaging the stressed spot on your forehead before he says, “Do this. Feels relaxing.”

And before you can blink twice, he’s turned around and shifted his focus to his beloved investigation again.

Jimin is playing a dangerous game that you’ve used to battle so many men before. One to keep them yearning and wanting, but keeping your heart and mind at bay without ever letting them too close. It’s more art than a game, really, and you thought you’d mastered it very well already – until now.

Today, you find yourself losing the tug of war for the very first time in oh so long.

It doesn’t take a genius to realise that your mind is a fascinating miracle.

The conclusions Jimin drew in the last few weeks according to the available hints come easily to you – assuming you didn’t know about any of them already. As you scan files and papers, you summarise your deductions before Jimin can fully inform you about them, and the eagerness you work with almost exceeds his own spirit to hustle from time to time.

You’re munching on tiny bites of your lunch as you compare a sheet of information with a picture of some party. These are pieces of Jimin’s self-compiled folder, but he never really paid much attention to them till now. For some reason, you seem to be fixated on them; keep telling him that there’s something about it, something’s important about these.

“We’re on lunch break,” Jimin says, letting his spoon fall into his spicy soup before he leans back, “concentrate on not feeding your nose and cheeks instead.”

Your lips move with the words you read, and when you’ve reached the end of the line, you lift your face to look at him, telling him solemnly, “Give me a second. I swear I’m close.”

“Listen, you haven’t eaten anything properly since you opened the office this morning. What about tea? Coffee? Wat–”

“Wait, Jimin,” you interrupt with an annoyed shake of your head, your forehead wrinkling and your palm holding your face.

With a sigh, he shifts his attention to his meal again, fixing his eyes on the dirty dishes in the sink as he waits for you to converse with him again. Not even Hoseok is this bad. In fact, Hoseok has said that the situation between Jimin and you reminds him a lot of busy days when the older man must come between his younger friend and his work, forcing him to eat, drink and breathe.

Jimin blinks once before he decides to stare at the photograph from afar, not as concentrated as you, but taking in the content anyway. It seems like a picture from a huge gathering, a kind of party with guests from the highest level. They’re millionaires known to the entire world, living in this very country and this very city, residing in houses bigger than Jimin or you can ever dream to live in.

Three square tables are arranged in a way that all of the guests are visible on the picture, each of them occupying one side of each table. Jimin knows that at least half of them have already been robbed, and that again, half of those are so filthy rich that they never bothered to file a serious complaint. Not because they work with the thieves, but because a tie or a hair clip they own costs more than the necklaces and bracelets that they lost.

The sole, striking connection to the criminals shows in the middle of each table, in the form of a blue swan, paper folded neatly in origami style to the majestic animal. The colour of the symbol always stays the same; and the bird remains consistent, too. Jimin knows the picture is important to figure out some sort of pattern; or at least he does now, watching you work so diligently.

And it seems like you’ve finally figured it out, because only a moment later, you break his train of thoughts and nearly yell, “Heureka!”

“What? What, what?”

Your pupils shake, your mind collecting your thoughts, and you bite your lower lip as he grows nervous and repeats, “What?”

“So,” you start, excitement clearly visible in your eyes as you half lean over the table, “this list is organised by the date of the thefts and next to said dates are the names of the, uh, victims.” Your finger wanders over each line, reading the names out loud. “So the first one was this Kim guy. Who’s sitting at the very left table, on the, let’s say, west side of it.”

Jimin nods, a hand gesture pleading for you to slow down and take a breath; you oblige immediately, inhaling through the nose before you continue, “And the second person… Lee, she’s sitting on the middle table. West side, too.”

“Okay.”

“The third name on this list is Gong. Who,” you pause, returning to the picture, pointing to a bald, middle-aged man with a crooked smile, “third table. Try to guess? Yes, the west side as well.”

Jimin thinks he’s beginning to understand, his mind slowly following your blabber as nervousness and a sense of triumph bubble in his guts. You speak on, explaining to him in double time how the fourth and fifth victims both sat at the north side, on the first and second table respectively; and when your voice grows louder, Jimin raises a finger into the air.

“So that means…” he begins, the conclusion taking a clear form in his mind, “they’re working their way through people according to this photograph. Clockwise, from left to right… so then, solving the puzzle correctly would mean…”

He taps the tip of his forefinger against the shiny material of the picture, and you nod slowly, speaking before he does, “Seong Hyunwoo. He and his family are next. And if I’m not wrong… then it should happen in exactly eight days.”

His smile drops, eyes immediately searching for yours as he blinks and questions, “How do you know?”

“According to this list and the dates, they seem to follow a pattern of exactly fifty-five days.” You shuffle the pages and gather them into one, shoulders shrugging and your tone casual, almost matter-of-factly. “Probably need that time to prepare and think about their next steps and whatever.”

“This is insane.”

“Hm?”

“The fact that I was never able to solve this,” Jimin confesses; and as soon as he utters these words, discouragement floods his insides, his body falling back against the chair as his eyes turn gloomy. He gestures toward the papers, scoffing lightly as he says, “It was right in front of my eyes and I couldn’t solve it. Basic information. Might as well get fired.”

You watch him fidget with his fingers for a second, emphatic and fond; and when he refuses to meet your stare again, you tell him, “Well, finding two separate pieces is an achievement, too. Piecing them together is harder. If you hadn’t found these things, I wouldn’t have been able to conclude what we just did. And I think you just need to… sleep more, too.”

“Yeah, but…” Jimin hesitates, lips blowing raspberries in slight frustration. He wants to be happy about what the picture and the list reveal; but he can’t help but feel defeated anyhow. “Anyone would’ve found this information. And it wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

“Hey,” you interject, pouting with playful hurt, “does that mean I’m not all that smart? Maybe you didn’t want to solve the case then…”

“No, I was just saying that…”

“Ah, cut that bullshit,” you interrupt yet again, dismissing his comment with a light wave of your hand, “you’re not a bad detective. You’re awesome, but… it’s okay to look at the bigger picture sometimes. You’ll find the details once you do.”

You flash a blinding smile at him – so bright and shiny that he loses concept of time and space for a split second before gravity pulls him back into the small break room. He’s thankful. Not only for the fact that you’ve stepped closer to victory, but for your behaviour toward his whiny, childish attitude as well.

You don’t seem to judge; seem to aim for encouragement instead.

A warm palm slides across the table, settling on your fingers slowly as he mumbles, “Thank you.”

Blood rushes into your face and heats your skin, an innocent expression spreading on your countenance as you gaze at his hand on yours.

But the awkward, silent moment passes as fast as it appeared, and you join his happiness when he laughs and declares, “This is so fucking dumb. These guys are idiots… should’ve expected that people as smart as you exist.”

“Please,” you whisper quietly, barely audible as he watches your smile widen with amusement.

A hum vibrates across his chest, and he observes your sudden timidness further before he jokes, “Who the hell still says heureka, by the way?”

“Shut up!”

Under the table, you kick his shin lightly, and he cries out in pain with a tender laugh. One you turn into a symphony by adding your own, lovely sound.

As soon as you figure out the date and location of the next robbery, informing your force busy with this case, you spend your upcoming evenings and nights observing Seong’s house.

What sounds tiring and tedious in the beginning, soon proves to be even more tiring and tedious eventually. Even if it’s part of your job, you’d rather spend your nights elsewhere. But Jimin keeps you occupied – he doesn’t only provide information you might need in the upcoming time, but keeps the mood floating, too.

Now and then, you remind yourself where you are and what you’re doing. Try not to let your mind shift too much, averting your gaze from the dimpled smile he throws you in the darkness merely lit by dull street lamps.

But despite the thrill and excitement of the situation, some moments stretch too long, and when the big, awaited night finally breaks in, you say, “Any moment now.”

In the passenger’s seat, Jimin licks his lips, squinting his eyes to shoot the mansion another look before he mumbles, “I sure hope so. Couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

On cue, you yawn into your hand, leaning back with a sigh as you blink away tears of exhaustion. You, for one, would go in and warn the married couple if you could, but according to Jimin, Seong and his family have caused him and his force trouble on more than one occasion.

Apparently, they have a reputation of the prestigious, not-so-humble pair among detectives already, hiring one group for past minor thefts while consulting another at the same time. Jimin doesn’t like repeating the story of when both detective groups chased each other the same night, enabling the real thieves to escape with ease.

To say that this was the most embarrassing day of his life must be an understatement.

“If we went in, they’d just cause unnecessary drama and wake the neighbourhood. Easy for the Swans to catch the hint and abandon their mission,” he told you, eliciting a sigh of frustration out of you until you shrugged your shoulders and kept observing.

What fatigue the profession brings…

“Tired, too?” Jimin questions as you pinch your nose, blinking to rid your eyes of sleep.

“Can’t wait for today to be over.”

“Told you we should’ve brought coffee.”

“How much coffee have you had today already?

He shrugs his shoulders, fingers brushing back the blonde, smooth hair as he remarks, “Not enough.”

If you’ve ever seen a full-blown caffeine-addict before, they’ve never compared to the amounts Jimin consumes on a daily basis. There must be coffee flowing through his veins instead of blood, you’re sure of it – how he survives a day without the tell-tale, jittery signs the bitter liquid usually causes is beyond you.

But at least he looks awake – his eyes, usually such serene and calm crescent moons, stare at the street, focused and attentive. You, on the other hand, feel your gaze drooping the more time passes.

With your head hanging low, your breathing becomes more relaxed, and before you know it, Jimin is nudging your arm, his voice stern and impatient as he says, “Hey! Can’t fall asleep now.”

“I’m sorry,” you exclaim immediately, clearing your throat as you sit up, “shit, I’m sorry, how long di–”

“Barely ten minutes. It’s fine, but focus.”

“The endless waiting just…”

“I know,” Jimin confirms. When the lights of the mansion die, he leans forward, his forehead furrowed, but his demeanour still posed despite the nervousness he must be feeling. “But patience is a virtue. And it’ll be worth it in the end.”

In the quiet moment of the night, you flinch and freeze, suppressing the whimper hiding in the back of your throat before you gulp it down. You’re not sure if he’s noticed, but he side-eyes you with what you interpret or misunderstand as a hint of confusion.

Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you blink at the now dark house you’re guarding, telling him, “My ex boyfriend used to say the same thing.”

For a moment, the silence in the car is so deafening that you reckon he might not have understood you. Or perhaps he’s moving on, unable to respond properly and acting as though you never said what you said.

But then, you feel a hand sneak to your knee; a tender touch that robs you of your senses for a moment before you turn to look at him. He’s blinking at you, full lips parted before he asks, “Are you alright?” He waits – and when you don’t answer, fighting your clogged throat, he adds, “Bad break up?”

“It was…” you start, ready to break the truth to him, but you compose yourself and sigh, “messy from beginning to end. Like… messier than we wanted it to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

His hand rubs against your knee before his fingers travel up. The gesture is harmless and soft, but his fingertips wandering up to your arm as if to take a load of your pain build a burning trail along their way.

If you weren’t where you are, in the middle of duties that might lead to one of the biggest nights of your life, you might let the cloak of sadness wrap your heart and open up to him. Perhaps you’d even let a tear or two flow, tell him that it was neither your nor your boyfriend’s fault who isn’t part of your life anymore.

But then, something more crashing than your thoughts happens.

The police radio chimes, unpleasant noises cracking the peace of the night before Hoseok’s voice, panic-ridden and stressed, asks, “Jimin. Jimin, you guys there?”

Jimin grabs the walkie-talkie with eyes blown wide, suddenly alarmed as he answers and Hoseok explains, “Man, they’re not coming to the Seongs. Abort the mission, it’s a trap. I repeat, it’s…”

You don’t register more of his words.

Daunting ringing, shrill and mind-numbing, blends out every sound. You only faintly hear Hoseok say that the thieves knew about your set-up. That they came prepared, attacked prepared – just not the house they were supposed to.

You expected it; you didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to fall into your quiet trap so fast – but apparently, you were stupid enough to hope. Thinking of possible scenarios, your force had split into two groups, and Hoseok’s was guarding the house listed next after the Seongs.

But as it seems, the other group had been sloppy, fully expecting that you’d be the one experiencing the action first hand. And from what you’ve understood, the tires of Hoseok’s car have been punctured, and when he rushed to help the family screaming from inside the house, he’d already been too late.

“There’s almost no trace of theft,” he says, and his voice trembles, anger and frustration filling it, “if the diamond jewellery they acquired at a charity wasn’t missing… you wouldn’t notice shit.”

In your haze, you never noticed Jimin’s infinitely sunken face, staring at the radio silently. Chest deflated and leaning back, he nibbles at his lips, throwing you a cautious look before he questions, “Which direction did they flee into? Maybe we can still catch them.”

But Hoseok sighs again, smacking his lips, “Wonho and some others were close to me and chased the car when we saw it escape, but… they lost them.” A small pause, a dull thump echoing through the speaker. And then, he continues, “Can you fucking believe they were right in front of our noses and we lost them? Didn’t notice shit?”

You swallow thickly, emotions brimming your eyes; and then you lean in, clutch the steering wheel and answer, “Yeah… yeah, I can.”

“Jewellery again, you say?” Jimin questions again, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. 

“Yeah. The only hint left behind,” Hoseok confirms, falling quieter by the moment, “that and the… the blue swan.”

City lights and smiling faces that pass in a blur keep your thoughts occupied when you drive him home in silence. The tumult twirling inside you and tugging at your guts is a discomfort you maintain with unmatched strength. And even when the car engine finally dies and you hear him sigh, you think that’s it for tonight.

That you’ve kept your tears at bay successfully, shown courage and calmness.

But then, Jimin shifts, placing a hand on your shoulder as his tender voice asks, “Are you okay?”

Crestfallen and distracted, you look up at him with misty eyes. Desperation floods through the holes of your heart when you see his expression fall with yours, and as self-control starts fading, the sobs escape eventually.

Jimin doesn’t know why the failed mission affects you the way it does. As far as he’s used to his job, things can always go wrong unexpectedly – he’s neither new to this nor surprised by it, but perhaps you are. At least it’s apparent in the way your knuckles pale around the steering wheel and your body seems frozen in place.

But then, you lean forward in your seat as you bury your face in your hands, and Jimin brushes the curtain of your hair aside before he places a soothing palm underneath your shoulder blades. Your silence soon becomes a tremble, your head shaking as your muffled voice says, “We were so fucking close. So close and they knew.”

“Yeah…”

Jimin’s whisper dissipates as your sobs grow louder. He lets you dry your eyes of endless tears, his hand moving in small circles on your back as he coos whatever promises his mind can conjure. He’s upset, too – but your state draws all his attention.

And after a while that appears like an eternity, you finally slow down. Your breaths steady only slowly, your chest rising and falling heavily till you inhale a deep breath and lift your body. Your fingers brush your hair behind your ears, swollen eyes still fixated on your lap and your limbs quivering.

His hand wanders from your back to your shoulder, and he presses just once, watching you bite your lower lip nervously before you say, “This is pathetic.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is…” You sniffle and clear your throat, your voice still shaky and tears still drying. “Have you ever seen a detective lose it like this?”

Jimin blinks at you, scanning his memories of the last years that he has been in this force; and then, he responds, “No. But I also have never met two detectives who handle, speak, react or are the same.”

You smile a little at his comforting words, moving your head to meet his reassuring eyes as one corner of his mouth twitches upward. For a moment, you don’t speak a single word; let the warmth of his touch flood you instead. The crease between your eyebrows relaxes palpably, and your heartbeat finds its regular pace again as you anticipate his next move.

What is he going to do? What is he going to say? Is there any way to mend the pain he’s so unaware of; a way to let him know silently how much the broken shards of your heart are piercing your lungs?

You don’t know whether he’s searching for an answer to your unspoken questions or merely looking at your crushed state. But you do understand his urge to make you forget for at least now; drag you back into the present to him; lift the weight on your shoulders, even if just for a moment.

“There’s no one way to deal with grief,” he then whispers, hands cradling your face and gentle thumbs wiping at your tears, “and no matter where yours comes from or how you decide to react to it, it’ll never be pathetic.”

A small pause. Three beats of your heart pass. He smiles at you again, and you feel your body float.

“You’re anything but pathetic, honestly.”

In such a dark night, Jimin’s beam shines brightly, an oasis after the world let you live dehydrated and thirsty for warmth for so long. You don’t know how much longer you’ll let yourself fall into his eyes; you know you shouldn’t, and you sure as heck know that you don’t want to.

But when you lean forward and press your lips against his, you throw caution out the window like you never have before. Somehow, Jimin seems to break your armour and shatter your walls, and his strength and stubborn way to fight through your mind leave you utterly weak.

His thumb is still grazing the apple of your cheeks when your kiss deepens. His hands still remain on you when he asks you to come inside. You hope he doesn’t notice the emptiness in your soul and in your pupils; but he’s too busy anyway.

His arms pull you into him, holding you for dear life; even when he focuses on closing the door behind you and especially when your back hits the covers of the bed that you still remember all too well.

He only lets you breathe once his lips move to the skin of your neck, tender butterfly kisses driving you insane as he pushes a knee between your clothed legs. And then, breathing heavy, his weight on yours, he says carefully, “Don’t leave again. Not tonight.”

You swallow thickly as his fingers trace your bare arms, nails leaving a pale trail in their wake as you plead, “Then give me a reason to stay… please.”

Obliging, he closes the distance between you yet again, your tongues meeting for just a moment before he moves on to your jaw and your collarbones. He litters open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips wander, and his hands tug your loose, white linen shirt down enough to expose the mounds of your tits.

Teeth nibble at your flesh and his palms bury underneath your bra, pushing it away when you wrap your legs around his hips. A singular “fuck…” rolls off his tongue at the sight of you half naked. He still remembers the feeling and image of your body from the last night you spent like this, but seeing you fully sober and clear-minded awakens a desire too profound, too intense.

But then, you whimper – and when he realises that the sound resembles your gut-wrenching cries in the car too much, the feverish kisses and possessive touches suddenly stop. As the fog of lust clears and gives way to transparent and logical thoughts, Jimin understands what path the both of you have chosen, wrongfully.

“What’s going on?” you ask him quietly, lifting your head to look at him in worry.

Maybe you’re always like this. Drowning your pain while letting strangers fuck it away momentarily; perhaps there’s melancholy swimming in your eyes all the time, because you never allow yourself to feel what your body and mind want you to feel.

Your breakdown in the car seemed genuine and rare; like you aren’t used to displaying your vulnerable side in front of someone you barely know. Pathetic, you said. A human emotion so common in this world, an ideal therapy when any other kind of remedy fails. If crying is already pathetic to you, then he isn’t going to let you hide any longer.

Because contrary to your reaction in the car, all of this stems from ingenuity and affliction. And you need to let it out.

“This won’t do,” he then says, pushing up your bra and shirt again before he lets himself fall next to you.

“But I want to–”

“Listen,” Jimin interrupts gently, pulling you into him and hugging you close despite your protests, “you can talk to me about your feelings or you can’t. But I’m not doing this with you just to suppress the pain and make it come back again later.”

Tears prick your eyes, frustration running wild inside you as you box against his chest softly and exclaim, “What’s so… what’s so fucking wrong about just letting it pass for a moment?”

“It just… hey. Hold still for a moment.” He squeezes your body once, halting your movements a second before he feels your shoulders tremble again. “It just comes back later. How did you not realise that yet?”

He feels your silent crying less than he hears it in the way his shirt becomes damp. There’s not a drop of confidence left that you usually portray; instead, Jimin feels as though he’s holding a fragile shell in his arms and keeping it from shattering.

There are so many cracks inside you. He doesn’t understand why you won’t let anyone repair them.

“You know,” he begins, burying his face in your hair. He sighs when you finally wrap your arms around his torso. “I could be anyone right now.” Staring at the shadows in the dark room, he licks his lips. “Any man in this world and you’d let me distract you.”

It stings to hear it from him.

It’s like he’s gathered all your insecurities into one sentence and summarised them for you. You want to defend yourself with a meager, stupid excuse, but then he breathes in and continues, “Which is okay, you know? If it’s your thing, it’s your thing. But ignoring your condition in the process won’t help you in the long run.”

“Yeah,” you respond through gritted teeth, your voice a little too loud and his body flinching clearly. “I know. I know, okay? I’m not stupid, Jimin, and you can’t tell me what to–”

“I am not telling you what to do. But I am telling you what I won’t do. And you won’t use me for your own purposes.”

It’s harsh. So, so blatantly direct. And god, no one has ever told you an obvious truth like this before.

You pull back and lift your head, trying to decipher his expressions in the barely lit bedroom to your best abilities. You think he’s smiling at you; somehow, he’s always smiling at you.

Slowly blinking, his fingers pull the blanket behind him over both of you, the warmth and his voice causing goosebumps on your skin as he tells you, “I won’t ever say no to you if you want me like this as long as you’re not using me. When it’s genuine and not a spur of the moment decision . But… I’d still like to be the only one you want to kiss.”

Jimin’s tenderness and reassuring beam remind you of a distant presence that floats in an unknown realm now. He, too, used to let his soft fingertips wander along your bare arms; you still remember the shapes he liked to draw on your warm flesh when he lost himself in your loving gaze.

You gulp down the heavy knot in your throat before you let out a shaky breath, and when courage lets fear and agony settle down enough, you whisper, “There was someone I used to know.”

The thinking pause that follows remains quiet. Jimin hums at your words, but doesn’t interrupt you; lets you collect your thoughts until you’re ready to speak them out loud. And when you are, you reveal, “My boyfriend… the boyfriend. We’d pretty much grown up together… and I’d been in love with him since I could think.”

A bitter taste spreads on your tongue as you reminisce about what you lost, and you grimace at it before you swallow it down and continue.

“His name was Yoongi,” the knot in your throat grows thicker and bigger, the feeling of his name almost like a forbidden spell, “he somehow found himself caught in the Swans’ web, and he… didn’t escape it. Things happened and things escalated and suddenly I couldn’t protect him anymore and I blinked just once and–”

Jimin’s hand rubs your back slowly, running up and down as if to remind you to breathe between your words. There’s strength in talking about your own suffering of this level; and he’s more proud than anything that you’re powering through your tragedy this well.

You’re not crying the way you did before. In some way, it almost feels like you’re reciting a speech that you’ve practised in your mind a hundred times before, your voice rattling down sentences numbly and automatically.

“He left. Me, his friends, his family. The world?” you speak on. Jimin hums again, nearly as if to assure you that your pain is valid. “It’s why I hate the thought of them roaming it… drinking, eating, enjoying their freedom, laughing about jokes and attending parties in expensive attire. Because they don’t deserve it with the blood on their hands.”

“They don’t,” Jimin agrees, interrupting your monologue with a nod against your scalp.

Whatever he thought your outburst merely half an hour ago might mean, it wasn’t a situation of this extent. Perhaps he thought that you have an intense sense of justice, or that the infamous group of thieves insulted you or your unit on a deep, personal level.

But this is torment he never thought he’d ever have to heal or lessen.

“And it’s why I live the way I live.” Your voice shrinks, but your eyes still hold his. You see tenderness in them. See care and affection. It’s the type that might ruin you, if you just let it. “I’m not built for love or committing to one single person, Jimin. That's why I’m not picky.”

“What if one person’s worth it all, though?”

“Jimin…” you utter slowly, smiling against his chest as you bury your face in the fabric of his shirt, “just so you know… despite anything and everything… any other man wouldn’t feel the way you feel right now.”

Your words cause a clean cut across his heart and tear it into two halves. Because whatever you say, he’s still just momentary satisfaction. You won’t give in to anything more, not now, not ever.

Jimin isn’t in love with you; he doesn’t think he’s explored your being enough to admit an emotion like this to himself already. But what he does know is that he’s falling, and that the word love, as absent as it might be at the moment, won’t stay away forever. Not with you.

And although the thought hurts every little fibre of his body, he’s not ready to let you fall just yet.

Though it proves impossible, he sometimes thinks it’d be easier if he did let you fall.

Jimin vowed to you he wouldn’t let you use him – but once you open up and break the barrier to let trust float between you, he starts making up a false sense of security in his head that you’re beginning to heal. Breaks his vow, so fragile; shocked how easily he bends to your wishes – because the vow seems like a distant memory when he touches you again.

But once your weak, confused, past-revealing moments pass, your transparent expressions return, and despite anything you feel for him, your countenance never truly reveals any of your true emotions. So Jimin reckons you know exactly what you want… or don’t want – bringing back his familiar confusion.

He can’t help but hope, though.

He tries to fill the crater in your heart, your being so hard to resist. He still doesn’t let you use him when your mind goes haywire, but you’re still like a game he’s lost whenever he begins the trail of pecks and touches on other days.

So your embraces soon turn into fervent touches. Fervent touches accompanied by moans. Moans drawn out by each other that have him still hoping and hoping and hoping.

He’s unaware that you, however, do fall.

Deep into a tumult as days go by; you want to shut off your brain and your feelings, and keep ignoring whatever Jimin awakens in you whenever you find yourself pinned underneath him. Despite your constant principles that you still hold onto, it becomes harder to escape whatever Jimin’s soul is made of.

To the point where you keep denying your heart his affection, but go back to him anyway.

When they say, temporary pleasure helps fuel your loneliness, they’re not lying. As time passes and your body becomes accustomed to Jimin’s touches, you realise that emptiness feels more prominent the deeper your mind circles around him.

His face nuzzled in your neck and an arm draped around your torso, you try to focus on anything but his warmth. It’s almost as though his limbs wrapped around you leave burns on your skin; and determined to cool your body and your nerves, you say, “There’s an annual party in the town hall this weekend. Yoongi used to tell me that the Swans attend it every year, so I thought I might tell you we could–”

Jimin’s hum against your shoulder distracts you momentarily, and you quiet down as he questions with shut eyes, “Can we talk about this later?”

“Why?”

“Don’t feel like it right now…”

He lifts his face to seek your tired gaze and deflates just a little when numb eyes stare back. Again. As always. His heartbeat stops for a miniscule moment before the flicker in your pupils drags him back to life, and with confidence lacing his fond voice, he mumbles, “Let me kiss you instead… here…”

Full lips press against your jaw, a light touch that barely counts as a kiss. “Here, too.” A trail of pecks spreads across your cheeks, and his naked body shifts on top of you again as his legs part your bare thighs. “And here…”

He still tastes like whiskey and dry fruits when his mouth meets yours in a daze, and as he climbs further on you, you feel a leaking, semi-hard length brush your pelvis teasingly. You draw a breath as much as his actions allow, and he swallows your moans when the tip of his cock prods at your slick entrance carefully.

Intimacy has become a constant between you; and you realised soon enough that he wasn’t bluffing when he told you he’d never say no to you. Even if you reject his sentiment every single time. Even if he might have become the only man you want to kiss. Even if it hurts him.

As his lips find their way back home to your neck, open-mouthed kisses toying with your senses, you sigh with desire. And when his hand squeezes your waist tightly, you gasp before you say, “What are you doing?”

You know exactly what he’s doing – and you understand that every feverish touch you shared an hour ago wasn’t enough for him. It never is. Not even for you.

And still, Jimin shakes his head against your collarbones, stating quietly, “I don’t know.” A pause settles between your words when his member slides inside your heat swiftly, and he hisses sharply before he continues, “I feel like you’ll leave if I stop kissing you… so I’m trying to…”

You let out a breathy laugh, wrapping your arms around his torso as you moan softly. He’s not moving; merely kissing your shoulder and your arm, fingers travelling up and down your sides. Arousal pools around his cock, your legs widening for him and lips parted as you tell him, “Memorising only works for so long.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll forget,” you explain, throwing your head back lightly when his hips finally fall into a familiar rhythm. You’re struggling with your words – and it’s a beautiful sight to revel in. “Everyone forgets, ‘cause I’m… nothing special to them. Just like I’m… Jimin…”

“Yes, baby,” he mutters, his cock rubbing against your walls in slow, tender motions. Whenever he becomes this sensual with you, you know the afterglow ruins you more than any feral night ever could. “I’m right here. Say what you’re trying to say.”

It’s hard to gather thoughts on your tongue and let them out for him to hear; his motions and proximity cloud your mind too much. Your fingers embark on a journey down his body, settling on the flexing muscles of his ass as he fucks you affectionately.

“Like I’m nothing special to you,” you breathe, letting him remove your hands from his bottom to intertwine his fingers with yours. He kisses your neck again, lifts your arms above your head and pins them against the mattress. “In a month you’ll be with someone else–” You cry out for a moment when your words earn you a sharp, hard thrust. “And find pleasure elsewhere.”

“Shut up,” Jimin orders, and when your words fall silent, your mewls and sounds increase, “stop talking, please.”

And just like that, the tender late hours pass with hushed, whispered words and a credulity you haven’t given in to since love hurt you the last time. It almost feels real and true; like it’s not a lucid dream that will pass once this case is over. Once you fall back into bad, old habits of drowning yourself in oblivion that might or might not numb your pain temporarily.

When he’s spilled inside you and your sight becomes blurry, he hugs you tight to his chest, blowing against your hair until he clarifies, “It’s not true by the way, you know?” You let out a small, soft sound resembling a harmless whimper, and he adds, “You do mean something to me. You’re not someone I fuck just to throw away again.”

“What if I do?” you question, your voice barely a mumble as you move closer to his warmth. “Throw you away.”

He stills for a second. Focuses his eyes on a spot in the darkness. Swallows the distress building in his throat; and then, he admits, “I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do, Jimin?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

His teeth take his lower lip captive. Painful stings come and go in waves with you, and yet, it seems like he’s always ready to indulge in your existence. Instead of rethinking his choices and fearing the inevitable, however, he leans in and kisses your scalp once again.

And that’s all he does. No more melding of your bodies. No more naive touches and dancing of your tongues. No more words. 

Just a whiskey kiss and a night’s sleep that keeps conjuring your face in his dreams; over and over again.

“If I ever left, what would you do?”

The night air felt crisp and refreshing on your dry skin – despite the cold of October, you felt content. A little like you did when the first leaves fell when you were younger. You’d always been a sucker for rain and the pastel, beige serenity of fall.

But it was prettier with him. Even if the things coming out of his mouth were utter horseshit.

“Stop asking such deranged questions,” you told him, pushing him until his body lay half on the pavement.

Your legs were dangling off the edge, and you stared a few feet in front of you, observing the little family of ducks that swam past you in the still water of the river. You wondered what it was like – to keep swimming, to indulge in the chill of the liquid.

You wondered if they ever swam far enough to where the river met the ocean; were they ever aware of the vastness of the world? Or did they just realise when they landed there?

Sometimes, even today, you want to know if there was a vastness for you too that you hadn’t discovered yet. But with him, you didn’t care about the unveiled parts of the world as much anymore as you used to. You were okay staying just here, feet almost touching the surface of the water, watching waterlife, with him.

“No, but I’m serious,” Yoongi argued, rubbing the spot you slapped, “if I ever decided to like, do photography instead or something, what then?”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

He smiled, eyes fixated on the opposite riverbank, and his shoulders brushed yours scarcely as he said, “You really don’t need to think twice about it, huh?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if it kills you?”

“Yeah.” You grimaced, eyebrows furrowing before you turned to look at him. “Hey. What’s with the sudden, weird questions?”

“You called me weird.”

“Yoongi. Seriously,” you deadpanned, staring at him in warning. Not that your cute, little expression scared him – but he liked to act like it did anyway.

He was either in a good mood or feigning one to make you laugh, as he always did, because when he spoke again, he teased, “Look at you, enamoured by my whole being.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re so in love with me, but way too flustered to admi–”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, lifting a finger to his face that he attempted to bite with his tell-tale amused gummy grin. “Are you trying to reenact our confession?”

Yoongi nudged your shoulder before he wrapped a strong arm around you, almost pushing the cap off your head when his cheek touched yours. Fingers trailed to your tummy and opted for a tickle attack, his voice a little higher when he asked, “And if I am?”

“I just think you’re saying some weird stuff!”

“I just…” he began, squeezing your bicep lightly, and his breath grazed your face, warm and comforting in contrast to the freezing wind. “No.” He shifted, searching for words, and the tip of his shoes touched the water ever so slightly. “I just want to say that whatever shit might happen tomorrow or next week or whenever we decide to… take the next step...”

Yoongi paused and sighed, practising a firm grip around you as if to shield you from the evil of the universe. Then, he added, “You need to prioritise yourself.”

You stared into his face with sudden fear thronging its way to your heart. Despite the thorough knowledge you possessed about him, he was difficult to read at times, and you wondered why he wasn’t letting you break the seal that hid his thoughts just yet.

“What are you trying to say?” you inquired.

“That happiness comes in a hundred ways. The things we are doing and trying right now are dangerous and we might not be able to find a solution in the end,” he explained, but his words were still a riddle, dripping in mystery. He shrugged his shoulders, then said, “So if anything goes wrong… ever. I want you to understand your priorities, with or without me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, without y–”

“No, I’m being honest. Accept the love you get, and fight the hardships thrown at you, okay? I’d do the same for you. ”

His words blur in your mind, and when a body flinches next to you, you realise that you’re dreaming of an entirely different time – things have changed. The world has evolved – to the better or worse, you can’t say.

It doesn’t feel good at least; that’s what you can say with certainty.

But despite the faded images, you still remember the quiet and timid nod you answered with; still know that you had good reason to be suspicious about what he’d said.

Because why did he sound like he knew?

Why did it feel like he could glance into the future, and see how it was coloured for you – from the monochrome hues to the pitch black you’d walk through? And if he knew… why did he promise to you… why did he promise the things he promised?

Your eyes snap open before the memory can play out further – before he can pull you closer and place a kiss onto your lips.

You hate waking up like this.

As soon as Jimin entered the party thirty-two minutes ago, the urge to stray away from the bustling crowd and to transform himself into a silent sleeper grew. The gathering seems too loud, the alcohol too warm and the heat too unbearable.

Suffocating in his own newly tailored suit, Jimin tilts his head as his eyes scan the guests, your palm resting on his angled arm softly as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Each of you carrying a gun, you mentally repeat the plan for tonight – observe, converse, flee if need be.

The goal is to collect hints and keep every passing body in the chandelier-lit room safe and sound. Don’t act, just react. Or at least, do not act dangerously as long as you’re not forced to.

Boring conversations between him and other VIP guests pass, some recognising him from the news and older cases, and others inching closer to him to catch sight of the intimidatingly beautiful lady accompanying him.

The amount of times Jimin has pulled you away from thirsty eyes with ulterior motives is rising to a tiring number, and he’s close to sending you home due to the lack of happenings until–

“Jimin…” you whisper, fingers tugging at his blazer, but your eyes never leaving the ominous presence you have spotted.

“I know,” he responds. He gulps, slight tension carving a frown between his eyebrows. “Come on.”

As your nervous steps carry you closer to the faraway table, your eyes focus on the busy hands of the man occupying one of the seats. From the six chairs that surround the cloth-covered table, he’s the only one to keep himself company, and when your bodies move close enough, his gaze darts from his fingers across your body up to your faces.

His eyes look unfazed, bored even, and he stops his motions around the paper napkin when he realises that you approached him specifically. The blue swan, not supported by enough folds of the material, collapses onto the table as the man’s fingers intertwine. And before either Jimin nor you can greet him properly, he beats you to it, “May I be of help?”

While you both take a seat in front of him, the man’s stare seems to stay fixated on you. Jimin doesn’t quite understand what has enraptured him this much, but as an alarm rings in his mind in a high-pitched, jarring tone, his knees shift closer to you and his hand grabs yours underneath the table.

Holding back a shaky breath, your head turns to his for only a single moment – but it suffices to read the fear and discomfort written in your pupils like he’s never seen before. But then, the man opposite of you blinks and his attention shifts, cocking an eyebrow when Jimin smiles and answers cheerfully, “You might be!”

The guy nods calmly, flashing back a somewhat mischievous, somewhat clever smirk as he says, “I’m Kim Seokjin. Happy to help. Shoot.”

“I was actually conversing with someone about engagement rings,” Jimin explains, never mentioning his name; bullshitting his way through the talk on the spot, “and they pointed me to you. So I thought you might know where to get the best of the best.”

Seokjin points into your direction, almost as if you’re not there and decoration, his eyes resting on Jimin’s as he declares, “Your girl looks nervous about that.”

Jimin laughs, and the usually sickly and soft tone sounds ingenuine and turns your guts in a one eighty motion. He squeezes your hand as if to signal something, and then says, “She’s never been to a party this big. Or met people as big as you.”

“How do you know I’m big?”

“You look like it.”

Seokjin’s full lips fall for a slight moment, almost unnoticeably – because being in his position and big isn’t a compliment he cherishes, especially since his group always tries to be as subtle and smooth about every move as possible.

He has lovely eyes and a well shaped face, hair combed and parted on the side – if he wasn’t this intimidating, you might be able to admire his attractiveness on any other day.

“Ah,” he voices, catching his composure fast, “so. Engagement rings. If we’re talking one that’s fancy but not too over the top. Diamond rings, fourteen carat gold and zero point one carat diamond, about one centimetre ring band. Depends on what the lady likes, though.”

And then, Seokjin’s suddenly chuckling, and Jimin joins for a tiny moment before Seokjin teases, “One usually doesn’t talk about that stuff in front of their girl, though.”

Jimin shams embarrassment, rubbing the side of his neck with his free hand as he jokes, “Really? My bad. I’ve always been the oblivious one in this relationship. Not very experienced in love.”

If anyone’s well versed in emotions and love, it’s him. His heart doesn’t compare to the stone cold gemstone residing in your chest – it seems like Seokjin notices, too, because tight-lipped, he mutters, “Ah. Alright.”

When you realise that you’re just as present as the other two men, you decide to show Kim Seokjin that you’re not mute, and your heart thumps in your throat when you point to the dead blue swan and ask, “What’s with that?”

Seokjin acknowledges the half folded napkin for a moment, his gaze bored; as if he just noticed that the swan is there. Unbothered, he touches the creation with his fingertips, looking back at you slowly as he answers, “A hobby.”

“Really?”

“Mmmh. I make… all of them.”

Shit.

He must know. He must know that you know – all of them? What else would he be referring to if not the hints left behind after his glorious thefts?

“You do?” Jimin questions, and when you look at him, admiration and caution fluctuate in his eyes.

It’s impressive, Seokjin’s craft, even if it means gloom and excessively more work for you. Origami usually symbolises success and fortune, promises all the good things to the one folding the cranes or birds or flowers – if it wasn’t the arguably most dangerous thief in the country conversing with you right now, you might have praised his skills some more.

“People admire them, Mister Park.”

When he utters the name he’s not supposed to know, you inhale, and Jimin presses his fingers into your hand enough for you to clench your jaw, but keeps his calm stance. Seokjin leans forward; his voice is soft and soothing, but his eyes hide secrets and trouble behind their pupils. Duality unmatched.

“You can call me Jimin,” the man next to you tells him, his smile reappearing before, gathering bravery and intimidation, he adds, “off duty.”

“But you’re not off duty.”

“Well… let’s pretend that I am.”

“Why?” Seokjin wonders, and you blink at the casual tone of the conversation. All of you are acting as if you haven’t exposed your identities to each other so blatantly – this seems dangerous… menacing. “Are you trying to frighten me less by saying that?”

“Can anything intimidate you at all, Mister Kim?” Jimin inquires carefully, the slightest nervous tremble in his voice that you’re sure no one hears but you. “There’s a car outside. Why don’t you and I get there and we talk some more engagement rings?”

“I think I’ll pass,” Seokjin politely declines, but Jimin doesn’t give up just yet.

“And if I asked nicely?”

Your eyes flicker down for the smallest moment, and you see Jimin raise his gun under the table as cautiously as possible – though you’re still sure Seokjin realises his intentions.

“Hmm,” Seokjin hums, his face inching closer some more, “listen.”

He points to the corners of the enormous room with his eyes, his smile utterly sweet as he explains, “There are people standing in every corner. Busy conversing and talking about some bullshit the rich like to talk about. And those conversing with them are keeping a careful eye on me. All the time.”

Your heart drums in your ears, almost muffling all noise, and you’re sure things will escalate tonight if you whisper just one wrong word… just one wrong step. And Seokjin proves your thoughts, warning disgustingly softly, “Shoot me, and they’ll shoot you, and then your people will shoot them and my remaining ones might shoot innocent people.”

You gulp. This is insanity.

“A massacre on a Saturday night is genuinely not my favourite TV show.”

You freeze, blinking, and then ask, “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m here, because,” he motions between Jimin and you, shrugging, “I knew you would be. You’re here, because you knew I would be. So I thought we could talk.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Jimin asks, growing irritated with each passing second; you’re sure he’s muttering his words through gritted teeth.

“About… not letting your force meddle anymore. You,” Seokjin points at you, and your heart stills for a second, “you’ve lost someone before, haven’t you?” His eyes dart to Jimin, and he places his chin in his palm. “Wouldn’t wanna lose more people, I bet.”

You’re perplexed.

Unable to answer, you push yourself closer to Jimin, moving your head to look at him – and you catch him eyeing you carefully. There’s a cryptic feeling swimming in his stare, and you can’t quite interpret it; but you think it’s something akin to fear mixed with affection.

It looks like he’s trying to decipher whether you’d actually be affected if you lost him – and he’s not sure if he’s liking the answer you shoot back or not.

Because your waterline is damp, and your head spinning; you want to be alone with him, want to shield him, wrap your arms around him and tell him he needs to stay. To fucking stay, that one person in your life to not walk away.

Then again, you want him to keep himself out of this. Want to tell him to abandon this whole thing.

But you don’t.

Instead, you draw a deep breath, looking back to Seokjin and shaking your head. Jimin lets his hand sink along with his head, closing his eyes as Kim Seokjin brushes a finger against the table cloth, stands and leaves.

You feel the first wave of relief of the night when you step into Jimin’s bedroom almost an hour later. The car ride dragged endlessly as your lips stayed sealed, your body sinking in your seat while he attempted his best to keep his eyes on the road and not on you.

Even from the side of his eyes, he could see your limbs tremble in after-shock. He didn’t consider how much seeing your worst enemy might affect you, but in retrospect, he should’ve fully expected the turn of events. Whatever part of his brain reckoned that your heart has hardened enough to face your nightmares head-on, has now shut down and given way to remorse.

Because fuck, you must be hurting so much.

But he didn’t consider shooting questions at you like the nuisance of a detective that he is when you stared out of the car window, lost in thoughts. He doesn’t conjure the courage to do so when you take off your jacket and drape it over the leather chair in his dark, gloomy room.

And he doesn’t even bother you with his curiosity when your eyes droop further, exhaustion and pain clear in them. But it seems that he doesn’t have to anyway; because when the silence of the night becomes too loud, you state, “That asshole remembers Yoongi and mocked me for being alive in his stead.”

There’s a hint of hysteria lacing your voice, slight panic making your chest heave, and Jimin’s body shoots forward reflexively to calm your stressed nerves. Your insides are raging enough for you to prevent tears, your eyes glinting in want of revenge as your fingers close to fists and open again repeatedly.

“I should’ve shot him,” you voice, sitting at the edge of his familiar bed as your fingers tug at your scarf. God, it’s nearly choking you. “Who cares who sees? He’s the criminal, and I should’ve shot him–”

“Hey,” Jimin interrupts, a stray hair falling into his forehead and eye as he whispers your name tenderly, “I know what you mean, and I’m with you, but let’s tackle this with a cool head, okay? Get some rest now and…”

His voice fades into nothing and words die on his tongue. Everything he just uttered falls into oblivion and his hand slowly drops when he catches a glimpse of something he didn’t seem to notice all night.

It shimmers faintly in the light of the lamp on his bedside table when you remove your scarf for the first time today; there’s something unique and beautiful about it. Like it’s made of a dozen little diamonds; like it’s made just for you to wear it around your neck.

Who knew something as simple as this could drench you in grace, elegance and radiance? Who knew something as mundane as this could pierce his heart so profoundly?

Jimin only remembers to blink, once your voice pulls him out of his trance. Your fingers pinch his chin softly, raising his head to make your eyes meet as you cock your eyebrows in question. And when you look at him, it feels like you’re staring into the mirror. His gaze resembles your broken one – but the agony derives from entirely different reasons than yours.

“And…” he starts again.

He looks so much younger when he’s in pain. So much more innocent. And he thinks, maybe you’re right – maybe the only way to get rid of the sorrow is to drown in temporary pleasure again. Perhaps it’s why you took that path in your life at all.

“And?”

“Spend the night here,” he begs as if it’s not too late to step into a taxi and go home anyway. But the plea sets you on fire nonetheless. “With me.” He sighs, placing a hand on your cheek as he moves closer. “I want you. Here. Now,” as his lips draw closer to yours and he repeats, “with me.”

You wish you were strong enough to give in to your affliction and push him away. To grieve properly for once, cry and scream and talk it out; but it seems as though Jimin’s hold on you is stronger. And when he kisses you softly, cautiously, you think that his touch might be some sort of remedy anyway.

Your fingers wander to his hand that’s sliding your dress up your thighs slowly, and brings it to your waist. Arms wrap around his neck as you begin to shift on the soft-scented, light bedsheets, your back hitting the mattress when he kisses you with a stronger force.

“Why?” you question when he pecks the skin under your ears and opens your legs with his. “Why do you always ask me to stay?”

You know there is no right answer to it; none that you might want to hear. Or rather, one you do wish his mouth to utter, but one that scares the cold soul out of you. Falling for Jimin sounds like doom – like he’s falling into a trap that will leave him in peril and suffering.

When he doesn’t reply, focused on his actions, you open your mouth again.

“Because,” you add, biting your lip when he lifts your dress up to your waist, “I don’t know how to say no anymore.”

“Good,” he merely answers. “Me neither.”

In truth, you can’t read the thoughts in his whirring brain. The one whose energy is getting drained as though you’re a succubus luring him in and ruining him inside and out. Your presence tears at his heart and cuts it open like a newly sharpened knife, but he’d rather bleed out than find you gone and out of his reach.

Because your absence feels like an endless void; not like a torn heart, but like you’ve left his chest empty and taken the organ with you. And you keep squeezing. Keep squeezing all the time.

Your palms grab his face before he begins to venture down your torso the way he always does, and pressing against his cheeks, you say, “You don’t see the problem right? The difference between us.”

“I–”

“No,” you interject, closing the distance between his tinted lips and your parted ones, “you’re the type for sweet kisses. And…” You sigh, choosing your words carefully, fully aware how dramatic you must sound. “I like the bitter ones.”

And the force with which his mouth attacks yours again feels more fierce than ever before. And you let him. He knows about you; knows about your innermost feelings and fears and rules and worries. But he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest; or maybe he’s just trying to shut you up – like a child covering its ears from an inescapable truth.

Because you don’t even taste bitter. More like cherry – like sugar and honey. Promising, despite being death in disguise; a lethal imposter. Arsenic poison.

Something tugs at his heart hard as he attempts to figure you out more; and the more everything begins to make sense, the more he chooses silence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Because when he backs away and takes off his clothes, you decipher a hint of pain and rejection in his eyes that startles you. Scares you.

But at the same time, he’s too affectionate and weak to not give in to you. You know, and he knows.

You always fear that you might be just another phase in his life that he might want to toy with and throw away; the way others do – but aren’t you doing the same thing? Letting him strip you bare out of selfish demands, with your hair hanging low, your lips on his as you find yourself without your clothes, your bra, your earrings. The necklace around your neck drops and the rings around your fingers scar his back.

The moment feels unreal, like a mirage, the ultimate illusion. You’re not doing this for the first time – his touch isn’t a stranger to you. But the quiet moments still let your thoughts overflow, and you overthink that he might be distracted and intently focused on you at the same time.

Like you’re knotting his thoughts and sending his mind into a frenzy; like he’s thinking about something not present in the moment, but that involves you nevertheless.

You’re not sure. You can’t put it in words anyway. Too hazy.

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers, and you don’t understand what he’s referring to.

But then he crawls south, and you whimper when his hand touches your thigh; the soft kisses up and down your legs make you wince enough for him to conclude that bitterness isn’t all you seek. Because he’s kissing you sweetly, gently – and you don’t seem to get enough of it.

He savours the moment, like he’s no rush – then freezes for a split second as his luscious lips reach your thigh, staring up at your squirming form; closed eyes. His jaw clenches in pain, and his heart lurches. If he wanted to, he could confront you right now.

But then he thinks, it’s alright to make you his just this once – or pretend that it’s him you want. Thoroughly. Entirely.

And every little moment you share with him in the next hour passes in a blur too fogged to remember. It’s like you’re basking in it just for the moment, no particular urge to commit it to memory but to feel him just now, just here instead.

When he’s elicited every possible sound out of you, whimpered and groaned and grunted and moaned over your body, filled you up to the brim, you don’t remember the time and date anymore.

Don’t know what day it is when he holds you close. Kisses you into oblivion. Strokes your face and exhausts your body – you think he whispers things you might dream of later. Not sure.

And when he’s spilled and finished, drawing another high out of you, the night has progressed, and suddenly he’s cleaning you up… and you wonder where time went. And why he looks at you the way he does. And why… he pushes you close without uttering a single word.

With your sweaty body sticking to his, you hum a familiar melody quietly. It sounds like you’re content for the very first time tonight; as if you’re not plagued by the everlasting distress that your restless movements usually indicate. Right now, you’re calm against his chest. Peaceful and breathing steadily.

Jimin tries to not showcase his own misery that begins batting his heart again once the fever of your touches cools down. But as the blanket of heaviness drags his being to hell and back, he parts his lips in an attempt to ease his mind. Stares at the dark ceiling and the unlit lamp, then to you and then back into the void.

And eventually, he expresses, “Being a detective has its good and bad sides… you know?” You open your eyes calmly, surprised by the change in his voice that suddenly sounds stern, serious. “Sometimes, when I solve a case, I feel like I’m at the top of the world and able to achieve absolutely anything I want to.”

“I know,” comes your response in a whisper.

You breathe in his scent, brush your lips against the lines of his chest, painfully clueless about how much it worsens Jimin’s heartbreak. Waves of thoughts flood his mind and his chest starts feeling weightless and crushed simultaneously. But chaos might lie ahead if he chooses to ignore and bask in your warmth further.

It doesn’t feel very warm anymore anyway.

“But then, there are days when nothing works out. Like now,” he continues as the grip around your torso loosens. Mild panic grows behind your ribs, but you try to conceal it. “We could’ve caught them that night, right? I thought it was because we were stupid and miscalculated. But we didn’t.”

The pauses between his words display his confusion and broken coherent string of thoughts. You know he started his speech unprepared and is now, troubled and baffled, searching for the right words to not fuel your pain. Or not to fuel his pain.

His heartbeat thumps against your ear unwaveringly while yours stands still. And you only avert your focus from its sound when he says, “There’s no way we did. Figured there must be something… or someone… telling them everything they need to know.”

You stay silent as if to not interrupt him, but the lack of words tumbling out of you seems to confirm his thoughts when you neither question nor answer his statement. You look at him carefully, drawing circles and ovals on his abs.

He gauges your reaction for a second longer, and when he’s met with quietude and a trembling finger against his skin, he finally concludes, “It’s you.” 

Your voice stays absent once more, and with your answers, the movements of your hands stop, too. “The necklace you were wearing tonight was one they stole a while ago. But you know that, don’t you?”

You’ve apparently grown fond of your mute side, because you continue your apparent speechlessness until his heart drops further. He wishes he wasn’t right; wants you to grow furious, tell him that he’s gone insane, that this is nonsense and that you would never do such a thing. Not you, not to him.

But…

“It’s in your nature, isn’t it? Breaking hearts. Even mine,” he says, his voice drenched in mock but shaking at the same time. “But then again, this is not about me. You never really cared about me or what I felt or what you meant to me.”

Meant.

“Such is life.”

He sighs as soon as the last word slips past his dry lips, closing his eyes to stop the spinning of the world that you have shattered into tiny, tiny splinters. He isn’t sure whether it’s the betrayal or your own fear towards the group that cracks his soul more. But whatever it is, the emotions you ignite in him don’t seem to falter – and it seems that he hates this fact the most.

Squinting his already shut eyes tighter, Jimin’s irritation reaches a peak, and when your frozen body refuses to move, he calls out your name questioningly.

And instead of pulling up your defence and fighting against the allegations, you take a deep breath. As memories of Yoongi swim to the surface of your mind, you remind yourself why falling for the enemy might break you again. Love and fondness have no place in your life, and so you ignore the affection Jimin evokes in you and numb yourself yet again.

“Do you expect me to be scared of you… Park Jimin?” you finally speak up, eliciting a scoff out of him as he removes his arm from underneath you.

The loss of touch cuts you open and shakes your guts, but you don’t falter. Not even when you bite into your lip to suppress the sob; not even when the voices in your head scream at you to fix this, to finally make one thing in your life right.

“I don’t expect anything anymore,” he admits, words fading to a hushed whisper, tiredness seeping through. “But maybe you should be.”

“Why? What are you going to do? You won’t shoot me… you’re too smart for that.”

Jimin lets out a small chuckle; it could pass as amusement if the air around you wasn’t thick and tense and suffocating. “I’m naked and unarmed right next to you,” he says, shaking his head as he clicks his tongue. “And the weapons you’re using against me right now are more lethal anyway. What’s a gun compared to them?”

In truth, he is too smart to harm you. Not because he needs you or because having you dead might affect the progress in this case profoundly. But because imagining a world and a life without you seems ridiculous. Impossible to a degree that he finds nearly laughable.

But despite the fact that you deem him too smart for his own good, he questions your courage to come to his place with a stolen jewellery adorning your neck. It’s astounding how you might not have included this bit in your calculations while working on a case that deals with theft from A to Z.

Or perhaps…

“You did this on purpose, right? Wearing that tonight.” Jimin’s eyes finally snap open again, his head moving to find your bewildered gaze.

The intimidation knocks the wind out of your lungs, and as he scans your expressions and your naked torso, you feel self-aware for the first time since the conversation started. You tug the blanket over your body further, folding your arms in front of your chest as he adds, “You gave me a hint. Why–”

“I didn’t…”

“But you did.”

It’s the only scenario that makes sense. The fright written all over your face when you talk about the group; the paralysis that befalls you as soon as you merely mention Yoongi’s name; your tears, your crumbling body and the way you seek warmth and comfort anywhere but at home.

You never disclose your private life and never invite him to your place. Something about you always seemed like you were running away from danger and freeing yourself of guilt and pain. And now he knows why.

“Jimin, I didn’t–”

“Stop,” he exhales, his heart hammering against his chest and calmness finally fading as he props his body up on his elbow and stills your words for the umpteenth time tonight. A hand harshly wraps around your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and squeezing the flesh painfully. “Why are you doing this? Why are you fucking retreating into your stupid fucking shell like this?”

Your waterline grows damper until a single tear trails down your temple and into your hair. You stare back in disbelief and pain, placing a palm over his as he crowds your space and cages you in with his other arm.

His whole being is pleading for something, begging for the end of all of this and trying to make you his without the hardships and borders separating you both.

“Please, just…” he starts and shakes his head, blinking away tears and leaning in closer. His hair tickles the skin of your face, and his pupils move from one spot to the other. “I hate this, I hate you, I– fucking hate that all of this is a lie.”

“Jimin, you can’t–”

“Can’t what? Huh? You fucking hurt me, and you know, but I…” He pauses, drawing a deep breath; considering whether he wants to say it or not… until he does. “I still want to kiss you.”

His lips brush yours softly, almost not noticeably, and his legs shift under the blanket nervously as his cheeks grow wet. He laughs through his madness, crazy for you and every piece of you that breaks him. “I should be smarter than this, right? I should just arrest you.”

You wish as much as he does that he’d stop running to you, running for you. Nothing about your relationship spells optimism, and the reality of you keeps blinking an arrow to hell. But still, he chooses to ignore it again. Kisses you again. Crashes his lips against yours aggressively as his hands entwine with yours once more.

You’re a riddle and an open book; a mirage and a painfully real existence.

And your kisses taste bitter now after all.

When bright sunlight breaks through the window the next morning, you wake up disoriented and with an ache in your head, most likely consequent to the lack of sleep last night.

As you cover your body in clothes Jimin provided you, ready to answer any question he might present, he paces across the room idly. Dark circles of exhaustion and heartache colour the skin underneath his eyes. The lazy breakfast still stands on his living room table, the cereal softening in the milk that’s growing warm and unpalatable.

None of you can eat; both of you feel sick.

“Before… before Yoongi died,” you begin; his name feels like acid on your tongue, “Seokjin forced me to reveal the name of the traitor amidst their circles. I used to tell him that I had this weird feeling of someone betraying us. And once I stopped obsessing over it, he concluded that I got to know and just wasn’t telling him.”

Jimin’s steps halt in the middle of the room, and he inches closer to your form resting at the edge of the couch. He kneels in front of you, looking at you attentively before you continue, “It’s fucking crazy how right he was. But I convinced him that I didn’t know, that there were more important things to focus on.”

You gather memories in a chronological order to prevent your thoughts from tangling up in your mind. You rub your tired eyes, then place a palm on your dry cheek, and when you look at him again, he asks, “And then?”

“Important things like theft started becoming less important when every robbery went wrong and we almost got arrested multiple times. Then,” you draw a deep breath, the image of what happened next clearly fogging your brain, “Seokjin urged me to finally say the name. Threatened me, ‘cos he was sure I knew. But Yoongi was someone he trusted, so he didn’t consider him a traitor, ever.”

You bite into your cheek the moment Jimin’s eyebrows furrow, and a hand settles on your knee as if to assure you that he’s there for you. For you. The fraud, the cheat, the danger sitting in his ultimate proximity.

“And once things escalated, Yoongi–” you can barely complete the sentence, a sob choking your words, “jumped in and admitted everything. Signed his own death sentence. And they all…” Your fingers on your thighs begin to quiver, and when the distant memory becomes sharper and more palpable, you let out a whimper.

Jimin rubs soothing patterns against your knee, his free hand brushing away your hair before the back of his digits ghost over your drenched cheek. You don’t know when your harmless speckle of emotions turns to frantic sobbing, and the only sight you decipher through your blurred vision is his lips falling into a deeper frown. 

“Hey…” he mumbles; then lifts your sunken face, but regrets it almost immediately – the red-rimmed eyes and the deep distress between your eyebrows are a sight he would erase without hesitation, if he could. “Breathe. It’s okay, yes?”

“No…” It’s really not. You wish it was. “I want to leave, I–” You hiccup, the air pressed out of your lungs. “This hurts me. I don’t want to stay with them anymore, Jimin, but…”

“It’s okay. I promise I can help you.”

“And what if you can’t? They think I owe them my life, because they were all I ever had. I don’t fucking know where my parents are, I don’t– fuck, I don’t even know if they’re alive.” It’s a cage you can’t escape – you’ve always understood, but you know that Jimin will stay adamant as well. The pensive, slow shake of his head says more than his mouth ever could. “Helping me and knowing me and being with me… it will get you killed, Jimin.”

“So what if it does?” he argues, shifting closer when your sigh exhibits every ounce of frustration you harbour. You wish you could tell him that losing another man close to your heart might break whatever remains of you. And the damage would be irreversible, the death you’d die inside everlasting. “What if I’m ready to risk all of this for you?”

“Why–”

He interrupts your question by crushing your lips with his; a frail attempt to put all his affection into the touch and to show you what he truly feels. But as soon as he starts, you push him away again, hands firmly pressing against his chest before you stand and escape his grip.

Rising to his feet, he looks into your starry, wet gaze and his feeble legs carry him merely two steps closer to you before you raise a hand and question, “Don’t you understand? How dangerous this is for you? This isn’t something you can be selfish about, Jimin…”

“Like you? Aren’t you being selfish, too?” He laughs for a moment, and the slight mock breaks your heart further. “This is ridiculous. You know I can help you. I’m a good detective and you know it. I–” Gulping, he moves another inch, stopping when you take the same step back. “You can’t tell me you don’t want my help.”

“I do,” you confess, blinking away the remaining tears as the fog in your head clears and gives way to an entirely different, desperate idea. “But I won’t risk it. I don’t care how ready you are to do so, but I won’t.”

“Please–”

“No. Fucking stop and underst–”

“Understand what?” he yells out in exasperation, and you flinch. Your hand grabs the edge of the windowsill behind you, your fingers grazing the cold metal of the gun you placed here this morning. You forgot about it.

Spleen crosses his expressions for a split second as he licks his lips. The view he presents is nearly blistering; and his voice, usually so silky and soft, grows coarse when he says, “What the fuck is there to understand?! Why are you trying to manipulate my decisions? I just… Do you know why I’m still here and running after you?”

Your chest is heaving by the time he brushes his fingers through his hair. Lost, dark eyes stare at you like he’s lost track of time and space. And when your palm wraps around the pistol grip slowly, you reckon he might not be the only one losing his mind.

Still, you want to know. Want him to keep talking.

So he does.

“Because there’s no other you in this world. I know that the earth will keep spinning, you know? And that people come and go, but if it’s someone else to stay, then I don’t want it.” His words echo in your mind like a menace, and you swallow the knot of ache in your throat when he opens his mouth to speak again. “You exist just once, and I’m in love with the full piece of you.”

With his words, Jimin stirs something in you that you’d deemed long forgotten. You didn’t know anyone could ever revive the hidden feeling again; but to you, it’s so utterly confusing and new that you shut it down and lock it in its chamber again. Maybe the lock will keep it captive better this time.

Because the truth is – no matter what you’ve come to feel towards him, you don’t know how to tackle the infamous emotion of love anymore. Jumping from one place to another – you have known nothing else, other than avoiding fondness and softness and a melting of your heart for so long. Yoongi and Jimin both couldn’t have loved you any better; but you’re not ready to commit to it just yet.

If ever.

Instead, you grip the handle of the gun tighter, watching Jimin’s eyes blowing wide when you bring the weapon to your front with a clicking noise. Both hands wrap around the metal, and you point it straight to his pained chest as he lets his arms fall.

The first human reflex to a gun is to lift your hands up; that’s what Yoongi always told you when you spiralled too much. When you got overwhelmed by weapons, danger and risks too much. But Jimin, the skilled detective every unit seems to praise day in, day out, does nothing alike. Instead, he sighs, clearly at the edge of his patience as he shifts from one leg to the other.

“You’re being absurd now,” he claims, but doesn’t move an inch. “I know you won’t.”

You know that he’s aware of the fact; and even you understand very well that there’s no scenario in this or any alternative world where you’d pull the trigger. Maybe you’ve lost the last semblance of sanity, ultimately; there’s no other reason for your actions, for your soul going awry.

Jimin knows that deep inside, your feelings rooted for him extend the phenomenon of a one night stand. It’s not a fleeting business relationship; you’re not ships in the night. But maybe it’s time to let go of the hand he tries to hold so urgently; maybe you’re too wound up and caught up in your head to make decisions for yourself that don’t end impulsively. Dangerously.

Maybe.

You have a storm to weather. And he needs to let you.

Needs to watch you step away and open wounds in his heart, the once nonchalant organ bubbling with vital desire. Your tears and sobs that never end call forth a thundercloud over your heads that lets agony and pain rain down onto your broken souls.

And when you finally whisper a, “I’m so sorry” into the quiet room and close the door behind you, Jimin collects himself enough to not run after you as he’s gotten used to. Keeps standing, lets the sunlight illuminate his face, lets his legs turn wobbly.

A small part of him keeps hoping that you might come back; but everything else inside him dies when he finally realises the absence of your voice.

The next morning, you don’t come to work.

In fact, you don’t deliver a single sign; not even a sick notice. To everyone in the office, it’s a peculiar occurrence, because you never seemed like less than a diligent detective, always motivated and eager. To Jimin, however, it’s the least of all surprises.

He doesn’t reckon he’ll ever see you again. But his office feels empty without you; as if he can hear the yawns of loneliness echoing.

His home has lost the colour you brought, even if your world was drenched in monochrome sorrow – though there was a remnant of hope in your voice. In your touch. In your whole being. Without this very voice, Jimin’s mood hits the skids.

And slowly, surely, surrender creeps closer until he realises–

No.

Thief or not, there were things between you that felt real. You weren’t a daydream – you were there, and you were you.

This isn’t something you can be selfish about.

That’s what you said to him – perhaps, however, it was you who was being selfish all along.

So when three days and eleven hours have passed, Jimin grabs his set of keys and sets the booze aside. Three days were enough to reflect on the last few weeks; the touches you shared; the insecurity in your eyes.

You were distant, not because that’s how you’ve come to know life. Not because you saw him as a one night thing – you always came back. But because in your gaze, there was always a hint of something, no matter how profusely you attempted to refuse the heart he was handing you on a silver platter. And it scared you.

The drive to your place proves endlessly unlucky; apparently, the world works against him, along with you. Red lights stop him at every intersection, suspending him helplessly. A construction site forces him to take a detour, and he spends a whopping fifteen minutes searching for a free parking spot.

He spent the last fifty-nine hours thinking and rethinking your exchange, over and over again. Words seem to come easy in his head now, and he thinks he knows what he wants to tell you after all. But then…

Exhausted, with dark circles decorating his face like cheap eyeshadow, he knocks at your heavy door, simultaneously anxious about what you might say and intrigued about what your place might look like. He remembers you mentioning your address multiple times, but you never really invited him there.

It’s prettier at yours. More trees. My neighbourhood is basically wasteland, you’d always say, shrugging his questions off.

He knew what it meant: that you weren’t ready to let anyone in just yet. That you came back to him because a little something about him lured you in, but never gave in enough to let him in, too.

Any confession or inquiry he had prepared seems to disintegrate like cotton candy on his tongue when the door opens.

His breath hitches and his heart jumps, hands clutching the frame of your entrance until his knuckles pale. A sea of jumbled thoughts keep washing in, and he’s not sure whether he wants to pamper you or yell at you.

Your hair is dishevelled, the eye contact tired but filled with pain. You stare at his feet before your pupils flicker up to his, and for a moment you look guilty. As if you’ve done something that might hurt him again.

“Just give me two minutes to ta–”

Jimin’s words die on his tongue when a stranger shows up behind you – your helpless gaze, pained and confused, seems to make sense now. But when Jimin looks at you again, your initial uncertainty morphs into fear that he can’t quite decipher. And when you speak, he understands why.

“You should go,” you nearly whisper, carrying a warning in your tone, like you’re quoting your thoughts from a few days ago. “You really should.”

What’s with you and the constant pain you carry? You might be hellbent on keeping him from the danger you bring – but why is the sting still so seething, so prominent? Why does looking at this guy, whom Jimin has never seen, never connected a memory to, tear at his heart like that?

The man rips the door open some more, fully clothed and frustrated as he observes the tension between you two, and asks, “Am I a joke to you?”

His voice is venomous, annoyed. Sounds like he was clearly expecting more of you, and you didn’t give him what he craved. Or perhaps you did, and the aftermath was something he didn’t anticipate.

Either way, his tone is agitating – and Jimin doesn’t want to hear him talk you down like that.

So he relaxes the crease between his eyebrows, counts to three internally, takes a deep breath. Gathers his irritation in his eyes, his gaze lethal and hooded; and then, he tilts his head and tells the man, “Leave.”

You release your jaw as quickly as you clench it, considering to build a barrier between the men before you change your mind. Because you don’t really want to defend the intruder standing next to you – you met him barely two hours ago, still smelling like the intoxicated air of the shabby bar.

So you keep yourself together, not feigning any anger towards Jimin – because despite the fear and unease, your heart feels soothed at the sight of him. And as you shift your weight to your other leg, gulping thickly, you turn to the guy next to you – Taesoo, was it? – to open your mouth.

His hand rests on his jangling belt, the button of his jeans undone, and before you can speak, he beats you to it, “It’d be nice if you told him something. I was here first anyway, and after the things that happ—”

“Leave,” you echo Jimin’s words, quietly but firmly.

He raises a corner of his lips in mock, shaking his head before he disappears into your room. For a moment, Jimin and you participate in a stare-off; then you avert your eyes again, brushing back your hair with a sigh.

When Taesoo emerges at your side again, pushing past you harshly, you groan, listening to him state, “You seemed like a crazy bitch all evening anyway.” You reckon he refers to your hazy, distracted state, more focused on your drinks than his touch. He nods towards Jimin, shooting one last, “Have fun with her,” before he departs.

Jimin’s jaw clenches visibly at the sound of the insult thrown at you, but his mind soon shifts elsewhere when you step onto the threshold slowly. You look tired, craving a good night’s sleep, dark circles under your eyes indicating that you’ve been awake for way too long.

But the steadiness in your voice surprises him, your arms folded as you ask him with raised eyebrows, “Why are you here?”

For such a smart, observing person, you seemingly still haven’t decoded the entirety of his feelings. He knows that somewhere inside, you sense why he drove all the way to your place, and that you understand why he’s here, waiting for something, trying to utter a little confession or two.

You either want to pull the answer out of him, or you’re still ignorant to how he looks at you.

“I miss you,” he admits, keeping his admissions present tense, fully intending on letting you know once and for all.

This game has been going on for too long. You need to stop making him chase you, need to stop acting like the mouse in this cartoon-come-to-life.

You slowly retract your steps, shaking your head in exhaustion, but he takes the same step forward, continuing, “There are a couple things I need to tell you.”

“Just,” you start, rubbing your temple, “let it be.”

“Let be what? There’s nothing here to start with.” He inches closer, his body almost touching yours, and a hot breath grazes your face as he admits, “I’m trying to make it something.”

“Don’t.”

You try to walk away, settling your hand on the door and ready to push it close again before he grabs your wrist mid-action. He invites himself in, careless about his surroundings as he calls your name.

Breathless, you watch the scene unfold in a matter of seconds: you feel his body close in, his harsh touch harden, the click of the door sounding, and suddenly… you’re trapped between him and the wall, arms pinned next to your head and his lips on yours.

Your eyes widen before they fall shut gradually. The sweetness of his tongue merges with the bitterness of yours instantly, and you let the feeling consume you; let his movements turn your body to mush.

For those fleeting seconds, the Swans don’t exist. The man who left your home a minute ago doesn’t exist. The hurdles and wall between Jimin and you, the crack between your lives – non-existent. You’re thrown back into memories of him, fond and hot, still burning before gravity pulls you back to your feet again.

With his grip around your wrists weakened, you free yourself and push him back, and he tumbles before he moves closer again. Slower this time, intimidated by your tears… frustrated, perhaps. 

Your hollow eyes must be a hoax – because behind them, he sees a downward spiral, and he shakes his head in sorrow, lifting a hand. He places his palm on your damp cheek, pressing further when you don’t resist him this time but whisper, “Jimin…”

“No,” he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed as he catches your tears, “I know it sucks to lose someone like this. I know death can happen whenever and that it hurts and sucks the soul out of you. But… you can’t change what happened.”

Your lower lip and chin are quivering, your eyes red; he wonders how often you looked just like that the last few days. He wonders how many of those times he could’ve made and kissed you better.

“Fuck, this is such a cliché statement,” he adds, sniffling, mentally gripping his fractured heart to keep it from splintering more, “but it’s true, okay? And—and it’s also true that I’m here. Alive, with you, and so, so in love with you.”

He pauses. Watches the emotions swimming in your eyes, a sliver of hope and fondness and devotion glimmer. 

And then, he tells you, “I know you feel the same. I just know it, and you can’t tell me otherwise, okay? I’ll take care of you… I know how to, so – please don’t push me away anymore.”

The sounds of your tears ebb down slightly, and you look at him with dozens of answers in your gaze to the one question he asked. When he repeats a hushed, “Okay?” you swallow another thick knot, fooling yourself once more as you whisper, “Stop…”

“Do you really want that? Do you mean that?”

His forehead touches yours with an intense fire burning between you, and you question for a moment whether you’d ever be able to put it out. There’s no power in this world strong enough to fight against it properly.

So you dissolve the web of lies for the first time in months, opting for the one and only truth you feared for so long as you shake your head and answer, “No.”

And as an answer, he merely sighs.

The type of sighs that convey more than a verbal response ever could. Longing, yearning, quiet affection hidden in one single exhale.

His lips and body crash against yours, and your back hits the wall with full force, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He traps you with his hands pressed against the wall, tilting his head to taste you just a little more.

Despite his impatience, his mouth works slow, and his tongue dances with yours tenderly, memorising your movements. You let your hand wander to his blonde hair, dishevelling it with a slight whimper. A shiver courses through your body, goosebumps arising all over your skin – you can’t count how often you two have done this, but it has never felt the way it does now.

Like you’re ending some kind of chase. Like you’re solving riddles you didn't know about.

Jimin's lips break the kiss when his lungs start to burn, and you take a deep, needed breath as he moves his attention to your cheek, your jaw, down to your shoulders. You lift your head to grant him access and he grabs a patch of your hair before he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Shit…” is all you manage to murmur as he holds you close, and you’re certain that he knows your knees might buckle if he didn’t.

Because your limbs are putty, weak under his touch, your mind concentrating on your surroundings as he nibbles, licks and bruises your skin.

You once heard that sex and desire puts those filled with lust through a temporary yet full shutdown of their short-term memory, and with Jimin’s body against yours, you don’t question the theory anymore. Because you barely remember the time and date; you wouldn’t know where you’re standing if the wall didn’t press against your spine.

“Still want me to stop?” Jimin asks when he emerges, brushing back your hair before he plants a peck on your nose. Then your forehead. Your temple.

Sweet, soft, lost.

His eyes crave you so clearly, but his hands touch you carefully, gauging your reaction. You shake your head, placing your palms over his rapid heartbeat as you breathe, “No.”

“Okay,” he whispers, letting his fingers slide to your hips, “okay.”

And then, his mouth is kissing down your body, slowly and cautiously, his eyes not leaving your face until your eyelids flutter shut. His hands raise the fabric of your shirt, baring your stomach and part of your breasts. His tongue leaves a flaming trail along your tummy, delicate bites teasing your sides occasionally.

His digits creep closer to your pooling heat, not as fast as you’d like him to – but when he finally presses a finger against the damp cloth of your panties, you moan out his name. Gulping, he shakes his head, biting his lip before he tells you from below, “I missed this.”

Jimin knows his obsession with you has become ridiculous. He shouldn’t have thought about you this much after being apart from you for just a few days. But you’re the mystery clouding his mind in every waking second – you’re like a case he hasn’t cracked yet. And for the first time, he doesn’t feel the desire to anyway.

This time, he won’t look for hints and clues to decipher your thoughts, but let you deliver them to him yourself. At your own pace. As long as you feel the same.

He brings his lips to your thighs, fingers tugging at your panties without ever ripping them off. You brush the hair strands off his face, eager to watch him become as delirious and hazy as you are – if he isn’t already. There’s a beginning fog in his pupils, whispering something that you understand right away.

The way he teases you throws you in a frenzy for sure, a soft, single touch that makes your guts turn and your thoughts dissolve. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, and your eyes shoot open, your gaze begging with your words.

Weak and enchanted, he obliges, continuing to lick and tease his way up until his tongue brushes the wet patch of your panties. Arousal seeps through and colours the fabric darker, despite the lack of direct touch, and he pushes a finger against the clothed entrance of your cunt. His mouth attaches to the dampness, searching for your clit until he hears you whimper and plead.

“Use your words,” Jimin says, circling his finger over your panties, “can’t hear you.”

“Take it off…”

“Take it off?” he repeats, fingertips wandering to the hem of your panties and tugging again – enough to drive you insane, but not enough to rid you of your clothing. “That’s what you want?”

“Don’t… don’t ask stupid questions,” you tell him, staring down at him, coloured lips parted and dry.

Jimin laughs for a tiny, barely-there moment; and you nearly miss the sound, because in the next moment, he’s gratifying your request eagerly. He pushes your ruined panties over your ass and down your trembling legs; watches the shiver of your body.

And as his thoughts stir and begin to run wild again, remembering the last days and your last conversation, he waves them off by dipping in right away – your touches are precious, and his mind is collapsing. But while he acts immediately, he takes his time during the actual ministrations, placing a hand on your pelvis to keep you in place before his tongue begins its eager work on your pussy.

You shiver when his lips touch your cunt, spreading your legs further, and tell him, “This feels… so–”

“I know. I know, sweetheart.”

You shake your head involuntarily when he utters the new pet name, not ready to fall for him deeper, but not strong enough to push him away either. It’s so hard to think at all… his tongue lapping up your juices, his palm holding your thigh, placing your leg on his shoulder… strands of hair tickling your skin – the world is an endless, dark chasm and it’s swallowing you whole.

Electricity and sparks only flicker in your vision when he licks you through the built-up of your high and watches you come undone with his name on your tongue. You whisper it and then yell it, entirely enrapturing him with your movements and sounds until his head is positively spinning.

His cheeks flushed red, he emerges slowly, crawling up your body to wrap an arm around your waist. But you’re way ahead, pushing his body backwards, lips finding his again as you make out on your way to your bedroom.

You barely remember how you got there, but when you push him onto your mattress hard, observing the change in his dangerous eyes, nothing else matters anyway. Albeit shaking and heavy breathing, you put all your energy into the act, throwing him onto his back as two pairs of hands start to undress him hastily.

The familiar sight of his bare body hits you like a truck, flooding yearning through you as you straddle him before he gets the chance to react.

“What are you…” he begins, but you lean in, your hair a curtain draped to the left side, and meet his lips for a brief moment.

He throws his head back, moaning quietly when you journey down his body, lips kissing every patch of skin until they touch the erect length resting against his stomach.

Leaking and aching, his cock screams for attention, and you grant his body all your focus and affection as you lean in and let your tongue run a stripe along his shaft. He doesn’t question anymore what you might be doing; instead, he groans, thick lips opening just a fraction.

“Good?” you ask as your fingers sneak around his dick, teasing, amazed by the rockhard stiffness hiding underneath the warm skin.

He opens his eyes for a split second to glance down at your naked form, barely believing that you were standing on the other side of the door, tired and insecure just minutes ago. Your naked body doesn’t just lure him in out of pure, unbridled desire, but whispers quiet, longing promises to him, too.

Like, that you want him… that you genuinely want him. That you’re doing this, letting him do this, because you missed his touches as much as he missed your gazes. Or at least that’s what he interprets.

You lick along his length once more before you angle his cock and wrap your lips around it. Your head bobs up and down slowly at first, the vibrations of your hums sending a current through his sweating body; your tits hang between his legs and your ass in the air. It’s so surreal, so heavenly that he whispers, “I’m gonna lose my mind…”

Pride floods through your guts, temporary bliss so incomparable to the pain the world inflicted on you in the previous days. You let yourself lose with him as your tongue works its way along his shaft, devouring his moans, producing extra saliva to drench his cock.

You only stop when his cock hardens impossibly, his breaths stuttering – you want him inside; want him to spill inside. So you crawl up with your nails racking his smooth skin, hands sliding along his torso, brushing the tattoo beneath his chest and his bicep that you’ve grown to love; memorised.

Straddling him with parted lips, you look down at his surreal form, your breathing erratic and eyes unfocusing as you say, “You’re pretty… so pretty.”

And perhaps your words would’ve affected him enough to let his thoughts clear if you weren’t grabbing his drenched cock again, bringing it dangerously close to where your cunt pulsates for him. Because as soon as he understands the situation, he shakes his head, stopping your attempt to ride him deliriously as he grapples your sides and flips you over in an instant.

Your back hits the mattress surprisingly, and you gasp, trapped between the bed and him; your legs still spread, but your toes curling in. Hissing and confused, you immediately, reflexively, apologise as though you’re used to making mistakes, “I’m sorry.” You wait, watching him prop up his naked body on his elbows. “What happened?”

Jimin gulps, his gaze soft but melancholic, hints of pain scattered across his dark pupils as he admits, “I can’t do it like this.”

“What?”

“You… you fucked that guy.”

“I–”

There’s no wish more profound than to fuck the thoughts of this man out of you. To make love to you through the night, reach your deepest parts, intensely enough until you can’t remember a single name but Jimin’s. But at the same time, your lifestyle has never been his – and he remembers.

So whatever desire floats inside him, he needs to fight through the haziness and be responsible. If you fucked another guy before him, he doesn’t want to be your sloppy seconds.

But when you speak again, you surprise him and, as it seems, even yourself. “I didn’t.” You place your warm palms on his soft back, pushing him closer barely noticeably. “He and I didn’t.”

Despite the questions in his shaking eyes, Jimin remains calm and collected, his lips inching closer to yours until you can feel the hot comfort of his breath grazing your face. The touch of his fingertips on your jaw, his chest against yours, arms wrapped around your shoulders set all of your nerves and veins alight.

Blood isn’t helping your heart pump anymore the way his touch does. If he chose to stay just like that, the entire night and day, you think you’d be okay with it, too.

“Why not?” he asks when he speaks again, caramel dripping from his tongue, sweet but charred, infatuated but scared.

“I…” you begin, momentarily distracted by the hard length rubbing against your clit. You moan and writhe, and he holds your face firmly, looking at you as you confess, “I kept seeing you instead.”

“Really?”

Pillowy lips kiss the expanse of your neck and settle on the crook of it, his hips moving to align his cock with your entrance without ever sliding in. It’s doesn’t resemble his usual teasing and cockiness when he drives you crazy, tortures you with touches without ever advancing. Waiting for you to beg and move, waiting for you to tell him how badly you want him.

No, this time, it’s something else – a feeling you can’t quite name. Care and fear and anger collecting in his crude and lewd motions. A nonverbal, silent plea for you to utter something, for you to seek his lips, to tell him you don’t want anything else.

Perhaps that’s the problem. Jimin has always wanted you for himself. The only one you want to kiss, the only one to haunt your dreams. Maybe he’s greedy or maybe he’s fallen too deep into all of this utter shit; but he’s always lived differently. A heart that contains love and demands love back.

Not used to the vast darkness filling the volume of your own.

But some things not even you’ll be able to deny.

“Really…” you mutter, your eyes falling close.

His nose nudges against yours; everything is a slow process, but you melt and dissolve and fall ultimately when he whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

“Jimin…”

“I know you like burning yourself into people’s memories,” his tip pushes into your soaked pussy, one arm letting go of your shoulder to press your thigh into the mattress, “you like them to remember you, and you like to forget them,” you whine and moan, moving your hips, begging for more, “but goddamn, putting me on your list? That was cruel.”

The coherency in his words is astounding; you don’t think you could utter more words than necessary, even if you tried. The level of hurt passing through Jimin must be profound enough for him to drown in his thoughts, even now.

“I– I didn’t,” you manage, desperate and shivering, losing every ounce of sanity.

“What is it then… that you did, huh?”

A single tear escapes the corner of your eye, and he wipes it away immediately, caging you in further as you hold onto him for dear life. The room turns a few shades darker with his dim stare, cold, but you moan and cry out when he pushes in some more.

You throw your head back, registering the touch of his fingers along your sides as you hear him ask, “Why did you hurt me again?”

You’re not sure what answer he wants. You don’t even think he realises you can’t answer at all, too focused on the way he sheathes himself inside you, piercing through you slowly, deeply.

But he doesn’t seem to expect a response either; because adjusting, shifting, balls deep inside you, he groans, “No more, okay?”

He knows you can’t give him promises that defy the life you lead. You think he understands as well as you that the future is uncertain, that none of you know what it entails. But there’s something inside you that wants to soothe both your aches, so you mumble timidly, “Okay…”

If it was up to you, you wouldn’t lay a finger on his heart anymore. But your days and your occupation, lacking moral and respect, are unpredictable. For now, however, it seems to do.

Because Jimin’s eyes close, his grunts deeper now, the grip around you tight and protective and his cock building a steady rhythm. He’s slower and softer than usual; tonight, he takes his time, focuses on your expressions and sounds.

The little droplets of sweat on your forehead. The sharpness of your nails digging into his flesh and alternating with soothing rubs. Your eyes involuntarily squinting when his damp hair strands touch your eyelids. And the sound of his name from your lips… your pleas, your moans, your breaths.

“You’re the prettiest like that,” he tells you, kissing your earlobe, “free of thoughts and worries… could look at you all day.”

The way he always looked at you during lunch breaks, lazy evenings after work or when it was your turn to lead a meeting in the office.

A series of mumbled words escape your mouth in a hurry, overwhelmed by the varying pace of his hips; once he hammers into you deep and then he pulls back and pushes in carefully. Perhaps he’s letting your bodies lead the way; because even he seems beyond the point of true consciousness. A little lost, a little dizzy.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you tell him amidst the fever dream you breathe through, and he lifts his chest from yours just enough to look at you properly.

Your bodies, hot and sweaty, quiver from the lack of contact, the temperature of the room colliding with the warmth between you as he promises, “Don’t worry.”

It’s a short, silent and tender affair, the collision of your bodies and souls. It feels like mere seconds pass when he’s wrapped his lips around your nipples; then released them; then kissed the underside of your tits, penetrating your walls and every inch of your sensitive spots.

You barely notice that his hips and legs are already stuttering, his mouth whispering sweet nothings, and you rush to bring your fingers to your clit, only for him to push your hands away and do it for you.

“Fuck,” he curses, losing his mind when your shouts grow louder. “Fuck, wanna hear this all day, you know?”

“I know,” you cry out, throwing your head to the side, and he suckles at the flesh of your soft neck.

Your legs become restless as he rubs the bundle of nerves, incessantly pounding into you, and the combined penetration brings you to the brink of insanity.

In the years you’ve allowed your broken self to cope with sex, there must have been longer sessions. Harder or faster, memorable or seething hot. Tonight, with Jimin, might not be the experience of a lifetime, and you probably won’t remember every ardent touch or impatient stare he grants you with.

But for the first time, you feel something that’s unfiltered. Not fleeting or meaningless or another get-together you’ll store with every other get-together in the past. This is real; it feels real. Perhaps not like a fairytale, but at least like its own novel.

Jimin’s stamina and endurance come to an end when you whisper his name one more time; tell him sweetly, hushed, “Want just you… please.”

He doesn’t know what your words strike in him, but it’s enough for him to let go ultimately. A groan emerges from the depths of his chest, his body collapsing on yours again, barely floating to not suffocate you beneath him. He takes a deep breath, trembling, and says, “I swear I really am… in love with you.”

You believe him. With all the emotions swimming in his eyes, evident in his touches, how could you not? With the way the world changes, how could you not reciprocate it?

And you want to tell him – but before you can, he’s letting more admissions fall, spilling inside you with a sound so intriguing that it renders you speechless. His face falls against your chest, his ear listening to your rapid heartbeat as stars explode in your vision just as much as in his; your moans broken and your body floating.

It all ends as soon as it begins.

Your naked, vulnerable bodies fall into your bed in unison, his embrace carrying you with him, both your essences spilling out of you as you catch your breaths.

“I can run a shower,” he says, a hand rubbing his face in exhaustion while the other grabs tissues from the nightstand and begins to clean you up slowly.

When he’s done, he sits up, opting to stand, but you grab his bicep and pull him back, shaking your head with big eyes staring up at him. He thinks he could die in those eyes – no dreamy sigh in this world showcases the feelings his heart carries for you.

Blinking, exhaling, you say, “Not yet.”

Obliging with a nod and affection in his gaze, Jimin fishes the discarded underwear from the floor, half hanging off the bed, and hands you yours while pulling up his own. It’s strange, the feeling of clothing against your battered sex.

But his arms caging you into a hug, impatient and urgent, make up for the discomfort immediately.

For a few minutes, you listen to the silence of the room. A few cars drive past the complex you live in, the traffic unusually busy for the isolated corner you chose as your city residence. It’s different here; quiet but still louder than what you’re used to. If you were surrounded by the silence you usually hear, you might react with more fret and panic.

“You’re still unsure,” Jimin whispers, breaking you out of your trance, “about us.”

It’s surprising. The way he continues the conversation from before like nothing happened in between. But you understand his thoughts. You know what must be plaguing him, or how painful the uncertainty of a future with you must be.

After all, confessing love, affection and otherworldly emotions doesn’t guarantee anything, right?

“Not about what I feel for you,” you admit, mumbling against his chest, “but I’m scared.”

“It’s Seokjin you’re worried about, right?” he asks, shifting closer, noticing the way you flinch at the mention of the ominous name. “We’ll end this thing soon.”

“He’s just… dangerous. He’s not just a thief, Jimin–”

“I know,” he interrupts, tangling your legs with his. It’s like he’s trying to creep closer, trying to meld your bodies with not an inch between you left. “But we were close before, so if…”

You hiss when he presses too hard, his skin rubbing against yours, and you emerge from his chest to say, “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

It’s the first time you refuse to address your fears. But despite your wish to steer clear from this conversation, it seems that the world still hears your worries and troubles.

The comfort of his arms, wrapped around your torso and your sorrow, doesn’t last long; just like joy doesn’t last long on any other day.

Because in an instant, you hear the smashing of your door, like someone’s broken in with an axe and demolished your entire entrance. From your bed in your room, you can’t decode what the thunderous noise is, flinching hard, reflexively pushing yourself into Jimin’s arms.

There are no voices yet, just a panting from afar, and you sit up with the blanket covering your torso, eyes darting through the room to find a weapon. You think Jimin dropped his gun in the living room when he entered; you think your own are hidden in the closet, too far for you to fetch.

And right when you remember the pistol buried underneath your things in the second drawer, your arm shooting towards it once your brain clears, your bedroom door opens with a mind-numbing thump.

“What the fuck,” you hear Jimin murmur next to you, and in your fear, you just realise now that he has risen to his feet, scouring your empty bed for a weapon in nothing but his underwear. Defenceless. “Get out.”

He says it to you, but you’re frozen in place, watching a face walk closer to you that you’ve never seen before. It happens in slow-motion, like time is standing still.

In those moments, you realise a few things.

First, the second man, right behind the first, is one of the thieves living in your mansion, a trusted accomplice of Seokjin, probably here by his command, too. He looks unamused; like he just wants out, not eager to fight.

Second, they’re carrying weapons like knives and guns, clearly in a better position than you, their eyebrows furrowed in anger that you might not be able to win against.

And third, they’re looking at Jimin.

Without a glance to you, the familiar face throws clothes at you that you didn’t see him holding before, covering your face as panic spreads in your chest. You lift the shirt off your head, instantly yelling, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Leave, just–”

Jimin’s voice is muffled and scared, his fists ready to defend himself. But when the first hit lands, he stumbles back onto the bed, finding it difficult to keep his posture when the enemy is attacking with the grip of his gun.

You don’t listen to his pleas right away, letting out a siren scream before you curse, “You fucking bastards, you can’t–”

“Get dressed. Get in the car. No aggression, okay?” the stranger tells you, pointing to the clothes before he adds, “He’ll be fine if you stay calm.”

All those threats. The constant rivalry and wrongful doings. They’re sickening and insane – but somehow, they’re the only madness that still keeps the man you’ve fallen for safe.

“Lower the gun, please,” you say as firmly as you can, but you can hardly help the shake in your voice, the breaking of your words.

You grab the shirt and drape it over your body with quivering fingers, never leaving Jimin out of sight. He’s looking into the intruders’ eyes, still unarmed, relying on his fists once again to face the blade and the bullets.

“I’m done,” you add, still deflating at the sight of them not listening to you. Because their arms are still raised. Still pointing at him.

Jimin throws you a single look, slowly.

He doesn’t utter a word.

Then, he nods so slightly that you almost miss it – and right when you button your jeans, he gulps.

“No, don’t–” 

You exclaim it into the room involuntarily, automatically falling forwards, your palms catching yourself on the bed before Jimin is going in with another reckless punch. You’re not sure if it’s an attempt to actually defend himself or to give you time, but you can barely react with the tears blurring your vision.

As if a voice whispered something to you, you pull yourself up, your breathing erratic and uneven as you walk backwards to the door. You’re not silent enough to escape without notice, but you try; you try. For him at least. 

But with the door shut and in the time it gets to press down the handle, open it and run out of the room, your hair is caught in the firm grip of the familiar man, twirling you enough that you see the horror in front of you unfold.

You think the man holding you urges the stranger to finally finish the job, shakes his head, impatient and annoyed. But his hisses don’t stop his colleague.

A hook to the chin of the man you kissed a few minutes ago. A knife cutting through the back of his hand that tries to defy it. The grip of a gun smacking against a temple, letting his body fall onto the mattress and limp against the pillow.

The last thing Jimin hears are your screams, shrill and crying, his name floating somewhere in between before the world falls dark.

When Jimin opens his eyes again, the world is dark and dull.

His body is stiff and heavy when he opts to sit, and he wonders if he was tied to the bed, unable to move his limbs and head. But once he lifts his face, he realises that it isn’t his torso or his legs that are shackled to place – it’s his mind, forbidding further movement.

Because the pain shoots into his head like an arrow, sharp and stinging, the headache so shattering that he falls back into the pillow again. The spot near his face is sticky and smells disgusting. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes and examine the source.

Instead, his hand taps in the dark, searching the bedside table blindly until he touches the box of tissues and pulls out two or three. He rolls the napkins to a ball, pressing against the wound with a sharp hiss until his head stops spinning. 

For a second, there’s a beep in his ears, but his first instinct of making sure he’s not too badly injured tells him that his hearing isn’t impaired. He still hears the cars outside, and still makes out the chirping crickets through the open window.

Gradually and slowly, he opens his eyes. The sight begins blurry, but clears slowly. So his vision is somewhat stable, too. But with the hit he suffered, enough to knock him unconscious, it must still be bad. Because god, it hurts. A concussion for sure.

The tissues turn as sticky as the pillow, so there must be dry blood. And he feels dizzy. But just like the pain, time won’t stop, and if he lets more of it pass, more things could happen that he's tried to avoid for months. If they haven’t happened already.

He sits up once and for all with an agonising groan, not daring to shake his head before he gets to his wobbly legs. He sways, flashbacks to older cases emerging when he suffered worse, and walks over to the standing mirror near the window.

An inspection tells him that there’s no fluid or blood spilling from his nose or ears, but his damp, dirty hair coloured red is still telling enough. He wishes he could call help, get himself checked in an emergency room, diagnosis and treatment and all. But until then, too many things can happen; and the silence of your room and your absence don’t allow him selfishness, not right now.

The scream he heard before he passed out still echoes in his mind loud and clear, fuelling the headache. Where did they take you? What happened after he closed his eyes?

If he made protecting you his biggest goal, has he failed already?

The pain in his head distracts him too much to let the tears spill, hammering with each step he takes. He walks to your closet, leans down as he searches the content of the boxes at the bottom. In theory, invading your privacy goes against the laws, but if there’s a chance to get you back like that, he can’t muster the strength to give a fuck.

He finds a passport. Doesn’t need it. Brochures for vacations in foreign countries, letters and pictures of when you were younger, with chubbier cheeks and a more radiant smile. No. Redundant. 

Jimin gets up. Walks to the night table. The one on his bedside proves utterly useless, too – there’s nothing he can do with small keys, locks and copies of official documents. God, you need to take care of your things better.

It’s not until he rounds the bed and scours the content of the other night table that he finds something he can work with. For one, there’s a pack of medicine. Ibuprofen? He takes out two of those, clutching them tight in his fist. Then, right underneath it, he finds a small A6 notebook.

A first glance onto the first page reveals names he knows or has never heard of, numbers and addresses scribbled next to them. Bingo – if this isn’t the thing he was looking for, he might be screwed.

He closes the notebook and hurries to pick up the clothes off the ground as fast as his body and head allow. Even his haste movements are careful and accompanied by grunts, but he pushes through the pain as he walks across the living room and into the kitchen. He fetches himself a glass of water, swallowing the pills to dim the pain and prevent inflammation.

Somewhere on the ground, he finds the phone he possibly lost last night while attempting to win you back. Pictures of your form pressed against the wall, the feeling of your lips on his, your hands trying to resist him with your whole being without succeeding emerge from his memory. He’s not sure if it’s the injury or your missing touch that hurts more.

The phone, laying in some corner, thankfully missed by the intruders, has minimal battery life left. He picks it up impatiently, pressing a cloth against his head he found in your kitchen. And then, he dials a familiar number until the voice greets him in worry.

“Hey. Hey, where the actual fuck are you?”

Hoseok sounds exasperated, busy; he never truly curses, and when he does, there’s a valid reason behind it. The reason this time being Jimin’s absence for hours. The radio silence since last night, the not showing up to work, the never calling in sick.

“There’s so much bullshit going on, Hobi,” Jimin says, providing no context or explanation.

“Like what?”

“Like.” He tells his older friend where he went last evening. What he did since then. What happened in the middle of the night, and what’s happening now that the sunrise is still so far away. “Some people broke in and took her with them.”

“Where to?!”

Jimin sighs, kneeling on the ground with the notebook open in front of him. He flicks through the pages, searching for a clue that might help. He recognises his own name, Hoseok’s, and a few others he knows from work. Those are numbers and information that co-workers at the office exchange just to be sure, but they’re not what he’s looking for.

Until, finally, knocking out the breath of his lung, he sees it. After months of searching, nothing could have brought him closer than paying you a visit, leafing through this very notebook and settling on this very page. There were reasons why you never let him in. Fears and worries keeping you from revealing the secret faraway place your true boss – along with you – resides in. Of course this apartment isn’t your permanent residence.

It could’ve been as easy as this.

There’s an address next to Kim Seokjin’s name that Jimin doesn’t recognise. He’s not sure if it’s in this town at all, because it looks cryptic, the postal code indicating another place, another city. The address occurs more than once, and he thinks most of the names it stands next to are closely related to the Swans in one way or the other.

“Dude–” Hoseok exclaims on the other side of the speaker, impatient.

“I think I know where they are. I’ll send you the address before my phone dies.” His head throbs, and he lets out a sound of despair, cursing, “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Just an injury to the head,” Jimin says casually, like his head isn’t bursting. “That's why I was unconscious.”

Hoseok exhales in worry, something in the background creaking like he’s ready to transport his friend to the hospital immediately. Then, he states, “That could be a concussion, man. You can’t work like that. And don’t you think of–”

“I’ve wasted enough time when I was passed the fuck out.” Jimin types the address into Hoseok’s chat, sending it hastily before he says, “Sent.”

For a second, the line goes silent, but then Hoseok lets out a frustrated breath, remarking, “Shit, that’s really fucking far away. Outside the city, I believe.”

“I know, just,” Jimin confirms, desperate, scared, “if you can, get there.”

“Of course.”

Hoseok hesitates, obviously thinking about something he wants to say, fearing his friend’s answer. But he tries anyway, “But I’m calling the ambulance for you.”

“No, don’t.”

Of course.

“Jimin, I–”

“Fucking don’t. Direct order. Alright?”

Jimin can see heart shaped lips pressing together, a head shaking, two fingers curled around suspenders and hair strands hanging low. It’s the same look Hoseok sports on stressed days, and he imagines his own state and direct order aren’t any less taxing than those days.

“Listen, you goddamn idiot,” Hoseok says, close to losing his sanity and patience, “you might get into an accident, or worse. Do not–”

“I’ll take a cab then, fuck.”

“I swear, you–”

And then, the line goes dead. Not because his phone battery has given up, but because Jimin has heard and forwarded the information he needed to. One last goal now.

He digs into the pockets of his jeans, making sure that the car keys are there, but he still dives for a different object first.

Fishing out his phone again, he dials the number of a taxi, trying to sound as calm as possible. He saunters back to the kitchen, searches for a first aid kit, finding one sparsely filled, and takes out some cotton and a bandage. He tunks it into the open bottle of alcohol next to the sink, absolutely sure this won’t do long-term.

But who could care?

Leaning over the sink, he waits until part of the pain and the spinning of his head have subsided. Then, he trudges to his private car, gathering one more gun than he already carries before he enters the cab wordlessly, ignoring the driver’s remarks and shutting him up with a flash of his badge.

Then, he mutters an address, takes a deep breath and watches the world fly by.

When you open your eyes again, the world is blinding and bright.

You don’t remember exactly when they closed. Perhaps when you were sitting in the backseat, resisting their grips, yelling into the congested space of the car. Screaming his name from the top of your lungs, yearning to go back, trying to ask the world around you if he’s alright and alive.

The birds and the wind you heard through the open window couldn’t whisper to you what went on between the walls of your temporary apartment. So when they held you back, drenching a cloth with chloroform right in front of your face, you stopped resisting.

Maybe it was better to waste your hours away in unconsciousness than to worry about something you had no control over. Not like this, unarmed, trapped, the damsel in distress you never saw yourself as.

You’re not sure who brought you to your room – you’re certain it’s your room – because you don’t think you were awake enough to realise. Even though you’ve regained full consciousness, you still don’t dare to open your eyes just yet.

Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear a voice.

Only that it’s not in the distance.

It’s right next to you.

“Why are you back here?”

His voice is tender and soft, talking to you after such a long time. Your heart falls into unknown pits, because you didn’t think you’d see this day ever again. Or hear him again. A tear escapes the corner of your eyes, your hands clutching the blanket you didn’t realise was there.

He doesn’t sound like he’s drowning right now – sounds so very alive. 

But you only understand his absence and your own madness when your eyelids finally do flutter open. The room is empty. And still. Cold, considering that your bedroom stands on the ground floor. Your soul is the only one alive here; and you don’t believe in ghosts.

“You’re not really here,” you tell Yoongi’s voice, rubbing your forehead like it could dissolve his face from your mind.

“Of course I’m not.”

You laugh a little, sniffling.

“So I’ve gone crazy. Cool.” Your laughter ebbs down, and you stare at the boring, white ceiling above you. For an expensive, prestigious manor, your room is as monotone as any vacant, vapid place. “It’s rude of you that you’re not here.”

You hear a familiar chuckle, sounding through your skull, and he… you… your mind says, “I think it’s worse that some part of me is still there. Not that you should forget about me, but,” he pauses, hesitating, “maybe it’s time to move on.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I think you do,” he refutes. You wonder how far your abilities of holding a soliloquy with two different voices can go. “Do you remember what I said?”

“You… you said a lot of things.”

“The day we sat at the riverbank.”

Of course your unconsciousness would remind you of the same old dream again. You’re not sure why it’s always that one conversation that your little brain always brings back, but you’re growing sick of it.

“You said to prioritise myself,” you answer, angling your legs, pulling them closer, “to not throw away my life.”

“Yeah.” He waits. Lets you think. “So?”

“So. That’s what I tried to do for so long,” you tell him, your voice breaking, not quite as firm as you’d like it to be, “when I promised you to live a better life for you, I meant it. In the beginning, I thought I could.” You shrug your shoulders, shaking your head, still dizzy from the chloroform. “But I think I butchered it.”

But he’s having none of it, arguing, “Hey. You know the security here… you know your way out blindly. Use that for yourself. You don’t need anyone to save you… you’re stronger than that.”

His voice carries a hint of your own now… the way you speak, the way you usually think when you’re not on rock bottom. Somehow, knowing that it’s you telling yourself all of this and not really him – not really anyone else – is… comforting.

You sit up. Rub your eyes. Adjust to the darkness and stare into the faint light of the lamp on the desk opposite of you. And you hear his dim voice speak one more time.

“Thought so.”

The forest shows warning signs at every other mile, ranging from visualisations of animals crossing the road or riverbanks ahead.

Sometimes, Jimin’s eyes catch sight of signs predicting falling rocks or approaching humps. But with a throbbing head and trembling hands, he never pays much attention to the subtle cautionary advices placed on the side of the road.

As the streets ascend and descend, he drives through the quiet night, surrounded by thickets and trees with a spinning mind. The voice of the navigation guides him calmly, but his heart’s beat overshadows it all.

Hoseok might kill him if he finds out his friend abandoned the cab near the office. Took one of the work cars instead. Which he’s operating right now; sure that it was safer for long distances than his private car. There was no way he’d trust a cab driver into this damned forest or risk his life, even less in a dangerous, possibly deadly situation like this.

Hoseok calls and updates him every now and then, informs him that he’s almost gathered their whole force, collecting the tools they might need, and that he will join his friend soon. Jimin knows that soon isn’t soon enough. Even he, driving around for what feels like ages, is only now reaching his goal; until Hoseok arrives, a lot can happen.

He parks a good half mile from the place he seeks, abandoning his car in the middle of nowhere to avoid attention he doesn’t need. Jogging the rest of the way, he follows the road, the sound and the lights.

And when he’s finally snuck close enough, the scenery reminds him of the ominous origins of romanticised fairytales.

You’re stronger than that, aren’t you?

When Yoongi left you alone in this world, it wasn’t to mope around – he wanted you to conquer your dreams and prioritise yourself and… live. 

This isn’t living though, right? Perhaps you should start now.

You push yourself off the mattress, shaky legs carrying you until you gather your strength and plant them against the ground steadfast. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you tip-toe to the door. You’re ready to negotiate with whoever’s standing in front of your room – ready to knock him unconscious when need be.

But when you touch the door with your fingertips, it’s already open to a slit, the yard in the middle of the manor empty and silent. Maybe you could hear a needle fall if there wasn’t distant turmoil raging inside the mansion. From where you stand, it sounds like quiet chatter, but you know it’s just the usual chaos before bedtime you’re used to from this place.

When you step out, the wind blows for a small moment, unusually cold for a warm day. You brush your hair from your face, keeping your sight clear in fear you might miss the smallest movement from the corner of your eyes.

But when nothing happens, you take a deep breath, fixating your gaze on the door on the other side before you cross the yard on your tiptoes quickly. You open the door carefully, trying not to let it creak too loudly; but it seems that no one’s in the hallway anyway.

Eyes darting to and fro, you bend a bit, taking off your shoes and placing them next to the door. Your fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt as your stare falls onto the staircase, and you begin to move slowly. Navigating through the place in darkness proves harder than you imagined.

Paranoid, you search for signs of life, holding your breath as you climb the staircase in fast motions. You hiss and cringe at every echo your steps cause, although it’s dull and barely audible. To keep your sanity, you focus on your mental map of the place, knowing that you need to reach the first floor and cross the hallway to find yet another staircase that will lead to the main exit.

You have no choice but to cross those metres.

But to your misery, you’re more nervous than you thought.

Because when you’ve crossed half the hallway on the first floor, you realise that you’ve taken a wrong turn, cursing at yourself internally – you’ve lived here for so long. You should know better. And the regret only grows when you suddenly hear voices at the end of it, panic flooding your chest before you turn on your heel and ready yourself to walk the correct path instead.

But as soon as you turn, your body nearly crashes against another person present in the hallway, and you gasp in fear as you topple a few steps back, drowning in fear. You almost slip and fall onto the marble floor, close to yelling out a cry for help.

The man, however, catches you with a hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you to your feet again until you’ve found your balance and cleared your blurry vision enough to recognise him. He’s the second man who broke into your apartment just tonight, shaking his head at his accomplice as though he was sorry for you.

You don’t know his name; know nothing about him. There’s nothing you can say to him, nothing else than to beg for him to stay quiet. As you keep staring at each other, your breath hitching and hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, you prepare yourself to run away or do something you should not be considering at all.

But then…

His grip loosens around your limb, and he gulps, backing away in quiet permission. His actions say that he’s not your enemy – that it’s okay to trust him, and that he’ll trust you in return. That you don’t deserve whatever Seokjin is cursing you with.

You don’t know why he brought you here in the first place then; but you take what you get. Guilt sometimes arrives later, you guess.

With damp eyes, your shivering legs carry you past him, your gaze never leaving his and your hands still balled into fists, ready to fight if he decides to betray you after all. But when he doesn’t move, his head hanging low, you accelerate your steps, whisper the smallest, “thank you so much”, and run into the opposite direction of where the voices are creeping closer.

Hazy and scared, you inch closer to the desired staircase, walking down the steps in alert with the entrance as your ultimate goal. You tap through the darkness until your hand is touching the handle, your breaths uneven before you step into the garden – and that’s when you see them.

The place looks like a small castle. Probably perfect to hide an entire crew of mastermind thieves, but fitting to vampires rather than a quiet mafia. The outer garden, adorned with colourful flowers, lays still, the petals and leaves slightly flickering against the mellow breeze; it wouldn’t be surprising if yellow werewolf eyes were staring back at him.

Kneeling, with the gun cocked and in his tight grip, Jimin tip-toes through the bushes that are planted at the edges of the yard. He wonders if he could see you from here – hear you breathing from a room, feel your presence, awaiting and alive.

Solving the case has become a second priority; if he can anyhow get you out of this hell and the clutches of those people, he’d consider his mission successful and cleared. He can refocus on the purpose of this case once he’s seen you breathing and well.

For a few moments, he waits. His legs twitch in anticipation, urging him forwards, telling him to trudge towards the entrance and find you in whichever room they’ve hidden you. But right when he opts to leave his crouching positions, voices seep through the air of the crisp forest night; one of them, he recognises immediately.

“Then that’s done, too,” the other guy says, and from where Jimin watches, the man silences for a second to yawn. “I really need to go to bed. You owe me.”

“You say that as if I haven’t done a hundred things for you before,” Seokjin says, a slight laugh lacing his voice so softly that, without any knowledge about him, he might sound like a casual sweetheart.

Jimin’s head focuses on registering every word the pair utters, but it proves hard with the distance between them and the still aching temple. The painkiller has kicked in at least subtly, though he still feels like the mess he was back at your apartment. The light is hidden behind the horizon, but sunrise must not be far.

He fishes out his phone, staring at the battery status, happy that the charger in the work car provided him with just enough to do what he wants to do. Tapping the symbol of the camera, he calculates the angle, hastily pressing the recording button for evidence.

“You also owe me for driving all the way to the city and back. Dealing with her wasn’t as easy as you said it would be,” the man speaks again, laughing as though he cracked the joke of the century. “She’s feisty.”

“That’s a good word to describe her.”

“I was gonna call her something else, but–”

“Anyway,” Seokjin interrupts, clenching his jaw with a dark gaze; the hands in his pocket turn to fists, “she’s gonna stay here when we start our next project.”

Seokjin mentions a name directly from the list you and Jimin wrote down weeks ago. Back when you deciphered the picture of that prestigious, rich party, rambling about cardinal points and whatnot.

The guy next to him nods, still in a clownery mood that won’t subside as he jokes, “I’m surprised that someone in this country still owns a tiara at all. I hate people who crown themselves like they’re fucking royalty.”

Seokjin joins his snicker for just a moment before he hears a rustling sound in the bushes next to him. It’s too dark to make out shadows or whatever creeps behind the trees, but he does catch a glimpse of a stray cat.

He continues nevertheless, saying, “And I need some of you to stay, too.”

The man looks baffled, even somewhat annoyed as he questions, “Me, too?”

“It’d be nice of you to do so.”

“Why?! I’ve been there every single time, and–”

Jimin’s eyes flit from the cat that disturbed his peace to the situation unfolding in front of him. In his surprise, he dropped not only the phone, but his gun, too, and retracting those now might cause too much noise. Especially with the way Seokjin’s back has already straightened in alert and his focus has shifted.

Ears clearly perked.

Not even the third presence joining the party lets his attention falter; Jimin notices it in Seokjin’s stance and in his movements. The subtle little steps towards the bush, yet not close enough to see Jimin just yet.

“Sir, we found a car about half a mile from here. It’s empty and abandoned, still intact. And the hood is still kinda warm.”

That’s all the middle-aged woman says. But Seokjin doesn’t react surprised, nor do his eyes wide. He merely nods towards the clown standing next to him all this time, telling him, “Go check it out. Keep your eyes open, though, yeah?”

This time, his colleague doesn’t bat an eye or argue further. It’s clear that he’s not feeling up to the task, especially after the long night and after preparing himself to go to bed soon. But he can’t defy his boss if he wants to sleep peacefully tonight.

The two strangers stroll away, unbothered, like they’re taking a walk. Hands in their pockets, they mumble something neither Jimin nor Seokjin can hear; perhaps an annoyed grunting and groaning.

“It’s fine to come out now,” Seokjin sings, apparently in a better mood than before.

Jimin freezes. Feels another sting in his head when he moves.

“And you might leave any unnecessary weapons right there.”

Jimin isn’t scared of Kim Seokjin.

He’s dealt with bigger psychopaths before. Those who don’t have a villain origin story, no mental health condition, nothing to justify their actions with. They brought him on the verge of death one too many times, and Seokjin, unarmed and smiling, seems like a kid’s toy compared to them.

So the fear rooted in Jimin finds it source not in what Seokjin could do to him… but what he could do to you if Jimin failed this mission and left you here to suffer.

“What happened to your head?” Seokjin asks, laughing a little, unabashed and mannerless.

“Your minions,” Jimin answers, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

He steps closer to where the enemy stands, inhaling the fresh air of the forest and the garden. It’s a wonderful place to camp or hike – if there wasn’t a nest of criminals in the middle of the woods, he might have considered a trip in the future.

“If it helps anyhow,” Seokjin defends, flashing his teeth, crinkles around his amused eyes, “I just told them to bring her here, not to knock you almost dead. I can totally talk to them if you’d like.”

Jimin puffs out an annoyed breath, his eyebrow rising in mock, but he lowers it immediately when he feels the pain behind it. Biting his lip for a second, he answers, “I appreciate the hospitality, but… it’s fine.”

“Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Jimin is in no mood to beat around the bush. He’s sick of those games, and of this hide and seek, the cat and mouse bullshit, all the suffering they bring. Lowering his gaze, blinking, he asks, “Where is she?”

But the answer doesn't alleviate the pain or soothe his worries; only irritates him more.

“Why don’t you go look?”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. She’d be delighted to see you.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin’s words, trying not to let the admissions fog his mind enough to lose focus. “I’m not gonna act like she forgot about you in just one night, so I’ll admit that she really… like, really wants to see you.”

“Why,” Jimin begins, shaking his head slowly, “are you telling me?”

“Because I’m honest. I appreciate honesty.”

There’s something comedic about the way Seokjin says it. It’s like he’s adding absurdity to a scene he’s acting out, like he’s in a movie, building up to the climax. Hiding something to attack with as soon as the villain’s jokes have landed well enough.

If a build-up is what he wants, Jimin will play along until reinforcement arrives.

“Man,” Jimin mocks, his thumb rubbing his forefinger in nervousness, “that’s why you’re a thief, right? And why you steal and hide.”

“I steal and hide, because those people have way more than they need. Come on, Park. A fucking tiara? Set of rings they won’t use? All the diamonds in this world they’ll never wear, but they just want the thrill of owning them.”

He steps closer, brushing his fingers through his long, dark hair. He truly does resemble an antagonist in a blockbuster.

Smirking, he continues, “We get those. Then sell them to… buyers we know again. We buy things for people actually in need, and support our families who have raised us with nothing.”

“So your excuse is your chivalrous Robin Hood act?”

“Whatever,” Seokjin shrugs, rubbing his hands together, “at least Robin Hood was the first thing this whole affair made you think of. That means something.”

“Was killing Min Yoongi an act of chivalry, too, then?”

That’s what silences the man in front of Jimin immediately. He straightens his posture once more, the smile vanishing from his face, an expression so poisonous replacing it that Jimin thinks he might attack any moment.

It seems that Min Yoongi is a weakness for everyone in this household. For once, Jimin reckons it’s okay to hit that wound.

Seokjin, apart from whatever his countenance and the shadow on it suggest, remains somewhat calm, questioning with a little more vexation in his voice, “What do you know about Yoongi? You’ve known her for what, a few weeks? And you act like you know her whole damn life story. Wouldn’t be surprised if she overshared.”

He shakes his head, his smirk ingenuine and mocking, “I gotta admit, I only sent her to you as a spy. But that woman…” His voice shrinks. “Took a damn necklace we stole and wore it in front of you.”

The tone of his voice might be quiet and serene, but his words are dipped in venom and anger. He isn’t hiding it as well as he’d like.

“Kim Seokjin,” Jimin spits, not particularly veiling his own resentment, “you look so fucking noble, but then you keep a girl here against her will. Without noticing what it’s doing to her, huh?”

“I think I know what it’s doing to her,” Seokjin responds, never dropping the façade of a know-it-all, “her boyfriend died for her and now she’s suffering the aftermath of lying and hiding. Sending her to you– forcing her to do our dirty work is the least she can do to make things right.”

“Make things right…”

This time, it’s not Jimin rasping those words in fury, ridicule and indignation. Sometime during the conversation, the entrance of the mansion opened soundlessly. The climax of your very own movie proves to be right now, the dramatic moment so palpable that Jimin wonders if he’d wake up if he pinched himself hard enough.

You’re still wearing the clothes you left in. Your hair is a mess, your eyes tired, and you stand at the entrance with your arms wrapped around your body. A light sway accompanies your steps, feet carrying you to the grass and near the bush where Seokjin and Jimin stand.

If Jimin has anything to say to you or to warn you about, then he can’t remember anymore.

The only thing ringing true so clearly is that… you. That he needs you to smile. That he needs all this to be over. That he’s tired of this, losing his will to live through this moment, that he wants to flash forward to a day where you’re both okay.

In each other’s arms. His voice telling you that he loves you.

All that passes his lips instead is your name.

And you look back with the same sorrow; close to saying whatever you want to say before Seokjin side-eyes you and interrupts, “Only half expected that.”

“Jin… please,” is all you manage, disappointed in yourself that you can’t quite verbalise what you’re pleading for.

“Go back in.”

Jimin watches your head shake, stubborn and reluctant as you inquire, “Why would I?”

“You’ve done more than enough damage.”

“I haven’t done… shit,” you answer, obviously just as done with his relaxed commands as anyone else. You hate that he utters those things like they’re natural; like everyone’s bound to listen to whatever he orders. And you did, for a large part of your life – but not tonight.

“Right,” Seokjin replies, turning his head a little further, apparently not fearing Jimin all that much. No one might, standing in front of a bandaged man like him. “Fucking the enemy isn’t anything at all, right?”

For the teeny tiny moment that your and Jimin’s gazes meet, fleeting and ephemeral, his eyes signal to the bush slowly; you barely take in more of Seokjin’s scolding as Jimin touches the empty holder of his gun and lowers his hand again immediately.

One more warning from Seokjin, and he turns back to the awaiting Jimin, acting as though time stood still for him. For the leader of such a notorious group, robbing half the richest people of the country, one would think he was more careful.

But as he prepares for another endless nefarious speech, expanding the night and his ego, you move to the bush quietly, careful to not make a noise until–

Seokjin hears the susurrating swishes of the bush and its leaves within a moment, only realising what’s happening when you’ve picked up the gun with trembling hands and stuffed Jimin’s phone into the back pocket of your jeans.

You hold the gun towards the man who raised and ruined you, your arms shaking so much that Seokjin can’t quite decide whether he wants to laugh or skin you alive. But he opts for an option in between, gritting his teeth with fires burning in his eyes before, broad shoulders lifting, walks over to your form. Confidence drips in his stride, like he knows you will not pull the trigger on him.

His fists are balled, ready to serve a hit; but Jimin, with all the strength he can muster, jolts forwards, nearly falling to the ground as he tugs at Seokjin’s leg and brings his body to an uncomfortable fall.

“Shoot! Anywhere, you,” Jimin yells, holding the kicking man tight, his feet missing Jimin’s face just barely, “you don’t have to kill him, baby, just–”

You’re confused and panting, your hands sweaty around the pistol, your vision becoming blurry before you blink the mist away and take a deep breath. You realise that you’re crying, and that your chest is hurting, that it’s hard to shoot someone who has thoroughly destroyed you, but who you might never be able to hate a one hundred damn percent.

But if you hesitate, he’ll end you both. And by god… you can’t lose another man you’ve learned to cherish so dearly.

You can’t.

You can’t.

So your ears ring. Twice.

It shakes your guts and your heart, sobs filling the night air as you keep holding the gun, cautious to not drop it for anyone to pick up. You stare at your target; watch him scream out in agony, a bullet-sized hole in his black pants where you missed Jimin’s hand by a hair’s breadth.

He’s writhing and cursing, attempting to stand but failing immediately. Jimin looses his grip around him and gets on his feet, hurried and tumultuous voices from the inside snatching his attention as he watches you catch your breath desperately.

Seokjin’s pain overwhelms him enough to stay on the ground for the seconds that you need, and as Jimin runs over to you with a hand on his throbbing head, adrenaline floods your body enough to regain your senses.

You grab his hand tightly, just as damp as yours, and sniffle, the survival instinct so strong that you wonder if you’ve ever experienced a sight this clear. But panic still rises in your chest, and you’re beginning to ask yourself if you’ll make it out of here alive. The steps behind you, in the manor and in your head, creep closer, and you half expect someone to tear you back by your hair.

But some of Seokjin’s people never park too far from the house; and in that sense, you reach the nearest car soon enough, gathering all your power before you lift the gun and shoot into the window thrice to weaken it. You smash the handle of it against the glass, relieved when it breaks, opening the door from the inside before you scurry Jimin and yourself inside.

Brushing large chunks of glass off your seat with your bare hand, you comb through the glove box restlessly, mumbling like a mantra, “Spare key… spare key,” until you find it.

Jimin next to you bends forward, holding his rotating head as his body sways back and forth. You want to take care of him; god, what would you do to drive him to the nearest hospital if fleeing wasn’t your first and foremost priority.

“It’s okay,” you assure, pushing him back, trying to readjust his body, so he doesn’t get hurt, “we’ll get through this. It’s okay, I promise, I fucking promise.”

More tears spill as you turn on the engine, more panic and fright coursing through your body when you hear voices grow louder and people’s faces appear in your proximity. Seokjin, from where you can still see him, has managed to stand at least somewhat, albeit still wobbly on his legs, not really able to catch up to you just yet.

With a deep breath, you drive off, not minding the bumps and darkness as you make a beeline through the carefully planted garden, and to the paved road. You go well over a hundred, your recklessness shooting past limits as well; you don’t know what you’re doing or where you’re going. Not sure how long you’ll be able to escape.

You pray for a few moments of silence, and the world grants you those just for a minute or two.

Because soon enough, you hear another car in the distance, dangerously close, and when your chest begins to rise and fall harder, you allow yourself a glance at Jimin. He’s dozing off; like his body is finally allowing him some peace.

But you’re scared of what might happen if he went silent; so you nudge his shoulder, sniffling again as you exclaim, “Hey! Hey, please, look.” He opens his eyes, his lips pouting, and follows your finger pointing at the road. “We’re almost there.”

You have no clue where there is; you just need to keep him awake.

“Listen, I…” Jimin mumbles your name, managing to place a palm on your knee, “I love you, okay? Didn’t know I ever would, back… back in the club, but… you’re so fucking…”

“Shhh,” you answer, your face drenched with tears. It hurts, fuck, it hurts so much; why does he sound like he’s saying goodbye? “Be quiet, it’s okay, yeah?”

The club. Yeah, you remember. The way you danced, and his eyes; the night, the morning after, his scent. You remember.

“Fuck, just wait a second, okay?” you repeat over and over again, terrified and alarmed, losing hope when the chasing car sneaks closer.

And you think you would promise him some more, give him more reassurances that might or might not be justified.

But then… a light blinds your vision.

Like you’re in heaven. Like you’re dying.

Whatever it is, it comes towards you at a worrying speed; and you think you hear sirens blaring behind it. In your horror and as an immediate reaction, you tear the steering wheel into the wrong direction, escaping the daunting light before you realise what you’ve done.

But there’s no time for more realisations anyway. Because suddenly, your car has left the road and entered the edge of the forest. Crashed against a tree. Airbags out, your nose bleeding, oxygen pressed out of your lungs.

Jimin, next to you, eyes closed and unresponsive.

More sirens, more lights, more shouts, and more gunshots.

And you, drifting away ultimately.

The light that you blink into once you open your eyes reminds you of heaven, too. Somehow, it proves to you that you’ve found your place beyond life, and somehow, it doesn’t scare you anymore.

And maybe you’d hold onto this thought if your limbs weren’t aching. If your body was more weightless, floating on clouds and not on what you decode as a bed very fast. Dizzy and tired, you sit up slowly. The room is empty, and only one bed stands in the middle of it.

There’s an incessant beeping in your ear, and you soon decipher where it comes from. A pipe is pumping something into you, and the monitor registers your heartbeat, steady, soft, and clearly alive.

Near your bed, on the small table, rests something like a remote control, and the symbol of the bell probably means that you could summon nurses with just one single press on it. But the quietude is nice… serene. There are questions you need answered, but for a second, you bask in the peace after the world exploded left and right around you.

And when you’re ready, you do use the button – and as expected, a flurry of nurses comes in, checking and engulfing your surroundings, like you’re an unknown species ready to be probed.

“Just… just one, please,” you plead quietly, crossing your legs under the thin blanket and your hospital gown.

Everyone except one male nurse leaves, and he sits down on the bed next to you, smiling. That’s their act, you know. It’s how the medical staff looked at you that visited the manor after Yoongi’s death. Reassuring, like they could lift your pain with this smile somehow.

You adjust to it.

“Hi,” you say, your voice friendly and quiet, but carrying remnants of fear.

“Hey,” he answers, his voice sweet and deeper than expected, “my name is Namjoon.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“How do you feel?” Namjoon questions, looking up at the monitor before he places a thumb under your eye.

He fishes out a light from the pocket of his scrub, checking your pupils carefully. God, the constant light. Annoying.

Without awaiting your answer just yet, he places a hand on your back, asking, “Can you breathe for me for a moment?” And when you do, deep inhales and exhales, he adds, “Okay. Breathing normal. Your pulse, too. You scared the hell out of us.”

“I did?”

“Hella. An accident in the middle of some forest? Running away from thugs? We don’t get that every day.”

You smile again, appreciating his humour. He doesn’t try to sugarcoat things, doesn’t attempt to lift your worries by telling you it’s going to be okay. He seems genuine, so you answer, “Thieves. Not thugs.”

“All the same evil for me,” Namjoon admits, patting your thigh, “who could care anyway? It’s done.”

You furrow your eyebrows, somewhat glad he addressed this topic before you even had the chance to mention it. Because it gives you more reason to ask, without feeling ashamed. “What do you mean by it’s… what happened?”

“Uh.” Namjoon’s full lips part, light brown hair falling into his eyes. He looks young and sweet; perhaps that’s why he understands how to talk to you. He isn’t bored of his job yet. “When we found you, one of the cops… no, detectives said you’d torn the steering wheel and knocked you and the passenger unconscious.”

At the mention of him – not even his name – something stirs in you. You want to ask.

But you wait.

“There was this big, dramatic showdown and we waited in the ambulance, because that main guy had called us to follow him. The bad guys were outnumbered, though, partly unarmed. The detectives shot a few unconscious, and arrested some more. Found the manor you fled from, repeated everything, then put an end to the horror.”

“They… did someone die?” you ask carefully, thinking about Seokjin. You don’t want him to pass away just yet – you want him to live some more. Carry guilt, sorrow and pain some more. “The leader?”

“Nah. No one died, I think,” Namjoon confirms, shrugging, “not the leader at least. He was wounded. A lot of them were, since the detectives came on so damn strong. But there will be trials soon.”

Shit. So much happened in such a short time?

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Just two days, love. It could have been worse.”

It could have been worse.

You know worse things happened. Just not to you.

“The guy next to me… the other detective–”

“Park Jimin, right?”

“Park Jimin, yeah, yes,” you say, suddenly louder, sitting up some more as Namjoon’s hands float in front of your body, protective. “Where is he? Is he…”

Your eyes whisper the word your mouth can’t, and Namjoon doesn’t understand it for a moment long enough for you to panic before his eyes blow wide and he exclaims, “Oh, no, no! God, no. He’s… he’s just in the room next to yours. But it was worse with him… longer surgeries and check ups, and he was unresponsive for a while, ‘cause his head and all…”

“And now?”

“He’s… still passed out.” He says it like he’s sorry. Like he’s not a doctor, but a God, obliged to save every single patient entering the walls of the clinic. But apparently, not even a God can help everyone. “But he’s better. The wounds are healing, so… he’ll be okay.”

You’re not sure what you need to process first.

The fact that you’re alive? That the boss of the Swans, a group impossible to catch over years, is awaiting a trial he will lose? He can’t buy himself out of this, you’re sure. Or maybe the realisation that only a wall separates you and the sleeping presence next to your room, unaware of your thoughts or what’s happening in his force?

Whatever it is, your stay at the hospital gives you ample time to think about it all.

Because Jimin doesn’t wake up for a few more days.

You stroll through the hospital grounds, share food with strangers sitting on benches, taking in the sun. Some of them are old, smacking their lips, and their hair is grey and their smiles sweet and tender. Their spouses visit them sometimes, and you wonder how it feels to spend an eternity with someone you love like this.

There are afternoons when you cuddle up in your bed, muffling the sound of past voices, trying not to think of gunshots and screams and darkness, surrounded by trees. You throw out the nurses, urge them under tears to leave you alone.

And in the evenings after those afternoons, you take more walks. More shared snacks. Taking meds for your healing head, nose and heart. Stabilising your breathing, reassuring your traumatised lungs.

Conversations with kids who broke their arms or mothers who stay here with their sick toddlers. Terminally ill people, talking about life and how it’s important to cherish it, or, alternatively, how it’s fucked up and unfair.

Every single time, you pass his room. Peek inside, see the blonde bundle of hair. His chest falls and rises, like an angel sleeping carefully, lips shining in the sunlight, albeit pale.

And when you pass the room for the fourth or fifth time – who really knows – you catch a glimpse of him looking back. Squinting, barely awake, mouth open and arms unmoving next to him.

You don’t think you’ve run to medical staff this fast. You don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life towards anything.

There are constant tears you keep wiping away, angry at them, because they’re blinding you, blurring the sight of Park Jimin coming back to life to you. You stand in the corner of the room, holding yourself together, waiting until the nurses are done with the check-ups and have confirmed his stable state and form.

Jimin doesn’t speak much – he doesn’t say hi to them or converses with them the way you did. Namjoon tells you he’s still confused, still needs to rest. And before you can say anything more to him or the man on the bed, Jimin falls asleep again.

Tonight, they allow you to stay here.

You don’t take a no, never give in. You argue that you’re okay enough and that they’re keeping you there just for science anyway. It makes no sense, you know, and they find it funny enough to laugh with you, leaving you alone ultimately.

You hold his hand all night. You brush through the dirty blonde, light, messy hair. You press a cheek against his fingers, cry silent tears into his palms.

And you don’t leave until he opens his eyes again.

He blinks at you… smiles. Glad that you’re both still here. He doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t want to know what happened over the course of The Night, as you and Namjoon have baptised the day you shall not name.

Instead, his thumb rubs the back of your hand, and the first thing he mumbles is, “We’re some tough motherfuckers.”

You laugh through your tears, relieved and breathing heavily. Your heart thumps to the beat of his; follows the rhythm of the up and down on his monitor.

“I hate this smell,” he adds, and you sob harder.

“Me too,” you tell him, “I fucking hate it, too.”

His voice… his voice. It makes you realise that he’s here, and he will stay. Min Yoongi will never be prouder of you than he might be right now. Because you’ve finally broken the metal bars of your jail.

And freedom has never felt this real.

As days pass, you and Jimin develop a quiet routine that your bodies live through automatically.

In the morning, you lay around, talking about whatever comes to your mind, focusing hard on not discussing the events that brought you here in the first place. Then, a nurse usually checks in, gives you some meds, and then leaves you for another couple hours.

Around noon, you go for a walk around hospital grounds, watching flowers bloom and children run around, fresh mothers leave with their newborn babies and elderly people conversing and bonding over similarities in illnesses.

When you come back, you eat and complain, remarking how the soup is too watery or the porridge too mushy. The orange juice here tastes too sour for some reason, and you attempt to joke about your miserable situation to endure the physical pain and frustrating smell of the hospital better.

By the evening, when the sun sets, things usually become even quieter – it’s relaxing, though, no real trace of awkwardness but of still melancholy and longing to go out into the world fearlessly again. Jimin, usually a bundle of optimism, has crawled into a shell despite still smiling now and then. Cracking a bad joke here and there.

You think it’s the pain that has made him this silent.

But when you watch the sunset through the window of his room one day, you realise what’s happening in his mind. Because you’re grazing the skin of his arm with the tip of your fingers, looking at the orange silhouette around his blonde, messy hair – but he remains unbothered, instead whispering, “It’s always so pretty. The sky during this time.”

And you answer, “It’s like no sunset’s the same, right?”

To which he states, “Right. Hospitals may be shitty, but I think I’ll remember these moments with you.” Then, he looks at you, smiling tenderly before his gaze shifts back to the sky and he adds, “Hope you will, too.”

That’s when you understand. Jimin’s painting a picture of a future that differs so much from what you imagine; like your roles have been reversed. He knows what you feel for him – but you know that he remembers your fears, too. Perhaps he thinks you might change your mind and leave.

Thinks you might back away and revisit the life you had before you met him. And more than ever, you feel like you need to clarify your thoughts and erase his doubts.

So you gulp for a moment, placing a warm palm on the back of his hand before you ask, “We can remember more of those moments, right?” You smile at him, scared you might be losing what you finally thought yours. “Together?”

When Jimin looks at you again, the smile he responds with looks ingenuine. A little like the hopeless promises you gave him weeks ago when he asked you to stay. When you’d nod yes, tell him you weren’t going anywhere despite knowing deep down that you weren’t going to last.

You know the look – his is the same. And it’s terrifying.

Rushing and panicked, you lean forward, keeping your voice calm to not overwhelm him as you whisper, “I know you think I’ll leave again. But this time…”

He waits patiently, full lips opening just by a tiny fraction. You hold his gaze for a moment, a little lost in the waves of his pupils, and when they remind you of still water, you rewind and build your sentence new.

“When Yoongi died,” your hand stops over his fingers, softly entwining your grips, “he was on a ship. With Seokjin and his people. I wasn’t there.”

Jimin’s eyes look empathic, the gap between his lips widening as if to say something soothing, but you continue, “Seokjin said Yoongi drowned, because the ship sank… and apparently, he was one of the few who could escape the accident. And, well, I believe that one of those things was a lie.”

You roll your eyes to hide the pain, hoping that Jimin doesn’t see them well up in the evening sunlight. “Ships don’t just sink.” You sniffle, your mouth twitching upwards to a grin you hardly mean, and explain, “Knowing of a death like that comes with so many side effects. Like. I was scared of the ocean. Really fucking terrified.”

You remember the sleepless nights. For the first time in your life, you felt what an insomniac felt, spending the late hours awake, contemplating love, the breaths you took, the memories you carried. Wondered if you’d ever be able to see pictures of high waves again; if you’d ever accept an invitation to a beach trip again.

But.

“I’m using past tense, because I did get over it. You know how?” Jimin stays still and silent, watching you, furrowing his eyebrows in worry as he tilts his head in question. “I watched videos of paintings. You know, those tutorials… acrylic painting stuff. I didn’t wanna learn, I just wanted to ease my mind, and to be able to sleep. And then one day, I stumbled upon this one woman painting the night.”

Starry and quiet. You remember the utensils the artist used. A lot of tape to form a circle, drawing and tapping the brush around it until she took the tape off and painted the very last object that completed the picture at last.

“The ocean at night, to be specific,” you elaborate, smacking your lips, nodding, “but you know what else it had? The moon. And I’ve always admired the moon.”

Amidst your confessions, Jimin laughs quietly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb before he finally breaks and asks, “What are you trying to say?”

“That something will be nice about your fears, too, I guess. You’ll find something redeeming even when you’re afraid. And we can’t be afraid forever anyway.” You chuckle softly, realising how crazy you must sound – but now that you’ve started, you might go all the way after all. “When I saw the moon, it was too pretty to be scared of the ocean anymore. The reflection was beautiful.”

In the distance, you hear the chatter of passing nurses, quiet whispers and laughter. It’s a good alternative to the usually hushed talk about grief and failed days at work, and you listen to their inaudible, cheerful conversation until it’s out of reach. On agonisingly slow days, this optimism keeps you afloat.

“So…” you add, fully aware how corny you must sound – but you don’t care, because you think that after all this time… he deserves to know. “Maybe you can be the moon in this new scenario. And maybe my fears of opening up are below the surface of the ocean. If I swim up, take a breath and look at the elegance that the combination of the moon and ocean is… maybe things can be okay again then.”

You’d be the surface then, right? The carrier of everything that lies underneath the waves. The host of the fears, but focused on beauty instead of scary depths.

“Do I even make sense?” you question when he stares for too long, most likely processing the words that not even you can’t quote anymore.

“I think so,” he answers, holding onto you tight, leaning in, “it makes sense.” Soft, rosy lips brush against yours before meeting your mouth gently. It’s nothing more than a peck, a fleeting touch that he breaks to say, “But I think you should think of yourself as the moon first.”

Despite the nonsense you just uttered, his words fly by you in a moment’s notice. But you don’t question the message further. Instead, you bask in the silence of the world, watching the sun descend and the moon ascend.

You don’t ask him what he meant when you go to sleep. Neither do you question his words when several more days pass, and you get used to your nurse’s kindness. When they release you and let you walk freely and you keep coming back to visit Jimin.

Even when he leaves, still drowsy on medication, strolling through the world after weeks, you don’t wonder about the meaning behind whatever he’d attempted to let you know. Less even, when you watch the trial and Seokjin behind bars, let Jimin help you get away with some social work, because you always suffered blackmail and manipulation by Mister Kim.

Doubts and insecurities about the feelings you house for him only resurface when he doesn’t touch you anymore. He doesn’t kiss you and doesn’t tell you he loves you. Nevertheless, he stays with you. Lets his shiny, sweet personality seep through his cracks soon again, finding new jokes to cheer you up with.

But the romance you shared, the one you reckoned would finally bloom healthily now – it stays dormant.

That is, until you pull him to your car on a cold winter afternoon, refusing to tell him where you’re going despite his incessant, poking inquiries. You distract him with your favourite songs, attempting to resist his teases, ignoring the way he squishes your cheeks, the way he trolls you for cursing at other drivers.

It isn’t until you drive off the highway and through an old, historic town, following your navigation’s instructions that you land at an empty, freezing beach.

Apart from you, there are only teenagers taking an evening walk, or couples laughing their way along the shore, a hand clutching a leash while their dogs run freely. They’re covered in thick jackets just like you, and they’re wiping their hair out of their faces just like you when you exit the vehicle.

They’re living and breathing and joking around the way you are – and still, something about you and your souls separates you from the rest of the world and its inhabitants.

“I…” Jimin mutters, brushing back the tresses that keep falling into his eyes, “are you sure this is the right place?”

You smile.

There will never be enough reassurances for him to understand that you don’t fear the seaside anymore. Jimin is always careful, though, always easy on you, tries to make sure you’re okay – multiple times, until you’ve sighed in frustration and demonstrated you’re over whatever worry.

You guess this might be the ultimate confrontation, though. You might not be able to step to where the waves meet the land just yet – perhaps you’ll postpone starfish-gazing and shell-collecting to another day.

But for now, this should do. So you nod slowly, answering, “Yeah. Of course. I know you like it, and… I just wanted to thank you.”

“That’s new. No mocking today an–”

“Shut up. I’m serious. Not anyone would just force me to abandon a temporary…” you scrunch your nose in disgust, “shabby old apartment and give up the guest room for me, and you just… just thank you for being an anchor.”

Since your accident and your hospital stay, Jimin and you have adjusted to each other’s fears enough to know when to digress. Your conversations have become more light-hearted, an attempt to dodge the gloom that hangs over your heads and the trauma connected to it. You don’t bottle up feelings per se – it’s more a try to move on. To forget.

Together.

But sometimes, when the room falls quiet and the smiles and jokes die down, you’ll say something to warm his heart, or vice versa. And none of you respond with much but a soft, simple smile. Reassuring, comforting. A palm on the other’s hand. A slight nod.

Jimin does the same this time before you flash a smile back, breathing in the air as you lean against the engine hood with your arms folded around your torso. He sniffles from the cold, and for a few minutes, you stare into the distance with squinted eyes, letting the wind burn in your eyes.

You watch the waves crash against the shore and rocks. From afar, you observe a child holding a shell pressed against his ear, not quite realising that he doesn’t need it in order to listen to the ocean. You want to tell him it won’t work from here – but instead, your eyes dart to his parents, and their laughter fills you with warmth.

Seagulls make happy sounds and descend from the air, just for a moment to touch the surface of the water. And only when you’ve breathed in more of the salty air, does Jimin clear his throat, look at you and say, “Thank you, too. It’s nice to leave the house for a bit.”

“It is.”

“And you look happy today, too.”

You blink at him, not quite expecting his statement; but then you laugh a little, humming before you tell him, “I think I am. It just,” you shrug, clicking your tongue, “feels nice to not think of the past all the time anymore.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Like, I catch myself planning tomorrow’s dinner and next week’s trip to the old town,” you continue, enthusiasm and vitality in your firm voice, “or I consider buying stuff for a new hobby, and even getting another, proper degree. It’s just. Nice.”

With a purposeful shift, Jimin’s body inches closer, his shoulder touching yours, and you look at his side profile when he questions, “Do you know what major you’d choose?”

“Not at all,” you confess, shifting towards his body, too. If you could, you would put your head on his shoulder and bask in his warmth and affection. But you hold yourself back a second longer as you add, “Something fun. How about archeology? Or astronomy. Just anything, so I’ve something to do and don’t bother you all the time anymore. Perhaps get a job and move out and–”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin interrupts, nudging your elbow slightly, “you staying. I don’t mind it.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

You let your arms fall and bury one hand in the pocket of your jacket, bringing the other to your hair to comb through it slowly. Your tongue darts out to lick your dry lips wet, gulping for a moment as you process his words, but remark anyway, “But I can’t stay forever.”

It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning tone hiding in your voice, unsure and timid, like you’re hoping he’d wave your worries off and keep you with him anyway. And to your relief, he shrugs his shoulders, giving in to your hopes as he asks, “And why not?”

You fall silent.

The last months have been nothing but a healing process, soft and quiet and well-paced. You split the chores, spent time together and alone, going for walks in the evenings and visiting places to see more of the world. No matter what you feel for him, the friendship you’ve grown to is worth more than the painful love was.

But you still can’t deny that the thought of being with him–

“Being around you is a challenge,” Jimin suddenly says, looking at you, drawing closer.

He pushes his body off the hood of the car to step in front of you, hiding the sun and the ocean. His silhouette leans in, placing a palm on your waist and wrapping the other around your own hand.

For a split moment, your heart stills, and your mind tries to make sense of his words that followed the suggestion to keep him company so immediately. So you furrow your eyebrows in wonder, pupils flickering, and ask, “Why?”

“I just,” he starts. Then pauses.

It’s a peculiar thing, his pair of eyes.

You never quite know what he might say next – you reckon that’s how he felt when he first met you. The indecipherable stare, almost succeeding in veiling fears. But you know him well enough. You understand that he’s feeling uneasy, insecure.

And when he speaks again, you know why.

“I’m still in love with you.”

Still in love…

Was there any piece of you that thought he stopped loving you? Was there ever a little voice whispering to you that he’d moved on, realised that you were no good for him? And if there wasn’t, then why are you still surprised?

“I feel like being around you without telling you this is a challenge,” Jimin continues, shrugging his shoulders, his demeanour relaxed and nonchalant, but his voice fond and loving, “and I want you to stay with me. But I needed to let this out first.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or cheer. Wipe your tears or fall into his arms. The euphoria and rush of adrenaline you feel are strangely wrapped in bittersweetness, and when you can’t figure out how to move your body, you continue to stay still.

With your mind still somewhat functioning, however, you open your mouth, swallowing another thick lump before you ask, “Then why didn’t we…”

Do this earlier? Give in to each other months ago? Fall asleep on the same bed, kissing and smiling, indulging in understanding and solace?

“You weren’t happy,” is what he argues. He chews on the inside of his cheek and moves towards you. Lets out a sigh of longing. “And I’m just… not as good at stitching people up as others might be. I thought I was, but you did for yourself what I couldn’t have.”

If you were somewhere else or with someone else, you might be mad. In another time or space, you might’ve felt your heart break at someone’s reluctance to help you heal. But since you’ve known Jimin, you’ve realised that no one in this world should truly depend on anyone else.

When people go to therapy, or find a confidant to pour their heart out to, do they truly do it to seek help and heal in the process? Or do they do it to learn more about themselves, to finally understand what they need to do in order to find happiness and the will to exist?

Perhaps Jimin has understood something that you didn’t before – that he would guide you through sorrow, but that it was ultimately you who’d pull yourself out of it fully.

You entwine your fingers with his, shivering from the cold, and then murmur somewhat inaudibly, “Thank you. For guiding me.”

“It’s the least I could do… I just didn’t think you could take love and… everything that comes with it just yet.”

“And now?”

Jimin sighs again, and you see his eyes soften behind the blonde strands of hair that the gust keeps blowing into his face. One last step, one slight shake of his head, and suddenly, your foreheads are touching.

The hand on your waist pulls your body close and against his, and then his fingers wander to your face to settle on your cheek as he whispers, “Now you look like…”

He doesn’t speak further, but you think you understand.

Back in the hospital room, when he said you needed to be your own moon, he meant that you had to find a cure in yourself, not in someone else. He’s rather the warm sun reassuring the moon; searing hot and comforting. Like the star going down in the horizon right now.

Lately, his presence has started feeling like a constant; like home. Not like the night, but like the light of the day.

He brushes back your hair, tilts his head. He smiles, and you remember the first time he looked at you – back when you knew nothing about him except for the fact that his touch felt different.

When you left his home after the very first night. Then met him again in his office. When he told you he wasn’t a toy who you’d use to patch yourself up again, but someone who wished to be your ultimate choice; because you wanted him to be, not because you needed it for your own selfish reasons.

Since then, quite a few things have changed; with time passing, they feel different now. Less dark.

Today, his words of you being your own moon finally make sense. It wasn't because he wasn’t ready. But because he was waiting for you to be ready.

Now you look like…

You look like he’s the only one you want to kiss. Like he’s the only one whose lips you crave. No past ghosts, no haunting memories, no old habits and toxic coping mechanisms.

For the very first time, no demon gnaws at your mind when his lips touch yours once again.

okay, ngl, this was the HARDEST fic i’ve ever written and it drove me insane. i know it’s not perfect, and i’m not a detective/mystery author, but i hope this was ok and the work from over half a year worth it 🥺  i hope you guys like how it turned out !!

if you did, please please consider liking AND reblogging !! i appreciate feedback, even if it’s just keysmashing in the tags, and it’s super important to me with this fic <33 i’m happy about all (kind) words, so feel free to talk to me hehe :]

#jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin x you #bts x you #bts x reader #jimin x reader #pjm smut #jimin scenario #jimin fic #bts fic #bts imagines #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin smut #jimin fanfic

[taetaespeaches]

“I wish people could hibernate.”

jimin x reader genre: fluff word count: 1.1K

a/n: Hi lovelies! One of my favorite things about watching In The Soop was watching Jimin sleep the days away. There’s something so comforting and sweet about seeing him rest like that. So this fic kind of acts as my wish for him—a cozy night with a loved one where he can just be at peace and rest. Anyways, I love Jimin and that’s what this is. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading :))

The only light in the room was pouring out from the open closet door, Jimin having left in on after digging around for an extra blanket. The bedroom had dropped a few degrees when the snow started falling outside, covering the trees and sidewalks in a sheet of white and leaving a crispness in the air.

You watched the flakes fall outside the window, Jimin’s face nuzzled against your shoulder with the extra blanket tucked around both of your cozy forms. The moment felt so ideal, almost like a dream. “Cross your fingers,” you broke the peaceful quiet that had settled around you both.

“Hmm?” Jimin hummed in question.

“For a snow day tomorrow,” you clarified, earning an amused breathy chuckle from your boyfriend. “We could spend all day in bed.”

“Just like this?” Jimin asked, lifting his head to look at you.

Your eyes lingered on the warmth in his features as you slowly nodded. Jimin was known for his incredible stage presence, but even in bed with his hair disheveled and his eyes growing heavier, he was ethereal. You were convinced there must be a halo hanging over his head that made his presence glow. “Just like this.”

“My fingers are crossed then,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Oh my god, did you hear my conversation earlier?”

Giggling, you nodded, threading your fingers through your soft strands. “Parts, it was your mom, right?”

“Yes,” he groaned, only making you laugh further. “Teaching her how to use technology is so,” he cut himself off with a sigh. “I have so much patience.”

Smiling, you hummed in understanding and also amusement at his concluding statement. Jimin could be patient, but he was also notorious for his lack of it that always resulted in a good amount of sass. “What did you have to help her with?”

“Uber,” Jimin muttered into your neck, his lips probably positioned into a pout. “Since they’re coming to visit soon she wanted to download the app.”

“So all that trouble was over downloading Uber?” You questioned, Jimin chuckling as he nodded. “Just wait until she has to actually use it,” you teased, Jimin laughing against your skin before groaning at the thought.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” he complained, rolling away from you slightly to rest his head next to yours on the pillows. “I did lose my cool once,” he giggled guiltily. “Just a quick, mom! Just listen to me!”

Gasping in feigned shock, you shook your head at him. “And I was just about to commend you for all that patience too,” you spoke, the words melting into a big yawn you let slip from your mouth. The sound made Jimin snap his face towards you.

“Hey,” Jimin kissed your cheek as you attempted to bury your face in the pillows. “Dear, no, stay awake a little longer.” When you groaned in response, you could feel the way his mouth opened into a smile against the side of your face.

“Stop smiling, this isn’t fair,” you mumbled into the pillow just as Jimin lifted his face from yours. When you peeked up at him, he had his head propped up underneath his arm, that pretty smile positioned on his face. “See, that. That one, right there.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, his grin only widening as his eyes turned to crescents.

“I can’t possibly shove my face into the pillows and ignore you when I know you’re flashing that pretty smile around,” you complained through a playful glare. A breathy chuckle lightly shook Jimin’s body as he rolled onto his back.

“I just want you to stay awake a little longer,” he slightly whined. “It’s perfect outside.”

“But we’re not outside,” you teased him, watching as he shot you a quick glare.

“It’s perfect in here too,” he added, making you nod in agreement. It was. The ambiance of the weather surely added to the cozy sleepiness you and Jimin both felt, making the cuddles hit harder than usual. It felt most ideal, his soft warm legs intertwined with your own underneath the weight of the blankets.

“I wish people could hibernate,” you pouted. “We could spend the entire winter just like this.”

Wrapping his hand around your wrist, he lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the center of your palm. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he exhaled in content. “Me too, Dear.” Jimin stared out the window and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. The man was so stunning and alluring. His jawline enticed you to trace along its edge, leading up to plush lips that protruded in the most kissable way. His soft hair had a habit of falling into his gaze, always tempting you to run your hand through the silky strands to push it back and out of the way of those pretty eyes.

Feeling you stare at him, Jimin rolled his head towards you, immediately flashing one of those soft smiles where his eyes melted with affection. Fondness washed over you as you placed your hand on the side of his face, your thumb gently swiping back and forth over his cheek bone.

“What animals hibernate besides bears?” He asked, his grin only growing as you gave him a gleeful look.

“Um, I think hedgehogs,” you thought aloud.

“That’s cute,” he hummed. You brushed the pad of your fingertip along his face, appreciating the way his eyelashes fluttered against the pads under his eyes. Everything about him was so pretty. “Anything else?” He asked, his eyes still softly shut as he was persuaded into relaxation with your simple touch.

You thought for a moment before stumbling on another animal in your mind. “Oh! Box turtles.” The excitement in your voice coaxed Jimin’s eyes open and pulled a lighthearted giggle from him as he inched his face towards yours.

“Well, tonight,” he announced, pausing to kiss you sweetly. “We’re box turtles, Dear,” he whispered against your lips. “And if that snow day comes through for us, tomorrow too.” Brushing your fingers through his hair, pushing it from his forehead so you could see his angelic features in their fullness, you smiled before kissing him once more in a wordless agreement.

The hibernation wouldn’t last forever. But every shared moment with Jimin, no matter how fleeting, held some sort of eternity. It all had a lasting memory that you could return to just with a glimpse of his warm smile and a touch from his gentle hands. There was a sense of forever in the way you held each other close as his plush lips moved tenderly with yours and across your features. Because he was your forever. Because he loved you and you loved him. And that was eternal.

#jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin fic #jimin imagine #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin drabble #jimin oneshot #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts fics #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfics #bts drabbles #bts oneshots

[taeandpuppies]

What your cameraroll looks like if you're dating Park Jimin

#bts #park jimin #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenario #jimin fluff #bts fluff #jimin boyfriend material #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #bts boyfriend material

[jiminrings]

maybe me

pairing: jimin x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: maybe it’s stupid of jimin to take on everything at once, all by himself. maybe it’s rash of him to book a long-term stay at a luxury hotel, even if it comes with a family discount. but maybe, just maybe, jimin would have nothing to lose and everything to gain if he lets you in.

alternatively, jimin’s a single dad who would do anything for his daughter, even if it means taking advantage of your trust.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ angst, dilf jimin is all over the place but he’s trying his best, wholesome fluff, emotional baggage, allusions to anxiety, moral dilemma regarding stealing, more angst BUT also eventual redemption in the next parts :) ]

notes: peter, the horse The Dilf is here o_O this series is finally out of the backburner and i can’t be any more relieved!! gentle reminder that it gets even more angst from here (so pls take a break when necessary!!) but i promise that there’ll be redemption <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

Jimin can’t afford to have pride nowadays.

What he can afford, however, is crippling anxiety as a single dad to his ten-month old daughter and the overwhelming urge to restart and relocate to the big city where the two of them could have a better future. Those two things specifically, plus whatever his daughter sets her eyes on at the grocery store.

“Do you want this, Yuri?” Jimin looks down on her strapped to his chest with the best baby carrier he could buy, squinting at the label of the item she was so fixed on staring upon. “A sixty-six count pack of Ziploc brand sandwich bags featuring Lightning McQueen?”

Jimin attempts to think about it — like really think about it. His mind’s about to drift how Yuri’s already watched a few movies to enrich her brain (maybe talking cars isn’t the best idea yet) and she can recognize when Cars is on because of the ka-chow! he says under his breath whenever Lightning says it. He was just about to think how he could possibly rationalize purchasing so many sandwich bags until he doesn’t have to.

Yuri’s smiling up at him, all with tiny little teeth and dimples, and suddenly Jimin doesn’t have to think anymore; he puts the pack of sandwich bags with talking cars on them (that he has no real use for) in the cart.

It’s a relief that he could still afford these types of things.

Jimin would not stop at anything to provide for Yuri, giving himself a pat on the back for being wise with his money before she came along. He granted himself luxuries before there was her, but nowadays, luxury was merely defined as having the same things that mattered for his daughter. White noise machine with Bluetooth feature, surround-sound, bass boost, and reverb? Check. A crib that you can turn into a co-sleeper then a proper bed when she grows up? Check. A dispenser that warms up baby wipes? Check.

The moment Yuri was born, Jimin was no longer the skilled and reliable paralegal in a high-end law firm. The moment she first cried and was handed to him because his ex didn’t want her, Jimin became the anxious, yet extremely dedicated and loving, single dad.

Either he was extremely smart or extremely impulsive for doing everything he’s done the past week and despite it all, he’s here grocery shopping with Yuri and laughing as she keeps testing her grip strength on whatever they walk past.

It’s as if Jimin didn’t terminate his lease two hours ago and the moving truck he rented is parked awkwardly outside.

It’s as if he doesn’t have the tangible extensions of his and his daughter’s life right outside the store, from the boxes of his clothes to Yuri’s co-sleeper.

Jimin can afford sustaining himself, his daughter, and his quality of living for ten straight months without working. But if there’s anything that the past week has taught him, his worrying akin to when it was Yuri’s first night home and he didn’t know if he was doing anything right, Jimin can’t afford pride.

His phone rings in his pocket and it jolts him, almost making him cuss. He knows for sure that it’s the call he’s been waiting for since this morning, eyes closing in relief.

He can’t afford being prideful because he called the last person he’d ever build up the courage to ask for help — his half-brother.

“Jimin? What’s the matter, are you alright?” Namjoon asks, unbothered to mask his worry. “You called like 52 times.”

They don’t hate each other, they really don’t. They know each other because they lived under the same roof for years. There’s no animosity between them, just the overwhelming feeling of not knowing how to act around each other. 

Between Jimin and Namjoon, there was respect. Perhaps, too much respect and formality that they’ve never breached the territory of acting how real, whole brothers do — warm and unreserved.

But it’s okay, it’s okay now that Namjoon answered. It’s always been okay with them and Jimin doesn’t want to jeopardize that by asking what he’s about to, but he has to take his chances. Whatever it is that his brother says, it’ll be okay too. Everything he’s been doing the past ten months, especially the past few weeks, is all for Yuri.

“Namjoon, you’re the personal assistant of a hotelier, right?” Jimin asks, holding Yuri’s tiny hand for comfort. “A-and you have benefits, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon breathes out, still a little shell-shocked because he doesn’t know what this has to do with anything. “Are you okay? Is Yuri okay? Why did-…”

“Thirty-percent off for company employees when they stay at any branch of the hotel for less than a month,” Jimin recalls, proving that he was clearly listening the time Namjoon told him about his job. “And fifty-percent off for company employees who want to have a long-term stay.”

“Yes? What does this have to do with your missed calls?” Namjoon blinks rapidly, literally unable to read between the lines because Jimin barely gave him any to begin with. “Is my niece okay?”

Jimin’s heart briefly warms at Namjoon’s acknowledgement for Yuri but he shrugs it off for the meantime, remaining focused.

“And because you’re working directly under your hotelier, that benefit can be transferrable to family, right?”

It takes one, two seconds before Namjoon realizes that his half-brother wasn’t just rambling about his employee benefits out of nowhere.

In the cookware aisle where Yuri keeps pointing at the Le Creuset heart ramekin that he already knows he’s going to buy without a second thought, Jimin proves for the millionth time that losing his pride is no problem if it’s for his daughter’s sake.

“Namjoon, please. I need your help,” Jimin humbly admits. “We’re family, right?”

( ♡ )

Jimin loves hotels.

The moment Namjoon agreed to let him use his employee discount for a long-term stay at the hotel he works at, he hightails it out of the grocery with a lighter aura. Yuri perhaps notices it, being more calm now because as her head is pressed to his chest, she could feel how his heartbeat’s relaxed.

Jimin takes the four-hour drive to the city like an absolute champ, Yuri even more so now that she’s tucked to her car seat and reunited with her emotional support blanket with her name hand-stitched by Jimin himself. It wasn’t the best, really. The stitches are clear but the tension is off, the characters only understandable if you take a good second to stare and tilt your head because the alignment was lopsided. It wasn’t the best but it was Jimin’s best — that’s good enough.

He figured that doing a fifty-percent discounted stay at a hotel, a luxury one on top of that, would be a hundred times better and cheaper than renting a temporary place in the big, expensive city until he could find his bearings. Jimin didn’t need to pay utilities, breakfast would be taken care of, amenities were free, and he didn’t have to worry about the safety of the area; it’s practically equivalent to a vacation.

The moment Namjoon met him and Yuri by the lobby, Jimin feels like he’s been transported back to his childhood home where the couches were lived-in and the floors were warm from the paths of their steps. Namjoon only had ten years on him and yet he was always dignified in his eyes; sturdy to the point of stiff, yet polite when necessary.

Jimin didn’t feel that composed, calculated persona when he saw Namjoon time this though, not at all. With all his worry that he had never seen before on his half-brother, Namjoon embraces him. Fully hugs him tightly and he could even hear a relieved sigh, pulling away when he hears Yuri’s squeal.

She’s smart, that much he’s figured. Could already stand stably on her feet for a few seconds without assistance and say coherent mumbles here and there that would soon turn into actual words. In fact, Jimin just realized now that Yuri could also place faces, recognizing Namjoon whom she only saw probably five times ever.

“What’s with the sudden move?” Namjoon furrows his brows at him, taking Yuri from him without a word and he lets him because his arms were starting to cramp from driving. 

“Came to me in a fever dream, actually. I didn’t know you could have that with two-hour naps even without a fever,” Jimin shudders at recollection of the haunting thought that came to him a few weeks ago. “A talking whale cussed me out and told me I was being a shitty dad by not giving Yuri the best I could.”

“You’re not a shitty dad,” Namjoon corrects him albeit softly, the conviction there but not as energetic because he didn’t want to jolt his niece awake.

“Eh,” Jimin shrugs, lightly laughing upon the realization that holy shit, this is the most unplanned, casual, yet deepest conversation he’s had with Namjoon. “I try my best, I guess.”

Namjoon reserves the other words he has in mind and instead digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a keycard to the room that Jimin begged him for. “Have you eaten dinner already?”

“Nope. I fed Yuri at the rest stop, was supposed to eat dinner, but then we had to leave early because I remembered that I double-parked,” he chuckles, only dawning on him now when he looks around and barely sees people in the lobby that it was already late into the night.

Namjoon, who’s been itching to go home since four in the afternoon, suddenly lost the pressing urge to crash in his bed despite being ten in the evening. God, Jimin really is selfless. If he felt sorry for him awhile ago when he suddenly called him for a huge favor, he feels even more sorry now. The weight of Yuri in his arms reminds him that this is all the weight and more that Jimin’s carried alone for ten months and counting, heavy enough to make Namjoon think that holding off from going home a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ll call room service up for you. Your dinner’s on me,” Namjoon softly smiles, genuinely, and Jimin could almost pass out from the fraction of the brotherly warmth he— they could’ve had all this time if only they became close. Not just okay, but actually close.

“Thank you, Joon,” Jimin slightly bows, a force of habit that his half-brother wants him to get rid of. He’ll tell him off eventually, but not now when it’s clear he’s had a long day.

Barely thirty minutes since Jimin stepped foot into the hotel yet he could already tell that his stay here would be undoubtedly life-changing. It’s a new experience; a new, terrifying yet ground-breaking experience for him and Yuri to go through, but atleast they have each other.

When Jimin feels like drowning, Yuri drains the water for him.

The moment he taps the heavy metal card to the door, Jimin sighs in relief and thanks whoever is listening. The room exceeded his expectations and more, making the mental note to appreciate it later and instead instruct the bellman where to put the boxes for now with a gracious tip. Jimin still has so much things to unpack, calls to make, and arrangements to handle, but when Yuri yawns, he’s reminded of his first priority.

He sets her down for now on the middle of the large and pristine bed, unpacking and installing her co-sleeper first before changing her. Jimin could only hope that Yuri doesn’t take the drastic difference of environment too roughly, but nonetheless, he comes prepared because he’s already stacking the fridge with the coffee he brought.

When he sees Yuri sleeping soundly in just a matter of minutes (even without the white noise machine), Jimin knows he did a good job today.

He did a good job doing everything that he had to do in the past month and unexpectedly, so did Namjoon by being the reason to why Jimin could not stop gushing at all the free stuff he could take home.

The only problem at the moment is that home isn’t defined, but he’ll just have to worry about it tomorrow.

Jimin gives himself too many pats on the back for even thinking of the accommodation. Even the hair and shower products here were luxury, none of the unbranded, minimalist (is it really minimalist or is there little thought and budget put into it?) products that some hotels carry.

In fact, the sudden reprieve Jimin has from having the most stressful 72 hours he’s had after some time makes him feel invincible. Oddly brave. Oddly too courageous that before he knows it, he’s turning the hot water on and even more oddly, doesn’t rush his shower; even has the balls to exfoliate properly and put a leave-on body mask.

He’s fifteen minutes into his sudden self-nurturing moment until he hears Yuri squirming around, a murmur here and a low gurgle there.

Then she really starts to cry.

It’s the type of cry that makes him want to redo the last fifteen minutes and turn on the white noise machine before he went to go shower. It’s the type of his daughter’s cry that makes his stomach sink because it reminds him of the inkling feeling that shit, maybe he is a bad father. The type that makes him rethink of the sudden move and his performance as a dad the past ten months.

Jimin suddenly feels panicked again, the lavender and cotton scent of the mask on his scalp turning cloying to him as soon as he hears Yuri sob.

“Yuri, baby? What’s the matter?” he yells out as if she could answer, cussing himself under his breath. 

“I-I just-! Appa just put on his scrub! It’s the leave-on type!” he yells out again for her to hear past the thick glass pane, having hope when her cries decrease in volume. “Five minutes? Can you give appa five minutes, Yuri? Please, baby?”

Jimin gathers his wits, strengthening his resolve. His plea was basically useless because Yuri cried even louder. The 4-7-8 breathing method he used to do when he stumbled on dead ends when researching case material as a paralegal is barely helping now, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling of inadequacy.

His mom told him about this before. Yuri’s at that age where she just cries because she wants to! It’s okay, Jimin. She needs to know that she can soothe herself!

Five minutes, okay. For five minutes, Jimin would remain in the bathroom and try to relax, letting Yuri gather her bearings and soothe herself. Five minutes won’t hurt that much.

He’s jittery inside and now he doesn’t even get to be awed at the luxury shower products doing wonders for him, instead worried how Yuri will do in the 300 seconds she’ll be left alone.

It barely registers to Jimin how this must come across to the guests around him. He’s immune to Yuri’s cries to the point that he doesn’t fully grasp just how loud she can get.

You aren’t. You’re not immune to the cries at all. 

You’re only supposed to be making your rounds before you go home, an unneeded routine that you do anyway because lately you’ve been procrastinating driving back to your own house.

You’ve just gotten out of the elevator when you hear a baby crying so loudly and clearly from the end of the hall that you just can’t ignore it. Even the room service staff who’s coming from the other hand is just as surprised, his cart coming to the direction anyway. Your assistant, Namjoon, personally instructed him to bring food to the door.

You’re a familiar figure to the employees, obviously because you’re the hotelier and come from a famous family of one. It wasn’t exactly the norm for the actual head of the hotel to do the rounds herself or appear and oversee operations regularly in general, but what shocked your employee the most was that you heard it too; it wasn’t just a trick of his mind that there’s a baby loudly crying through the soundproof walls.

“Why’s nobody soothing the baby?” you wonder out loud, brows knitting in confusion. You’re worried, that type of cry coming from a baby, or any cry in general, anchoring a sinking feeling on your chest.

“I-I don’t know either, Miss,” Seokjin, his nametag reads, replies. Not only is he worried about the baby who just won’t seem to stop crying, he’s also nervous because he can’t believe the hotelier is talking to him directly.

“Could it be that no one’s there? Just the baby?” your mind runs, bottom lip trembling. Situations like these worried you beyond explanation, your heart softening in recollection. “I-I mean, what if the baby isn’t okay?”

You wait for two minutes. You and Seokjin freeze and wait for two minutes and the crying still doesn’t stop, setting off all the alarms in your head that it makes you dig for your own card in your bag.

You screw your eyes shut and tap the master key, hoping that you’re in the wrong and not right about thinking of worst case scenarios. As soon as you open the door and quickly scan the room, you’re relieved when you see a cute baby crying her lungs out on a co-sleeper. You come to her just in case, holding her up and assessing for any indications of what could’ve made her cry this hard.

There’s luggages, boxes, and shoes. Chelsea boots that clearly don’t fit a baby’s feet.

Oh.

You’re in the wrong.

Jimin emerges from the bathroom with a towel on, still dripping wet. He thought his fatigued mind was playing tricks on him when he heard the door click, but as soon as his eyes adjust and he sees you, standing in his bedroom holding Yuri; someone he does not know at all holding a keycard different from his — he loses almost all sense.

“Who the fuck are you?! Why the hell are you holding my daughter?”

Your eyes widen, not only because you misread the situation completely and there’s a half-naked handsome guy in front of you, but also because you let your instincts overtake you again — this time overstepping into a guest’s room.

Jimin thinks your face is familiar but he can’t focus on that when all he could do is panic, his mind all over the place that he only belatedly realizes that Yuri has stopped crying since.

“Why are you— no, who are you?” you return the question, your panic for what the situation seems like suddenly returning.

“What the fuck? Did you just break into my-…” Jimin’s veins are about to pop out when he tries to register everything — from the way you’re dressed elegantly and sophisticatedly not like the employees, to your keycard being a different color than his yet managing to open the door, to how you’re just as concerned as he is and not trying to flee.

Oh.

Jimin thinks that he contributed to you doing your wrong.

“Miss Y/N!” 

Namjoon’s voice bellows from the hallway, letting himself in after Seokjin quickly filled him in on what happened. He’s sweating and heaving, wild eyes flickering between you and Jimin, and then Yuri now that she’s suddenly awake, throwing her a little wave.

“Namjoon?” you and Jimin ask at the same time, staring at each other.

The two of you no longer look hostile but there’s more questions raised than there are answers given, your gazes syncing to look at Namjoon who’s still catching his breath.

“Oh, I see,” your assistant breathlessly chuckles, nodding to himself. “I-I see. I think I know what happened here.”

“Do you know this guy?” you’re first to ask, a hesitant look flitting to the man who’s still half-naked and dripping wet in his towel.

Namjoon nods, straightening his posture before looking pointedly at Jimin. “Yeah. Jimin, this is our hotelier — my boss,” he emphasizes, coughing and gesturing to his lack of modesty that it prompts aforementioned to cross his arms, unintentionally highlighting his defined biceps.

“Miss Y/N, this is Jimin,” he smiles, trying to diffuse the tension. You and Jimin both want to sink to the floor out of embarrassment, leaving Namjoon the odd one out because he knows now that his plan of coming home in the next five minutes is soiled. “He’s my half-brother.”

.

.

.

You admit that it’s rash of you to enter yourself in the situation. You may have overstepped your boundaries as both a hotelier and a stranger, but that didn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t attempt to save face.

“So you’re her dad? Can I see some ID?” you clear your throat, finally being able to look him in the eye when you turn because he’s not only covered by a towel this time.

Jimin shakes his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. He doesn’t even have to prove anything to you at this point, already being verified by Namjoon and yet for some reason, he still indulges you.

He runs his hand through his hair that’s still damp, walking across the room to get to his wallet and fetch his driver’s license.

“Her name’s Yuri and yes, I’m her dad.”

Yuri?

The name puts a knot on your throat, the melancholic taste of it making you cough. You just freeze as you always do, eyes still staring and hands still grasping Jimin’s ID.

Your eyes focus after a few seconds, having to physically shake your head to get the thought away. Looking at it, you have enough proof that he’s just so handsome even against the light in shitty license processing offices.

“And the baby’s?”

“Yuri’s identification?” Jimin clarifies, eyebrows furrowed because your question doesn’t seem that rational to his brain. “Yuri’s ten months old. She doesn’t exactly have a driver’s license yet.”

“Fucking dumbass,” Namjoon mutters, knowing that Jimin was completely serious and not joking at all. In fact, he looks slightly appalled more than he is concerned because he just swore while carrying his daughter (he does it too sometimes), but gets over it when Namjoon fills in the very large gaps in his thought process. “Birth certificate. Miss Y/N’s pertaining to Yuri’s birth certificate as her identification because of course, she can’t exactly drive a four-wheeler yet, yeah?”

If Jimin notices that this is the first time Namjoon’s been beyond casual, perhaps even snarky with him, he keeps his excitement at bay.

“Oh! Yeah! Birth certificate, I have that. I have that,” Jimin trails, looking for his binder of Yuri’s important documents. They all sit right inside the bag he used to take to work, his most prized law documents that used to occupy the space just stored inside random boxes now. “Right here.”

It’s a little sad, seeing that Jimin’s entire life and his daughter’s by extension fits into this standard hotel room.

Something about the scene incites pity from you, regardless if Jimin doesn’t want it. He looks composed at face value if you were to block the mess that’s happening around him, his charm undeniable. 

The whole day’s been heavy on him, his night even longer. He’s better after his long-overdue, makeshift, and unexpected pamper shower with a surprising twist of events.

Namjoon didn’t want to leave the two of you alone because he’s quite literally the buffer, but even before he glanced at the side of your face with the same sentiment he uses at your drawn-out meetings, you already knew when to leave.

“I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry, by the way,” you excuse yourself, turning your head down in acknowledgement. “Thank you for choosing to stay here. I hope it’s up to your standards.”

“It’s — oh, oh! No need for that, please,” Jimin quickly corrects you once he recognizes your tone of remorse. The whole incident happened just fifteen minutes ago and yet he already moved on from it; he wishes you could too. 

Come to think of it, it’s slightly funny.

“Good night, Jimin,” you smile slightly, your intent being mirrored instantly.

“Good night, Y/N,” he chuckles, a split second decision to not use the same title Namjoon uses for you because he’s not your employee. Speaking of, he brings his half-brother to a side hug, using it as a handoff so he could get Yuri back in his arms. “Night, Joon.”

You make a mental note to give Namjoon an incentive the next day, knowing that he’s been worked to the bone from this day alone.

The baby in Jimin’s arms sleepily wakes up for a moment, looking at you with big, shiny eyes that held the happiness to her dad’s heart before she settles back.

The tiny smile sneaks to your lips before you could even think about it, hand twitching at your side to give her a little wave even if she’s already asleep.

“Good night, Bambi.”

( ♡ )

You make your rounds even if it's unneeded, the exceptional hotel managers you've hired easily being able to do this for you.

But there's something about overseeing that you like; something to do about being able to observe and do things about it.

You’re a dedicated descendant of a family who heads a large hotel conglomerate, trivially committed to getting in touch with day-to-day operations — perhaps boredom is synonymous to dedication.

Namjoon says it’s nice having you around here, boosting team morale and all. Your hotel’s known for you being seen around by guests as if it’s a normal occurrence, a different experience from all the other hotels they’ve been in.

It may be nice having you around but you know to yourself that you’re unneeded around here. That this place would just run fine without you. Having the higher-up casually fill up Excel sheets is unusual, but it isn’t groundbreaking. Namjoon tries to convince you otherwise but you know when he’s trying to butter you up.

Trivial is the word when you take the scenic route to go to the hotel breakfast and see how things are going. Silly is the word when you line up to get your eggs benedict when you could’ve just turned any of the kitchen staff to your beck and call.

Surprised is the word when the guy in front of you turns out to be Jimin, his head turning to greet you fully because he recognized you from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, hello!" Jimin greets, Yuri flush against his chest with a baby carrier. He’s still dressed in his sweats but looks graceful nonetheless, as if he’s always lived here. "It's me, Jimin. The guy with the crying baby yesterday? You met me while I was wearing a towel."

He wishes you remember him still because your eyes look unsure, but to his surprise, you laugh lowly.

"Yes, Jimin. Hi. I didn't exactly forget you."

Yuri vocalizes with joy, reminding you how pretty she is especially when she’s awake and not shrieking. She’s always attached to the hip with her dad, making you wonder if Jimin has a stroller that he could set her down at.

"Sweet," he grins, tilting his head so Yuri can play with his hair gently. She’s learning the careful grasp nowadays, his hair a worthy enough subject. "By the way, I have some serious concerns."

Jimin gestures for the both of you to step out of the line but you do it even quicker, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Is your daughter okay?"

He’s pleasantly surprised that your train of thought heads to his daughter first, a faint blush gracing his cheeks.

"Yuri? Of course! I'm concerned about her but this doesn't exactly concern her," he waves off, bouncing her up and down. She calls for him, repeating abba (it should be appa!) in glee but the P sound’s gonna come soon enough. 

"It concerns me. Well wait, now that I think about it, it concerns her, y'know? Because it has something to do with me and I'm her dad so by extension, it concerns her. Actually it's-..." Jimin stops himself, exhaling with his eyes downcast in embarrassment. "I'm rambling."

“It’s okay,” you assure him, hand twitching at your side because the sleeve of his shirt is twisted and you have this unspeakable urge to fix it, but he beats you to it. “I have all the time.”

Jimin chuckles heartily at that, but you don’t know exactly what was so funny about it. He walks ahead of you to lead you to his booth, Yuri’s diaper bag placed on the middle of the table to act as his reservation.

He makes sure to have you seated first. He was about to even pull a chair for you but it’s a goddamn booth, further embarrassing himself so he resorts to just putting his hand out.

"The hotel breakfast," Jimin sighs with a shake of his head, strapping Yuri to her high chair. "Do you plan to switch it up?"

"I'm sorry?" you stutter, expecting everything but that.

"Apology accepted, but not wholly," he purses his lips, squaring his shoulders and clasping his hands together while he stares at you intensely. It stays like that for awhile, making you confused for different reasons at the same time. Jimin breaks when you blink at him slowly, almost as if you’re close to tears from thinking.

"What's up with the same menu for breakfast again and again? The scrambled eggs are cute but I've been feeling the butter in my throat too much now," he says all in one breath, chest deflating in relief once he got it out.

You remain glued to your seat, lips parting open briefly but you don’t know what for because you’re rendered speechless.

"Here's what I'm thinking," he murmurs, holding his hand out for Yuri to play with because she likes feeling included in conversations. "French toast and naan. It'll be a hit with everybody!"

He’s been thinking about this for the past two mornings, daydreaming of what you could do to improve the menu while he spoon-fed his daughter.

"About the naan, what if there's a separate table dedicated for making your own dipping oil? Oh, oh, and I suggest a table for baby puffs! Not only would the babies love it, but adults too. I snack on Yuri's puffs when I'm too tired to cook. It's amazing, you should try it!" Jimin gushes, rifling through the diaper bag to retrieve the familiar packaging. "Here, open your hand."

"Jimin-" you snap out of your unintentional bout of silence, once again being pushed into it when Jimin grows impatient and pries your hand open with delicateness yet the same amount of eagerness as his daughter.

"Eat first." 

Jimin still doesn’t let go of his hold on your hand, angling it to pop the puffs right into your mouth. He lets go of it once he sees you tentatively chew (you have no other choice but to), happily humming as he hands one to Yuri before he treats himself to some.

Surprisingly, baby puffs do taste good.

Your attempt to be prim and proper while chewing a godsend delicacy almost goes down the drain, willing yourself to clear your throat and not sound too amused.

"I'm not the chef around here."

"Okay?" Jimin scoffs playfully, narrowing his eyes. "You're the hotelier. You can make it work."

Jimin’s suggestion is not… trivial. It makes actual sense. He did bring it up to you in such an unorthodox and forward way, but past that, you know where he’s getting at.

"Believe me, changing up your breakfast menu will have your hotel named as the best in the world."

"It already is," you murmur. You do want to become humble, but condensing the whole excellence of your hotel to a mere breakfast menu makes you a little bit defensive.

"Source?" he raises his eyebrows, prying your hand open once again to put some puffs on your hand and you don’t even have the pride to deny him; they do taste good.

"Architectural Digest. Condé Nast Traveler. The-..."

"Wrong," Jimin boos loudly. "You forgot me. I haven't proclaimed it yet.”

Endearing would be the word for Jimin. Annoyingly endearing. He’s not cloying but he does invade your senses, even from a distance. He smells like baby powder and talks like the two of you have known each other your whole lives.

"I wonder how you react when your coffee order's wrong," you tut, pressing your tongue to your cheek.

Jimin breaks out to laugh, setting off Yuri to do the same. You don’t feel like you’re intruding — you feel like you’re included. Their eyes crescent and their heads throw back, and if only you had the chance, you’d take a picture of them for him to keep.

"I said, trust me. Take it from a paying, long-term tenant in your hotel,” he soothes you with his words, waving you off jokingly once he got over his fit of giggles.

"You've only been here three days and you're utilizing Namjoon's fifty-percent off discount."

"It counts," he gasps. "Take it from me as a girl dad. As a hot, stressed-but-still-hot, single dad of a baby girl named Yuri."

"Okay, hot single dad of Bambi," you smile, ignoring the fond yet slightly confused look of Jimin at your nickname for his daughter. "I'll think about your input."

.

.

.

"The dining area's gonna be rearranged?"

Namjoon looks up from his phone, the groupchat he was in that you weren’t a part of (your employees are still intimidated by you) pinging repeatedly.

He skims the messages, the furrow in his brow going deeper. "I'm also gonna say that the menu should be changed everyday?"

"Yes, Namjoon."

"Miss Y/N," he clears his throat, trying to word his thoughts in the best way possible but falling short. "Since when were you so interested about free hotel breakfasts?"

You look up from the game on your phone, a little break that you granted yourself because you were getting a little cross-eyed from looking at company projections. 

"Since your brother cornered me to give some very passionate inputs about our breakfasts, that's when."

"He did what?" Namjoon’s eyes bulge, his phone almost falling from his grasp while he attempts to get out of your office in an instant. "Excuse me, I just have to sort-…”

"Ah, easy," you chuckle, gesturing for him to stay inside. "It's okay, he didn't offend me that much."

"Still. Jimin just has little filter to him most of the time and-..."

"It's okay, Joon," you shush him, reaching across your table to get your snack bowl. “Baby puff?"

Namjoon’s still wary but he looks down on your outstretched palm, taking it from you. He’s still a little agitated and dazed when he puts the tiny puff in his mouth, the crease on his forehead relaxing.

"Oh. That tastes nice."

( ♡ )

It's in the rooftop garden that you see Jimin and Yuri again.

Eating breakfast with Jimin and Yuri has recently turned into a routine, the hour and a half of conversation in the morning conditioning you to look for them more and more. He did get the french toast, the naan, and even the baby puffs that he asked for and more. You were a part of their mornings as much as they were in yours, the two of you in opposite sides of the booth while Yuri was at the end of the table with her high chair.

You unconsciously seek them, unbeknownst to yourself that you started looking for two familiar mops of hair at every facility in the hotel. Mornings were your common denominator, the rest of the day reserved for each other’s hectic schedule. 

Jimin’s been busy being out and about looking at open houses, doing a job search on the side that’s still in line with working in law but would allow him to work remotely and on flexible hours. He wants to hold off working until Yuri turns one year old, but the truth was that he just can’t keep doing this up without a stable career. 

He seeks you unconsciously too, looking for a familiar figure that’s dressed in true high-end clothes without the obvious logo. He deducted that wherever Namjoon is, you were too — Jimin barely noticed that he’s been texting Namjoon more frequently now, specifically if he wants to hang out during his break and where he is.

When you see him, Jimin's clothed in a thin sweater while Yuri's bundled up, knowing a cashmere sweater when you see one. 

"No one's allowed to be out here this late."

Jimin doesn’t have to turn his head to know that it’s you, having expected for you to approach him because your breakfast earlier was cut short because you had an urgent meeting to attend to. 

"I know, sorry. I suddenly couldn't read when I saw the sign," Jimin apologizes  insincerely, accompanied by his chuckle that’s uncharacteristically low tonight. ”By the way, I didn't pick the locks or anything. I took the fire exit."

"I figured,” you hum, looking down the both of them. They’re sat by the edge of the pool, Yuri placed gingerly on his lap with her socks on (he’s not gonna risk it) while Jimin’s sweatpants are folded upwards haphazardly, his calves dipped into the warm water.

You hesitate if you want to intrude in their moment because after all, this is the only time the two of you are alone outside of your usual breakfasts. You feel like you don’t fit in, still in your fancy work clothes and in your heels while Jimin’s dressed for sleep.

He senses your hesitation, looking up at you as you’re still in thought. Jimin fishes a spare towel he keeps in his pocket (in case the usual towel he slings on his shoulder for Yuri no longer does the job) and lays it beside him, not wanting you to get your clothes dirty.

The night’s cold but you’re so warm, looking down on the towel with much appreciation in your eyes that Jimin chuckles and just nudges you to sit down already. He puts out a hand to set your glass down that he’s seen you nursing while walking throughout the floor at this time of the night, the smell of it familiar.

"Yuri was fussy. Gave her a bath, changed her diaper, warmed her a bottle, sang her a lullaby, checked her socks. Nothing worked," he explains even without you asking, cradling his daughter to the crook of his neck. "Went outside the balcony for fresh air but there was someone smoking next door."

You’re about to apologize for something you didn’t do but Jimin interrupts you, glancing upwards at the sky that he hasn’t taken the time to look at for so long.

"Ta-da. Rooftop garden does the trick."

"Scotch?" you hum while offering, your glass with a tall serving of it already halfway finished. Jimin shakes his head, a shaky sigh leaving him.

"Can't, I'm on the clock. Have been for ten months," he says it matter-of-factly but the undertone of melancholy doesn’t leave it, looking down back at your glass. “You can drink around me if you want to, though. I don’t mind.”

You smile tightly, grasping the glass in your hand but turning away your head as you take a sip because you didn’t want to rub it on Jimin’s face. He looks at the back of your head as you do, stifling laughter because you do it so quickly since you didn’t want to be disrespectful.

When you turn back, Jimin’s gaze is back at Yuri, the way his eyes sparkle still apparent in the dim lighting.

"She's pretty,” you mumble, admiring the way she looks angelic even with faint tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Thank you. All from me," Jimin quips, running his thumb on her cheek as he resists the urge to bite into them because he’d wake her up. “I’m glad she looks like me."

The question is just hanging over both of your heads in the thick air, his reply being the perfect introduction for you to finally ask. You’re not in the position at all to ask about it, but in the same way Jimin beckoned you to sit right next to him, you felt that it was right.

"How about her mom?” you whisper, looking down on your rings to avoid his inquiring gaze. "If she looked like her mom, would she still be pretty to you?"

Jimin knew you were going to ask him eventually about the other, yet absent, person in the equation, but he didn’t know you’d ask him this way — a question if he would still love Yuri if she didn’t look like him.

He nods solemnly, looking down at her. ”Of course. She's my flesh and blood, my daughter. She'd still be pretty to me, even if she looked like... the woman who birthed her."

"Sorry," you apologize once you register Jimin’s tone that isn’t light as it usually was. "Sensitive topic?"

"I've moved on," Jimin smiles albeit bitterly, never quite reaching his eyes. "I hope that when Yuri gains consciousness, she moves on too."

It’s a prayer he makes even if he isn’t particularly religious. It’s a wish upon a shooting star in a sky he barely looks at. It’s too much to ask for, to hope for, but Jimin still does nonetheless.

"Moving on is tough, though," you answer, running your finger along the circle of your glass. “Some people don't move on at all."

"Not when it's unfair," Jimin pokes his tongue to his cheek, a pained scoff leaving him. “Not when it's cruel."

Jimin’s a dam that just endures, taking typhoon after typhoon. He reserves and represses and in odd moments, in crucial and unguarded instances, Jimin catches himself slipping.

"Yuri’s mother doesn’t want anything to do with her," he speaks thickly, hand moving to cover her ears even if she’s sleeping and yet to comprehend. "She’s the heiress of her parents’ law firm. Also used to be my girlfriend of five years, actually," he laughs without the humor behind it, pursing his lips at the thought.

“She’s a lawyer. I’m a paralegal that knocked her up.”

"Jimin,” you call him when you feel that his gaze goes too far, too disconnected to realize that he’s here now with Yuri well and safe in his arms. It may be only his arms that cradle her, but it’s with love that fills in for two people and more.

"Is that Japanese scotch?" he suddenly quips, peering to your glass. He seems pleased when you confirm his guess with a gasp, smiling to himself at the minuscule victory. "Can I have a sip?"

You nod, offering your glass to which he’s eager to take. He’s just about to when he realizes that there’s a weight on his lap, one that wouldn’t blend well when he drinks.

"Can you uhm, can you also hold her while I drink? Just a little, I promise."

Without even thinking of it, you agree.

You take Yuri into your arms and press her to your chest, not having Jimin to correct you on how to hold her because you did it correctly and she didn’t even fuss.

"I'm here because I'm in between things. Haven't worked for ten months, sold my apartment to try and relocate to the city, I need to figure out where we are going in life because Yuri's turning one year old soon, and my backup plan doesn't sound too bright,” he confides in you after he takes a sip of alcohol, the all too familiar yet distant burn in his throat washing him over in nostalgia. It hits him harder than he expected.

"What's your backup plan?" 

"Live in a cruise ship because the cost of living is cheaper."

"That actually sounds kind of smart,” you chuckle in delight, shaking your head. Jimin does tend to think out of the box, you easily bet that he was an excellent paralegal before he had Yuri.

"Yeah, except the fact that I get seasick easily and I'm scared of the ocean."

The admission of his fear pries an unexpected laugh out of you, covering your mouth as to not jolt Yuri awake.

"Not funny," he deadpans but the amusement on his face is visible. “You know how I want to take Yuri to an aquarium so bad but the aquarium glass for ceilings terrify me?"

You snort, visualizing an image of Jimin shaking his boots looking at stingrays overhead him. "Her Uncle Namjoon can take her then."

"He can, but I don't want to be indebted to him more than I already am,” he sighs, having considered the idea before.

"She's his niece,” you reason, the sentiment behind it already apparent.

"Only half."

"He loves her, though. I can tell. You can tell," you shrug, the solution in your head still unwavering. “He told me about Bambi a couple times already. Even before you went here."

"He does?" Jimin sounds genuinely surprised, schooling his expression to look unfazed. It’s apparent to you that the both of them don’t know each other closely. “He loves my daughter because she's his niece; of course he would. But as brothers? I don't think we're quite there yet."

You make a noise of disapproval, knowing genuineness when you see it. You know to yourself that Namjoon’s a sincere employee and an even more sincere person.

"Are you older or younger?"

"Younger," he answers, furrowing his brows because he senses that Yuri’s bound to wake up soon. “My — our mom remarried after his dad died.”

You can’t react accordingly because true to his instinct, Yuri does fuss. The way she fusses makes it known to Jimin that if he doesn’t take her back to their room and on her co-sleeper, she’ll fully wake up and throw a tantrum.

"That's enough of my baggage for one night, don't you think?"

He concludes it at that, looking at you with a somber smile. He exchanges your scotch for his baby, skillfully standing up before helping you do the same. You dust off the towel he lent you but he waves it off, telling you to keep it the next time the two of you talk like this again.

Jimin’s an enduring planet and Yuri’s a young moon, the way he looks at her enough for you to know that she’s lucky to have him as a dad.

"Good night," Jimin bids you goodbye, pressing Yuri's forehead to his as if they’re telepathically exchanging thoughts. "She says good night too."

( ♡ )

Jimin's reminded to never drink again after just five sips of scotch.

He woke up with an existential crisis, something that hasn't him in a state this bad before. He's raising his ten-month old daughter alone, there's neither an apartment nor a house attached to his name, has no job, and he's living in a hotel.

It makes Jimin claustrophobic, making him realize that he's close to the end of his wits and probably has been for a long time. Has he really been this lost all this time? Has he really been acting this pathetic despite having a daughter to raise alone?

It's so hard to breathe, carrying Yuri close to his chest on top of that. He smells her hair to try and ground himself, but even the scent of his daughter mixed with his perfume barely does anything to calm him.

Then he gets the call from his dad. He’s so numb; the tips of his fingers prick with electricity but he doesn’t feel, his ears ringing at yet another reminder of one of the multiple responsibilities on his shoulders.

"Jimin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," his dad sighs remorsefully. “They're calling me in for some tests again."

Right, Jimin almost forgets. He's supporting his dad secretly.

It was a dire situation, something that only the two of them know. Three if you count Yuri and her attentive eyes whenever he's on the phone.

His dad's been feeling sick for quite some time now. No one's quite sure of anything, making the whole process complicated and extensive; whatever it was, it's only between him and his dad for the time being.

Jimin was sure of two things — a) that his mom has a frail heart and hearing about a possible threat to his dad's health would be detrimental, and b) that the funding should come from him because at the end of the day, Namjoon shouldn't be responsible; after all, Jimin is his father's son, not Namjoon.

It's overwhelming, just so overwhelming that as soon as Yuri fusses as soon as she wakes, calls him appa with a B, and lightly cries, Jimin does the same.

She must be hungry, making him go on autopilot to prepare her bottle but when he opens the tin, he sees more of his distorted reflection inside the cylinder than the actual formula. 

Fuck.

Jimin prepares Yuri’s bottle anyway, a lump stuck to his throat as soon as an idea forms in his head. Neither the lump nor the idea leaves him and it pricks the tears from his eyes more, keeping his daughter preoccupied because now she suddenly stopped crying to observe his instead.

He’s chipping at the ends and the very core of his whole mind is raw. All he has are doubts and insecurities and the way Yuri looks at him, like she trusts him even if he’s hugely lacking as a dad, doesn’t console him.

Jimin comes down and meets you as per usual, giving you a side hug and coming into the booth with ease as if there's no tension in his shoulders and in his mind. 

He thinks he’s doing a good job at acting casual but you could see how vacant he looks, his eyes missing the usual glint of playfulness that he bore. You give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that it’s his fatigue from the night before; maybe it’s just the hangover from the few sips he had from your drink.

"You and Bambi look a little rough," you observe, piping in as soon as he settles down. “I’ll fill our plates. Just sit here."

Jimin looks at you with an unknown emotion, eyes wide and glassy. You can’t read him and neither can he, the brief moment of vulnerability being cut short when he thanks you.

You walk to the tables, filling the tray with two plates for you and Jimin and one bowl for Yuri like it's clockwork. It's easy for you to fill it all up from memory, to adhere to a routine you've built in just the three weeks you came across Jimin and his baby.

It's hard for Jimin though.

It's hard because this one particular thought never leaves him, the only one he ever had as a solution to quell the anxiety he has that peaked just this morning. 

Your bag's right on the table; small, open, and expensive right in front of him, taking your position while you get breakfast for him and his daughter.

Jimin screws his eyes shut, taking several exhales that don't even placate him. He looks outwardly casual, dipping his hand in there as if he's just looking for mints and as if he's known you enough to literally stick his hand where it doesn't belong. As if you trust him.

And that's the thing — you do trust him.

Jimin spots your wallet and opens it as if it's his own. Counts the bills mentally as if he's just counting ducks and takes half of it, thumb swiping quickly. He’s never done this before.

Yuri somehow knows because as soon as Jimin's thumbs through your banknotes, all of them in the highest denomination, her bottom lip trembles, a shrill cry following soon after.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry, Yuri,” he whispers, screwing his eyes shut. God, this is wrong and yet he can’t stop. “This is bad but it’s a justified bad. Don’t be like appa. Don’t steal like me, okay?” 

He whispers the last part because even he can’t fathom himself actually doing it, chest becoming heavier by the second. He folds the money in half and stashes it inside Yuri's diaper bag, heart still beating erratically even if he’s already hid it.

“Appa's taking care of a lot of things a-and things are tight, especially with your grandpa's situation, y'know? And you’re running out of formula and we need to stock up before there’s a shortage again," he explains, voice trembling as well as his hands.

Yuri isn’t soothed, however. She throws her head back while calling for Jimin again and again like she’s the reflection of his conscience — his conscience that he’s already tainted the moment the idea went into his head.

“Don’t cry, Yuri. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N, fuck,” he whispers over and over again, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill whenever he repeats your name.

You come back with the breakfast, barely noticing anything except that Jimin looks even more spent than five minutes ago since you last saw him. Yuri had already started calming down before you approached the table and stopped completely when you set her bowl in front of her, your eyes curious to why Jimin can’t even meet your gaze.

You realize it later, when you fish your card from your wallet because you need Namjoon to run some errands for you.

It's lighter, barely noticeable. The set of bills you've had in it isn't as thick than the last time you saw it, but you could easily chalk it up to you seeing things, or lack thereof.

It hits you completely when you see your crumpled withdrawal receipt in the bottom of your bag instead of your wallet, having a habit to use the paper as a makeshift clip for your banknotes. It would only sink to your bag if somebody had touched your wallet and took your money; it couldn't have been you because after all, you haven't done anything today that required you to pull out your cash.

Then you know when you have someone pull up security footage for you.

You see it clearly despite the slight grain; Jimin and his hands inside your bag, casually rummaging through it as if you're good companions and know each other.

The thing is — Jimin doesn't know much of you.

The security technician is appalled, even more appalled than you are and huffs when he follows your gaze. He's about to press on his radio and bark out orders when you gently put your hand before him, solemnly shaking your head.

It’s okay.

It's for Yuri. 

You keep to yourself, thanking your employee before you gather your things and exit the room.

Namjoon's been looking for you and he's a little perplexed to why you would go to the surveillance room of all places, catching up to you as you walk across the grand lobby.

At the corner of your eye, Jimin enters the hotel, holding a sleepy Yuri and a plastic bag of what you can discern to be his daughter's needs.

Jimin tries to catch your attention and attempts to walk alongside you and Namjoon — you pretend not to notice.

#and how r we feeling :O intermission is up next!! <3 #jimin imagine #jimin oneshot #jimin oneshots #jimin angst #jimin angst imagine #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin au #single dad jimin au #dilf jimin #park jimin imagine #park jimin oneshot #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts jimin imagine

[jeonggukookies]

chapter index; better

after the passing of your mother, you find solace and happiness through your friendship with Park Jimin. Everyone can see the strong magnetic pull between the two of you, except, well, the two of you.

The friendship with Jimin became a lifeline, a connection to the normalcy that felt lost after your mother’s passing. However, once you see the sparks ignited, you have to learn how to grieve and to love whether or not your best friend stays in your life.

pairing | park jimin x reader

genre |  fluff, angst, slow burn short story

wordcount | 29,029

↳   1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 [completed]

a/n: i will admit that i wrote this when i was super young but i loved writing so excuse my attempts of being funny and cringe. 

#bangtanwriters-net #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #park jimin scenarios #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin fluff #better #park jimin #mine

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 13 - Pole Dance & Pegging]

Pairing: sub!Jimin x Mistress!Reader

Kinks: rivals to lovers, pole dancing, leather, pegging, choking, anal fingering, handjob, hair pulling, spanking, bondage, degradation & praise, dirty talk, lotsa kissing, the ending is cute

Wordcount: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday to the sexy bastard that is Park Jimin 💗 this will also be the last time i’ll apologize for plot haahha i can’t write pwp, we stan backstory for the tension. but i guess you guys know me by now. Enjoy besties 💗

You have been eyeing him ever since practice started. His body is sweaty, his long hair tied into a messy bun. He is wearing his gear already to warm it up for tonight. Black leather pants and matching gloves. How he is able to move on the pole with those gloves is beyond you, but Jimin has always had a taste for the dramatics.

Way too much dramatics in your opinion, especially recently after your boss told you that from now on, Jimin will be performing on the big stage right in the middle of the club while you should take his place by the wine bar. You are still furious about the entire ordeal, now eyeing him with icy eyes and your arms crossed in front of your chest.

Jimin finishes practice five minutes later, locking eyes with you through the mirror.

“Oh hey there, how long have you been standing there?” he says, wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel.

“Not long”, you grumble, following him with his eyes as he jumps off the stage. He struts to you, doing so with his hips swinging from side to side.

“What do you think?” he asks, “isn’t the performance good?”

“Yeah I guess”, you shrug your shoulders, acting nonchalant about it when in reality you thought him to be very good. He just knows how to work a pole in his favour. His muscles are lean and tense just perfectly each time he uses them to pull himself up. The gloves, although you still find them way too over the top, give him a sort of alluring aura and the leather pants are so goddamn tight that you can see every single muscle even now when he is merely standing in front of you.

Jimin studies your face, pursing his lips in distaste. He knows very well that you are only pretending not to be impressed because you want to take revenge on him for taking your stage.

“I guess it’s the best performance this stage has ever seen”, he says and after bumping shoulders with you, leaves the club.

“What the hell?” you gasp, looking at the now empty doorway with annoyance bubbling inside you, “did he really just say that?”

You probably would have chased after him to call him a snob if your boss didn’t call for you to help her with setting up the rooms upstairs.

You have been working in this establishment for almost two years now. Upstairs, well-paying customers can find a night of fun and pleasure with a stranger of their choice. Gender is obviously not important, you have both male and female friends working here and ever since February, Lee is working as the hotel's first ever non-binary angel, enjoying themselves greatly each night.

You weren’t one of the love hotel angels, but worked in the club downstairs as a dancer and the occasional bartender.

Jimin joined your team about a year ago and up until recently, performed on the pole by the wine bar while you shone on the main stage in the middle of the club. Your roles however switched four weeks ago with the explanation that it was time to give another dancing angel a chance to shine. You understood your boss, but were still terribly pissed about having to give it up to Jimin.

You meet Jimin again an hour and ten before opening. Your boss, blind to your shared distaste, told you and him to get the place ready and to make sure that the poles are well prepared. Oh if only she knew what gates of hell she opened with that order.

Jimin is still out of his pants when you enter the club. His dark hair is styled with mousse and gel and a smokey eye look really brings out the mesmerising colour of his grey contacts. He is in the middle of fixing his gloves, looking over his shoulder when he hears your steps.

He scans you with his eyes. You are also wearing leather pants, torso exposed but with a wonderfully done leather harness adorning the right parts. Black nipple sticker cover you up, guiding Jimin’s eyes to your tits for just one second too long.

“What is your act tonight?” he asks, breaking his eyes away from your tits to instead ogle the huge dildo strapped to you and the bottle of lube in your hand.

“Em asked me to play Dominatrix for some business guys from Vietnam. She said they wanna see me jerking off my strap”, you explain, shrugging your shoulders.

“I see”, he says, turning away again to continue warming up. He grabs the pole and pulls himself up, stretching his legs by going into full splits in midair while his head tangles down. Like this your eyes lock and while you should probably look away and make sure the club is ready for tonight, you can’t.

“The thing you said today”, you begin, “what the hell was that about?”

Jimin finishes the movement gracefully, feet landing back on the ground without making any kind of sound. He keeps his sculpted back turned to you, looking at you through the mirror just opposite of the stage.

“I don’t know what you’re on about", he says nonchalantly.

“When you said that your performance is the best this stage has ever seen.”

“Ah that”, Jimin smirks and shrugs his shoulders, “the truth, I guess.”

“What the hell? That stage was mine before you stole it”, you hiss, feeling annoyance bubble in your chest.

“Yours?” Jimin whips around, “excuse me, that stage was never yours to begin with. You just had it for a while and now I do, because I’m better than you.”

“This is not the reason why Em gave you the stage and you know that”, you hiss, stomping to him.

Yes this always happens. Yes, this is the reason why your boss should not leave you and Jimin alone in a room. Because ever since he snitched your spot, you are always fighting.

“Oh get over yourself, I had to dance by the wine bar for eight months and I didn’t complain”, Jimin throws back, standing his ground even now when you are stomping up on stage to him.

“Yeah but I earned that stage. I dance by the toilets for thirteen months to get it.”

“Maybe you should dance there again, your shitty attitude would be fitting for that place.”

“Wow.”

You stare at Jimin. Jimin stares at you. The room is silent. The air heavy in tension. 

You step closer to him, making him flee until his back hits the pole. He gasps at the coldness of it, but doesn’t break eye contact. Not ever.

“Take that back”, you growl, lips so close to his face that he can feel your minty breath swirl over his skin.

“Why should I take it back?” Jimin asks, eyes flitting to your lips. Dark lipstick brings out the shape of them, locking his gaze right onto them.

“The things I want to do you, you can’t even imagine”, you rasp, inching closer until you can feel his body heat against your skin, “oh if only”, you whisper, staring at his lips for the sole reason that you wonder if he wants to kiss you or not.

“Yeah if only”, he rasps, He gazes at your mouth with so much obsession that you wonder if he is actually going to lean in.

“I’d show you who the boss is if only I could”, you spit with distaste, placing one of your hands on the pole and with it giving him no chance to escape. Your strap is brushing against his toned stomach, making his skin prickle.

“Yeah?” he presses out, “who says you can’t?”

“Huh?”

Jimin moves until his lips are actually brushing against yours.

“Who says you can’t put me in my place? Mhm?” he rasps, forcing your eyes to flutter closed from the feeling of his lips.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you answer him, tilting your head to the side and with it, claiming even more of his lips in something that could only be described as a kiss without actually being a kiss.

Jimin moans softly, touching your waist. You growl, thrusting your hips into him to really grind your strap against his sculpted tummy.

“Do you even know how to use that strap, mhm?” he taunts.

“What do you wanna tell me?” you growl, dropping your hand from the pole just to grab a bundle of his hair instead.

“You should test it out, it’d be embarrassing if you couldn’t even move it right.”

“I can move it right, trust me”, you say, moaning softly when Jimin takes your lower lip between his teeth. He releases it a second later, gasping when within a second he is on your thigh while your hand is wrapped around his throat.

“What the hell?” he presses out, hissing when you press down on his veins to the point he goes dizzy.

“I can fuck you stupid, Park Jimin. Trust me”, you spit, grinding your knee against his balls and cock, “I heard that helps with getting your shitty little mouth under control”, you add, tensing your muscles just to make it even more intense for him, “one good fuck and you turn quiet like a good little whore.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll be quiet”, he spits back, dragging his nails down your neck so hard that your skin burns.

You don’t mind, making his knees wobble with just a squeeze of your hand and a tense of your thigh. You step closer, allowing your parted lips brush against his’.

“Oh trust me, you will.”

“Even if I will, what’s in it for you? You can’t stand me, why fuck me?” talking is hard when you are rubbing against his sensitive cock. Especially when all that is between is the thin material of his briefs. Jimin swears that he could pass out in desperation.

“I make no difference. I fuck whoever I want to. And especially bratty little boys like you”, you say, grinding your leg against his ass. It presses against his hole. Right where it feels the best.

He gasps, doing a terrible job at preventing it from happening. You smirk in triumph, tilting his head back with the help of your hand.

“There we go. Right against my body, getting off on my knee”, you rasp, “you’re already so much more likable.”

“Well you’re still a-”, he gasps, nails digging into your arms. Jesus fucking christ, this feels so good, oh how he wants to close his eyes, “-a, a cunt.”

"Doesn’t matter what you think of me, I’ll fuck you nonetheless”, you answer him, basking in the rapid pounding of his heartbeat against your fingertips, “just say the magic word.”

“What magic word?” he croaks, fighting gravity. Your knee is too good, with any other person he would have already stripped naked and fucked their strap stupid, but not with you. You won’t get the satisfaction of getting him to beg for you. If you want it then you should beg. He has all night. Well, an hour before the club opens at least.

You kiss him roughly then and his mind goes blank, fingers desperately trying to find their home on your body. His back arches from being pressed so tightly against the pole, his ass and cock ache in need from just your knee and his lips are pulsating as you continue sucking and biting them. Your fingers on his neck keep him from pulling back, nails bruising his skin in the shape of crescent moons.

Jimin drags his fingers up and down your exposed back, pulling you closer. You hate it. You hate how good he kisses. You twist his hair in the same rude manner he scratched your back, moaning into the kiss. You have to kiss him deeper, show him that you kiss way better than him.

Jimin growls, teeth clashing with yours as he forces his tongue inside your mouth. It seems that he basically wants to merge with you, judging by how deep his tongue goes. It forces a growl out of you and for your knee to squeeze even more of him.

“Fuck”, he gasps, arching his back eventhough his pride hates him for it.

“See?” you let the kiss break, “you want me.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already, fuck”, he hisses, arching into your touch with too much vigour.

You grip his chin, holding him hostage with your dark eyes racing between his equally dark eyes.

“Where do you wanna get fucked? The floor? Against the mirror? Against the pole?” you ask him

“Uh”, he swallows heavily, eyes trying to flit at the pole.

“So the pole it is”, you smirk, “good, that’s my favourite. Turn around and spread your legs.”

“What?”

“Turn around, for fucks sake”, you order, smirking proudly when he follows without an ounce of hesitation.

“Now bend down, keep your hands on the pole.”

And so he bends down, gripping the pole tightly. His leather gloves make a soft sound from the movement, stretching right around his hands

“Good boy”, you say, spanking his ass as a reward.

He hisses and moans, legs spreading even further and ass chasing your hand. He lifts his head. Shit. The mirror is right in front of him. Jimin locks eyes with you and gulps upon seeing the dark smirk tugging at your lipstick covered lips. It is all smudged from kissing, now covering his own lips as well.

“So you noticed”, you say and rip his briefs off in one clean go, “good.”

Jimin moans, arching his back. His eyes are glued to your reflections, flitting down to his cock for just a moment. Hard and throbbing, it hangs right between his meaty thighs, screaming for attention he knows very well won’t come for quite some time. The hands running up and down his ass and the massive strap between your own legs tell him that. And he is fucking high in excitement.

“Look at you”, you rasp, squeezing his sculpted buttocks between your fingers, “such a pretty, little slut.”

“W-wait what are you doing?” he gasps with widened eyes as he has to watch you abandon his ass just to begin trying his hands to the pole with his ruined briefs.

“You’ll need it, believe me. I fuck hard”, you explain, tightening the knot, “I hope you’re even ready for that.”

“Yeah, didn’t expect anything else from you”, he says, nodding his head vividly.

“Good”, you say, dancing your hands down his sculpted arms until you have his pretty waist between your fingers, “now before we really start, ever heard of the traffic light system?”

“Yeah. Red, yellow, green. We’re good, I know what to do. Also if I hum happy birthday you gotta stop.”

“Of course, I’ll stop. Good job, I’m almost proud of you”, you say, making him scoff and roll his eyes, “now let’s get started”, you say, connecting your hands with his sculpted ass in a harsh spank.

“Fuck! Ah!” he exclaims, writhing from the burn and leaking all over the floor.

You chuckle darkly, watching his swollen cock drip, “you are so wet. Adorable. I always knew that you’re a slut for rough handling. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew.”

He blushes and shivers at your words, avoiding eye contact.

You spank his ass.

“Look at me”, you growl, forcing him to lift his eyes.

He mewls, biting down on his lower lip while his hips squirm in your hold.

“Better. Now keep them on me as I fill you up”, you order, reaching for the lube bottle to slather your fingers with it.

Jimin’s breathing speeds up in excitement, his fingers tighten around the pole. He is aching for that stretch. He even cleaned out tonight, planning to fuck a customer later. It’s been so long since someone last fucked his ass and he’s burning up for that feeling. Especially when you are the one doing it. Jimin’s been fucking into you ever since he started working at this love hotel. He never told you, but you are the biggest fucking crush he's ever had and to have to strip him naked and peg him feels like a fanboy's dream come true.

You press your slickened fingers against his hole, locking eyes with him. And then you push, watching in delight as his eyelids flutter and his cock throbs angrily.

He sucks in air through his teeth, feeling every new inch of you slip inside. It is almost too much and yet not enough.

“There we go, take me, that’s it”, you praise, finally bottoming out. Now you have two of your fingers buried deep inside his warmth, getting squeezed oh so nicely. You curl them instantly, making slow movements right out of your wrist.

Jimin’s knees buckle, eyes almost closing. His gaze becomes droopier, his brows furrow in bliss.

“A-ah”, he moans in his sweet voice, puffy lips opening in small gasps for air.

“Slipped in so easily. You have such a greedy little hole”, you taunt, eyes locked on how much his cock is throbbing.

“Feels good”, he croaks, arching his back desperately, “one more, please.”

“One more? Don’t you wanna ease into it?”

“I’m a slut, need more”, he pleads, “please Mistress.”

The nickname feels like ecstasy to you, making your entire body feel hot in pleasure. That’s right, in this moment you are his Mistress and Jimin is nothing more than your pretty little boytoy. Oh the surge of power feels addicting.

You bury your pointer finger in his hole, forcing a trembling moan out of him. You fuck them in and out of him slowly, making sure to really curl them each time you pass his prostate.

Jimin moans deliciously, arms tensing from holding himself up and back arching at the same time. His thighs tremble each time you touch his prostate, his cock throbs and drips pleasure seconds later.

“Fuck seriously, need more”, he croaks just minutes later, looking at you with half-lidded, heavy eyes.

“Well damn, you’re eager to get stuffed aren’t you?”

He nods his head, pressing his ass back.

"Just wanna get fucked, please."

“Fine. Damn, you slut”, you say, pulling your fingers free to instead cover your strap in lube.

Jimin watches you through the mirror, chest heaving up and down quickly. He stops breathing when he feels the heaviness of your strap against his hole, finger tightening around the pole in anticipation of the intense stretch.

You buck your hips forward, feeding him your cockhead. It is almost laughable just how easily he takes you, how little he struggles.

“Holy fuck”, Jimin whispers, dropping his head, “holy fuck.”

“That’s it, swallow me up”, you rasp, rolling your hips into him until even your last inches are inside him, now sitting inside his tight little ass and stretching him out oh so well.

“Oh god", he squeaks, nose scrunching up, "oh, Mistress holy fuu.."

"What is it? You don’t like it?" you ask, rocking back and forth slowly while your fingers massage his trembling hips.

"So d-deep", he confesses, looking at you with glassy eyes.

“Painful?”

He shakes his head, “so deep”, he repeats before arching his back in a pretty slope. 

"You'll get used to it", you state dryly now that you know he wasn’t uncomfortable, "ass out."

He was quite frankly overwhelmed by pleasure as you spoke the words, concentrating on the feeling of his hole getting so stretched open. This is all he wanted, needed, craved.  

"Ass. Out", you growl, thrusting your dick into him in one hard, warning thrust. 

"Ah! Yeah, sorry", he pants, sticking his ass out instantly.

"Good boy, that’s good. Now stay like this", you say, pressing your chest into his back, to whisper against his neck "I want to make sure you stay all nice and open for me", you rasp, twisting a bundle of his dark locks. 

Jimin is eager to follow, moaning with his eyes falling closed and his ass chasing your strap in needy wiggles. You watch him through the mirror, giving him slow yet deep rolls of your hips. His ass doesn’t squeeze that much anymore, now that you are fucking him open so well. His cock is leaking again, looking so goddamn desperate for attention.

You reach to his front and close your fingers around him, jerking him off eagerly. Jimin whimpers, eyelids fluttering open for the sole purpose of letting you watch them roll back.

“Don’t stop, please Mistress”, he croaks, sobbing softly as his entire body burns up from the sensations.

"Such a good slut", you rasp, angling your cock inside of him to really hit his prostate, "I can feel how it loosens you up. You're a needy slut for getting your cock played with, aren’t you?"

Jimin blushes, throbbing in your fingers and squeezing around the pole. 

"You are", you chuckle, "I could feel how wet your cute little dick just got." 

He closes his eyes and whines. This is so embarrassing. You are calling his cock cute. This is so fucking embarrassing and it’s riling him up like nothing else.

“What is it? Aww, don’t tell me that I still fluster you”, you coo, twisting your hand around his heated tip.

“Oh! O-oh god, Mistress!”

You roll your slickened up finger over his leaking slit, eyes lowering darkly as you watch the pleasure contort his face into the prettiest expression.

“What is it slut?” you ask, thrusts becoming harder now that you have him pulsating around you, “feel good?”

“Yeah so g-good”, he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he grasps the pole tighter. This is so fucking hot, he is getting fucked, tied to a pole and with his clothes ripped to shreds an hour before the first guests arrive. You were supposed to prepare the club together, make sure everything was okay for the night and yet here you were, soiling the main stage with your nasty sex. He feels so fucking weak. How the hell should he perform tonight when just one touch of the pole will trigger such memories for him? How the hell should he keep himself upright when you fuck him into such a weak state?

“Harder”, he begs because right now all he can truly worry about is whether or not the pleasure will ever end. Those other questions are questions for future him in an hour. Right now he needs to get fucked. Hard and rough.

“Harder?” you sound amused, “oh Jimin, you amuse me”, you say and broaden your stance, “fine I guess I have to show you what I can do.”

Your hand yanks his head back by his hair, the other tilting his hips into an almost unnatural position. Not that this position is unnatural for someone like Jimin. On the contrary, he is chasing the stretch, moaning loudly when your big strap slides even deeper into his greedy hole.

“That’s it. Chase me like the greedy, little slut you are”, your words make him spiral but not as much as the spank which follows does.

“Mistress”, he whimpers, voice pitched. He raises his head, locking his eyes with you.

“Yes Jimin?” you pant, voice heavy in arousal.

“F-feels good”, he whines, before rolling his eyes back in ecstasy.

“Yeah? How good? Go on tell me how good my cock makes you feel”, you growl, burying all of you inside him while twisting your hand around his wet cockhead.

You bask in the way his eyes open in surprise and how his lips part in a shocked moan.

“Tell me”, you growl, repeating what you had done before, “tell me how good that feels.”

“So go-good”, he sobs, making his gloves squeak as he tries to hold himself up.

“I knew it”, you smirk, “you love getting fucked. You’re such a greedy boy.”

“Spank me again please”, he keens, wiggling his ass.

Slap! No hesitation. None.

“Ah yes!” he exclaims, throwing his head back as best as the current position allows him to, “more, please! More!”

With your stomach twisting in pleasure, you spank him again, watching in delight as this makes his sculpted ass jiggle.

Jimin sobs and mewls, writhing desperately and chasing you for another spank.

Spank!

He squeaks and laughs, cheeks wet from his tears and cock leaking constant streams of pleasure.

Spank!

There he is. Your greatest rival. Cock hard, ass stretched out and spanked and soft hair between your fingers while his own ruined briefs tie him to his pole. No, to your pole. For months it was your pole until he stole it.

Spank!

The next one is placed especially roughly, forcing his hips to thrust against nothing and for his body to almost fall down. Not that he can, with his wrist so tightly bound to the pole and his strong arms holding himself up. It does result however in your cock shifting inside him, so you are now able to finally watch how his hole looks as you fuck it open. All loosened up and wet. So goddam pretty.

Spank!

“Please don’t stop! More!” Jimin wails, trembling with each spank and leaking with each thrust.

Spank!

So here you are. Fucking your greatest rival against your pole and fucking loving every second of it.

“Fuck Jimin, this is so good”, you growl, spanking his ass and pulling his head back roughly, “you get fucked so good…”

“Ah, ah”, Jimin moans, convulsing when you spank his ass one last time before reaching to the front again to jerk off his swollen cock, “oh my g-god”, he sobs, knees wobbling and stomach tensing unbearably, “you, you…ah you…”

“What is it? Don’t like it?” you taunt, knowing very well that he is shaking so much because you’ve got him close.

“Close”, he presses out, spilling tears, “please close.”

"Yeah? You’re close? What should I do about that?" 

"Don't, don’t, d-don't stop", Jimin stutters, "please oh god, p-please I'm cumming."

“Then fucking cum will you?” you order him, bringing him over the edge with one ruthless thrust right against his prostate.

Jimin wails loudly, barely holding himself up as his entire lower body convulses in his high. Holy fuck your strap is so huge in his small, clenching hole. Your hands feels like heaven and hell around his squirting cock. Your fingers in his hair burn so much from all the tugging they are doing. Jimin swears that for a second he actually passes out from the pleasure, only coming back to you because you slow down your movements and begin kissing up and down his spine.

This just happened. 

He whimpers, shivering like crazy. You wrap your arms around him, soothing him by caressing his tummy.

“Good job”, you say, “that was so much cum, you’re such a messy boy.”

“Yeah uh”, he clears his terribly raspy throat, “yeah, fuck. Holy fuck”, he presses out, growing even more limp.

“Are you good? I’ll pull out now, yeah?”

Jimin nods his head, allowing you to work while he is floating on his afterglow. He sighs, squirting out the lube with one eager clench of his well-used hole. You trace it with your fingers, basking in just how soft you fucked it.

“So well fucked. I have to admit, that look suits you so well”, you praise, massaging his sensitive hole while loosening the knot of your impromptu bondage rope.

His arms drop instantly, knees giving up on him as he falls to the ground. You catch him before he can hurt himself somewhere, allowing his head to fall against your chest. He whimpers, wrapping his arm around your waist as he snuggles you for comfort.

“Are you really good?” you ask him, “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No, I’m just…” he exhales shakily, “…holy fuck, that’s how you fuck?”

You chuckle, “yeah, last time I checked that’s how I fuck.”

“What the fuck? How should I perform?” he gasps, looking at you with widened, glassy eyes.

“That’s your thing to figure out. You were the one who wanted me to go harder.”

“Well shit”, he chuckles, “I’m done for, so goddamn done”, he mumbles, making you laugh.

It is three hours into your shift and after Jimin finally finished his performance (which was a little wobbly at first before he really got into it) when you interact with him again. You have just arrived by the wine bar to ask Em for a glass of water now that the Vietnamese businessmen finally left, when you feel Jimin’s hands on your hips, tempting you to turn around.

“Lee just told me that the purple room’s empty til five, wanna go upstairs and continue?” he asks over the loud music, getting his answer by being pulled into a sloppy kiss as you push him away from the bar closer to the door. Maybe you didn’t ever actually hate each other. Maybe all you really hated was the fact that you weren’t fucking each other like animals all day every day.

#jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin oneshot #jimin x reader #jimin x you #sub!jimin #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan x you #fanfic: kinktober22

[taesclub]

The Wild Child, Act I ✦ BTS

✦ BTS x Fem! Oc's

━━━━━ ( SYNOPSIS. ) She is suddenly forced to attend the all-girls boarding school, St. Victoria's. Determined to break free, she tries to escape. Her only problem? To do so she must go through the neighboring boarding school and its notorious group, the Bangtan boys. Among them, one member captivates her the most, blurring the line between rebellion and romance.

genre. boarding school au, angst, fluff, smut

word count. 4,586

warnings. only curses for now

-ˋˏ masterlist ✦ next ˎˊ-

ACT I.

━━━━━━━━━ ✦ 

Claire, a tall girl with an eighty's aura and a shag haircut, sits in the passenger seat of her father's car, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The car hums with tension as they drive down the road, the passing scenery reflecting the girl's inner turmoil. She was about to meet her doom.  

She gazes out the window, her expression a mix of anger and frustration. The weight of her resentment hangs heavy in the air. 

“I can't believe you're making me go to some stupid all-girls boarding school, Dad. This is so unfair!” she grimaces. This had been her constant complaint ever since receiving the news, but somehow, like a broken record, she still held onto those words, praying it would be enough to make her dad rethink his decision. It wasn’t.  

Her father, Mr. Deschamps, a middle-aged man with tired eyes due to his rushed businessman life, glances at her with a mixture of concern and regret. “Claire, we've talked about this. It's a better opportunity for you. You'll have a chance to focus on your studies and discover new interests.” he insists softly.  

Claire scoffs, her frustration boiling over. 

Her voice sounds angry as she replies, “Better opportunity?! What about my life here? My friends? You're ripping me away from everything I know!” 

Her father's grip tightens on the steering wheel, his tone laced with remorse. 

“Claire, honey, I didn't make this decision lightly. It's for your future. You'll make new friends, and have new experiences. Please try to understand.” 

Claire's gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery, her umbrage simmering beneath her rebellious exterior. “You simply don't get it, Dad,” she says resentfully as the view keeps changing dramatically into a more rural area. “You don't know what it's like to be uprooted from everything familiar, to start over in some stuffy boarding school.” 

Her father's voice softens, laced with a tinge of sadness. “I know it's hard, honey,” he admits sincerely. “But sometimes, we must make sacrifices for the greater good. Trust me, I only want what's best for you.” 

Claire's anger doesn’t wane, even though she is tempted to soothe at her dad’s words. “Change can be scary, but it also opens doors to new opportunities.” he continues, tenderly. “You're strong, Claire. You'll adapt, and who knows, you might find something incredible out here.” 

Her gaze shifts from the passing greenery outside to her father's warm and understanding eyes. She takes a deep breath, slowly releasing the pent-up frustration. There was no point discussing this with him, he would never back up on his word. And the truth was, ever since he got together with that Malibu Barbie wannabe called Blanche, this was destinate to happen. She had waited for the rug to be pulled from under her feet as her distrust in life itself was a rooted injustice carved deep in her heart, but now that it happened, she tried desperately to hold onto a shimmer of hope.  

And how tricky it was to expect, to wait for someone else to take the reins of one’s life... No one would come and save her, that was clear. So why not save herself? 

“Sure thing, Dad.” Claire mumbles resigned. At least for now.  

A bittersweet silence fills the car as they continue their journey, both aware that this new chapter holds challenges and possibilities that neither can fully anticipate. The beginning of a plan to escape the boarding school, however, started to thread like a lightning bolt in the girl’s mind. 

She would make sure no one would see it coming. And one thing was certain, Claire Deschamps would never settle into a life in the middle of nowhere, nor a life she hadn’t chosen herself.

━━━━━━━━━ ✦ 

Claire steps out of her father's car, her jeans bomber jacket with wide shoulders and lots of sewn trinkets contrasting greatly with the more conservative uniforms of the other students passing by. Their plaid skirts had at least two full hands more fabric compared to the black leather one she used.  

She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for what lies ahead. Mr. Deschamps opens the trunk, retrieving her suitcase and opening space for two employees to try and lift the big chest full of stickers that also belonged to Claire.  

“Here you go, honey.” He hands the lush green suitcase to her. “I hope you find… Some great things here.” 

She takes it, grudgingly. “Don’t be so disappointed when I don’t.” 

Her father shows a sympathetic smile on his face as he pauses to take in what she had just said. “I understand, Claire.” He opts to say. “Take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

Claire nods, unable to hide her lingering resentment. Her father gives her a last reassuring smile before driving away. 

As she sees the Rolls-Royce disappearing on the dirty road, the Headmistress Winters, a stern and composed woman in her fifties whom she had already seen printed on the flyer advertising the school, approaches Claire with an air of authority. The disapproving expression that she wears only exacerbates Claire’s dislike for her furthermore.  

“You must be Miss Deschamps, our newest student,” the woman says, inspecting her closer. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?” 

To that, Claire rolls her eyes discreetly, her guard already up. “Oh, joy,” she mutters under her breath.  

Putting on a polite facade, the Headmistress takes a step further, “As you know, I am Headmistress Winters. Your father and I talked on the phone. Welcome to St. Victoria’s Academy. Here we expect our students to uphold the highest standards of discipline and academic excellence.” She waves her hand in a high class and fluid motion, introducing the grand structure of the school behind her.  

There is a moment of silence as Claire fights the urge to scoff, her skepticism apparent. 

“Sounds like a real party,” she mutters dryly under her breath.  

Headmistress Winters's eyes narrow not catching what the girl has to say, however, judging by the lack of excitement on Claire’s part and her many years of experience when it came to building character, she maintains her composed demeanor. She knows a troublemaker when she sees one.  

With thinly veiled annoyance she adds firmly, “Respect and compliance are expected from all students, Claire. You'll find that St. Victoria’s Academy offers numerous opportunities for personal development and camaraderie. I suggest you keep an open mind.” 

Claire's expression remains guarded, her disdain for the headmistress palpable the more words fell from her mouth. Her tone is pure cynicism as she answers. “Sure, Mrs. Winters. I'll keep an open mind while I'm here.” 

Begrudgingly, she follows the older woman through the school's grand entrance, the imposing architecture and hushed conversations heightening her unease. 

The Hall of Entrance in the all-girls boarding school exudes an air of elegance and tradition. Polished marble floors stretch out beneath the students' feet, reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers that hang overhead. Tall, arched windows line the walls, allowing sunlight to filter in and cast a warm, inviting glow on the surroundings. 

As Claire steps into the hall after the Headmistress, she is greeted by a flurry of activity. Girls in crisp uniforms pass by more eagerly than the ones she saw outside, their eyes darting to and fro, their hushed whispers carrying snippets of gossip. The hall becomes a stage for both fellowship and rivalry, as cliques form and dissolve with each passing moment. 

The sound of clicking heels and rustling skirts mingles with the gentle murmur of conversation, creating a symphony of feminine energy. Some girls walk with confidence, their heads held high, while others seem more reserved, their eyes darting nervously as they try to find their place within the social hierarchy. 

Portraits of past headmistresses and notable alumnae adorn the walls, their stern gazes reminding the students of the institution's legacy and the high expectations placed upon them. Some peak Claire’s attention. One of the spaces in particular, the one dedicated to the sports league, shows boys’ teams and trophies they earned against them, but she can’t find the right moment to ask what it is about as Mrs. Winters walks like a thunderstorm.  

The aroma of freshly polished wood and the faint hint of perfume linger in the air making her curiosity calmly dissipate, creating an atmosphere that is both refined and pansy. 

A grand staircase, its banisters intricately carved, leads to the upper levels of the school. It serves as a focal point, drawing the eyes of the girls as they ascend and descend, their interactions playing out on the stage of the hall. 

Claire becomes acutely aware of the watchful eyes as she makes her way through the bustling crowd, trailing the steps of Mrs. Winters. Some girls shoot her curious glances, sizing her up and speculating about the newcomer. Whispers trail in her wake, snippets of conversation filled with intrigue and speculation. 

Mrs. Winters then suddenly turns to face her once more, revealing behind her shoulder line a girl who matches Claire’s height, with bangs and a cascade of hazel hair. The girl’s warm and open expression contrasts greatly with Claire’s defensive demeanor.  

Noticing Claire’s disinterest, Mrs. Winters starts, “Let me introduce you to your new roommate, Claire. She’ll help you settle in.”  

Extending her hand politely and rather excitedly, the girl before her greets, “Hi! I'm Ella. It’s really nice to meet you!” 

Claire reluctantly shakes Ella's hand, her guard still up. Frustrated by the already lack of choice on her end she mumbles, “Yeah, hi.” 

Headmistress Winters nods curtly, signaling the end of their interaction. “Miss Dubois, why don’t you show Claire to your dormitory and explain how things work around here? I was in the middle of a rather urgent matter when she arrived...”  

Without missing a beat, Ella promptly nods, understanding the task at hand. “Sure thing, Headmistress. Follow me, roomie!”  

The newfound nickname makes Claire hiss internally like a cornered cat, but she plays the part, thankful to finally get herself rid of the Headmistress's presence.  

Before the two of them can walk further away, Mrs. Winters dismissively points again, “Very well, off you go. Make sure you familiarize yourself with the rules and expectations of this institution, Miss Deschamps.”  

Claire raises an eyebrow, her rebellious spirit flickering to life. “I'll keep that in mind, Headmistress,” she replies defiantly, turning her back to the woman.  

Leaving the bustling hall and the scrutinizing eyes of the older woman, Claire turns to Ella, a sense of complicity forming between them as she notices how much more relaxed her new guide seems to be.  

Smiling, Ella reassures her. “I promise this is not all as daunting as it seems.”  Claire takes a deep breath, her apprehension giving way to a glimmer of hope. She follows Ella, ready to navigate the challenges of this new environment, determined to find her place amidst the rules and expectations she so vehemently resents. Who knows?, she thinks, maybe her new roommate can give her an escape route without even noticing. She could be escaping St. Victoria’s much earlier than she had predicted.

━━━━━━━━━ ✦ 

Claire wasn’t convinced if Ella had what it takes to be her newfound ally. The headmistress seemed to trust her enough which made her either valuable to the plan or a stone in her shoe. Although Claire was pending more to the former since the girl seemed very friendly as they kept a light conversation and she led the way through the bustling hallways. More often than not, the veteran would gush about her own friends as she vibrantly pointed to Claire how their day-to-day was, and for moments, more than to seek intel to architect her plan, the brunette found herself momentarily forgetting about her purpose as she got infected by Ella’s contagious energy.  

Their footsteps echo softly as they step onto the serene patio, where blooming flowers and neatly trimmed hedges create a serene oasis within the school grounds. The sound of laughter and animated conversations drifts through the air as girls gather in small groups, enjoying moments of respite and fellowship. 

Claire’s eyes scan the scenery, and they get caught in the ruckus three girls are making right by the center fountain of the patio. The one standing in the middle, a blonde with a high ballerina bun, dances excitedly as she flashes a knitted scarf to her peers. “You think JK will like it?” Her voice travels through the open space as she points specifically to the initials engraved in it.  

Noticing Claire’s mind is far away from whatever she is saying, Ella leans closer, whispering, “That’s Vivienne for you,” she chuckles as Claire’s glance shifts quickly back, “Everyone calls her Vivi and you’ll soon hate her too, trust me.”  

To that statement, Claire’s eyes return inquiring to Ella’s, her nose scrunching in doubt.  

“You see, she delusionally believes she and some trouble boy are meant to be. We’re all tired to hear about it, or witness moments like this.” Ella points with her head to the blonde once more. “There she goes, making him a scarf he won’t probably use. Tell me about waste of time!”  

Claire mildly snorts entertained, looking at the scene as well. “Poor girl.”  

“Oh, believe me!” Ella exhales, walking away and her roommate follows, “That one is nothing of the sort. Imagine Regina George in real life. That’s her, right there.”  

In a lack of response from the brunette, Ella gestures towards a row of benches shaded by a grand oak tree. ”Anyways, this is our patio, Claire. It's the perfect spot to relax and soak up some sunshine during breaks. And see over there? That's the canteen.” 

The delicious aroma of freshly cooked meals fills the air as soon as they step closer to the precinct. Girls line up at the serving counter, chatting and exchanging stories as they eagerly await their turn. The room is alive with vibrant colors, with posters and artwork adorning the walls, adding a touch of creativity to the space. 

“We refuel here, obviously.” Ella glances excited to see Claire’s reaction. “The food is surprisingly good, and there's always a variety of options to choose from… Well. When the boys don’t join, that is. They can be savages.” she chuckles nonchalantly. 

Suddenly Claire’s eyes perk with curiosity. Every bit of information she had gathered about the school before arriving said this was an all-girls academy, but then again, there were existent photos of boys displayed in the hall. Not to say Vivienne’s parade a second ago. Do they have a day off?, she muses, Could this be an opportunity? “What do you mean boys? Isn’t this an all-girls school?” she voices her thoughts as Ella takes the lead again, taking her on another stroll.   

The energetic roommate greets some girls that pass by them with a sympathetic smile before returning her focus to the newcomer beside her.  

“Well, yeah. The Alarie boarding school for boys is right across the river, and we often have classes together. You know, lack of teachers in the far countryside.” she shrugs. 

Before she can inquire further, Ella is already distracted, smiling at the passersby.  

“With Jimin? Again?! God, what’s her secret!” They hear a girl gasp to a friend as they crossways.  

Oh. I see..., Claire’s thoughts put the pieces together. She quickly looks at the hazel-haired girl making her company.  

By the raise of eyebrows that she gives her and the flicker of frolic that flashes in her eyes, Ella is quick to warn, “It’s strictly forbidden to hang out with them boys, Claire. No smogging. No funny hands.”  

“But she just-” Claire refuted pointing behind her shoulders to the girl that passed by sharing her indignation a bit too loudly.  

Ella gave her a warning yet laid-back glance, “Alright, people go on with it in secret but as you can see, nothing is really a secret around here. And then when you least expect it, bam! You’re in trouble!”  

“Are they at least hot? Or I don’t know... Worth the trouble?”  

Ella thinks for a second and then shrugs with a naivety Claire knows to be fake, “How would I know?”  

“If you say so!” Claire pretends to salute dramatically, a bickering well read by the other as to the current square state the Academy insisted on following rules. And so, Ella pulls her to a quick jog entertained, and a bit tempted to show her new roommate she also knew how to break a few of them. Even if the rules she was breaking weren’t as grand as Claire deemed them to be. The students passing by confirmed the thought as they judged their behavior, and Claire laughed even louder at their tedious conformism. The rule about not running in the hallways was true indeed.  

As they arrive at their shared dormitory, their footsteps grow softer as they enter the hushed ambiance of the living quarters. The dormitory is a cozy space adorned with tasteful decorations, featuring two neatly made beds, desks adorned with books and personal touches, and small corkboards for photos and reminders. 

Ella jumps to sit on her own bed, bouncing on the mattress as she does so. “And here we are,” she gestures. “Our humble abode. It may not be the biggest, but it's home.” 

Claire looks around the room, a hint of curiosity dancing in her eyes as she imagines the memories that will unfold within these walls, even if for brief moments. Ella seems a nice girl, but she won’t be around to discover much more about her. She needs to escape this. Her real friends await in the big city.  

“Yeah, it's not bad…” 

Ella grins with the comment, her warmth shining through. 

“We'll make it cozy, you’ll see,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, you still have to meet my girls! They are rooming right in front of us. It’s great to share stuff and to keep gossip in day!” She laughs at her own behavior.  

As Claire sets her suitcase down and begins to unpack, a bit aloof to her roommate’s words, a newfound sense of optimism fills the room. To Ella is the beginning of a new friendship, even if her roommate was a hard one to crack. But she was patient, everyone had their personal time after all. To Claire, it is a journey through a path she had never charted before, but her father was right about one thing---she is strong. And she will prevail.  

“We’ll meet them in a few!” Ella continues, snapping Claire out of her thoughts, “They went to pick up your uniforms for you.”  

Claire eyes her with gratitude, showing for the first time a smile, even if timid, and her roommate mimicked the action. Only hers was as big as her enthusiasm for finally having a friend to share her bedroom with.  

Still sitting by her bed, Ella watches as Claire takes only her toiletries out of her green suitcase, as well as a portrait of her and what the girl gathered to be her mom. The tall wild child discards the pouch with her cosmetics by the bed, as she walks toward the bedside table, closely placed to the window, adjusting the portrait on top of it. Her clothes, still inside the suitcase, didn’t seem important and were left forgotten still inside it, untouched. Or so Ella thought so.  

“Your mom is beautiful,” she comments gently, looking at how Claire’s eyes seem to hover with longing at the picture.  

The brunette opens a small smile, thanking her roommate almost in a whisper, eyes still glued to the image of her mom. How she missed her.  

And then suddenly a loud pang interrupts the moment, making her jump and Ella scream. Startled by the sudden impact of a ball against her bedroom window, she had fallen back onto her bed, her heart racing. She swiftly rises and storms towards the window again, fueled by annoyance and ready to unleash her frustration on the culprit responsible. 

Seething with anger, Claire flings open the window of her dorm room on the second floor, ready to give the culprit a piece of her mind. Ella knees on her bed to look at the indicted herself. “Shit.” She manages to say.  

Claire’s words, however, catch in her throat as she locks eyes with a boy she has never seen before, and taking by Ella’s reaction beside her, it was clear that wasn’t her case, her roommate knew him.  

His mischievous grin and charismatic presence immediately captivate her, and a flicker of curiosity replaces her initial anger. Still, she stands her ground and through gritted teeth, she lashes, “What's your problem?!” 

Both girls watch as he brings casually one of his hands to shield his eyes from the sun, his smile gleaming with amusement. 

“Oh, I apologize, princess,” he says charmingly. “You weren’t supposed to-” he trails off, “Well, I wasn’t looking to make an impression on you but now…” he considers, his smile doubling the size.  

Claire tries to maintain her composure, but there's an undeniable pull towards the Alarie’s boy that she can't ignore. 

“Impression?” She scoffs slightly flustered, “If it’s at being stupid, you've certainly succeeded. Who are you anyway?” 

The boy takes a step closer toward the shade of the tall building to see her better, a playful glint in his eyes as he keeps looking up chuckling at her response.  

With a smirk, he replies. “You didn’t hear of me? I'm Jungkook,” he says as if it explains a lot, with a smugness that makes Claire crazy to punch out of his face. “I go to the Alarie’s, right next door.” 

“JK!” another boy shouts from a distance, and Claire’s eyes travel to the field to meet the face of Jungkook’s peer. A group of boys is joyfully hanging out there, waiting for him.  

As her eyes turn back to him, standing beneath her window, with a raised eyebrow, Jungkook says with yet another chuckle, “You never told me your name.”  

She sneers, “And I won’t.”  

Despite her refusal, Claire can't help but feel a certain curiosity pull toward Jungkook. His confidence and charm leave her intrigued, even if she tries to deny it or finds it too brazen. 

Jungkook sends another intrigued look her way, a hint of mischief in his voice. 

“Don't worry, princess. I’ll find it soon enough.” that answer only makes her blood boil further. “Besides, life's too short to be boring, don't you think? I like the mystery.” He shrugs with a smile, picking the rugby ball that was fallen by his feet, and starting to walk back. He turns once again to see her reaction, raising his voice as he adds, “And tell your rat roommate that the next one is meant for her!” He lifts the ball in his hand as if he raised a toast. 

“I'm not fucking interested in your idea of excitement, Jungkook. Save your charm for someone else!” She shouts defiantly but he only laughs in response, now fully turning his back and jogging swiftly toward his friends.  

She can't help but watch his back and carefree stance, even if Ella’s presence is made heard by her side. Under rushed and muted curses, the girl gets up from the bed, initiating an anxious breakdown as she paced back and forth inside their bedroom.  

Claire’s gaze finally moves away from the window to fall upon her roommate’s state. “Not that it’s any of my business, but... You wanna talk about it?” she asks, gaining no response apart from a full stop on the pacing and Ella’s hands coming to a desperate grip on her own locks.  

“Ella!” Claire calls her, closing the distance between them, “Hey, what’s going on?” The change of attitude of the girl was so brusque from her previous joyful self that it got her worried.  

She gently touched her shoulder, and Ella’s eyes finally found her own. “I’m totally, completely, fucked.” She confesses finally.  

“What happened? Is it about this Jungkook guy?”  

The hazel-haired girl gives her a nod and Claire’s eyebrows knit together. She manages to inhale, ready to question further but they are interrupted by the cheerful tinkle of shoes and greetings.  

“We got it!” It’s what she hears as she looks at the door to their room that had been left open. Two girls enter the space, both shorter than Ella and her. They look excited, probably having fun on the way there.  

“Hi! You must be the new girl,” The shortest one says, giving her a cordial smile. She has her long honey-blonde hair held back by a bow. “I’m Lola, this is Avery...”  

“And this is your uniforms!” While Lola has a royal aura to her, somewhat restrained and charismatic, Avery seems more upfront and girly. Her hair is like coal and so glossy that it shines hues of dark blue in the light.  

Taking the folded clothes from her hands with a smile of her own, Claire introduces herself. “Thank you, I’m Claire. And you really didn’t have to do it-” 

“It’s totally fine, we wanted to!” Lola insists bubbly, waving off, and the brunette smiles thankful.  

The blonde walks her way toward Ella’s bed, familiar enough to sit on it as she grabs a pillow to hug as she did so.  

“Girls. He knows.” To Claire’s relief, Ella finally enters the conversation. “I hate myself!” She adds, grunting.  

She notices how the other two react fervently to the comment as she places the pile of uniforms on top of her bed, ceasing to be the focus of their attention. They look at Ella with staring eyes, clearly on topic but still indignant about the rest of the information that still doesn’t come.  

“What do you mean he knows?!” Avery is the first to question. “How would he know? There were no boys in class that day...” 

To which Lola quickly made a comment with a nudge at her waist, “I told you there was! Louis, remember?”  

At the same time, Ella explained. “Now Jungkook sent a stupid ball flying up the window on purpose. After my head of course!”  

While Claire looked from one to another trying to unveil the situation, both Avery and Lola unleashed a series of wroth exclamations, to what Ella took part in instead of actually providing a clearer explanation.  

“I’m sorry.” Claire interrupted. “But can someone situate me here? What does this Jungkook know? And why is it a big deal? I’m lost.” She had a notion she was being brazen as she wasn’t close to the three friends before her, but not a couple minutes before she had witnessed a boy sending a warning in the shape of a rugby ball to her roommate. If this was to continue while she stayed there, she needed to know at least the basics.  

Avery and Lola look from her to Ella apprehensively waiting. So this is mildly important, she thinks. And then the latter sighs.  

“I wasn’t completely honest with you about the boys’ part...”  

To that statement, Claire slowly realizes that there may be more to this school than meets the eye, and consequently, more that she needs to unravel to make her flight seem a mystery. Glancing out of the window, Alerie’s boarding school for boys is starting to feel like a needed pit stop, as it stands tall between St. Victoria’s building and her much-wanted freedom.

✦ TAGLIST.

send an ask in if you want to be part of it or comment down below.

#bts au #jungkook smut #bts ot7 au #jungkook scenarios #purplearmynet #bts scenarios #bts college au #bts high school au #jimin scenario #taehyung au #jimin smut #hoseok fluff #bts x you #namjoon scenarios #yoongi imagine #jin fluff #jungkook imagine #bts series #ot7 smut #ot7 x you

[yoonia]

Free Falling (M) | pjm

➬ Title | Free Falling - final instalment from the Falling series (with bonus epilogue)

➬ Summary | People say that you should let life take its course, and to always be ready to open your heart for love. You have learned to allow yourself for the latter, but as always, allowing yourself to open up to every possibilities that life could give you have always been hard for you to do. Your first instinct has always been about hiding your desire, to protect yourself from hurt, but is it worth it to risk it all by keeping it as a secret from the one you love the most?  

↳ Pairings | Park Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, ex-assistant!reader, Established relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; talks about pregnancy, a mild hint of pregnancy scare, mentions of birth control, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, explicit smut scenes, including: Jimin’s obsession for boobs, soft dom!Jimin, multiple smut scenes, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, studio/office sex, breast play, nipple play (involves sucking, biting, pinching), hand job, thigh riding, dry humping, riding, grinding, clothed sex, light spanking, pussy slapping, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), clit play, hair pulling, manhandling, rough sex, ass biting, dirty talk, swearing, light restraint/bondage, pain kink, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, implied creampie, impregnation/breeding kink…and just like always, a sappy ending.  

↳ Word count | 22k words (whoops…I did it again!)  

↳ Story Masterlist: Falling trilogy

↳ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Commissions

↳ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt | Wattpad (links coming soon!)

↳ Music companion | Lately - Jonisa

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @opaljm​ | I’m so sorry that this one took forever, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy this story and I hope this would be a nice belated birthday gift for you to read. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, since I did plan this one to be posted as Jimin’s birthday fic, so I feel somewhat bonded with these characters. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for throwing me these ideas with this Jimin. Even if it took me a while to finish, I did enjoy writing this story for you and it really felt good to give this closure to this couple. Have fun reading! (Ps. I hope the epilogue at the end would be enough to make up for the long wait)

“It’s probably nothing.”

If you had any intention of reassuring anyone with those words, it would be painfully obvious that your effort is completely fruitless. You could hear how empty those words had sounded, with not a stir of hope materialising within you as you voiced them out loud. Even as you keep repeating the same words inside your head in the silence that soon follows, you still cannot tell exactly who you were directing those words to.

Keeping your eyes on the bathroom counter, you can feel Jimin hovering close by. There is no doubt that his curiosity is much stronger than what he is letting on, though there is no doubt that he is just as nervous about this as you are when he chooses to remain in the doorway rather than stepping inside to be by your side. It feels odd to be facing this on your own, though you welcome his distant support when you are not quite sure what you are feeling right now yourself.

“Still, we need to make sure, don’t you think?” Jimin questions you, suddenly sounding much closer this time. You can feel his presence filling the room before his hands reach out to touch you, resting on your shoulders to let you know that he is there with you.

Calmness washes over you at his touch. You breathe a sigh of relief and place your hand on top of his to gain more strength from his warmth. And yet you still cannot find it in you to look away. There is an unexplainable fear that makes you believe that once you blink, then the white strip on top of the counter would either disappear or change shape. You simply cannot let that happen. Not when you need some answers.

How long has it been?

How long were we supposed to wait?

As the questions keep running through your mind, suddenly everything else feels obscured. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, and time becomes nothing more but an illusion as it seems to drag on as you wait.

Taking a deep breath while clutching tighter on Jimin’s hand, you try to hold your composure and remain patient. Truth be told, you absolutely have no idea what you are expecting to see, yet you also didn’t expect to feel this tense over something like this either. You wonder if perhaps everything that had happened leading up to this point may have added to your agitation and doubt. It seems to have somehow drawn you to start second guessing yourself and everything that you believed to be true.

With your eyes on the white strip, you recall the conversation that you shared with Jimin early this morning. Starting from the comment that you had made so nonchalantly when you had just woken up, followed by the talk which had led him sending his poor housemaid out to buy an entire bag of pregnancy tests while you slipped into the shower.

“Is that normal?” was the question that he gave you, catching you by surprise. You had not seen him in the room when you first woke up, and for some reason, he had to choose that moment to come back, just in time to hear you murmuring to yourself about the late arrival of your monthly period.

It never even crossed your mind before. Not until the moment you opened the calendar application on your phone to check today’s schedule and realised how long ago your last period had been.

“You’re still home? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym already? And why are you spying on me?”

It hadn’t been your intention to avoid answering his question. You barely had time to process your own thoughts when he came into the bedroom wearing his workout clothes, as he would usually be out on his morning workout routine by the time you would be awakened from your slumber. Jimin looked awfully worried when he gently took your phone away from you, stopping you from changing the conversation again when he repeated the question.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. My period does come regularly most of the time, but that’s not always been the case. I’m only a couple of weeks late. I’ve been busy lately, and it could happen because my stress level is high without me realising it or because I’ve been skipping meals when I’m working. It’s natural to happen, so I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” you had tried your best to convince him with various excuses despite his worries, before escaping his attention by rushing into the shower, hoping that he would let it go once you were done. Though it was already far too late by then, as he had already made up his mind to do something about it.

Hence the pregnancy test, which he handed to you right the moment you stepped out of the shower, followed by a long process of you taking the said test—two sets of them—and waiting anxiously for the results together as Jimin chose to skip going to the gym altogether. You may not have had the slightest hint of curiosity or concern before, but it is quite clear that his reaction and the tension that you can feel rolling out of him are beginning to affect you, and you are beginning to feel just as anxious as he is.

“I’m telling you, it’s probably nothing,” you try telling him again, though your words no longer hold the same conviction as they had earlier when you are purposely aiming for them to calm yourself down. “My period also came irregularly quite often when I first started working with you, back when I was working crazy hours and was stressing out over adjusting to living in the city, so I’m sure it’s probably the same thing. You know that I’ve been—”

Jimin’s hold on your shoulders tightens just then, and you watch with bated breath as the line begins to show on the strip. Then it stops before another ever comes up to join the first one.

“Negative,” the word comes out of you with a relieved sigh, as all the worries and tension are lifted from you. Though contrary to what you are feeling, your own voice somehow sounds a bit distant and unrecognisable even to yourself.

But you can easily recognise the unmistakable sound of a deep exhale of sigh coming from behind you as Jimin slowly relaxes. “Well, I guess you’re right. That’s what, the second test that shows negative?”

You turn to him then with a teasing smile. “Told you so. Should’ve listened to me when I told you not to worry about it so much. I’ve been busy with work, that’s all. And things are getting a bit stressful since it’s entering the end of the year,” you tell him with a shrug, already playing it off as if it’s not a big deal, hoping to change the mood.

The look that he is giving you, however, says differently.

His eyes convey something that is quite unreadable, a bit of an odd mix of concern, relief, and sombreness. The latter one gives a tight pinch in your chest, and it is the kind of emotion that you really hate seeing from him. And you don’t like not knowing where it is coming from.

Wanting to erase the troubled look on his face, you place your palms on his cheeks, pulling his attention back to you until he is looking at you straight in the eyes so you can reassure him, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll call my physician to have my health checked up to make sure that everything’s okay. And that I’m absolutely fine.”

Your words bring a bit of light back to his eyes when he smiles. “There’s no need if you don’t want to,” he says, before leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Are you going to be super busy again today? Can’t you take it easy until we’re sure you’re really okay?” he begins asking you, though almost distractedly, as his eyes have begun roaming down your body that is still clad in the silky robe that you put on after stepping out of the shower while his hands are beginning to slide down your waist.

“Ah, I only have a lunch meeting with the people from the foundation. And then I’m seeing Hyorin, the actress that Yerin has been working with lately. She had asked to see me after I’m done with the meeting for some advice, but I don’t think it’ll be too long. I might be able to come back right before dinner,” you answer him, recalling the short list of appointments that you have for today with more effort than you should have, and with your voice slowly fading out with the distraction that Jimin is giving to you.

Because just when you start answering him, Jimin moves to raise his hand up from your waist and starts trailing a finger over your breasts. Starting with his teasing touch, he gently runs the tip of his finger over your cleavage, finding the skin that has been exposed from where the top of your robe is parted.

Noticing the change in the tone of your voice and seeing how you are slowly growing breathless with anticipation, he starts becoming more brazen with his touches. Your voice fades to a gasp as he traces a finger down one breast, following the silky lining of your robe until he finds your covered nipple before trailing back up again to the other side, his finger never losing contact with your breast the entire time, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier.

“Good. I won’t have to part with you for too long, then,” you faintly hear him say as his finger lingers a bit too long over the tip of your breast, rubbing at the hardening peak from over your thin robe.  

“What are you up to?” you question him when his touch seems deliberate, and when he seems pleased the moment the subtle tremble of your chest becomes more obvious as he continues.

Seeing your reaction, Jimin’s lips rise to a smile. “Nothing much,” he whispers heavily, as if he is just as affected by his own touches the way you do. “I was just thinking—” he says as he pulls his hand away, “—since we got the test out of the way, it means we have no problem, right? Nothing to worry about. Although—I’d like to think that it only means that we have been given some more time to enjoy ourselves, maybe have some practice since we still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again.”

Before your mind clears out of the fog that he had created and you have the chance to question what he is trying to say, Jimin reaches out to clean out the bathroom counter with one swipe of his hand. He tosses the used test strips and their empty packages into the trash and wipes the cold surface clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before his hands find your waist.

“Jimin, what are you—oh!” you let out a gasp when he swiftly lifts you up and sets you up on the counter, your bathrobe barely covering your skin from the cold surface as the hem merely ends right under your buttocks.

As if he knows where the rush of chill surging through your body is coming from, Jimin brings his hands down to your exposed thighs. The gentle touch of his palms on your skin gives you the warmth that you need, but he gives you no chance to embrace it when he leans in, taking your attention from his hands with a kiss.

As always, Jimin manages to calm your rapid thoughts even with nothing more but the slightest touch of his lips on yours. While his hands continue roaming down your body, grazing the under curves of your breasts through your thin robe, then tracing and feeling your torso as his touch makes its way down to your waist. He steals your voice with his kiss, his lips moulding perfectly with yours. Even as the kiss grows with fervour, his lips still feel as soft as the clouds, enough to cool down the heat that he lights up within you with his gentle fingers.

Just as his hands grow more daring, he begins deepening the kiss further. The sensation he is giving to you makes your body grow hotter and you lean into him further, your body moving to chase his touch while you return his kiss, moaning softly as his tongue comes licking out, pressing its way into your mouth. Your mind begins swirling while he keeps devouring your lips. His hands move lower, finding the silky ties that are holding your robe together and tugging them loose until the front of your robe falls open, exposing your bareness to him. The sudden chill that touches your skin draws a gasp out of you that you pull away from him, yet Jimin doesn’t mind it, as he already has his attention somewhere else.

He smiles when you slowly open your eyes. His lips are wet and swollen from the kiss, and you lick your own lips seeing this, still feeling the touch of his lips lingering on yours. Just as you are about to pull him back for another kiss, his hands slip under your robe, opening it further apart, before he easily moves his palms to cup the soft mounds of your breasts. As you arch your chest into his touch, he gently brushes his thumbs across your nipples, moving against them in slow up-and-down strokes, then in circles, repeating the same patterns until they grow hard against his sinful touches while you begin to experience all the delicate shivers flowing through your body.

“Beautiful,” he muses with a hum as he keeps tweaking your nipple. A soft cry escapes your lips, yet his gaze remains on your breasts. He has been drawn completely to the rise and fall of your chest and the way your soft skin grows tighter the more he continues to work on your body. There is a deep, hungry glaze in his eyes as he takes his time playing with your hardened nub, as he continues to tweak, pinch, and pull, stretching and releasing it while you keep arching your chest into his touch.

He gives another tweak when your gasp comes out louder, and only then does he stop. His eyes find yours, before he gives you a smile that is filled more with mirth than warmth. “Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” he asks you, though he doesn’t wait for an answer when he soon adds, “Let me heal you, baby. Perhaps you’ll feel better with a kiss.”

Jimin puts a hand on your back, holding you steady and keeping you from falling backwards while he leans forward, his mouth closing onto the nipple that he has been playing with. He starts lightly sucking on it, using his lips to rub across the area where his fingers had been, then his tongue joins in to give a couple of licks, moving slowly across and rolling around the nub as if he is trying to lick a wound. The rush that you feel in your body from his treatment is completely indescribable. It feels so good, electrifying, and so decadent that you lose complete control of your body as it reacts to the sensation that he is giving you.

Your head falls back with a moan when he suddenly switches to the other breast. He does the same thing with his mouth and tongue, taking his sweet time with it and never stopping until it grows just as hard as the other. You feel his other hand crawling up, cupping the neglected mound with his palm before his fingers begin playing with its throbbing peak. Both your nipples have grown wet and hard, and your breasts feel as if they have become swollen and tight at the same time. The feeling he is giving you is exhilarating and you don’t want him to stop. But the moment you feel his hips pushing forward, nudging at your knees to silently request for you to spread them open for him, you know that he is not done yet.

Even in your high, you still know what to do to give him what he wants. Scooting a few inches forward on the counter, you part your legs for him, allowing him to slide between your thighs. Your trembling hands come up to his chest in your search for contact. Your eyes fall open when instead of finding his warm skin, your fingers are met with his sweatshirt.

“Off—” is the only thing that you can say to him, though your fingers are adequate to help make it clear as you begin pulling the front of his shirt.

With a chuckle, Jimin releases you and pulls back just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. In a blink of an eye, the shirt is gone, tossed away to the floor and he returns to you with his chest bare and warm enough to touch. His lips, all wet and swollen after devouring your breasts, are lifted to a sly smirk. “There. Happy?”

Biting your lips, you keep your gaze on his face while you reach out to him, grabbing onto the waistband of his sweatpants to give it a pull. “Not quite yet.”

You give the strings holding them up on his waist a strong tug and let go, and the pants simply fall to the ground, pooling around his feet. Jimin steps out of it and kicks it away, not wasting any more time as he also rips his briefs off before returning to his position between your parted legs. He moves so swiftly, yet it is the sight of his erection pointing straight at you which pulls every possible reaction that he could get.

Heat rises all over your body, starting from your face and all the way down between your legs. You have begun fighting a losing battle to compose yourself, to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him when he settles against your center. His cock is now standing between you and only barely touching, while his hands come to your thighs, rubbing gently in small circles that feel maddening and calming at the same time.

"So what was it again that you said…something about having some extra time to practice?” you question him, no longer able to hold back when your hand comes down, finding his length. His cock feels firm and hard against your palm, and you can feel its pulse when you wrap your hand around its girth.

Jimin looks down and exhales a soft sigh as you begin to stroke the length of his cock. It begins with a gentle stroke, moving up and down slowly until you can feel the first shudder running through his body. “What’s the rush? We have enough time, don’t we? We can take it slow,” Jimin calmly says, acting as if he is completely unaffected when you can clearly see him doing his best to keep it together and slowly failing, judging from the way his fingers are pressing a bit harder into your skin.

“I’m not the one who has a morning schedule today,” you tease him with a scoff, reminding him that he is the one who has been skipping his responsibilities while dealing with the pregnancy tests. Jimin merely chuckles, yet you can feel his hand moving slowly towards your center, and your heartbeat begins to race when he comes closer towards where the pulses are rising between your legs. And he keeps moving closer, until the tips of his fingers come brushing gently against your folds, making you jump at his touch before you quickly relax.

“I guess we can make an exception this morning,” he whispers, his voice sounding a bit rough when he finds you growing wet under his touch. He reaches down and wraps his hand over yours, guiding you to help align the head of his cock onto your slit. Gently, he slips his cock between your cleft and begins to stroke the tip up and down your slit. The sounds of your slickness can be heard the more he moves, as he gathers more and more of your arousal to coat his veiny girth and help him move more fluidly between your hot folds.

You look down, seeing for yourself the way his cock is rubbing against you, and how both his skin and yours look wet, glistening under the dim lighting. You let go just as he begins to push forward, your hands rise up to his shoulders to hold on when you can feel the head of his cock pushing its way into you, slowly stretching you apart to let him in. The delightful pressure that you feel when he slides into you has you tightening your hold on him, your nails sinking into his skin as you revel in the soft trembles of your tight walls welcoming him in.

Jimin slowly sinks into you, doing it with small increments, as he pushes into you an inch before he pulls back, and then comes back in to push deeper. He keeps repeating it again and again, making his way in between your pulsing walls. The sensation that he brings to your body makes your head swirl a bit more intensely than before. All you can do is lean back and take it, relying on the firm press of his hand on the small of your back that is keeping you from falling backwards. Feeling him getting deeper and deeper, your mouth falls open with small noises coming out of your lips every time he pushes a bit harder. Just as the first moan escapes your lips, coming out a bit louder when he suddenly gives a firm thrust, he leans in, capturing your lips with a soft kiss to drown your voice while he takes a short break. He basks in this moment, relishing the warm snug that your walls are giving around him, while the pulses rising from your core seem to match the one coming out of his hard shaft.

The kiss lingers as he deepens it, moulding your lips together until you melt into him further. His hands move down to your thighs, subtly rising them up until you have your legs wrapped around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to start moving more easily. He pulls back just then, giving you a sweet smile before whispering, “Hold on tight, baby.”

With a light tug on your waist, Jimin pulls you towards him and somehow finds it possible to sink just a little bit further into you. The push that he gives draws a sharp cry out of you, though it sounds nothing like a cry of pain, only pleasure. It gives the right kind of push for Jimin to start moving, driving in and out of you steadily, igniting sparks of pleasure through your body with each thrust.

Soon enough, you start moving together with him, pushing to meet each and every one of his thrusts, encouraging him to do more and to start moving faster. His pace increases, and he just keeps on thrusting into you without fail. Lost in his own pleasure, his legs begin to quiver beneath him. His body almost comes bouncing off you each time you are joined, though he never fails to thrust back in again, and again, hitting all the right spots inside you that you almost never want it to end.

Keeping one arm around your waist to hold you in place, his other hand moves to touch your body. As if he cannot spend another minute not touching you. His palm finds your breast, fondling the mound lovingly the way he always would. He enjoys feeling the weight against his palm, and to feel your skin growing hot under his touch. Your body shudders when his fingers find your sensitive bud and start playing with it, and you simply let him. His touch feels so wonderful that it makes you arch more into his hand, and it adds to the amazing sensation that you are feeling from his lovemaking.

The pleasure within you continues to rise, and his speed picks up further. The tremble that comes with his moan gives away how close he is to his orgasm, and you clench around him right when you feel your own climax starting to form itself.

“More, Jimin. I’m close,” you whisper breathlessly as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as you take in every thrust, every pounding, and every pulse that he ignites within you until your muscles start to coil with your release.

Just as the first wave of your orgasm washes over you, your mind flies back to a moment passed merely minutes ago. Jimin’s face, the look that he wore after seeing the test result earlier, comes flashing in your mind, replacing the blissful and content look that you are seeing through your bleary eyes as he comes close to his release. Meanwhile, the emotions that you hadn’t completely understood when they first came to you are suddenly becoming clearer just as the waves of pleasure are growing stronger inside you.

As he embraces his climax, Jimin gives you one final thrust, pushing you towards your own. The sensation becomes too much, and there is nothing that you could do but let yourself fall into it, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over you.

But right in your plunge into heavenly bliss, there is an unsettling realisation that comes together with it, pushing through from the back of your mind. It sucks the air out of your chest in your cry of pleasure when you realise that beyond the lingering feeling of contentment and relief that you both shared upon seeing the test result, those emotions had been accompanied by something else. Something that felt more like shattered hope.

Despite having a strong faith that today would be an easy day for you, it didn’t take long before things turned completely the other way around.

The foundation that Mrs. Min built with your assistance has prospered well over the past year. The team that manages the foundation’s programs and its main timetable have grown exponentially, leading to its current success. You have been there to actively participate in helping to form the team from day one, leading them while you were working side by side with Mrs. Min in arranging all the charity works done under the foundation’s name. You have also been there to witness their wonderful growth and take pride in contributing your role in the achievements that the foundation has accomplished so far, even if you enjoy remaining in the background instead of stepping into the spotlight where Mrs. Min has been standing so proudly in from the start.

And yet, even when things have looked so promising for the people behind the foundation, as they seem to have gained a good rapport with the public and from the entertainment companies that they are closely acquainted with, it doesn't necessarily mean that everything has been running smoothly in the background.

The lunch meeting that you attended today had ended an hour ago, and yet you are still here, sitting in the guest lounge at the same hotel where the meeting was held. There is no denying that you feel completely drained, just from going through that meeting alone. All the pleasant feelings that you have acquired in the morning have long faded, replaced with exhaustion and stress.

Though the intensity of the meeting hadn’t truly happened without a reason.

There are still a few weeks to go before the holiday season, but the end of year charity events are already looming in the corner. With so many ideas being sent in by all the rich clients that Mrs. Min has been working with and from the volunteers who have been helping the foundation so far, with the additional change of having new people being added into the team, the lunch meeting had dragged on more than you had initially planned.

Thankfully, Mrs Min had been present to mediate the meeting. Her wise words had ended all the lengthy arguments that almost occurred between the team members who are more adept in the cause that the foundation has been organising so far and the new members who came in with fresh, yet extravagant ideas. Her role in the meeting was something that you were grateful for the most, since you weren’t able to do your role in the meeting as well as you would have wanted to when you couldn’t seem to fully focus and put your mind into it.

It was hard to be completely present in the meeting when your mind kept flying back to this morning, reminding you of the emotional turmoil that you had to deal with before the day even started. It didn’t matter how hard you had tried to ignore it, when moments from this morning kept on coming back when least expected, stealing your attention away from the present.

You could barely hide the sigh of relief when the meeting was over and you were able to step away from it, to finally be freed and have the chance to clear your head. Though your headache only got worse when your employer pulled you to the side before departing, giving you her signature coy smile when she whispered, “Just do your usual magic. I trust that everything will run smoothly under your capable hands,” hinting that she was placing all responsibilities on your shoulders once her job in keeping peace was done.

Guess I was right about the high level of stress messing up with my hormones, after all, you had wondered when the pounding in your head made you wish that you could curl up in a ball in the safety of your bed instead of being there, standing right in the eye of the incoming storm.

After everyone had left, you realised that you probably wouldn’t have made it to your next appointment if you have to travel across the city for it. Thankfully, the actress that you were supposed to meet up with had offered to come and see you instead of meeting you at the public restaurant that you had originally booked for this private meeting.

The option to stay and find a more secluded place to meet up, far from the public’s attention—as requested by this potential client of yours—seemed to be working in your favour, after all, once you realised that the space that you have chosen has been quite peaceful enough and far from the crowd. You also soon found that this spot had allowed you to have a moment to think and find some time to relax. Although, the downtime that you managed to get didn’t last long, when you couldn’t stop yourself from opening up your tablet again and trying to find something to do to waste time. That was how you ended up making yourself busy again, finishing up some work while you were waiting for your next appointment to arrive instead of using the time to take a much-needed break.

Between drafting emails related to your side gigs and texting Jimin’s new assistant, the past hour has occupied your mind enough to slowly help you forget about the previous lunch meeting and all the other troubling thoughts. Though it soon brings your mind back to another matter that you have tried to ignore the whole day.

While you have been busy with your own business, Jimin is back at his recording company to deal with his. And just like how it has been for the past month, his newest assistant, Minji, keeps you in the loop through texts and phone calls whenever you are not there with him in person. Sometimes she would only be sending you news and updates, things that are being said in meetings or any progress that Jimin is having at work. Other times, she would send you frantic texts as she encounters serious problems that would need to be dealt with immediately and which, more often than not, would usually require your assistance. This is apparently something that is still pretty common to happen when it comes to Jimin, no matter how much time has passed since Jimin turned his act around.

You don’t really mind getting involved in his business or having his assistants contact you for advice like this, since you have never truly stopped being involved in his work despite the agreement that you made with him.

Jimin may have grown way more bearable compared to how he used to be in the past, but it hadn’t stopped the constant rotation of personal assistants coming and going to work by his side. This had been going on for a while, all while you stood by, watching all of this happening until you were left with no other choice but to offer a helping hand. And he was once again feeling cornered, having no other choice but to give in when he realised that he needed your help.

Using your past experience as his personal assistant, you took the responsibility of finding him the right assistant and training them before they started working alongside your fiancé. It took a few trials and errors with different candidates of your choosing, with a couple of cases where Jimin practically ran them off until you finally found the right person to do the job. And that was how you found Minji nearly four months ago, and she still holds the record of working with Jimin the longest so far compared to her predecessors. While you may have been able to take some credit in making it happen, you still view her as a blessing from heaven for having the perseverance to work with Jimin, and at the same time, with you. Though you cannot help being reminded of yourself in the past whenever you see her.

Your success in pairing Jimin with his new skilful assistant didn’t go unnoticed by the people around you. It had opened up new chances, becoming a side gig for you to focus on aside from the foundation, and it had become one of the reasons behind the arrangement for this next meet-up you are having today.

It started with Jimin, and then Hoseok became your next client when you assisted him in choosing a personal assistant that he had always needed. And then, as the news spread, more and more requests started coming from other artists working under the same company as theirs. Before you knew it, it eventually grew to become one of your side gigs, as you began to work alongside and under the guidance of the recording company to help and connect their artists with the right personal assistants when their agents couldn’t do much to help.

Since then, this part of your work has slowly branched out, and you are beginning to take on other roles. From acting as a publicist yourself or a freelance agent for those who have no direct connection to one whenever needed, or a consultant for new assistants who needed guidance. But while today’s appointment is just another part of this side gig, it would be a new challenge for you to handle. And it should’ve been your main priority today as your main task of the day is done, but it is hard to put your mind into it when your mind continues to be occupied by something else entirely.

Minji: I’m not sure what’s going on, but he hasn’t been able to focus today

Minji: did something happen? He keeps spacing out. We’re in the studio with his producers to talk about the next recording schedule but he’s not paying much attention

Minji: don’t worry, I’m taking notes. I’ll email them to you once we’re done here

Minji: I’m sorry for bothering you so much, but the producers look a bit lost with how Jimin is acting

You put aside your tablet with a sigh as you read through a series of texts coming from Minji. These texts may not sound as frantic as they normally would when Jimin stresses her out, but it still makes you feel a bit tense and worried. You type a quick text to respond, hoping that you can help calm her down.

You: I’m not sure, but he’s probably just tired. We had a long morning today

Your face flushes with heat when you recall the heated moment you shared with him in the bathroom this morning, though you quickly shake it off before it starts to occupy your mind any further.

You: that’s a good idea. Send me all the details through email. I’ll go through everything and work things out with him tonight once he’s gotten enough rest

You put the phone away once you are done texting and close your eyes. But you quickly regret doing so. Because instead of finding calmness, everything that had become the reason why you have been so out of it the whole day returns to fill your thoughts.

Your skin no longer flushes with warmth and bashfulness as your mind flies back to this morning, when you start remembering all that happened then and Jimin’s face returns to your thoughts again. You never got the chance to figure out what was going on through his head or where the expression that you saw on him had come from, and you never got the chance to figure out what it was that had your heart sinking into your stomach once reality finally sunk in.  

Right after both of you had come down from the blissful high of your morning quickie, Jimin didn’t wait until every shiver and all the spasms of your climax started ebbing away before he carried you into the shower. Claiming that he wanted to take the responsibility of making you dirty again, he started helping you bathe, though the good intention that he claimed to have was quick to turn into something naughty the moment his hands returned to your body, and what happened next ended up taking your mind away from every thought and doubt you had.

All doubts and unanswered questions were left forgotten once bliss took over, and Jimin had done an awfully good job in taking your mind away from them with his expert hands, as he took good care of you while stealing your breath away at the same time. But it certainly didn’t mean that the thoughts simply vanished. They were merely pushed to the back of your mind, lingering silently and making you feel restless the entire day without you realising the real reason why until moments like this one comes—a moment where there is nothing accompanying you but silence, allowing your wayward thoughts to grow louder.

Acknowledging this, it only makes you wonder if Jimin is having the same problem, that whatever it was that had crossed his mind this morning and was hidden from you has been bothering him the whole day.

But what did go through his mind this morning, you cannot help but wonder. Had the thought of us having a baby so soon really bothered him so much that it’s still troubling him even now? And why is it making me so restless?

Deep in your own thoughts, you almost fail to notice a new presence arriving at your hidden corner. You nearly jump out of your seat when a gentle voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“Hello, I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.”

You turn at the voice, only to immediately rise from your seat when you realise that your guest has arrived. It seems that she had been rushing on her way here, but her composure remains intact when she speaks.

Wearing a simple dress and a short winter jacket on top, Hyorin still looks as charming as you have always remembered her. The older actress had been absent from the scene for the past couple of years due to her marriage and then later, the birth of her daughter only six months ago, so it was quite a surprise when she suddenly contacted you through her assistant, Yerin, who is also a close friend of yours from the business, and requested for a meet-up.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you coming,” you simply say to her, welcoming her with a smile. You are about to offer her to take the seat in front of you when you realise that she has not arrived here on her own. Your eyes fall on the baby stroller that she is pushing with her, and your heart jumps for a brief moment once you get a clear sight of the adorable baby lying half-asleep inside.

Looking at her makes you stop, until you recall the conversation that you had with Yerin about this meet-up and remember the request that Hyorin has made through your friend, and realise that you probably shouldn’t be too surprised to have the baby involved in today’s meeting.

You just weren’t expecting to meet her baby this soon.

“I didn’t know that you were bringing your daughter. I would’ve picked another place that would have been more comfortable for the three of us if I had known.”

Hyorin smiles and merely waves it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. This place is quite perfect. The restaurant would have been a bit too crowded and uncomfortable for her, but she would be able to adjust better as long as the place is quiet and there are not many people going around,” Hyorin says as she takes a quick look around. To your relief, she really does seem genuinely happy with the meeting spot that you have chosen. The lounge itself serves the privacy that you would need to have this conversation, while the spot you have chosen is slightly hidden even from the hallway outside of the area where people would be roaming around, offering not only the privacy needed, but also the perfect solitude for the baby to rest without any worries.

By the time Hyorin turns her attention back to you, she is pleasantly surprised to see you still entranced at the sight of her baby girl. She must have read your expression as something that is quite a kin to a shock, because she quickly apologises and explains, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning to take her out with me today, but the babysitter called in sick at the last minute and she’s still too little to be handed to other people I don’t trust. I hope it’s okay she’s joining us today. I know that this isn’t what we had planned.”

Surely, that was not the original plan, but you refuse to let it deter you. So you simply wave your hand at her to brush it off. “It’s fine. She is the main star, after all. Isn’t she the reason why you wanted to see me today?”

The actress looks visibly relieved hearing this. She no longer appears so concerned or tense by the time she takes the seat that you offer. Sitting right across from you, Hyorin positions the stroller next to her, with the baby facing your way. The sweet baby steals your attention for a brief moment before the actress begins to talk about the reason why she is meeting you here. “I suppose that Yerin had told you everything that I needed.”

Nodding, you recall the phone call that you received from your friend before the actress finally made contact with you herself. The actress had only given birth to her baby daughter one month before recruiting Yerin to be her personal assistant. Even before that happened, she has always been keeping everything happening in her life ever since she got married completely private. She even barely showed up in public with her husband unless she was needed to be by his side, and she had completely stepped out of the spotlight before anyone even knew that she was pregnant.

Until the news of her baby being born was leaked to the public.

It was surprising for both Yerin and her publicist when she finally agreed to go public with her baby, though she only wanted it to happen under the condition that the announcement and the reveal will be done on her accord. That was when Yerin recommended you to get involved, with the agreement from the actress’ publicist who had known about your past work with Jimin.

“She has. Although, I’m not sure why you are choosing me to work this out with you. You could’ve had Yerin handle everything for you. Not only because she’s your personal assistant, but also because from the years I’ve known and worked with her, I know that Yerin is capable enough to handle this job.”

Hyorin shakes her head gently. “I’ve talked to Yerin about it, but she told me that if there’s anyone who can manage to arrange this as quickly and swiftly as possible then it would be you. I need someone who can make sure that not a single word gets out and nothing crucial gets leaked into the public until it’s time for it to come out, and while Yerin told me that she would be able to do it, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it if any leak still happens,” she firmly says, and admittedly, you understand where she is coming from.

You have seen it happening before, where an inside source becomes the reason that rumours or private information about any celebrity or public figure were able to get out and reach the media. The same thing happened to Jimin once, and you were quick to handle things and let the rumours die down with his publicist’s help. Knowing the fact that Hyorin had fired and changed her assistant and a few members of her team immediately after the news of her childbirth came out, you can only speculate that the rumours had been leaked by someone from her inner circle. And for that reason, you cannot really blame her for being more careful this time.

“Yerin convinced me that you’re the best when it comes to handling matters involving public relations and the media. I value Yerin’s opinion, which is why I took her advice and contacted you directly for help. My publicist has been a good help, but even she had given approval on Yerin’s recommendation, which made me believe that I can truly count on you.”

Hearing this, you slowly lean back in your seat. There is a sense of pride that you feel from hearing such affirmation coming from someone like her, but you cannot deny that there is also an underlying concern for taking such a huge responsibility. As you take your time pondering this, you recall all the years you have spent handling Jimin’s PR cases. The moment that you begin to realise that you know exactly what to do, learning from your past experience, you begin to have more faith in yourself, believing that you can take this challenge as long as you do all the right things and have all the right people to work with.

“I won’t say that I’m the best in the field. I’m just lucky enough to have learned the tricks,” you finally tell her once you have your mind made up, and Hyorin looks a bit more relieved to hear it. Your gaze falls on the little girl in the stroller who is making a soft fussy noise, indicating that she is slowly waking up. Seeing her move about, there is something blooming in your chest.

Looking at the baby girl, you are surprised to find how you are getting so enamoured by her presence. It feels like you are completely drawn to her, so much so that you want to reach out and touch her to know if she is real. Snapping out of it, you turn to the mother, sharing your concern, something that comes across your mind all so suddenly. It puts a heavy weight in your chest for thinking how this poor girl would be exposed to the spotlight so soon in life. “Are you sure you want to go public with your baby daughter? Her photo will be out there for the world to see once you do this.”

Hyorin looks over to her child with a worried smile. It seems like she understands what you are trying to ask of her. Perhaps she also shares the same concern, which is evident from the way she leans to her baby daughter and carefully starts tucking the blankets around her tiny little body as if she wants to protect her from the world. The gentle moment you are witnessing only escalates the tightness in your chest. The heavy weight now feels warm, though you are also beginning to feel something else brewing inside, something that you cannot put into simple words.

“A lot of people from the media have been hounding me to give them the rights to publish her photos. I even got paparazzi stalking me to steal a chance to take her pictures when I’m out of the house and have her with me,” she says, sighing softly in defeat before turning to you again. “I’ve talked about this with my husband, and we both decided that if we want to go public with her, then it has to be on my term. Since I’m going to start taking new offers again maybe after next year—or once she’s old enough to be handled by a sitter, at least—I would be appearing in public more often soon. That’s why I figured it would be the right time to do this. She might draw more attention once I’m back to work again, so I’d rather let it happen now than later when I can’t be sure that she will be safe. Besides, isn’t it common for people to lose interest once their curiosity is answered?”

“I really like that idea,” you tell her after thinking deeply about what she said. You do remember seeing random rumours fading into the shadows once the public’s curiosity is answered, and there is some faith inside you—although small—to believe that this would work. “And I was also informed that you’ve chosen the photographer to take her pictures?”

Hyorin looks pleased. “Yes, he’s the one who has been taking my photos since I first debuted. I’ve chosen the person to do the interview as well. I just need your help to contact them and arrange everything while keeping it under wraps. Yerin reassured me that you are the one who I can trust to make this all possible since you know how to work without gaining too much attention.”

“That would only be one of my expertise, if you can say that,” you respond to her with pure confidence. It does seem like all the years of practice with Jimin and sneaking around the media’s eyes would finally pay off. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” you begin to reaffirm her, before quickly stopping yourself. “No, let me rephrase that. I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.”

Hearing your promise, Hyorin releases a deep sigh of relief and begins to thank you for taking this job to help her. Meanwhile, seeing the positive reaction she is giving you makes you feel even more excited to start working immediately. You open your tablet and dive straight into action, starting from gaining more information on the team that she already has. “I would like to also talk to your publicist about the plans and arrange a schedule. It would be best if I have someone from your team that I can work alongside with and help guide me through your schedules.”

Soon, the conversation shifts into more than simple business talk. Accompanied by the warm tea and some snacks that you had ordered from the staff, the two of you begin working on the necessary planning, while you gather more information and contact from the people in her team that you consider would be beneficial and helpful for the entire publicity work.

Unlike what you felt earlier from the meeting with the foundation, you find yourself back in your element. It feels like you are diving back into familiar territory and you feel like a fish returning into the flowing water, roaming free without any worry because you know where to go and what exactly to do. It takes no time before both you and Hyorin develop a long list of tasks to work on and a proper timeline to make it all happen. You have even gotten a chance to call her manager and publicist to have her schedules handed to you before you can start contacting all the other parties involved.

The moment all the work talk is done, you remain seated in the lounge with Hyorin and her baby. The conversation then shifts once again into a more relaxed and friendly chatter as you talk about mundane things and exchange life stories as if the two of you are old friends. Hyorin had just ordered another hot drink when her baby starts fussing. She takes a moment to calm her daughter down, then she catches you by surprise when she offers you to hold the baby for a moment.

“A-are you sure?” you question her, feeling unsure, though it doesn’t stop Hyorin from handing over the baby or for you to take her in your arms so easily as if you have been ready for it.

“I trust you. And she seems curious about you, so why not?” she says as she helps you settle her baby in your arms until both of you feel comfortable. Seeing that the baby did try to reach out to you with her grabby hands even before Hyorin made her offer, you cannot find it in you to refuse.  “I want her to get used to being around people too. Maybe that would help before D-day when she would be surrounded by unfamiliar people on the day of the photoshoot.”

Hyorin’s words barely register in your mind when you have your attention solely on the delicate thing you are holding. She looked so small while she was lying in her stroller, yet she feels so light and seems so fragile that you are almost too afraid to move. But the moment her eyes flutter open and your gazes meet each other, something inside you seems to snap.

Or, more like, unsnap, when your stress seems to be lifted off your shoulders just by carrying her weight in your arms, and when her eyes grow slightly bigger when she sees your face, as if she is struggling to understand why this complete stranger is holding her instead of her mother. But when the sight of fear that you are expecting to see through her eyes never shows, you slowly begin to feel it building within you instead. Though there is another emotion boiling inside your chest, a sense of melancholy and longing that suddenly makes you wonder—

“They said that babies can heal your soul. I never believed it until the first time I held her in my arms and felt like I was whole again,” Hyorin muses softly as she looks fondly at you holding her baby with such gentleness that you never once thought you would ever have. “How about you? Have you and Jimin made any plans to build your own family?”

And with that, the uneasiness that you have managed to brush off while you were talking with Hyorin returns to you like a tidal wave. Jimin’s odd expression and the cold feeling you had in your chest take over the space in your head that they almost take away the feeling of warmth and comfort that has been blooming within.

“We still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again,” Jimin’s words start echoing inside your head right at that moment. His face comes into your mind just as everything that you had talked about with Hyorin comes flashing back.

Suddenly, instead of picturing Hyorin going through everything that you have been planning together with her, you see yourself in her shoes. From playing hide and seek with the media and finding out ways to properly share your little one with the world. Knowing your place, and how prominent Jimin is in the world that he has built for himself, all of these things would be something that both of you would be ready to deal with.

Is that why he seemed so troubled about this?

Keeping your eyes on the baby, you try your best not to dwell on these wanton thoughts too much and focus on the present. On the little child who is watching you curiously, as if she is capable of reading your thoughts while you are working on hiding it from her mother.

“I, uh…we haven’t really discussed it yet,” you find yourself answering Hyorin, despite not knowing what to say. “I’ve seen Jimin with children before, and I can tell you that he absolutely adores them,” you say this while looking up at Hyorin with a smile, just as you think about past events where Jimin had to work with children or whenever he encountered them in the past.

“He may have hinted about wanting to have his own kids, but he always says that he would love it even more when those children belong to someone else so he could be the fun uncle,” you joke with her, making her laugh, leaving out the fact that you were simply referring to his past comments about the troubles he might have from having kids. Then you look down again just as the baby shifts in your arms, and seeing her makes you want to voice out your personal dilemma, “I personally have never really given it a thought before, since I’ve always been so focused on my career.”

Just as you say this, something just clicks in your mind. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense, though you are still too afraid to put your thoughts into words.

“I was just the same before. I’ve always loved children, but never really thought about having my own, or even planned to, since I loved my freedom and I still enjoyed my bustling life where I only had to focus on working and building my career,” Hyorin says. There is a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisces about her younger self, and that look slowly evolves into something that is filled with love and endearment as she glances at her baby daughter. “But I suppose that people’s priorities and views can change depending on where life is taking them to, don’t you think?”

“Yeah—” you mutter softly, understanding completely what she means. You find yourself smiling as you look down at the baby in your arms. She has her eyes open, her tiny lips forming a small smile before she starts giggling and cooing at you, and you begin to feel something inside you shift.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. People do change,” you slowly add, and just like that, the fog that has been shielding your true desire is lifted, and you can finally understand the reason why you have been feeling so uneasy ever since the idea of you and Jimin having a baby together started to take root inside your head, and why Jimin’s reaction has been haunting you.

From that moment on, something does change inside you. The uncertainty is slowly shifting, and you find yourself longing to have this warmth blooming inside your chest to last for a lifetime.

You have never done anything like this before.

And yet, you enjoy the thrill that is growing in your chest as you lock lips with Jimin, allowing him to swallow the soft moans that you keep making. You cannot really help making these sounds, when the sensation you are feeling is starting to take control over your body. It builds up like a ripple, calmly spreading from your core to your whole body, before growing more intense with each passing time and with each ministration that you are making against Jimin’s body.

“God, you’re so hot,” Jimin groans against your lips, his hands digging deeper into your hips while causing your skirt to hike further up as you keep rocking your hips on Jimin’s lap. You press down harder, grinding your covered center over his thigh until the ripples of pleasure rise into waves, causing you to tremble on his lap.

You pull away from the kiss with a gasp, while Jimin trails his kisses lower, moving down your chin, to your neck, adding a couple of light bites when his lips come pressing against your pulse. Your hands, which have been clutching desperately onto his shoulders, begin to move down. One palm rests against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your fingers, while you reach down between your rocking bodies with the other hand, finding the hard bulge forming from under his pants which had pulled your attention after repeatedly brushing against it while you are grinding against his hard thigh.

“I want you, Jimin,” you mutter softly with a gasp just as your palm lands over his covered cock. It has grown hard since the moment you started riding him, yet it almost feels like it stiffens further under your touch. You gently rub your palm over it, causing Jimin to groan against your neck, and the moment you feel it pulsing at your touch, the ripples of pleasure that you are feeling shift into another. “Please, Jimin. I won’t make it if we have to wait until we’re home.”

With a groan, Jimin releases your neck and pulls away. “Fuck, I know. Hang on a minute, baby,” he says with a soft growl coming out of his lips. Keeping one arm around your waist to stop you from falling over, he reaches down with the other to unzip his pants. Even with his movement being constricted under your weight and your bodies are pressed together, he still makes it work.

Within a blink of an eye, his pants are unzipped and pulled down to his hips. His hands return to your waist soon after, guiding you to straddle over his crotch before he slips a hand between your legs and gently swipes your panties aside. His fingers find your nether lips, all slick and wet from your arousal. He rubs his fingers across your folds, slowly parting them as he continues, then slides his digits in to find your pulsing entrance. You feel him exploring your heat, using your essence as he pushes his fingers into your pussy.

Biting your lips, you stifle the sound of your moan that is threatening to come out as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He keeps it gentle, making sure not to push too deep but just enough to prepare you for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asks, while you can only nod frantically.  Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his hard-on, drawing a soft moan from him. You give him a couple of gentle strokes, making him quiver beneath you. Your action is enough to give him the answer that he needed from you, so Jimin carefully lifts you up on his lap only to help align your position right on top of his waiting cock. His eyes are on you the whole time, watching you with eyes full of love and lust as you slowly lower yourself onto his erection, gritting your teeth when his cock penetrates you in the most delightful way possible, just the way you wanted him to.

"Oh fuck!" Jimin gives out a long, deep groan of pleasure as you gradually impale yourself on his cock, your muscles pulsing as his girth spreads you open on your way down, milking his cock as you slowly slide yourself up and down on his shaft.

Jimin presses his lips on your neck once more, breathing you in while muffling the sound of his moans that comes from the sensation rolling through his body from having his cock bury itself in your warmth. Once he is inside you, and you are settled nicely on his lap, he kisses your skin and whispers, “Just make sure not to get too loud.”

You swallow down a whimper before answering him, “I’ll do my best, baby. Anything, just—oh, God!”

Your words shift into a light shriek when he suddenly bucks his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper inside you. The pressure feels so sudden that it is almost painful, yet the rush that it brings feels so good it rocks your entire body with that one firm push. Noticing your cries, Jimin pulls you down to him and presses his lips on yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your gasps and moans while he rocks his hips, pounding his cock into you with sloppy thrusts. He doesn’t rush right away, taking his time to relish the pleasure that is growing inside him.

Just when your body is adjusting to him, growing more comfortable to move on top of him without shaking too much, Jimin slows down.

“What’s going on, baby?” Jimin breathlessly asks you as he pulls away from the kiss. His hands remain on your hips, holding you up on his lap and stopping you from falling as you lean back from him.

You can barely control your own breathing when you question him in return, “What—? What do you mean?”

Jimin shakes his head, and you take this moment to lean back in, kissing the nape of his lips to tease him, coaxing him to continue. “You are—insatiable,” he moans. “You have been for the past couple of weeks. I don’t mind it, but I’m getting curious to know why.” Instead of answering him, you only roll your hips on him, pushing down on his length to get him deeper, and his words fade into a soft moan. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, enjoying the way you are sliding up and down his cock too much to make it stop, but he puts his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face. “You never agreed to my ideas of getting frisky while I’m working or to do these things in an open place like this before.”

Hearing this, you almost falter in your movements, albeit it does make you stop for a brief second before you continue again. Your body reacts first before your words ever make it out of your lips, with the lower part of your abdomen pulsing slightly and your muscles clenching around him as your mind drifts back to a moment from one hour ago. Back to the moment you made a quick check on your calendar, and then rushing to see him before you could stop yourself. You told yourself that finding out that you are beginning to enter your ovulation period had nothing to do with it. You convinced yourself that you had simply missed your fiancé and seeing how enticing he looked while he was so deep in his work snapped something inside of you that you immediately pounced at him. But now, when you feel him buried deep inside you, his girth pressing against your pulsing walls and your stomach coiling with pleasure, you are no longer quite sure what has driven you to this.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just in the mood for it,” you simply say to your lover, shrugging it off while putting your rapid thoughts aside at the same time. Closing your eyes, you focus on rocking your hips, riding his cock until the pleasure numbs everything else. “Maybe it’s stress?” you add with a moan, enjoying the waves of sensation that keep building up. Burying your nails into his shoulders, you start moving faster, eager to find your blinding climax. “And you’ve always had an amazing way of helping me destress.”

Jimin softly chuckles, not even trying to deny how right your words are. “You know that I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, as he runs his hands up beneath your skirt, finding your hips. He gives you a tight grip, slowly taking back control as he starts guiding you to follow his pace while he continues to speak. “And I won’t lie, I’ve always thought about how hot it would be to have sex in a place like this, where I’m supposed to be working—” he adds, and he slowly shifts on his seat, finding the perfect angle which would allow him to move better before he starts rocking on his seat, thrusting up just when you come down. The sound of his moans echoes through the room that you almost miss his next words, “—and dealing with the risk of getting caught.”

Your eyes flutter open when he gives you a hard thrust, making you gasp when it rocks your entire body starting from the core. Moaning at the pleasure erupting inside you, your words almost fail to come out when you tease him, “Then maybe I should warn you that I completely forgot to lock your studio when I came in.”

Jimin’s gaze flickers from the door to you, never once missing his pace as he does so. With a sly grin, Jimin bucks his hips upward with a strong force, and he begins thrusting his cock harder into you at a rapid pace while groaning deeply, “Oh, fuck. You’re so naughty, baby. I really love seeing this side of you.”

His words barely register in your mind as you embrace the pleasure that keeps building inside you. But then you start feeling a tug at your top, coaxing you to open your eyes just to see his hand trying to pull it apart. Realising what he is up to, and how close he is to ripping your favourite blouse to give him more access, you hurriedly pull back and start unbuttoning it for him.

Jimin opens his eyes wider once you are done, hungrily taking in the sight of the expensive lacy bra that you are wearing underneath. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, completely mesmerised by what he is seeing. This time, you are not fast enough, and his hands reach up, pushing the piece of lingerie down and grabbing greedily at your now exposed breasts. As you start bouncing on his lap, Jimin gropes at your shaking breasts, squeezing and kneading excitedly before he buries his face in your cleavage and starts sucking hungrily on your nipples.

You continue to ride him, your hips undulating lithely over his crotch as you slide up and down his cock. Starting to feel so good, you can barely keep your voice down while Jimin keeps groaning blissfully against your skin while mauling at your breasts, going from one to the other as if he is having a feast.

It wouldn’t be long before you can feel it coming, right about the same time Jimin starts cursing and arching his own chest, his cock convulsing intensely inside you as you freely embrace your orgasm. Nothing can stop it from coming into you so quickly. Perhaps your body is a little more sensitive than normal, due to the circumstances, or maybe being reminded of all the chances that anyone from the recording studio might come in and catch you at the height of your wanton pleasure is pushing you over the edge.

With a gasping moan, you succumb to it, the waves of your orgasm rocking your body in a delightful bliss, and your muscles clench tightly around him, sucking him until he is pushed right into his climax. For once, you can feel everything, as if your senses are heightened. The warmth of his release filling you up makes you tremble on his lap. Each twitch and pulse coming from his cock keep triggering the small spasms of your climax, giving you small orgasms while he keeps himself buried inside you. His arms holding you up to his chest feel a bit warmer than usual that you simply melt into his embrace.

It takes a moment before you finally come down from the height of your climax. Once it happens, silence falls, yet neither of you makes a move. He keeps his arms around you as you both take a moment to breathe and find your bearings, to give a chance for the remaining waves of your climax to wane down.

Sighing in contentment, Jimin kisses the top of your head before asking, “Did you get what you came here for?”

“Close enough,” you answer with a chuckle. Pulling away from him, you take a long, deep breath as you straighten up on his lap and take a deep look into his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you at work.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all,” Jimin says, grinning, most likely not even feeling sorry that you had been so daring enough to start this. “If you say ‘close’, does that mean I’m not doing a good enough job to satisfy you?”

“Oh, you did good. Way better than expected, actually,” you tell him with a content sigh, smiling as you lean down to kiss his lips and whisper, “I’m just saying that I won’t mind going on round two once we get home.”

“Oh, take a look at this, honey. Isn’t this beautiful?”

You must have been spacing out when Jimin’s mother suddenly speaks up, her voice startling you so that you nearly spill your tea. You look up to see the soft-spoken woman sliding your tablet towards Jimin, showing her son the pictures displaying flowers and seating arrangements on various wedding ceremonies that you and his mother had compiled together from the internet.

The three of you are sitting together in a small restaurant not too far from his family’s home, enjoying lunch at the small round table facing the back garden that is quite hidden from the other patrons. The lunch date wasn’t planned, and you certainly were not planning to start any conversation regarding the future wedding when you first accepted your future mother-in-law’s invitation to meet her today. But at some point near the end of the meal, the wedding was brought up between sharing life updates and work-related chats which accompanied the sweet dessert that was served on the table, and Jimin’s mom started opening some image references through your tablet—which had been so conveniently placed on top of the table after Jimin used it to show her some of his upcoming works.

Jimin takes a quick look at the pictures on the tablet and groans, feigning annoyance at having to choose, though the small smile that he is trying so hard to hide is giving away his true feelings. You know that he is happy to know how excited his mother is about the upcoming wedding ceremony, even if neither of you had yet to set an actual date for it. “Why are you showing me these, Mom? I know nothing about flower arrangements. Show it to ______,” Jimin whines at his mother while giving you a quick glance. This time, he is no longer hiding his smile when he adds, “She’s the one who gets to decide everything about the ceremony.”

His comment earns a light smack on his arm, a gift from his mother. “It’s your wedding too! You need to tell us what you’d prefer so everyone would get what they want and be happy,” she complains. “Besides, I already know what ______ wants,” she adds as she grabs the tablet back from Jimin’s hands. “We’ve been sending each other these photos. She made me a—what do you call it—Pinterest?”

Smiling, you nod at her before boasting to Jimin. “Yes, I made us an album on Pinterest so your Mom and I can send each other ideas.”

Looking pleased, Jimin takes your hand in his and kisses it. “Who would have thought that both of you would be having fun planning out this thing,” he says with a chuckle, though it does make you happy just seeing him this way. “Just choose whatever you want for the wedding, I’ll make sure to make it happen.”

His gentle way of showing affection warms your heart, though it doesn’t seem to give the same effect on Jimin’s mother when you hear her scoffing from your other side. “Ooh, listen to him acting so cool,” she taunts him, causing both you and Jimin to laugh as he pulls away. “He used to be so embarrassed to show any affection even to us, his parents, and now look at him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he leans back in his seat. “I think both you and I have to agree that ______ deserves to be treated special.” He glances at you teasingly as he says this, causing your face to grow warm, but there is really nothing that you could say in return when his mother wholeheartedly expresses her agreement.

“Oh, I completely agree,” she says, smiling softly when you turn to her. “Both myself and Jimin’s father feel truly indebted to you. We’ve witnessed how much you have helped Jimin over the years, and you guided him to turn his life around—”

“Oh, but that’s all—”

Jimin’s mother cuts you off with a smile and takes your hand. “And we’re also thankful for all those wonderful gifts you helped Jimin get for us over the years you worked with him,” she adds with a wink, while her compliments make you feel shy. Glancing at Jimin sitting by your side, you find him smiling bashfully too. Guess he hasn’t been so subtle about your help with the gifts, after all. “Thank you for taking care of Jimin for so long. It makes me happy knowing that you’ll be taking care of each other for many more years from now on.”

The conversation continues for a while longer, this time with Jimin showing more interest as he looks through the pictures, sometimes with a smile on his face when he stops to take a closer look at a couple of pictures that manage to catch his eyes. You barely pay attention to the pictures that he keeps swiping on the screen, until his mother takes over the device again and immediately gushes over the first set of pictures that appear after her first swipe.

“Oh, look! How cute is this? They have a little girl as their flower girl. Do you think it’s their daughter?”

You lean closer just as Jimin does the same so he could take a look at the pictures together, and your heart starts racing the moment you get a clear view of them. The first photos show a little girl, no older than three years old, wearing a white, fluffy dress as she walks down the aisle between all the smiling guests, the intricate arrangements of decor and flowers, while her tiny hands are busy trying to dump crumpled petals onto the ground as she walks. The next set of pictures shows the girl joining the bride and groom as the pair seem to read out their vows, before the groom picks her up in his arms, making it abundantly clear how much the flower girl seems to be a blended copy of both bride and groom, the girl’s loving parents.

The picture of the happy flower girl lingers in your mind for a while longer, staying there even after the lunch date is over. You can still see it in your head after coming home to the apartment that you now share with Jimin, repeatedly being reminded of her even when you are trying not to think about it. You had known that seeing that picture would do something to your head, yet you didn’t really expect that it would be affecting you this much.

The day is now over, and here you are, sitting alone on the bed while Jimin is taking his time in the shower. The sound of the running water isn’t doing much to silence your thoughts once they resurface. But being alone with your thoughts like this, it gives you a chance to finally delve deeper into them and take a good, closer look to find some answers. To find out why you have been so restless for the past couple of months.

But deep down, you know that the answers have always been there all along. You just have been in denial for so long that the voice of your own conscience is silenced. Not anymore, you bitterly realise, when you finally admit to yourself what it is that you truly want.

Is this what people usually call as baby fever?

You wonder about this with a sigh as you lean back against the bedrest. Looking up to the ceiling, you try to remember when exactly did this feeling begin to emerge in the first place and how it all started.

It all started from the job you took on with Hyorin, when you decided to assist her publicist and help guide her team regarding her public exposure of her new family. Meeting her child for the first time had been the moment when you first felt a deep affection like no other. You had first brushed it off, thinking that it had only been an emotion which came due to the fact that Hyorin’s baby was so adorable and easy to handle with that her presence helped eliminate your stress.

But then the photoshoot happened, and that feeling only grew stronger once you were reunited with Hyorin and her child, forming rapidly into a desire that you couldn’t seem to shake off. The photoshoot was held only a month after your first meeting with the mother and daughter pair, yet the baby seemed to have grown so fast and had become more confident within the short amount of time that you weren’t seeing her. Her presence became a breath of fresh air at the photo studio then, and the longing you had for having the same bond and compassion as what Hyorin had with her child grew more intensely within you ever since.

No, it had started before then.

—you wonder as you begin to realise, recognising that same emotion appearing before your first encounter with the baby ever happened. You had felt that same longing growing inside you that morning when you stood by with Jimin, waiting for the result from the pregnancy tests. It was that longing that had kept bothering you since then, one that appeared from that one moment when you unwittingly pictured yourself and Jimin with a child while unconsciously wishing for the test result to show you a positive sign. You had tried to ignore that feeling, yet it lingered still, growing inside you until it bloomed to be this desire that has been so strongly holding you hostage with a vice grip.

And it was the same desire which had led you into a frenzy, turning you into an insatiable lover to Jimin almost effectively. It had led to numerous occasions where you initiated intimate moments at any given chance. Just like the day when you came to his studio for a quickie, or when you slipped into his changing room on the night of his live performance to get frisky right before he had to come out on stage.

Realising all of this gives you a sense of relief.

Relief of knowing that there is really nothing wrong with you at all. But you cannot deny that it also makes you feel terrified, which is the exact same reason why you have been denying this feeling for so long, and not without a reason.

For many years, ever since you first started entering adulthood, you had always been strict about making plans regarding your life. Starting from the years you spent in school—about the study that you wanted to focus on and how many years you were going to spend studying—to the period of time you started building your career, and the plans you made for yourself on how you would start building your family.

Jimin’s presence in your life had been the first thing that trampled all of your life plans. Just like how the thought of having a child of your own is beginning to make you want to forget all about planning and to simply dive right into it.

People talk about having baby fevers after meeting or seeing other people’s newborn babies, but never once had you ever thought to look deeper into it, or to ever suspect that you would experience anything like it yourself.

Never once had you ever expected to have these thoughts running through your mind. You have been so convinced that the idea or need would not even cross your mind until later, much later, only once a long period of time has passed after you hear the sound of the wedding bells. But here you are now, pondering, contemplating, even having a mental image of yourself with a smaller version of you or Jimin in your arms.

In the past, thinking about something like this would have bothered you. It would have sent you running to the hills, not out of fear, but out of the daunting feeling that tells you that you are not ready. That you wouldn’t be worthy enough to even consider it. But here you are now, feeling an unshakable deep sense of longing that you have no idea how to deal with. And you have only noticed now that this feeling has sunk its root so deep within you that you are feeling so strongly for it. You have never craved something so bad, that it is beginning to take control of your want and need. It has taken control of your main focus that it becomes the only thing you can think about no matter how much you have tried to push it so far to the back of your mind.

Sitting there with this realisation washing over you, you have also come to realise that there is really no point in fighting against it.

You want it. You want it so bad, and you can only silently hope that Jimin would want the same.

With your thoughts running havoc inside your head, you remain seated on the bed in the same position for quite some time. Still with your back pressed against the bedrest, your eyes looking far away at the ceiling and not at all noticing Jimin as he finally steps out of the bathroom.

He says nothing when he finds you. It makes him curious when he sees you like this, yet he waits for a blink of a moment before snapping you out of it with a gentle voice, “Is there something wrong, baby?”

You turn to look at Jimin as he walks closer to the bed. He had left the bathroom door slightly ajar behind him, allowing you to see a faint trail of mist coming from his hot shower following him. The mesmerising sight of him walking out of the mist, with nothing more but a piece of towel hanging around his waist to cover the lower part of his body, and with his hair and skin still slightly damp from his shower, makes your heart leap a beat. But you try your best to not let any of it—not even the inviting sight of his bare chest—make you lose focus.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Can we talk?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Normally, those words would make me run for the hills,” he jokes with a light chuckle. “Of course, we can.” Saying this, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you with a curious yet concerned look on his face. You don’t even question his lack of need to cover himself before joining you in bed. Not when you’ve learned through the period of time you have spent living with him that it is quite a normal occurrence with Jimin to be completely bare when sleeping with you. You do feel grateful that he is keeping his towel on—for now, at least—so you can remain calm and focused enough to be able to share your thoughts to him properly.

Though it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are capable of controlling your nerves.

Looking at his beautiful face, you try to think of ways to express your thoughts and feelings, not knowing how to get your message across without making him feel bad. In the end, the words just start running out of your mouth, “What do you think about a…a baby?”

Jimin looks surprised, obviously not expecting to hear such a question. For a moment, you feel a bit of hope when his eyes seem to lighten up. But it lasts only for a brief moment. Your stomach feels heavy the moment that light dims.

“Are you asking me if I would ever consider having one? Now?” his frown deepens, and his eyes flicker to your stomach curiously. “Are you—”

“If you’re asking if I’m already pregnant, the answer is no,” you quickly answer him, and his gaze clears out when he looks at your face again. You try not to see his expression as relief, knowing that it would only disappoint you if it is true. “I was just wondering—I know we haven’t talked much or planned forward aside from the wedding talk, and we’ve only talked briefly about maybe considering to talk about it only after the wedding, but I’m curious to know…do you want kids?”

With a sigh, Jimin answers carefully, “I’ve always wanted kids. Even though I know that I told you about not wanting them with my work being so busy and all, but the truth is, I just wasn’t ready then.” Hearing this, you are reminded again of his past comments. Everything that he had said about having children at the peak of his career—about how it would be a terrible idea or how he didn’t see himself as someone who could handle a child—and all the other comments that had given you the basic reasons to deny your feelings. “I know that you might not be thinking about it—”

“What makes you think that?” you quickly ask him, “Do you think I don’t want to have kids?”

Jimin’s brows crease yet again. “You just never told me you did, except for the time you said something about waiting until after the wedding day to talk about it. And I never brought it up again once I started thinking about it because I just thought—” he sighs. “I’ve already asked a lot from you ever since we started this relationship, so I didn’t think it would be fair if we talk about it before you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready for it?” you carefully ask him, “What if I’ve been ready?”

“What are you saying?”

Biting your lips, you silently decide that this might be the best chance to admit everything, now that he is answering all of your questions. “Remember that time when my period came late and you made me do the test?” Jimin nods at this, obviously remembering that moment, though he does seem a bit lost, still not knowing where this is going. “I’ve been thinking about it since then. A lot, actually.”

Jimin seems interested as he leans closer. “Go on,” he says, urging you to keep talking.

With a sigh, you finally admit to him in a small voice, “I think I’ve caught myself a major case of baby fever.”

“You have?” he asks, looking intrigued, and judging from the sly smirk that he is trying so hard to hide, he also seems to be excited to know more. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been happening for a while,” you answer him, still with a small voice but with less hesitation this time, before you start telling him everything. From the morning this feeling first emerged, the first time you began to picture having mini versions of you and Jimin, and then having that feeling grew stronger when you got involved with Hyorin and her child. Then you explain how it had possibly been the reason why you had been acting rather wantonly over the past couple of months, even while you were still in complete denial. And then you admit how you have remained in denial until the moment you saw the wedding pictures today—the beautiful pictures of the bride and groom and their happy little daughter becoming a part of their special event—when everything finally came crashing down on you.

“So—” Jimin starts to speak, finally putting two and two together. “All those times you suddenly turned up at work, giving me surprises whenever I come home, initiating things, all of that…all because you were craving for a baby?”

Groaning in defeat and shame, you cover your face with your hands and start grumbling under your breath, “I think I’ve been unconsciously trying to get pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin laughs and gently pulls your hands away from your face. “It’s fine, baby,” he says, looking more amused than you expected he would. “Thank you for being so open with me about it. But you’ve been taking your shots, haven’t you? Or did you stop taking it when it happened?”

You can feel your own blood getting drained from your face, suddenly realising just how bad things could’ve turned out and feeling guilty about what you have been doing.

How could you have been so reckless? What would’ve happened if you did get pregnant and Jimin wasn’t happy about it? You feel guilty for knowing that you could’ve jeopardised your entire lives and relationship because of it.

A sense of relief washes over you for knowing that at least your birth control is stopping all of that from happening. “Yeah, good thing the shot was still taking effect. Oh, God. I’m supposed to have another appointment already. What if I’m late to get it? I’m so sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking. I’ll make sure to call them up in the morning and not miss any until we have everything plan—”

“Unless—”

You stop when Jimin cuts you off, though he only confuses you further when he doesn’t continue. “What are you trying to say?”

Jimin smiles softly and shrugs. “Unless you change your mind about waiting until we’re married. That’s the reason why you wanted to talk about this with me now, isn’t it?” There is a glint of mirth and joy in his eyes when he says this, as if he can read through your mind. “Have you been thinking about the pictures we saw today? Do you want to have our own little ones be at our wedding? A mini version of you running down the aisle in her tutu dress while dumping flowers to the ground, or a mini me with his tux, waiting to hand out a ring after our vows? That’s what you’ve been thinking before I came back, wasn’t it?”

Him bringing this up only makes you teared up. “I—I want that,” you softly whine, before groaning, “Oh, Jimin. You’re making it worse. Now I want it so badly.”

With a soft chuckle, Jimin gently wipes a tear that slips down from your eyes. “You had doubts because you thought I wouldn’t want kids, did you?”

You nod. “Whenever I think about it, I’m always reminded of what you said and did then, about how much trouble kids would give you when you’re so busy with your schedules and tours,” you confess to him. “Even when I see how good you are with children, either with the children modelling with you or with your friends’ kids, I would keep remembering how we both agreed to only talk about having kids after we get married so I keep denying how much I want it.”

He gently shakes his head. “I know what we agreed about. But I have to admit that my view about having kids have started to change ever since I began picturing our lives together and about us building a family together.”

“You have?” you ask him, while he simply nods. “You never said anything, so I didn’t know what to think when I started thinking about it too.”

“Then—” he starts, slowly sliding closer on the bed to get next to you. “How about we talk about it now?”

“Okay,” you whisper to him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you to his side. “What should we talk about? Where do we start?”

“First, we can hold back that birth control shot for a while, if you want to,” he says after mulling it over for a brief moment. “And then why don’t we just let things be? See how it turns out if we allow things to happen naturally.”

“Are you—are you sure about it?”

He shrugs. “I mean, we haven’t really set out a date for the wedding, so that gives us some time, doesn’t it? We don’t even know if it would happen so soon. But, at least we can do some practising until then,” he says, lowering his voice seductively and teasingly that it makes your face feel warm.

“I don’t mind having some practice.”

Hearing your bashful answer makes him smile. With a light touch, Jimin lifts your face by the chin and whispers, “I love you, baby. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide things from me. You know that you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Nodding, you look at him with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I wanted to purposely hide this from you. I guess I was just in denial about it. Until today,” you carefully admit, before slowly adding. “I love you too, Jimin. Thank you for allowing me to open up.”

He kisses your temple, and when he pulls away, the look in his eyes gives a tight pull inside your chest. His gaze is filled with love and affection when he looks at you. But there is something else there, appearing at the same time he runs his gaze down your face, to your body, before his eyes stop briefly on your lips.

As if he cannot help himself, Jimin leans closer and gives you a passionate kiss, his hand coming to your waist with a gentle caress over your nightshirt. Feeling the thin fabric covering your skin, Jimin lightly groans. “What did I say about wearing too many clothes to bed?” he complains, looking annoyed at your sleeping attire. He pulls it lightly, tugging on it until its hem starts rising up your legs and all the way up to your hips.

“Take this off,” he whispers, as he helps you pull it further up so that he could press his palm on your belly. “And for now on, now that we’ve talked about practising, I want you to forget ever wearing these things to bed.”

“Really?” You lift your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Not even those little pieces that you love so much?” you ask him while glancing over to the nearby drawers where you keep your negligees and lingeries that he has often bought for you, and he immediately knows what you are referring to.

Groaning deeply as he starts picturing you wearing them, Jimin immediately says, “Except for those tiny things. I’ll let you wear them from time to time. Now stop stalling and take this thing off.”

With a tug, he helps you peel the nightshirt off of your body. With a blink of an eye, he pulls it over your head and then it is gone, leaving you in nothing more than the cotton panties that you have been wearing. Looking down at you, Jimin looks pleased to see that you have at least decided not to wear your bra before climbing onto the bed.

Just like always, he immediately seems to be captivated by the sight of your bare breasts. His eyes are locked on your soft flesh, watching as they rise and fall in your steady breath. Then his hands come down on your exposed mounds, palms touching and kneading on them, starting from the under curves of your breasts before climbing their way up, finding the sensitive tips, making them grow hard with his touches. Using two of his fingers, he gives one nipple a pinch, while he playfully rubs a thumb over the other gently, drawing a myriad of sensations that cause you to arch your chest to feel more.

Claiming your lips once more, he kisses you with full of hunger, drawing your attention away from his hand as he reaches down between your legs and starts teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“All that talk about having a baby with you—” he breathlessly whispers against your lips while pressing his fingers at your center while his other hand are still spreading warmth on your bosoms. “Now I can’t get it out of my head. You make me want to just give it to you now.”

His words put the same images into your head, drawing a soft gasp out of you. Immediately, you feel the sudden rush of desire coming back to life. The same one that had taken over you even before you found the courage to admit this baby fever of yours, now rising more intensely, taking over you so strongly that it almost makes you grow breathless.

“You did say something about practising, didn’t you?” you whisper with a raspy voice, already embracing the pulses of desire brewing under your skin. Reluctantly, you push Jimin away, forcing him to take his hands off of you when you shift on the bed. With a coy smile, you slowly peel your panties off of you, kicking them down your legs until you are completely bare. But instead of giving him a chance to return to you and touch you again, you flip onto your hands and knees, wiggling your hips to him teasingly before saying, “Come over here then, Daddy. Come put a baby in my belly.”

Your words seem to snap something within Jimin, as his gaze darkens after hearing you. Raking his gaze down your body, you can those pretty eyes of him filled with lust and hunger, and a dark desire that seems so intense that you can feel it on your skin, as if it turns into invisible fingers tracing down the curves of your body until his gaze rests on the area between your legs. Crawling towards you, Jimin kneels right behind you, positioning himself close enough to see everything but not enough to have his body touching you.

Just when you are about to look over your shoulder to see what he is doing, wondering why he isn’t making any move, the sound of a smack echoes through the room, before a sting of pain slowly grows right on your right bottom cheek.

Did he—did he just spank me?

Before you can find your answer, Jimin’s palm returns to your skin. Though instead of bringing more pain, he gently caresses the very same spot that he had laid his hand on earlier, as if trying to soothe the sting that faintly lingers. “Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a low voice, still while caressing your skin until you feel the pain subsiding. “It’s just that seeing you teasing me like that after our serious talk drove me crazy. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s fine. I…I kinda liked it,” you shamelessly admit to him when you start feeling a new sensation building up once the pain and the shock is gone.

“You did, hmmm? Then how about making this fair?” he asks, right before you feel another slap on your bottom cheek, landing on the left side this time, making you gasp.

Once again, he soothes the pain with his gentle palm. Slowly, the pain starts ebbing away, and it almost seems like the blood pulsing at the spots where his palms had landed on are not only fading, but shifting into something more delectable, which is gathering at your center. The sensation only intensifies as Jimin continues kneading at your bottom, and you begin to feel your desire pulsing from within your core, even when he has yet to touch you there.

His touches grow more alluring, as he is no longer using his palms to soothe your pain, but to deliberately cause something else to rise in your body. As if he could feel it, perhaps from the way your hips are slowly swaying against his touch in return or from the way your breathing grows heavier, and he continues to repeat his touches, kneading and massaging and caressing lovingly that it is beginning to drive your head spinning.

Then suddenly, he bends down, pressing his lips right over your spine. To the sound of your gasps, he begins tracing kisses on your skin, down to your tailbone, and to the lovely curves of your buttocks. The sensation you feel building from his action leaves you gasping for breath, and he is not stopping, moving to find the spot where you still feel the phantom pain of his spanking and going around it, before moving to the other side to do the same. And then just when your body reacts on its own, with your hips moving backwards to chase his lips, he suddenly gives you a bite, right under your left bottom cheek where he had spanked you earlier.

You let out a squeal, not expecting to have him biting you there. But just like before, Jimin quickly replaces the pain with a soothing kiss. Except that this time, he traces his kisses from the painful spot all the way to the center, finding your throbbing pussy. He doesn’t give you any chance to process this when he starts eating your pussy, devouring you from behind with his hands holding firmly at the curves of your bottom.

The way his sinful lips are kissing your nether lips with pure desire, and his tongue slipping between your slit and pressing against your pulsing heat, all give you the kind of pleasure that feels so maddeningly good, you begin to lose the ability to hold up your weight. Still with your hips being held up by his strong hands, your upper body falls over to the bed as your body shakes with pleasure.

“Ah—Jimin!” you cry out for him, unable to hold back from the rush of pleasure he is igniting within you, though your voice is slightly muffled by the sheets beneath you. Seeking leverage, you clutch the sheets with your shaky hands, holding on as he continues to eat you, sucking your pussy with both lust and hunger that you can feel the faint ripples of your climax building inside you.

Jimin devours you for a moment longer before pulling away, stopping right as you are already at the brink of your orgasm. In the absence of his lips, he slips his fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness to use it to push his digits into your pussy.

Your fingers sink further into the sheets as his fingers slide through your hot walls, pressing against the pulses and gently spreading you open for him. He pushes all the way in until he has most of the length buried inside you before slowly pulling out, waking up the spasms of your pleasure, and he repeats it again, pushing in and pulling out at a slow, teasing pace until your body welcomes him fully. He continues fingering you, giving you a few more strokes before he finally comes to a halt.

A soft thud can be faintly heard beyond the sound of your heartbeat. You may not be able to see it, but through the back of your mind, you can only guess that Jimin has tossed away his towel. There is a shift on the bed when he moves closer. His hand returns to your hips to hold you up, while the other reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and giving it a pull until you rise up.

“Pull yourself up, baby. That’s it. Hold on tight for me,” he whispers, gently pulling you back up by your hair until you are straightened up with your palms planted on the bed.

Jimin only lets you go to give himself a couple of strokes and align himself at your center. With his other hand, he presses down at your spine, holding you still. You wait with bated breath until the moment you feel a nudge at your wet opening. Jimin’s hand returns to your folds, spreading your nether lips apart just as you feel the head of his cock pushing through. He fondles your clit a little while the pressure of his penetration builds.

Inch by delicate inch he enters you, welcomed by the spasms of your desire and the wet sound of your slickness giving way for him to slide deeper. He thrusts, and pushes, pulling out briefly and then pushing in again, until your body gives way to his length and girth. And that is when he begins fucking, pushing and bucking his hips at a rapid pace, advancing even deeper with each thrust while giving you nothing more but intense pleasure.

Jimin’s cock is soon buried to the hilt in your tight walls, deliciously snugged between your warmth. The shudders that keep surging through his body pour themselves all over yours, centered from where your bodies are connected. His hands are tightly gripping your hips as he continues fucking you, adding more force into his thrusts now that your body is fully adjusted to his ruthless poundings.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cock!” you hear him grunting as he humps against your behind. Each hard thrust of his pelvis causes his hips to slap loudly against your round bottom while his cock keeps surging deeply inside your tight, clutching pussy. Each pounding he keeps giving you rocks your entire body that you cannot help but bury your fingers deeper into the sheets to hold on.

“Oh, Jimin!” you groan out his name through the intense waves of pleasure that are increasing from your core. Your body is getting shunted and shoved further against the mattress as your lover vigorously slams his hard shaft into you.

As Jimin’s thrusts grow more and more frantic, you can sense that he is almost ready to cum. “Oh fuck, yeah!” you hear him grunting under his breath, his hard erection keeps pistoning in and out of your hot cunt.

You brace yourself, both to feel his release and to embrace your own, but to your surprise, Jimin halts before the first shudder of his climax comes and pulls out of you, denying you of your release. It happens so suddenly that you feel as if your body loses its force, nearly toppling forward once more if not for the hard grip he has on your hips to stop you from planting face first onto the bed. Just as you are losing balance, Jimin pulls you up and swiftly flips your body around as if you are weightless.

“Oh!” you let out a squeal once your back lands on top of the mattress. Your heartbeat is still pacing rapidly, still in shock at how easily he is able to handle your body and weight. Kneeling between your legs, Jimin oozes power and dominance, yet you can still feel the gentle aura that he always carries with him when he runs his fingers from your hips, tracing down to your thighs where he gives another tight grip and lifts your legs up.

All the way up.

He doesn’t stop until your ankles are settled on his shoulders. Not only does this position put a strain on your body, it makes you lose any sense of control. Your muscles put up a restraint for a moment before you try to relax and let it happen, and that is when he pushes forward, bending over you until you are half-folded beneath him.

“Easy, baby. Breathe in and relax. Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he keeps whispering these words to soothe you while he keeps rubbing your legs. His touch travels back down to your hips just as you feel him nudging back at your folds, his stiff cock ready to return to your warmth. With his gaze locked on yours, Jimin grabs a tight hold on your hips and then pushes forward, entering your heat in one firm stroke.

“Oh, God!” you scream out as you feel the pressure knocking the air out of your chest. In this position, he feels like a tight fit inside you, your muscles seem to clench around him in a firm hold.

You can feel it affecting him when his body shudders on top of you. His chest feels tense against your palms when you reach up to hold onto his shoulders, yet his heartbeat thrums so rapidly that he seems to be shaking under your touch.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me,” he curses, taking a moment to breathe deeply while he begins pumping his hips and cock, setting up a pace while setting your whole body into a bundle of wildfire.

Your legs tremble as he pushes into you a few more inches, taking his time to enter you while relishing your pulsing warmth, until he impales you fully once more. You can feel him throbbing within you, each pulse coming from his girth coinciding with the pulses coming from your walls, as if his cock is responding to your body. But what catches your heart is the desire written on his face.

He pulls back again only to return with a hard thrust, pulling a gasp out of you. Instead of giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the motion, delving not only just a few inches deep, but spearing deeply until you can feel the pressure deep inside your chest. And your body welcomes him, when you feel nothing but intense waves of pleasure.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” he says between the deep moans he keeps making, while you can barely respond to him, unable to find the right words and too breathless to sound your voice.

“Uhh, so…deep,” you whine breathlessly as he thrusts deeply without a warning, hitting the spot that gives you a blinding pleasure.

Jimin forces his eyes open to look at you, rocking his hips firmly as he picks up his pace. “I’ve read some stuff when I have time. Some said that doing it this way will make sure that the seed will set inside your womb properly,” he says, groaning with pleasure between each word he speaks. “Not sure if it’s accurate, but it’s still worth a shot, don’t you think?” You open your mouth, yet your mind is too muddled to even think of an answer. Folded under his weight, there is really nothing that you can do but to take his pounding and give in at the sensation building within. Seeing this seems to please him, as a smile appears on his face when he leans in and whispers, “But I think I’m beginning to like this position more now.”

“You’ve been—ah! Looking things up before?” you gasp breathlessly.

“You have no idea how often I would picture you carrying our child. You would look so beautiful, so hot—fuck, I’m picturing you right now,” he confesses further, never missing his thrusts or losing his pace. Though it does feel like he is suddenly picking up his pace again, suddenly getting a bit rougher when he briefly closes his eyes, groaning, “Just thinking about it makes me go crazy.”

The tempo of his thrusts keeps building up, and the waves of your pleasure keep rising. It seems crazy to think that the thought of him getting you pregnant through this is making you feel hotter, and your body seems to grow even more sensitive the more he puts those images into your head. So much so that you can feel your body responding to him more excessively, that each pump of his cock feels so blindingly good, sending your body rocking harder and your toes curling with how intense all the pleasure coming to you feels through your body.

“Ha—ah, Jimin!” you cry out when there seems to be nothing stopping you from going over the edge. Right at the same time, you feel him bulging inside you, and his rapid thrusts seem to grow a bit clumsier, as if he is slowly losing his own self control.

“I’m going now—” he groans, fucking you harder, faster, filling the air around you with the sounds of his gruff moans, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the shaking mattress, and the hoarse sounds of your cries of pleasure. The ripples that he ignites within you grow more intense, and he moans loudly when he feels it too. “That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock, baby. Cum right now and take all of my load.”

You can feel that he is getting close, yet still holding back to wait for you as he works your body so expertly. Releasing your hold on his shoulders, you reach up under your folded legs and start palming your own breasts, playing with yourself. With each knead, each pinch at your nubs, and the firm push of your soft flesh, you add the intensity of the sensation you are feeling from his rough lovemaking. You are already on the brink of your climax, and Jimin takes it even further when he slips a hand between your entwined bodies and finds your clit, giving it a light slap before pinching it, pushing you towards your blinding climax.

“Oh, oh, oh…! Jimin—” you cry out in your release. With nowhere else to go, you could only fist onto the sheets beneath you, holding on tightly as your entire body convulses. Your orgasm feels so intense that it draws a deep groan from Jimin, and he doesn’t let go, still thrusting steadily and keeping his pace as if he wants to make it last. But for some reason, you don’t feel any sign coming from him to chase his own end.

Your body continues to shake with your release, taking its sweet time to come down. Through your hazy eyes, you watch Jimin as he opens his eyes, looking as if he is enchanted and mesmerised by the sight of you embracing your climax. He reduces his pace and looks down on your body, not at where you are connected to each other but at your lower belly. Pulling his hand away from your clit, he presses his palm on your stomach, gently caressing it.

“Oh, baby. I really can’t stop thinking about it now that you’ve put the idea inside my head,” he murmurs, his voice fading in and out while you are trying to ease down from the spasms of your release, which is hard to do when he is still moving inside you. In and out he goes, steadily slow, dragging his girth along the length of your pussy walls to make you feel everything. “I can’t wait to see your stomach swell with our baby. I’m going to fuck you every night, fill you up until you are full with my cum, until we have our little one growing inside you.”

He continues talking, soft spoken words that sound almost like a spell. With each word he gives you, his pace begins to pick up again. As if his own spell had done something to himself. He somehow feels even harder, the width of his cock seems to swell further, making it feel tight when he pushes deeply with a forceful thrust.

“Jimin, please…!” you cry out his name with a voice so raw and dry and breathless. But every word that you want to give him fades, taken over by the pleasure as it rises like a tidal wave.

You close your eyes when the delightful pleasure overcomes you, and his words, the beautiful spell that he gave you earlier, take form inside your head. It snaps something out of you to picture yourself being pinned the same way as he fucks you into oblivion, all for the sake of putting a baby inside your womb. It makes you grow hot, your core coiling with another wave of orgasm, each spasm growing stronger from one to the next, and you are suddenly hanging at the precipice of your release with no return.

You scream again as he thrusts into you so deep, too deep, holding you there as he makes you take his entire length, to take all of his hard cock as it throbs and pumps roughly into you. He seems determined to make good of his words, as he doesn’t slow down a pace, only returning each cry and moans you give him with a hard, intense thrust.

“Jimin! I’m coming again!” you cry out once more, yet you feel your body rising, your hips welcoming his ministrations so openly like a needy, wild minx, all while being pinned helplessly beneath him with nowhere else to go.

“Baby…fuck!” he cries in return, as he bucks against you, and you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, drawing more and more spasms coming through your walls. He continues moving his hips, keeping the same sloppy pace to make it last. And then he ends it with one last final thrust, his cock pulsing inside you tightly, spurting the last of his seed to join the rest, completely filling you up just as he promised he would. You can feel his excessive cum flowing out of your cunt with each thrust he is giving you, coating his cock, down to your bottom, making a complete mess out of the two of you. Yet neither of you cares, when you both find your climaxes together, embracing it with your bodies shaking and rocking together as one.

It continues for a while longer—as Jimin continues to rock his hips against you, bringing you into a long-drawn-out bliss, while everything seems obscured as you are lost in cloud nine—until the moment Jimin slowly eases down and begins to shift. He does his best to be careful as he lowers your legs back to bed, his fingers moving in circles as if to soothe your trembling legs. Drained of energy and feeling sated at the same time, your entire body feels listless, though you still endure the occasional jolts of pleasure until they slowly begin to wane.

You close your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath, only to have them fall back open when Jimin pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. Jimin meets your gaze with a smile, making no move to leave you as he reaches out, picking up his discarded towel to clean both of you from the remnants of your wild lovemaking.

“Seems like we’ve made quite a mess,” he mutters with a chuckle while he carefully rubs your tender skin.

“Hmmmm—”

Your lack of response only makes him chuckle. Tossing the soiled towel away, Jimin kisses your lips and lies down right beside you. He gathers you in his arms, pressing you close against his chest. “But I also think it was worth it. Don’t you think?”

Once again, you give him nothing but a tired hum. Too exhausted to speak, all you could do is lean against his chest with a content sigh. You can still feel him shaking as he laughs, yet you already have your eyes closed, already fading into the dreamland that you barely hear him whisper to you, “Try to get some quick rest, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

It feels like you barely doze off for a brief moment when you start feeling his touch on your skin again. You come awake in Jimin’s embrace, his hand on your breast, before he sets you on alert when his other hand travels down between your legs. A gentle press from his naughty fingers on your clit triggers a moan slipping out of you, then his lips descend on the side of your neck to stop you from squirming in his hold. Snaking his arm around your waist, Jimin continues kissing your skin, adding to the myriad sensations rising through your body with his fingers playing with your swollen clit while he cups your bare breast with his other hand once more.

“You’re not feeling too sore now, are you?”

The only thing that you can give him as an answer is a soft moan, when his touches seem to wake up not only your nerves, but also your desire.

“Hmmm—” is the only sound you can possibly make before a sigh of content slips out of you. But words don’t seem to matter as much when your body reacts first, as you arch your chest into his touch and you slowly give in, allowing him to pull your legs open, spreading you wide for him to lean closer and align himself at your center.

“Easy, baby. Bear it with me. It’s going to be a long night,” he whispers, right as he spreads your folds and pushes his hips forward, his stiff cock entering your throbbing pussy in a gentle stroke, though still enough to make you quiver in his arms.

Epilogue…

There is something magical about the warm sunlight falling on your skin, the sound of waves filling the background, and the colourful petals spreading against the white sand.

If there had been any doubt over having this destination wedding when you first planned it, it has surely been forgotten. Right now, all that you have in mind is the thought of walking down the aisle, the flowery path leading you towards your future. It feels like you are walking inside of a dream, with your dress flowing with each step you take, while Jimin is waiting on the other end, looking like a prince charming.

“You look beautiful,” you hear your father whisper to you as he walks you down the flowery path. You look up to him with a smile, unable to answer him without worrying that you might cry if you try. Instead, you look down, hiding your flushing face while trying to compose yourself before your emotion gets out of control.

Your eyes fall on the flower bouquet in your hands just then. The combination of white daisies and yellow roses should be able to represent your love story with Jimin, but there is another that is present as a token of your love. The baby bump that is partially hidden behind the layers adorning your dress and the flower bouquet now pressed against it.

The heart-to-heart talk that you shared with Jimin all those months ago had led to many nights of lovemaking, trying new things, new positions, and ‘more practising’, as Jimin would describe it. After a lot of effort made, a lot of waiting, and numerous tests taken, it finally happened, and now there is a precious life growing inside you.

Your dream of having your little one running ahead as your flower girl or standing by his side as the ring bearer would have come true if you had waited a while longer. But you have waited long enough, and neither of you wanted to wait until another period of time goes by to be married. You had to accept having another girl be your flower girl, Jimin’s toddler niece who is waddling clumsily towards Jimin across the flowery path while carrying her basket in her tiny arm. You watch her with a fond smile as the pretty petals keep dropping directly from the basket as she toddles away instead of from her fingers. Rubbing your palm over your bump, you picture having your own girl one day toddling ahead of you, and it is enough to cause a comforting warmth blossoming inside your chest.

After the slow walk that seems to last forever, you finally have no more than a few steps away left from reaching Jimin. Your future is just an arm’s reach away. Looking at him now, you cannot help but take a good look at the life that you have had for the past few years, of how much your fate has unravelled in the most unexpected way possible. And it all happened because Jimin came into your life.

Growing from the work relationship that was filled with challenges, to a mutual partnership filled with respect for one another, and here you are now today, exchanging gazes filled with passion and love, the mutual feelings that you both share as you embrace this new journey together.

Sometimes you cannot help but wonder where would you be today if you had taken all the different decisions in the past. But all the same time, you would always be reminded of how often your choices had almost made you lose all of your chances to be happy with him.

How often had you tried to deny your feelings in the past? From the love that you had secretly harboured for him, to your desire to become someone deserving of his love, and the desire you had for building your future with him.

Whenever you look back to those moments, you are always reminded of the times you had unconsciously put on your glass masks to hide your feelings and your true desires. The same glass mask that had once helped hide your heart and soul from him. All the same masks that were so fragile you had kept them guarded so firmly just to protect yourself and keep you safe from being hurt or disappointed.

But with your luck, Jimin had always been able to be the one to take those masks away from you. Time and time again, he would find those glass masks of yours and be the one to crack them into pieces, revealing your true self to him. With nothing more but his gentle touch and his pure love, Jimin has always been able to help you open up, to give you the courage to be completely bare for him, and you have always found the comfort of knowing that never once have you regretted ever giving your faith in his love.

Finally reaching your future husband, Jimin welcomes you by offering his hand for you to take while whispering softly,

“Ready?”

“Always,” you answer him while returning his smile.

Right there and then, as you take his hand and look up at his face, finding his eyes glowing with his unshed tears while you can feel your own beginning to form right before the priest begins reading out your vows, you find yourself breathing a sigh of content, because those glass masks are no more.

There is a fleeting moment of clarity as a soft flutter grows inside your chest the moment you open your heart and soul for him. It first comes to you as he recites his vows to spend his eternity for you and grows stronger as you promise him to do just the same. You simply embrace everything, all while holding his hands tightly, never to let go, as you are free falling into your future with him.

Together.

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

#bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #jimin smut #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #bts scenario #bts fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

[bluenpjm]

horus academy 5 — bts x oc

© horus academy | all rights reserved. do not repost, translate or claim as your own. if you find this work elsewhere besides the three blogs stated, please report it to any of the writers.

@singguks × @socksjinie × @bluenpjm

summary: in a school where greek methods rules, not everything is as clear as it appears to be. heart, mind, soul, and body. those are the teams of the horus academy and boarding school. but deep within the long corridors, lies dark secrets. the so-called loving families formed in the shapes of teams begin to tear when an anonymous source unravels their deepest secrets.

genre: high school au | mystery au | social au | angst | fluff

pairing: OT7 × OC’s

rating: M

word count: 15.2k

warnings: foul language, friends fighting, getting stalked, lies and threats, bullying. really, a lot of fights and harsh words.

chapters. 04, 05, 06 ✹ masterlist

 

Three days had passed since the games and the rumor still hadn’t died down. 

People would stare and bluntly gossip whenever Jimin or even the rest of the group passed by in the halls. And the worst of it, for the group itself, was that the realization of it was indeed shocking. It was one thing being the talk of the hour because of teenage behavior regarding breaking into the boys' dorm rooms… Another was actually sleeping with a teacher while being a minor. 

At first, Jimin had the brilliant idea of wanting to skip biology class on Tuesday morning, which everyone was against. It was decided that he would not only go to class as a normal and not guilty student would, but he was to behave and cut all communication with his lover for a little while. Just until the rumor died down and he could come to his senses and end the rendezvous himself. 

Kaya, the one sharing biology class with him, kept a hawk’s watch on his moves. And Jimin was actually doing his best. She could easily buy the facade he was putting up. The one inciting fire to the rumor was Miss Bellum herself, who couldn’t help but look at the boy from time to time. And if Kaya was noticing it, the gossiping leeches were too. 

As soon as the bell rang, Kaya shoved her notebooks into her purse and pulled Jimin by the arm, dragging him out of the class. His backpack was still half opened and he had to carry the biology textbook in his hand. 

She turned the first corner she came into, and went down a few steps of the stairs, coming to a stop in its middle. Jimin looked at her completely lost, glancing at his sides to see if people were passing by or judging the moment as weird as he was. 

“Wha–” he tried but she interrupted him in pure frustration. 

“I can’t believe you told her!” she burst, still trying to be as quiet as possible so no one could hear. And before he had a chance to come up with a lie or an excuse to stall, Kaya continued. “Don’t even try and pretend you didn’t. She looked at you the whole time as if the world was ending and you were some abandoned dog!” 

Jimin glanced back at the corridor before answering, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched all the time. “I had to, ok?” a tired sigh left his lips, and Kaya held her tongue so she could let him speak. Before continuing his reasoning, he put the textbook in his backpack, all while the girl looked anxiously at him. “She texted me on Sunday–Just to check on me after the fight with Archie! Relax!” 

“How. Will. I. Relax, Park Jimin!” she slapped his arms outraged while he tried to evade it. 

He searched for words but nothing seemed good enough so he opted to hug her instead. Kaya was as much on edge as he was. This wasn’t just a vendetta against him, this was a deliberate attack on the whole group. “Listen, I promised you guys I wouldn’t be in touch with her anymore and I’m not. But she deserved to know what was happening, so I told her, ok? Just so that if anything happened–If any student said something, she wouldn’t be caught unprepared. It was the least I could do.” 

Kaya nodded in understanding. She could at least breathe more at ease, and she held Jimin for a few seconds more, wishing that she could wake up from this nightmare named You. 

Before their moment of peace could last a little longer, Jimin’s phone buzzed in his front pocket, taking an arrow straight at both his and Kaya’s heart. Not again, he feared. 

They broke away from the embrace. She anchored herself on the wall behind her, crossing her arms to form a shield against whatever was coming their way. Jimin, in turn, reached for the device while mustering the courage he still had. 

Kaya saw his eyes reading the message but she couldn’t decipher his face. From where she was standing, and the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed, it didn’t look good. She gulped. “So?” 

“It’s Tae.” he said apprehensively, taking a quick look at her face. 

The air escaped her lips and he saw her entire body relax. Recomposing herself she questioned, “You still haven’t talked about it?” to which he shook his head. “Well… Good luck with that.” 

With a not-so-cheerful pat on his shoulder, Kaya was quick to leave her friend on the empty flight of stairs to resume her schedule. 

The sun shined bright in the sky, and although Elena was lying down on their usual table bench outside, she couldn’t seem to enjoy the warm beaming on her skin peacefully. 

Yoongi, Jin, and Jungkook sat by the table with her, while they waited for the twins to grab something from the cafeteria for their lunch. And although two of them were contributing to her quiet beauty nap, Jin couldn’t help but throw in assumptions of who could possibly be You. 

“Listen, I wouldn’t doubt that Archie was psycho enough to just come at us,” Elena could hear him say, “I’m just saying it isn’t his style at all to come at someone through social media.” and although none of them responded to it, she could tell that both Yoongi and Jungkook were thinking about his reasoning because so was she. Jin had a point. And so he continued rambling, “He’s too… Aggressive to be just like–Oh I know your secret ha ha ha! I feel like he would at least brag about it while taking a punch at our beautiful faces.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed. “The problem here is that we know nothing about this You person to even try and assume who it is…”

A defeated silence followed. It was enough for Elena to open her eyes, only to have to turn her face on the bench so as to not be blinded by the light. She couldn’t see the boys, since they were all sitting on the other side of the table, but she could watch how some students passed by. Even from far away, they would glance at them with judgemental eyes. She inhaled impatiently. 

“What’s taking them so long, by the way?” Jin was the kind of person that lived in the moment. And at this moment at least, food was more important. Elena’s stomach would agree, but her head was seething with possibilities. And so she sat up, making the three boys before her pay attention. 

She inquired, “What if we got to know something about You?” they looked at her pondering. “Even the smallest detail would help, right?” 

“And how we’d manage that?” Jungkook finally spoke up, while the older two were already pondering for themselves. 

All they did until now was wait around and be there whenever You decided to use them as punching bags. Elena was fed up with it. There had to be some way to strike back. Plus, in her head, if this You person was working alone, they would have the advantage. They were a whole group. 

“Why don’t we counter-strike on social media? Since it’s this loser's playground and all. I figure that if we manage to have everyone’s support and throw this shade at them like they’ve been obviously throwing at us, You will lose it.” she said, crossing her legs on the bench. The thing was not to add more to the fire but she felt the need to make this You person realize they knew how to stand tall as a group. Elena could picture herself receiving all this negative attention alone, and if that were the case she didn’t think she would like it very much or even be that secure to repeat the process all over again. 

Jin sighed. He recognized that she was right but at the same time, it would be a bold move. “What would we even say? Again, we don’t know who this person is… So we don’t know how to push their buttons.” 

“How about we start at the ‘You’re behind a screen because you don’t have the balls to come say it to my face’ part?” 

As Jungkook tried to hold his laughter and Yoongi pensively looked down with his arms crossed, Jin was obliged to answer Elena’s thoughts. “That seems well articulated to me.” he nodded in agreement. 

“Well, good, let’s watch how this rat squirms after I turn some sides then,” She added, making a go for her mobile that had been forgotten on top of the stone table. The girl managed to unlock the device and tap on the app to start writing before Yoongi made himself heard again. 

He started by saying, “I don’t think this is a good idea, Elena.” which made her stop what she was doing to look at him. “You’re going to provoke them, and then what?” 

How she exhaled and gesticulated with her free hand made him know she was fed up to the point of quitting too much explanation. Jin for the first time got quiet, and Jungkook’s eyes were once again doing that thing when he got apprehensive; they would double the size. “I get it. I know what you mean by wanting to know their next move. You’re going to try and fit them into a team and track them down that way. Maybe even scare them enough to not come after us again. But it’s an unsure move. What if it gets worse? I don’t know…” Yoongi tried to reason with her before something else blew right in their faces. 

“I mean. It can’t get worse than this!” she looked around and so did Yoongi. People kept gossiping and scrutinizing their every move. “We need to take action. You know that.” 

And before anyone could say anything else, she finished writing it and pressed send.

There was some comfort in Elena’s post, even if no one said much more about it. She treated the situation as if all of the things they were exposed for doing were nothing but mere rumors, and there was a big relief on that. Almost as if they could resume what they have known before as normal school life. 

“If you two took a bit more to arrive here I swear I would pass out of hunger.” Jin pointed out as soon as he saw Taehyung and Freya approach them, each holding two silver trays full of food. 

The boys were quick to organize the table and pick their plates to start eating, failing to notice how Freya’s glance was locked with Elena’s. Taehyung almost managed to sit in the middle of the two, if it weren’t for his twin shoving him to the side. 

As soon as she passed her legs through and managed to sit, she whispered in Elena’s ear, “Care to fill me in on what that post was about?” 

“I’m just relieved I said something back” she confided, “We really needed a win around here.” 

“You did good,” Freya agreed cheerfully. They looked at each other and realizing what she had just said, she tried to fix it, “Not you as in You but like. You.” she pointed out and Elena couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh forget it! You know what I meant.” 

Out of the whole group, everyone met up during lunch, as per usual. Everyone but Namjoon and Jimin. The former had to skip it because of the captain’s duties. Psykhe’s leader had to stay longer in a monthly meeting about their team’s expenses and such. 

Jimin, however, was being avoidant. Taehyung knew him well enough to know that. 

He knew that as soon as he texted him saying they needed to talk, the first thing Jimin would do was this—avoid him at all costs. So excusing himself politely from the table, Taehyung went back to the cafeteria and picked some chicken wings with sauce as a peace offering, making his way to the boys’ dorms. 

It was actually the perfect time for some privacy, as the majority of people were hanging on the patio for lunch and Jimin’s roommate, Hoseok, was also out. 

He had to knock two times before the door was answered. Jimin opened it sporting nothing but a towel around his waist. He didn’t say much, just made way so Taehyung could come into the room. 

The tallest stopped by the beds, feeling a little out of place because of his best friend’s unbothered eyes and sudden irresolvable stance. He hesitated with the box of chicken wings still in his hands. Jimin kept moving around in false pretense, entering the bathroom and then coming out of it seconds later with a smaller towel in hand, using it to boyishly dry his drenched locks. 

Deciding to approach carefully, Taehyung said, “Brought you some lunch,” he slightly lifted his hand showing the white squared box that transpired a mouth-watering smell. “The canteen was about to close, so…” 

Jimin gave him a small smile in return, still busy with his chore. “Thanks.” 

“Alright.” 

The food was placed at the closest writing table. Taehyung had to press his lips to contain his inner fuming. He turned around to face his best friend with a wave of anger he was finding quite difficult to contain.

His hands found his hips as he managed to say, “So you’re the one that gets to be mad at me? Not the other way around? I see.” 

“Oh please, quit the sarcasm” Jimin spits quite impatiently himself. 

“Sure. Just as soon as you cut the bullshit.” Taehyung said almost immediately demanding from his best friend what they haven’t gotten ever since the secret had been out. The courage to face the truth. 

Jimin had a very different reaction from what Taehyung had envisioned for what was to come. He saw how his best friend rolled his eyes before answering, and Jimin’s voice sounded tired as he said, “Not you too.” he exhaled. 

Taehyung looked at him with daggers in his eyes. His eyebrows twitched questioning, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Excuse me?!” was all that he managed to blurt out.

“Go on. Spit it. I know you also have something to say.” 

 Still taken aback by Jimin’s reaction he scoffs. “Are you being serious?” His stance is as cold as the resentment he was feeling. His chest was about to explode due to the unfairness of the situation. The words fell short no matter what he thought of saying, and so he muted himself. The chocolate locks boy just stood there looking at his friend, feeling just as hurt. 

Impatient, Jimin ran his hand through his hair. “That was why you came here with the wings! Or do you think I’m stupid?” he said, panting in anger. His normally cheerful eyes were big and glossy. “We’ve been avoiding this talk long enough so just say whatever it is that you have to say.” his chest kept rising and falling in the heat of the moment. 

The boy before him had to take a second to answer. He stopped biting his tongue and all that fell from his mouth was the beginning of sarcastic laughter. Taehyung shook his head, scanning the room before meeting Jimin’s eyes again. “Yes.” He began, and the room turned to ice. “You do seem stupid after saying that.” he paused but Jimin wasn’t able to answer. A knot began forming in his throat. “And were we avoiding it?” Taehyung corrected with a pert yet sad smile, “Or were you? Because I didn’t see you coming to me to talk about it.”

Without much thinking, Jimin scoffed. “Stupid?” His words were laced with anger but his features told a different tale. “What else are you holding? C’mon, let it all out.” 

There was a pause. And a strike of realization from both ends. 

Taehyung exhaled. His eyebrows were knit together as his words began more paused and controlled than before. “I’m holding the fact that my best friend seems more eager to blame me than to actually understand what I really came here to do.” By the time his angry eyes meet Jimin’s, the latter feels drowned by his own guilt. “I’m not everyone else, you know…” Taehyung’s voice sounds hurtful. “I thought you knew that.” 

Jimin only understands his best friend had left the room as the sound of the door being hammered echoes. The anger consumes him and in a bashful split second, he grabs the first thing that comes into hand. Hoseok’s lamp is thrown at the wall. 

The din followed by scattered glass on the floor made him conscious of the mess he had just made. And that any mess could turn messier than what was thought possible. 

One by one the group started to disperse. The lunch break was a very needed one, but everything good in life came to an end. 

Yoongi was mindlessly scrolling his timeline in search of new song recommendations when he realized his friends had already moved on with their affairs. As he got up and grabbed his things he spotted Freya from afar. The girl was sitting by a big oak tree, basking in its welcoming shade. 

He had to get closer to note she had her eyes peacefully closed. There was a slight breeze that blew softly on her locks. From where he was standing, it looked like she was in a painting. 

“Not that is any of my business,” he said, plumping himself down right next to her. “But as your current fake boyfriend, I should say… Your brother sucks!” he joked, making her open a cheerful smile. 

With her eyes still closed, she asked, “What did he do this time?” 

“Well… He’s been hinting that he wanted to talk to me for a while now, you know–About us. But we still haven’t had the chance… All this You stuff and all.” Freya opens her eyes as she hears Yoongi sigh. “And now ever since Jimin’s thing came out he’s been all stressed.” 

The girl took a glance at him. Yoongi kept his eyes on the horizon, and if she knew him well enough, his head was spinning trying to find a practical solution to this mess. Even if his semblance was calm and composed. “And he’s been taking it out on you,” Freya states. 

“And he’s been taking it out on me, yeah.” 

Even though the boy beside her laughed about it, she knew it was bothering him deep down. She noticed how Taehyung was sharp and borderline surly to Yoongi during lunch. Her brother could be a bit too transparent about his feelings, never knowing how to suppress them. And she had a perfect notion she was a bit too much the same. 

“If it serves any consolation to you, he criticized my footwear of choice today,” she opts to say, keeping a light mood by clinking the heels of her recently acquired cowboy boots. Yoongi can’t help but laugh. Freya, as well as her brother, had always liked using questionable things when it came to fashion. And the thought of the twins having a discussion about the item can’t seem to leave his head. It felt so ridiculous that it immediately brought a smile to his face. 

Freya laughed along, pleased to hear his own loud one. 

Yoongi steals a glance at her as he leans his head on the trunk of the tree behind them. It’s been a while since they had been this peaceful, and he would hate to end the moment but at the same time, he felt the need to check on her. “And how have you been? On a more serious note.” 

“Same old same” 

“Freya.” He presses still looking at her profile. The girl sighs reluctantly and Yoongi can see the joy fading from her distant eyes. 

She turns her head so she can face him and give him the answers upon his request, as she sees no way out of it, but as soon as she opens her mouth she gets interrupted. “Hey!” her eyes leave Yoongi’s face and land on Jungkook’s. “Sorry…” The boy says as Yoongi’s gaze on him feels like a rebuke. As if he had interrupted a conversation that wasn’t made for his ears. “I–Mhmm… I hope I’m not interru–” 

“Hi!” Freya exclaimed with a sunny smile returned to her lips. “No, no! Sit!” 

Jungkook smiled along, doing as instructed, sitting in front of the pair. He rested his backpack by his knee as he sat cross-legged. “The bell rang and I have a free period right now, so…” Freya bit a smile as he fumbled with his shoelace still convinced he had to explain himself. “Everyone went their way and then as I came back from the canteen I saw you guys here–”

“Oh fuck!” Yoongi grunts getting up. He swiftly bats the dirt from his trousers and grabs his own backpack under the gaze of the other two. 

Freya chuckles in realization, “You’re late again aren’t you?” 

The boy flashes her a guilty gummy smile before confessing, “Pretty much! Mrs. Hough is going to kill me… Again!” He doesn’t take any more time before starting to run downhill with a lack of youthful spirit considering his age. “And we’re not finished!” Yoongi adds with a wink as he looks back at Freya, and Jungkook can’t help but wonder. The two looked nothing like a couple. Or maybe it was just his lack of experience in the matter talking. 

“So.” His eyes leave Yoongi’s back as he hears Freya say. When he looks at her he can’t help but gulp. 

“So…” Jungkook repeats her words. It had been a while since they last stood alone in each other’s presence, that specific day in the Wolf’s den dawning in his conscience, even so, guilt pairing in his heart or not, he had always felt intimidated by her stare. From the beggining. And sometimes he was convinced that if he got himself locked in her eyes long enough she would be able to read him like a book. Unravel all that there is to him. Nervously he adds, “You come here often?” 

Freya’s immediate reaction is to laugh. A burst of genuine laughter. There was something to his dorkiness that made her feel very comfortable. “Honestly? This is the first time I spend this free period here,” She decides to open up to his roleplay game. “I’m trying to find my new best place.” 

“And what does it take to be your new best place?” 

It seemed only natural to her to keep being true while looking at him. No need to even think before answering. “I’d say privacy is the first thing.” But to his insecure ears that sounded like a sign that he had crossed a line with her. “Ouch!” he lets out, finally breaking eye contact to look at the grass rubbing at his shoes instead. 

Realizing he misunderstood what she had said, she comes forward nudging his shoulder playfully. “Not you though!” He analyses her features again, a tad expectant. “You can exist with me.” Her voice sounds velvety and he feels the smile tugging on the corner of his mouth once more. 

With a faint of pink coloring his scarred cheek he asks, “And what’s the second requirement?” to which she answers promptly, “Mmm, I’d say a great view!” 

“And then?” Jungkook asks without realizing it, almost in a whisper. She had his full attention, and his brain couldn’t stop trying to match the nooks and crannies he had already seen around the school to fit her description. 

To her, much like to everyone else, the raven-haired boy before her couldn’t help but exude mysteriousness. A black translucent cloth covered him at all times from everyone’s curiosity. And it wasn’t shyness or just introspection. Freya had Yoongi to thank for being able to spot the difference. But sometimes, when the world outside seemed quiet enough–when there were just the two of them, she felt like she could glimpse the boy beneath such covers. In a trance, she mumbles just as quietly as he did before, “That’s it for now…”. They keep quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other’s features. If someone passed by them, they could easily mistake the moment for a stare competition, and the two competitors would miss the presence of the bystander just as easily. 

A sudden beep causes Freya to inhale sharply and Jungkook to jolt. Both of them exchange embarrassed chuckles as the girl takes her phone out to see what had snapped them to the real world. Jungkook eyes her expectant. 

She shrugs, tucking the device into her backpack once again. “It’s Yoongi.” 

“So the teacher didn’t kill him this time, huh” 

Freya leaned on the tree with a cheeky smile. She crossed her arms saying, “Not this time, no” as she watched how he fixed his backpack on the ground so he could rest his head comfortably on it. 

More silence follows. Jungkook keeps his eyes trailed to the scenery displayed to his right. He watches mindlessly as some students cross the greenery toward the main building. From time to time, when the wind hits his face, he feels compelled to close his eyes for seconds before opening them again. Freya doesn’t look at the view as he does. She couldn’t care less about those people passing by. Instead, she keeps her eyes trailed to his nape, and she watches how the hair there is starting to get big enough so it curves softly. She spots the scar on his left cheek and thinks of how it came to be, and how it seems so fitting that it was there. 

Jungkook fumbles with his lip piercing, still looking at the crowd below them. They all look so small from there. So distant. “Maybe I could help you find it,” he says as he turns his head to look at her. 

He notices how her eyes were already on him. How that summer blush spread across the line of her cheeks and nose as if she had been the whole day under a scorching sun at the beach. “I would like that.” 

He nods and the crinkles of his eyes start to appear. “Today after classes?”

“Deal.”

The rest of the free period is spent in comfortable silence. Both of them exist in each other’s presence, in wonder, basking in the sunlight. Enjoying the peacefulness of the breeze, and ignoring their surroundings. Caught not wanting that moment to end, but also anxiously waiting for the next encounter. 

Kaya decided to accompany her brother and Namjoon to the library post lunch after receiving a notification from the system saying the literature teacher would be canceling classes that day.

The boys were supposedly in their sociology class, but the extensive course was normally divided into two hours—one for research and the other for debating. So while they came up with a grounded speech, the girl fumbled through books, settling to catch up on the subjects she would have for the rest of the day. 

She was running her fingers through the numbers carved on the massive wood bookcase, eyes searching for the physics copy she needed, when she was laced by her hips and pulled to a dark corner. 

“What are you doing?!” she whispered, desperately glancing around so as to not be caught. 

Her captor didn’t pay much mind and kept kissing her neck. By now he was more than used to her apprehensive behavior. “My brother is right there!” she hissed again. On the tips of her toes, she tried with all her might to disentangle from the arms she loved so much. She just couldn’t be caught, and this was way too risky for her liking. 

“He’s focused on the task at hand,” The boy said, laid back. “I doubt he’ll get up before cracking that book first. You know how he is.” 

He pulled her closer, diving in for a kiss, sure that he had eased her mind just enough. To his misfortune, his lips were met with her hand. He tried again, playing it cool, but Kaya turned her head as she shoved him back. “Namjoon, please.”

He inhaled, as he rubbed his temples frustrated. 

Namjoon had never been a pushy guy. And he had always taken Kaya’s concerns into consideration. That was why they had been dating secretly in the first place. Because to him, they would have already come clean to everyone—including Hoseok—a long time ago. 

“Just tell me what you want Kaya,” he says plainly and she is taken aback. 

“What do you mean?” 

He sighs as the girl in front of him seems more preoccupied with checking around if anyone is listening to their conversation. More and more he felt tired of this. There was already too much on the table for them to be worried about. 

Namjoon leans on the bookcase behind him, crossing his arms. “It’s been a while now since we last were together,” he says carefully and her eyes search for his. “Ever since Freya took the blame in our place, to be specific.” 

“Ok…” she opts to say, as the words dissipate in her brain. 

“No. It’s not ok.” he huffs annoyed. Kaya knows him too well, and the moment he clenches his jaw in a pout, swinging it back and forth, she realizes he’s been piling this up for too long. “You’re my girlfriend. Yet I can’t see you in public or in private. I can’t kiss you or touch you–We can’t even talk like this without you looking around as if you’re up to something you shouldn’t be up to!” he whispers hushedly, calling her out. 

Kaya’s eyes are suddenly teary and the boy before her starts to get blurry. “But what can we do, it’s–” 

“We could just be together.” his eyebrows knit almost pleading. He is certain that he loves her. And he is certain that she loves him too. What hurts the most is that it doesn’t seem enough. Not for him, or her. 

Kaya starts shaking her head, eyes trailing on the wooden floor. She can’t deal with this right now. Not when her brother is mere meters away from finding the truth. 

“Let’s not do this now.” 

“Then when, Kaya?!” Namjoon can’t keep his cool anymore and she quickly covers his mouth to shush him. She looks apologetic at him, realizing how on edge she was being. He softly takes her hand out of the way. “I know these past couple of days have left us all walking on eggshells,” his voice sounds temperate again, the tone only loud enough for her to hear. “But I also think we can’t stop living our lives because of it.” 

She closed her eyes with a sigh. Kaya knew Namjoon was more than right. She just needed her scale to pend to the other side instead. Right now, she still has a lot to lose. “I know, it’s just–” 

The sound of a book dropping way closer to them than they thought possible, made both of their heads snap toward it, alarmed. Kaya’s breathing increased considerably and she froze on the spot. Namjoon looked around, and not seeing anyone in sight, he went toward the next row of bookcases. 

There was a single book left on the ground, scrambled from the falling. He looked at the cover as he picked it up, but the title didn’t say much to him. Before returning it to its place, he looked around once more. Kaya came from behind, quite apprehensive. Looking at her eyes, he followed her frightful gaze. On the other end of the long corridor of books, sat at a table for four there was Momo, Mark, and Tzuyu. The latter, unlike her Sarx companions, wasn’t writing or reading. She had her eyes craved on Namjoon. 

The Psykhe’s captain decided not to look too much, or read too much into the situation. He had to avoid looking suspicious. Recomposing himself, he put the book on the shelf once again and turned his back to Tzuyu’s prying eyes. 

“Let’s go back–” 

“She’s still looking,” Kaya whispered with concern. And before he could say anything else, she made rushed decisions for the both of them, “We’re stopping this for now. We can talk later.” 

As she turned the corner leaving him no space for refutation, Namjoon couldn’t figure out if they were stopping the conversation or their relationship altogether. He had to swallow his frustration as he was well aware his back was still being stared at. 

And who knew who else was paying close attention too…

Summer still lingered in the air as the students from class 104 dozed off to the sound of Mr. Perry’s soothing voice and the ceiling fans. Philosophy felt like a drag whenever the class was theoretical instead of practical. 

Elena sat in the last row of desks, sharing one of them with an absent-minded  Jungkook. She took notes from time to time just to keep herself busy and although throughout the first part of the class, she thought the boy beside her was doing the same, it became pretty clear that was not the case as she peeked to the side and saw a view from what she pegged being the Psykhe’s tower drawn on his notebook. 

She whispered so only he could hear, “That looks amazing”, and he took his while perfecting the twinkling stars on his pitch-black sky before answering with a brief chuckle, “I try”.

The class continued irrespective of Elena’s admiration and Jungkook’s pencil lining. The room was a stage for a lazy symphony composed by Mr. Perry’s throat being cleared here and then and some bored sighs at the end. The time of the class helped the preposition to be lulled instead of trying to create a ruckus with chitchatting. 

But then a notification sound reverberated alongside the teacher’s voice. Some heads, from owners that still had some stamina left, turned to the guilty one holding the phone. Elena’s included. The student apologized sheepishly doting a sheer of red on his face while turning off the device as if it had been a coincidental mistake. Mr. Perry was about to restart his explanation with an unbothered stance when the girl sat by Belle’s side, right at the front row seats, exclaimed reproachfully with her phone at hand. 

Some students exchanged glances, and others paused what they were doing to look at her expectantly. “What is it, Vanessa?” someone asked from the back. The teacher tried to pay no mind going instead to write on the imponent board behind him. 

Suddenly both Vanessa and Belle turn around and stare in Elena’s direction with pitiful eyes. The girl is taken aback by the gesture but tries to deflect them by looking back with a shrug. 

“Holy shit…” one of the boys let out while scrolling his phone. Elena looks at him apprehensively, and Jungkook finally lifts his head peaking above the shoulder of his table mate to grasp the situation. While the constant noise of chalk being dragged on the board serves as background, the class starts to get restless. Phones are being pulled out of pockets to kill the famish curiosity pairing in the air. Elbows jerk and eyes turn inquiring toward her. 

Elena panics and suddenly she knows. It’s You… Again. 

She doesn’t take the time to check. Jolting out of her seat she grabs her purse and rushes toward the door, exiting it with a minor bang. 

“Elena, wait up!” Jungkook has to sprint to catch up to the girl, ignoring the teacher’s warnings. The strap of his backpack hangs loosely from his right shoulder. “What happened?” 

She faces him with teary eyes, lips in a pout, as she manages to say through a sob, “I’m fucked.” 

The boy frowns. Not knowing what had caused her to be in such a state makes Jungkook panic a little. He had been a victim of Elena’s emotional side more than once but he was never alone to calm her down. “Let’s just take a deep breath.” He sounds more shaken than confident in the solution he was able to find. 

The girl dismisses his words as she keeps on cursing under her breath, phone up to her ear. Jungkook keeps on hearing the faint recording of the call being directed to the voicemail.  

“Should we go outside? Catch some fresh air?” Jungkook attempts again, this time even more uncertain. 

The girl doesn’t give him an answer, instead hastening her pace towards the courtyard. Her focus is still on her device and through the corner of his eye, Jungkook can make out the messages app open as she types feverishly into a group called The Runaways. Jungkook recognized the photos of the other two members of the group–Freya and Kaya. 

Taehyung had been the kind soul to explain the name to Jungkook once he heard Jin referring to the girls like that. His facial expression must have shown how confused he was by the nickname and so his peculiar roommate explained that the trio had tried to escape from Horus Academy one night during their first year there and got caught–of course. Kaya was a mess because of the two weeks of detention and Hoseok even added that she had palpitations from having to visit the dean’s office so soon after her arrival at the school. 

The group was close, regardless of all of them being so different. And to Jungkook that was something that was sometimes revealed to be difficult to comprehend. They were good people, that he was sure. Despite all their quirks and inevitable penchant for secrets. No wonder he had fit so well. 

“Was it You?” Jungkook finally dares to speak. They had already reached the courtyard and Elena had sat down at one of the picnic-style tables scattered around the place, her feet tapping on the bench rhythmically. The girl nods in response and Jungkook’s curiosity gets the best of him, “What did they say?” 

Sighing, Elena shows the phone to the boy and the way he frowns as his eyes scan the text on the screen makes her realize that she’s in for a hell of a couple of days.

“Is–is it true?” Jungkook asks hesitantly. The second the words come out of his mouth he regrets it. His stomach is in a twirl and he would rather not know the truth. 

“Of course, it is. Whoever that psycho is, they are deep into our lives and know all about our darkest secrets.” Elena speaks angrily. Jungkook’s question doesn’t bother her. He has been with the group for a while now and she trusts him. He has been loyal to them despite all the attacks they have been under since day one. Had she been in his shoes, she doesn’t know if she would stick with such a problematic crew. She always wondered why he stuck with them in the first place, and she had gotten close to asking him about it a few times, but Kaya cut it off after all her attempts, advising her to ‘not be rude and ask’. 

“Yoongi was right–” Jungkook flops down next to Elena, finding a seat on the picnic table. His tone isn’t accusatory, like a parent reprimanding a child, but mostly hopeless. “We shouldn’t be poking the bear,” he looks her in the eye, seriously. “it’s going to poke back.” 

Scoffing, Elena gets back up on her feet, hands finding a firm grip on her hips. “Of course, we should! We all got secrets, Kook, I know–”  She glares at the boy, huffing as yet another tear rolls down her cheek, “We want them buried but I’m not going to sit here and let it hold such power over my life.” 

“But–” 

“This person is insane. What if they start blackmailing us? Pinning us against each other?” Jungkook shifts in his seat but the action passes unseen by the revolted girl. “Are you going to sit by and watch the house burn down?” 

Eyes stuck to the floor, Jungkook finds comfort in analyzing his fingers. Elena’s words are marked on his brain as if she kept on asking the question over and over again. Pressing his lips together, he doesn’t manage to look her in the eye as he reaches the final verdict, “I–I don’t know Elena.” 

“I know Yoongi was right. But fuck this.” Elena’s focus is back on her phone. “Jesus Christ why is no one picking up their phones!” 

Relieved by the change of subject, Jungkook tries to uncover more of the newest secret You had revealed, “Are you trying to call your mom?” 

“Heavens no. If she got word that we were being harassed she’d come down to the school and take me out of it. I would never see you guys again.” Elena laughs drily. “What about yours?” 

Jungkook tilts his head, confused by the question. “What?” 

“What would your parents do if they knew you were strapped to a tree for an entire night?” Jungkook hadn’t been a target of You yet–at least not directly–and so far, the Sarx folks were the most fitting candidates for the shoes of psycho. 

Jungkook’s eyes are big as Elena sits down on the bench next to him. In an attempt to diverge from her stare, he takes out his notebook from his backpack. “You know–the same.” 

Glancing at the girl lets him know she was analyzing his not-so-confident answer. “Do you want to see more?” Jungkook is quick to ask as he lands on the page he had earlier been drawing on. The Kardia girl’s eyes light up as her lips turn into a smile, pleased to have a distraction, “Yes, please.” 

Word around Horus always traveled fast. But nothing could quite compare to bad news. With cell phones prohibited in class, it was astonishing how people had already begun whispering in the hallways about the latest rumor of the all-star group attending the boarding school. 

The first period of the afternoon had barely ended when the courtyard where Elena and Jungkook were, began to fill quickly. The raven-haired boy was quick to find a distraction for the girl that made herself heedless of the preying eyes in an almost impeccable way. 

“Damn…” The hand that rested on Elena’s shoulder had been what startled her but Jungkook was only aware of Jin’s presence when he made his voice heard. The Dianoia member was facing the opposite direction of the other two, back leaning against the table as he took a sip from his soda can. 

Jungkook swiftly shifts on his seat, his legs standing on each side of the bench. He can now see Elena and Jin perfectly. 

“Not that I thought you a straight record, but when you pulled a Regina George today on that psycho, I at least thought you were secret safe,” The expression on the oldest face says how incredulous yet disconcerted he is with the situation. He was in a complete mix of feelings. 

“Excuse me?!” Jungkook notices how Elena’s eyebrows furrow and how her once relaxed demeanor is quick to leave her body. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t say I told you so!” Jin reassures, lips wet from the last sip he took from his soda. He scootches closer toward Elena, casually crossing his legs while he still stands. “That will be Yoongi.” 

“Oh, fuck off Jin.” The girl in turn stands up from the bench, now leaving an empty spot between the two boys. Her phone is quickly retrieved from her pocket and placed on her ear once more.

“You kinda did, though,” Jungkook whispers to Jin, lips pressed. “You kind of said it.” 

Jin widens his eyes, distant, not really focusing anywhere. He then takes a last sip from the can in his hands, before spurring in Jungkook’s direction unable to suppress a nervous laughter. 

“Who are you trying to reach?” The doe-eyed boy opts to ask Elena instead. She had been nervously pacing back and forth. Her thumb rests between her lips the whole time as she nibbles on its skin. “Maybe I can help?” He offers again.

The proposal sounds weak despite his best intentions, and as a consequence, he ends up being ignored by the other two. 

In the distance, as he looks over to distract himself from the situation, Jungkook can make out a duo that skids through the increasing crowd. Taehyung and Jimin spurt toward their table, the latter’s hand already in the air, signaling his presence to the group. 

“Hey, you okay?” Taehyung reaches the girl first, hands finding her shoulders as he looks her down, almost as if examining her physically. “Is it real?” He questions as his hands slide toward her neck and his thumbs gently force her chin up so he can scan her eyes. 

“Of course it’s real.” The Kardia boy spats, passing by on his way to the vacant spot between Jungkook and Jin before Elena had a chance to answer. Taehyung sent a death stare to his back, biting on his tongue so as to not make the situation worse. The tension between the two best friends was so palpable even their algebra teacher had noticed that the pair was odd—as they used to spend the class playing games in each other’s notebooks or talking, now they avoided eye contact. It was impossible to deny that there was some unresolved business between the two. 

“Jimin–” Elena is taken off by the sudden attack of her best friend but before she can continue, Taehyung cuts her off, unable to look past Jimin’s pretentious eyes as he sat down and stared back. 

“Just because you tend to make shitty decisions it doesn’t mean everyone else follows the example so stop being–”. 

“It’s not that ludicrous. It happened to me, too.” Jimin shrugs and Jin scoffs at the sudden outburst, somewhat entertained. 

“Ludicrous? Huh,” He laughs. “Aren’t you a committed student...” Taehyung is quick to bark back. 

Jimin’s eyes are filled with fire, but he decides that ignoring his best friend is a better response. "Why would you even do that?" He directs his words at Elena instead. "What dumb thought crossed your mind that made you think that it would be a good idea to go after You after what happened to me?" 

"Dumb thought?! Was I supposed to just sit and watch this shit show?!" Hands anchored on her hips, Elena's focus is no longer on her phone.

Jimin laughs incredulously as he shakes his head and looks at the crowd. People kept staring at them, waiting for more drama to unfold. "Are you happy now that everyone is giving you the side eye?" 

"You certainly seem to be." Elena pokes at his chest, index finger waving in accusation. 

"Me?! I didn't even know you were going to do this. Let alone that you had this secret.” Jimin looks at her with accusatory eyes, and differently from Jin, Jungkook can’t help but think he should do something to stop the arguing. “Good job at being a best friend, by the way! If every best friend kept a secret like you we would all stand equally as strangers!”  

“You-!” Elena lifted her finger once more but was gently pulled back by the boy behind her. Taehyung couldn’t care less if people were beginning to stop their own conversations to eavesdrop on theirs. 

"Like you told me about yours?! Or any of us, for a matter of fact?" He is quick to jump back into the discussion. 

"This isn't about me." Jimin stands his ground, clearly upset.

“Do you know where Namjoon is?” Jin shifts on his seat, his arm resting on the table as he supports his head in the palm of his hand, eyeing Jungkook directly. He seems too comfortable with the ruckus happening not even two feet from them. The youngest doesn’t even get a chance to answer before Jin continues in a tired voice, “We need Namjoon to make them hold hands again.” 

“Hold… hands?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows. The concern he once felt completely dissipates, leaving space for confusion instead. 

“I’ll tell you later.” Jin nods his head, reassuringly. “It’s just that Namjoon made them hold hands another time. When they fought, you know.” 

“Oh, God!” Elena raises her voice, gaining the attention of the two whisperers and the other two bickerers. “Where is Kaya!” 

“She shouldn’t take too long,” An out-of-breath Namjoon takes a seat where Jimin has previously sat by the picnic table. “I lost her and Hoseok in the crowd.” 

“We have a dumpling situation again,” Jin comments, pointing at the two boys standing. “Make them hold hands, for the love of God, I can’t hear them anymore!” He complains nonchalantly. “Lucky me I don’t have a mirror otherwise I’d see for myself I aged ten years while I sat here listening to this crap.” The Psykhe’s leader can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as Jin rambles as fast as a bullet. "First things first, what happened?" He exhales as he asks the group, now recomposed.

"Elena bossed up and went after the psycho and now the psycho went after her, but much more effectively." Jimin explains, and the girl in question glares at him. 

Jungkook can’t help but rub his eyes frustrated. His right leg embraced a frenetic rhythm afraid the bickering would restart. “Not again…” He mumbles to himself.

Namjoon nods silently, glancing around to assert the gravity of the rumors. In his peripheral vision, he sees Elena ignoring Jimin, preferring to show attention to her cell phone instead. Taehyung looked at him expectantly but he was just as lost. He just couldn’t show it to his peers. Perhaps by being a leader he had picked up the habit, but something in his being told him it had to do with all those eyes prying at them instead. "It does nothing for us to be going at each other's throats…" Namjoon reasons with them, his voice low enough so only his friends could hear. He preferred to wait for the rest of the group to arrive before discussing their situation. He also prayed Yoongi or Hoseok would bring with them some sort of solution. Or at least help to calm the other’s down. 

"Freya, where the hell are you?" Elena asks, visibly relieved when her call goes through. The boys all look at her awaiting the answer to her question. As she huffs and looks at some point past the courtyard, listening to what Freya was saying, she feels the urge to interrupt with a plea. “Run faster then,” she says, “I can see her already and she is ready to kill me. I just know, alright? Just run… Ha-! Well, because you don’t sound like running to me!” 

The second Elena clicked on the red button to end the call, she realized Kaya had shortened the distance between them way too fast. Faster than she imagined, even if she was well aware her roommate was fuming. Hoseok stopped right behind his sister, panting from trying to helplessly keep up with her pace. 

Namjoon got up from his seat instinctively, worried that neither Taehyung nor Jimin, who were standing by, could do something to stop the wrath of his girlfriend. “I just can’t believe you!” Kaya exclaimed. “Wasn’t it enough seeing Freya, Yoongi, and Jimin being targeted?! Why would you do something so reckless, Lena? For heaven's sake!”

Elena sighs, fingers massaging her temples as she turns her back on her roommate. “Not you, too.” she says, and both Jimin and Taehyung are struck by déjà vu. 

“No, no, no! Don’t turn your back on me.” Kaya speaks through gritted teeth. “Don’t you even think that you will get away with this.” 

The shortest one doesn’t hide her arched eyebrow as she turns around. “Last time I checked you weren’t my mom, Kaya,” she says decisively. It takes a good minute for her roommate to process her spiteful answer, and a longer one for the silence that broke amongst their peers who watched the exchange like statues. 

“Just stop.” Hoseok cuts sharp as a knife. “It’s not the time to fight about who’s at fault here.” He glares at the both of them and as Elena mentions to speak up he continues, “I don’t care. I just want to know who the hell is behind this. Who could have this kind of information–All the freaking time!” 

Namjoon feels the need to intervene as he looks around and all of them, besides Hoseok who had a desperate demeanor to his face, had their eyes trailed to the floor, hopeless. In a space between the harsh revelation of both secrets, they had gathered no information about their stalker or even a thread of where to start looking. They were completely in the dark. “Let’s wait for Freya and Yoongi–Who are just much part of this as Kaya has said. And then we can all sit together and make a timeline of events. We’re gonna find something–“ The leader tries. 

For brief seconds Jungkook remembers how to breathe again, certain that this time Namjoon’s approach had worked out. It was visible how everyone collected themselves, pondering his words. He was right, after all, there was no point in arguing without everyone present. They would be just circling back and forth, wasting the little time they seemed to have. Even Jungkook, who was never the most patient one, could understand that. 

Students begin passing by them quicker, seeing there was seemingly no secret conversation to overhear. To them, the all-star group looked like showcase dolls being exhibited in the courtyard. 

“What did I say?” their heads move together as they hear Yoongi’s familiar voice. He circled the table with his arms crossed, making Jin scooch closer to Jungkook so he can sit on the bench as well. “I told you exactly how this would go down, didn’t I?” he says, looking disappointed but not at all surprised at Elena. 

And it is enough, just like a snowflake is to trigger an avalanche. 

“I will say it slow enough for you all to grasp it–Fuck. You.” Elena bursts. “It’s my secret.” she points to her chest with a wave of moved anger. “My choice.”

“Elena–”

The strawberry blonde one couldn’t find in herself the patience to listen to any of them anymore. The shock of the situation finally untied her naturally proactive self. “No!” she exclaims back. “I won’t shut up about it! Whoever this creep is, they deserve someone barking back.” 

“HEY, hey!” Freya comes like a tornado. It’s clear that the girl had been running to get there as the sunglasses that are almost always securing her hair back is crooked to the left. Her locks are tousled. “Finally!” Namjoon gasps. 

Freya places a hand on Elena’s shoulder as she comes closer, and it works like magic. The shortest one’s uproar quickly ceased. “Before we mess this up,” her voice is steady despite her rush, and commanding enough to make them all pay attention. “Let’s move this circus to a more private tent, alright.” Her over-expressive eyes pointed at the crowd beginning to surround them again. Some cell phones were being aimed like guns at them, ready to shoot and record the perfect evidence. 

Kaya, different from the rest of the group who tried to discreetly look around, was too possessed to notice anything but what was happening between them. “Heavens! Stop trying to make us forget what this is all about!” 

“I’m not the one that stops things from happening, Kaya. You got me confused.” Freya adverts. “Just get out of your head for a second and look around.” her eyebrows do the work this time as they shoot up. And for the Dianoian girl’s terror, she was the center of attention. 

"Freya is right," Yoongi speaks tiredly. Not that he was bothered by the ridiculously noticeable glares of the other students. He had been used to being the freak everyone stared, pointed, and laughed at. But this You person had really started to get on his nerves by assuming they could get rid of them as easily as possible. 

"Do you remember the spot of the last trial of the games?" Namjoon is already pulling the strap of his bag over his head as he speaks. He walks around the table, arm swinging around Hoseok's shoulder as he pushes him out of his ecstatic state and forces his feet to levitate from the ground. "Let's meet there in 10. All of us." 

Namjoon leaves with Hoseok. Being the captain of Psykhe had thought him a thing or two as the whole group—even the ones that were from different houses—respected his words. 

A stare-down happens between the two roommates, now not-so-seemingly best friends, and Freya stays right in the middle of them. The boys on the table don't dare to move. Until Elena lets out a dry chuckle, eyes rolling as she makes her way to the table to fetch her bag. "Will be seeing you all in… 8 minutes." Her sarcastic smile is directed at Yoongi, who sighs in response as he too gets up to go and try to get rid of the people who could possibly trail them. 

"You better go somewhere else." Taehyung coldly speaks to Jimin before skipping after the Kardia girl that was about to quickly get lost in the crowd. 

"What did I do?!" Jimin whines as he's about to be left alone by the table as Kaya storms by herself, and Jin seems to make his way to enter the main building again. "Jin–wait for me!"

Satisfied that everyone listened to Namjoon, making the rest of the students confused as to who they should follow, Freya pulls Jungkook by the hand toward the stadium. She wasn’t a fan of crowds. Passing by all those that were surrounding the courtyard—even if Horus Academy didn’t have that many students to begin with—felt like a nightmare. The grand stadium seemed the right choice as the structure was placed on the other side, they just had to cut through a grass path and some isolated trees. 

Not a soul seemed to follow the two. Jungkook made sure to look back every time he heard a different noise that wasn’t his own feet clashing with the dirt ground or Freya’s. And as some distance was already put between them and the unpleasant moment they had just experienced, Jungkook cleared his throat. For the first time, he was bothered by Freya’s silence amidst this chaos. “This, uhm… It wasn’t what I had in mind when we said we’d be meeting each other after classes…” 

The girl doesn’t slow her pacing, and neither does he, as they are still locking hands. “That’s because technically we’re still in classes. So this ain’t it.” She shrugs with a rapid smile. 

Jungkook chuckles and keeps his eyes on the back of her head. She wasn’t being her carefree self, he could notice. He wondered while she lead him astray from the path to the stadium and down a small ravine through the woods if she seemed distant only due to her best friend being targeted. Again, her relationship with Yoongi crossed his mind. It seemed odd that he was the one holding hands with her and not her boyfriend. 

He wondered if he was crossing a line. “Why isn’t Yoongi here?” he decided to give it a shot. 

“What do you mean?” The girl seems more preoccupied to point to him where he can’t step in order not to fall than not falling herself. He holds her hand tighter as she slips once before replying, “It’s just that he went alone. And you’re here–with me.” 

Freya’s eyes travel from the ground to his face and she halts her steps. They are right at the base of the ravine and the only thing they can hear is the whisper of the trees dancing in the wind. Jungkook nibbles on his lips as she eyes him without an answer. Suddenly his questioning seems rubbish to himself, his actions quite inappropriate and selfish, and the girl in front of him a dream within a dream. 

She opens her mouth to reply with a prepared lie, but nothing comes out of it. Not even an excuse for him not knowing well the paths around school, or looking seemingly lost back at the courtyard. Would it be so bad to tell him the truth?, she thinks to herself. His fingers laced on hers seems the answer and the fire that ignites her bold decision. “Yoongi and I, we–” 

Beep. 

Beep.

Their phones going off at the same time is enough to cut her sentence short. Their hands fall from each other as they grab the devices instead.

Jungkook’s eyes leave the screen first to check on the girl in front of him. She zooms in and out of the picture posted to check its veracity. As she glances up to see him, Freya is nothing but decided. Hints of anger flash in her irises. “We’re almost there. Are you up for a sprint?” she asks and he nods promptly. “Be careful with branches. They’re bitches for ankles–trust me.” 

They run, succeeding in avoiding smaller rocks and the tree branches the girl advised him about. Both had been here before for the games, but this felt more urgent. More secretive. And by the nature of You’s recent posting, much more treacherous. 

"I can't believe you." It’s the first thing they hear as they arrive panting. Everyone is already there, which confirms to Jungkook they had been the ones taking the longer route. Yoongi drops his bag on the floor. He's fuming. "I can't fucking believe you, Elena." 

"Oh, and here he goes again." Elena mimics his actions, bag, and jacket dropping right by her feet as she places her hands on her hips. "Here comes Yoongi, on his high horse." 

The boy in question chuckles. He rubs his forehead as he sighs, looking up at the treetops swinging, trying to choose wisely his next words. He didn’t want to start a fight, far from that. He knew their real enemy was clearly You, and whatever he did, he for sure wasn’t going to be compliant by serving exactly what that deranged wanted—them all fighting each other. "Just–What are you trying to do? I want to understand because it seems simple to me that this person isn’t one to be messed with" They now stand close to each other and both Taehyung and Jungkook feel the need to take a step forward. 

"I told you–I'm not going to stand down." Elena simply shrugs. "We've been friends for how long now, Yoongi? …Is it really too much to ask you to back me up on this?" 

It’s clear to them all how Yoongi ponders as he looks her in the eyes. "You're being selfish." Kaya spits. "You're just thinking about what you want." 

Elena turns to her roommate with a scoff, "And you're not?" 

"How am I selfish?!"

The look Elena gives her says enough to have both Namjoon and Freya on their toes. "Kaya…" The boy threads lightly. He has to stop himself, the craving of holding his girlfriend's hand driving him mad.

Jimin however is the one that moves, but away. He shakes his head as he goes to sit on a stem, looking defeated as he leans his forehead on his arms. Hoseok catches a glance at his roommate’s lack of spirit, deciding to intervene for him. "El, please. We've just been to hell and back with Jimin." He says harshly, as he leans against a tree with arms crossed. It was a rare sight to see Hoseok like that, and if the circumstances were other, the discussion would have ended with his word. But not everyone standing in that glade wanted to be picked at, and some had less to lose. 

"She's not wrong…" Freya points out, unafraid to be looked upon by Hoseok’s hard judgment.  

"Thank you!" Elena throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. Freya glares at her, clearly not finished with her point. Before some of them can revolt, she adds, "Lena is being reckless and she does need to calm down, but she did prove something." 

"Oh, c'mon Freya, don't encourage this." Yoongi complains and Jin feels the need to add, “People, this isn’t Law and Order for you to be proving stuff!”

Freya unlike the others wasn’t carrying a backpack, but she did take her glasses off her head, dropping them on top of a pile of things that rested next to a tree trunk. Her hair fell in the process to frame her face. “Listen–” she began, hands coming to her sides to put them all at ease. "You posted real proof. They had the evidence ready to go. Just like that." She snaps her fingers to add to her case, “This seems somewhat already thought through, no? Or at least it has to be someone that is able to get this kind of thing–Documents and shit.” 

Hoseok looked at Namjoon to confirm if he had to be worried or not, depending if the leader had bought the argument. The engines on his head worked speedily. "And that only makes everything worse," Jungkook says, breaking his silence.

"How so?" Namjoon is intrigued by the sudden intervention, and he is not the only one. Taehyung stares intently at their group’s novice expectant to finally hear his reasoning. Even Jimin looks up. 

"For starters this person is insane,” Jungkook states blankly. He wasn’t used to reasoning things out loud, but all eyes were on him, pushing him to speak further. “They have already proved this to us… With Freya, Jimin… Yoongi’s thing that day at the games as well… And now this Elena thing–And honestly, it's bothering me how normally you're all treating this situation–" 

"Normally?" 

There is some confusion pairing in the air, some eyes trailed to the floor reflexive over the last weeks. But the novice tries to avoid those so as to not lose himself in his own argument. "How are you not afraid, El?" Jungkook's eyes widen as he looks at her instead. She doesn’t answer as her point of view differed tremendously, and he tilts his head unable to comprehend the coolness they exuded faced with such things. "I don't know about you guys but I never had something like this happening to me. I was tied to a tree by a bunch of psychos–who still study here by the way, and Tzuyu is even Freya’s roommate–And you guys keep on getting threats…? They found out about Jimin being with a teacher and–no offense, man–but the logic of this person is to share it online to intimidate us and here we are, making secret reunions in the middle of the woods." 

Jin is the one to cut the silence by laughing nervously, "When you put it that way…" he adds, “No wonder we are being targeted.” 

Jungkook’s eyes are still unable to search for anyone else’s as he adds. "I just think we shouldn't worry about figuring out who this person is or what they want. I think we just need to know how to get them the fuck away from us." His voice sounds defeated as his focus shifts to a rock poking on the ground. He leans his body forward and kicks it.

"One thing very much so implies the other, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news." Elena points out, and as soon as she does Taehyung gives her a reproachful look. She mouths him a questioning ‘what?’ in silence, as he shakes his head. 

Freya doesn’t listen to the comment, however, as her feet work just as intently as her head by drawing patterns on the grass as she paces around. "It can't just be anyone…” she says, deep in thought, more to herself than the others. “It's someone smart, clearly… And they have a motive."

"Stop it, you two!” Kaya’s outburst makes her brother jolt surprised, leaning further away onto the tree to shore himself. “For heaven's sake, just stop!" she begs, frustrated. Jin is quicker than Namjoon to side-hug her, and the Psykhe’s leader inhales relieved as he sees Kaya burying her face onto Jin’s shoulder, returning the hug. “This is getting out of line.” Hoseok comments fed up. “Look at what they’re doing to us!” he gestures emphasizing their defeated postures. 

"You're the ones allowing it." Elena shoots, crossing her arms. 

Kaya turns into Jin’s embrace in a flash upon hearing her words. "What is your problem, Elena?!" she mentions to walk toward her roommate but Jin wraps one arm over her shoulder line, pinning her in place. Still, she points an accusatory finger at the Kardia girl. "You're going to end up putting everyone in the front line with how you’re handling this." 

"It was one thing to play the rumor card at lunch but now…" Yoongi commented resigned as he closed his eyes. He too crossed his arms, and to the ones watching, he looked like basking in the sunlight that poured through the clearing as his face was tilted up. He opens his eyes and looks at the shortest girl before adding, "You just proved that everything they post is real. You showed that they are a credible source. You know that, right?" 

"So what?” Taehyung questions. “Just because they have proof of Elena's doesn't mean the rest is true." he shrugs in discontent. "And besides, she hasn't implicated anyone but herself." 

There is a sense of veracity in what he says, or better, how he says it, and the group goes calmer as they let his words sink in. Jimin is the only one that shows unconformity as he stands up with a scold plastered on his face. "Funny how when it's her, it doesn't matter, but then when it was my secret or Freya’s it was that big of a deal.”

Taehyung dismisses his remark with a simple side eye, and a scoff is heard before Elena adopts a sarcastic smile to her features "Are you seriously comparing being in a fucking deranged relationship to getting in an accident?" 

“Okay let’s–” Namjoon tries. 

"It wasn't just an accident. You were driving drunk, Elena." Kaya insists, untangling herself from Jin’s arm and retrieving her phone to showcase You’s report. "And according to this, I'm pretty sure your next stop was a stomach wash at the hospital." 

"Are you serious?!" the hurt in Elena’s voice is able to be sensed a mile away. 

"Am I wrong?" 

The group has a second of stillness as no one can think of a better thing to say, or even how to proceed from there on. Freya looks from one girl to another, fearing they were stranding too far for a possible rescue. She can tell how frustrated and fearful Kaya is being, but she can also see how profound the embarrassment in Elena’s eyes is as she shifts her stares through the group. “You know what?” the strawberry blonde adds, “Fuck you, Kaya.” 

"Am. I. Wrong?" Kaya keeps pushing with a clouded mind and the tallest of the three finally shouts a reprehensive ‘Hey!’ so as to break their flare. 

With drained faces, they all seemed a little out of orbit. The group has had its fair share of disagreements before, that picnic table in the courtyard of Horus knew how many spiteful arguments Taehyung and Jimin shared. The halls of the school were tainted with bickering. But it never felt like they were standing with a cliff between them before. And the fall, Namjoon feared if he didn’t stop it, would be too decisive. 

"That's more than enough." The leader spoke with bravado. "We came here to try and figure a solution out. This was not to go at each other’s throats!"

"No–Absolutely not. I’m not wasting time with this anymore.” Elena shakes her head, fed up. “I've had enough of your bullshit." She eyes Kaya as she speaks. "Always running around like you're Miss Perfect. I'm tired of this–I'm tired of you."

She walks toward the pile stacked by a tree, picking up her bag, resolute to walk away as Kaya replies. "If I’m the Miss Perfect for thinking of others before doing reckless things–Fine! Be it! I will rather be labeled as that than be labeled as a freaking selfish bitch."

Elena ties the sleeves of her jacket around her waist as she angrily rebuts, "Oh, don't you fucking worry, Kaya–your stupid little secret is safe!" 

The shock on Kaya’s face is tremendous as she gulps down her anger faced with the threat. Both Freya and Jin feel the need to barricade whatever reaction she was about to have, as he places a hand on her shoulder and the girl grips at her arm. On the other end, Yoongi is about to stop Elena from leaving, as he is still firm about coming to a conclusion for this unexpected and needed reunion when they all hear the snap of a branch nearby. 

No one says a word, as heads perk toward the sound and all pairs of eyes are busy scanning the foliage. 

“There’s no way… Right?” Jungkook questions almost in a whisper and a chill runs through their spines. More silence follows, no one dares to say a word. And although no one is able to indeed spot someone in the woods, watching them, they know in their hearts—You was somehow there. “MhmHm.” Hoseok shakes his head, picking up his backpack. “I’m done here,” he adds, as he starts to make his way to leave, pulling Jimin alongside him and signaling Kaya to follow. Elena’s last statment about his sister awakening a paranoid distrust in the pit of his stomach.

In a matter of seconds, the group is scattered. They leave in pairs, trios, and some even wander alone, but none is able to shake the awful sensation of still being followed. 

“I thought I might find you here…” Namjoon says as he approaches Kaya carefully. She had been skittish lately, especially with him, and much to his misfortune, the Psykhe’s captain couldn’t blame her even if he wanted to. Deep down he knew her reasons, even after their rocky encounter at the library. “I think–”

“Listen,” she interrupts him. Kaya fixes her position by the feet of the giant Gaia statue so she could stare at her boyfriend’s eyes properly. She had discovered that statue by chance due to venturing inside the maze, only a few students knew existed, in the gardens of the imponent boarding school. Lately, the girl felt perhaps, aside from her girlfriends, only she and Namjoon knew of its existence. “I know what you’re going to say. And I love you for caring but I really don’t need a lesson right now.” 

The boy before her lows his eyes to the colorful crystal-clear pebbles adorning the floor, and opens a smile as he tucks his hands into his pockets and kicks softly one of the tiny rocks. “Seems I can still surprise you after all,” he says and looks up to see her reaction. “I actually came to say I get how you feel.” 

As she looks suspiciously at him, he shrugs. “I get that just like me you know nothing about this ‘you’ persona and that all of us are scared.” he continued. “And I also get that you have a lot to lose in case your secret–Our secret comes out, and that is frightening.” 

Kaya looks at her own hands, curled in her lap while weighing his words. He then takes the opportunity to take a few more steps toward her. “Not knowing what could be thrown at us is scary and I would definitely take a more…” he stops to think of the proper choice of word. “Cautious approach. But that is my style, my personality faced with danger. So is yours.” 

Their eyes meet again and she takes force in his argument to let her anger out. “Exactly! So why–” Namjoon places a hand on her thigh, coming a little closer. 

“That doesn’t mean everyone will behave identically when confronted with the same situation… I get you, and I get myself for thinking the way we think, but I also get Elena.” 

Kaya scoffs, her anger still not subdued. She crosses her arms as she says “So much for saying you weren’t giving me a lecture.” and all Namjoon can do is laugh as he wraps his arms around her frame. 

“And I’m not! I was just saying I get everyone for having the reactions they’re having at the moment. Was it a bit imprudent of Elena to go at that psycho? Yeah, a bit… But I get her. Some people run, some people hide, others much rather grab the bull by its horns.” he says and she gently leans her forehead on his chest. “Besides, we do need to take action. That thing in the clearing…? It happened at the library with us.”

As the girl inhales deeply, with her eyes closed, Namjoon caresses her hair with a soft touch he only knew how to invoke for her. In this sense of security, Kaya is brave and steady enough to uncross her arms and place them around his waist. She pulls him closer, compensating for all the time they stayed out of each other’s reach. “You’re like a very much-needed cup of tea,” she says diverging subjects and looking up at him. Her chin is now the one being pressed against his chest. 

“Out of all things, a cup of tea?!” 

The smile reaches her eyes as he exclaims indignantly. “It’s the only other thing besides you that manages to calm me down.” she says.

His eyebrows waver and she sees how he is pondering her statement. It’s in moments like this that she finds Namjoon precious. She knows he will find the beauty in her phrase and intent, and because of that, this moment will be significant forever. He will make sure of it, as he had done countless times before by sneaking little poems he had written himself inside her books. 

“If that is the case… Alright. I’m good with being a cup of tea.” He muses, showing off his dimple. “Healing properties, right?” 

“Tons!” she says, grabbing him by the collar of his tee and locking him in a kiss.

Freya liked the transition from afternoons to evenings the best. There was something calming about how the sun would set every day just as she would. With a big breath of hers, it was already hidden away again, all of the stress that burned her shoulders gone within those bright and scorching oranges against the deep sea of blue. At least until tomorrow came.

The Psykhe tower was the best place to watch it happening, but ever since she found out about the shocking truth of someone stalking her from there, she hadn’t felt comfortable hanging in her old spot. And because of that, she found herself taking a stroll around the school grounds, searching for her new safe haven. Only the sun knew how much she needed some peace and quiet away to drown her frustration after the recent events and their last meeting at the clearing. And Jungkook, after their shared encounter earlier on. 

She had her headphones on, whispering soft melodies into her ear, and because of that, she didn’t take notice of someone walking behind her. She was really close to the borders of the woods, staying close by after having left the group’s rendezvous but opting to skip classes to uncloud her thoughts. When she looked up at the sky, the oranges began to fade, and all that golden light blind-sighted her. At this rate, she would lose the sunset. 

Then a gulf of wind hit her face and a chill ran down her spine. A pair of hands came in contact with her shoulders and she shivered, remembering the last moments before she and her friends were scared away from the clearing. 

Taking her headphones off in a hurry, she turned around startled. The sound of laughter invaded her ears before she could even meet the eyes of her jumpscare. 

“Got ya!” the tall golden retriever-like boy exclaimed as soon as she came face to face with him. 

“Mingyu!” she stressed. “For fucks sake, I almost died!” 

The response she received was more whole hearty laughter and that eased her mood. She smiled seeing him have fun but something else clung to her heart. 

Ever since the games, the both of them had grown slightly close. Every time they crossed paths around school, there was a smile there paired with brief hellos and sincere curiosity. By Monday morning a mutual invitation to be each other’s lab partners in one of the few classes they shared—chemistry. 

Still, he wasn’t the laughter she sought to hear when all that orange was about to clash with the soon-to-be night sky. 

“So what are you doing around here?” Freya asks and the brunette has to wipe his joyful tears to be able to answer. 

“I was on my way to the dorms actually. Just got out of practice.” 

Freya still couldn’t help but admire his genuine smile and how his freshly washed hair dropped some water droplets on his face. But at the same time, her head was dancing elsewhere. A few yards away, to be exact, where under an oak tree she had made a deal to meet after classes. The sun was setting, but she was still to hear from her free-period companion. 

“I saw you walking by and decided to say hi.” Mingyu continued searching for her eyes. 

“And that’s how you say hi?” she laughed. 

“Next time I’ll try to be more… Charming about it.” 

“Next time?” her eyebrow raised. She couldn’t say she ever paid attention to a guy from school before that year, or that she ever really liked a boy from there. Well, besides her friends of course. And that was mostly because she was afraid of things that required too much vulnerability on her side. And a tiny bit because no one had ever seemed worth the struggle she called trust. Did they genuinely like her, or did they just want the status? So the story unfolded naturally. There were too many eyes, and being a great wall to climb became a trait of personality she was too comfortable with to change. 

Ever since she got unrightfully exposed, however, by sneaking into the boys' quarters, some freedom of choice was returned to her in that regard. No one was interested in knowing who the next guy in her love life would be. And so she perhaps was beginning to feel ready to come out of her shell. Both in love and new friendships. But the former wasn’t the risk she wanted to take when it came to Mingyu… Possibly if someone else hadn’t arrived in that department first.

He seemed to understand her line of thinking as his eyes got bigger and his expression turned sour. Suddenly he was apologizing. 

“Oh–I’m so–So sorry!” he shook his head as if realizing what he had just done. “You have a boyfriend. I’m being disrespectful. I’m sorry.” 

At first, she was confused. Boyfriend? She didn’t have one. That wasn’t her point at all. But then the recent events hit her like a truck and she had to inhale hard to get hold of the little patience she still had. 

She liked Mingyu. She could tell they could be good friends, amazing even. So she took a leap of faith. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked. Freya didn’t have much to lose at this point, and she needed this. A safe space of her own. 

Mingyu nodded attentively. 

“Yoongi isn’t my boyfriend. We never even hooked up.” 

She could see in Mingyu’s face how surprised he was. All the engines of his brain working to make sense of what she had just confessed. Freya was relieved, however, to finally get it out of her system. That someone knew the truth besides her and her girlfriends. That she was at least in control of that tiny little confession and somehow still free. She almost did it earlier on that day anyways. 

“Why…?” the words fell off his lips, afraid to lengthen the subject in question. Freya offered an encouraging glance, waiting for his inquiry to be resumed. He got hold of what her eyes wanted to convey this time. “Why are you two pretending to date then?” 

“I guess Yoongi knew how much bothered I would be by the amount of gossip even though I pretend I’m not… And he also knew people wouldn’t shut up about it until a name was given to the starving crowd. So why not his? Everyone already assumed we were together anyways.” 

“I’m proud to say I’ve never thought that,” Mingyu confessed, raising his hand as a solemn promise. “I even argued otherwise.” 

Freya chuckled, finding it endearing. “You would have been the only one then.”

The darkness of the night was already covering every nook of the school like a cloak when the group of friends received a text from Elena. 

Nothing but three words. Classroom 202 now. 

Receiving a text from the girl after what went down that afternoon seemed hard enough to conceive, let alone one so encrypted like that. And so, each and every one of them immediately stopped what they had been doing and rushed in secret through the marble tiles of the main building in search of the room she invited them in. 

One by one they entered. Elena was already there, pacing back and forth when the first of them arrived—Taehyung. It was evident that she possessed some kind of information that she would much more like to be false thinking of her part. He didn’t need a second look at her to prove that. 

Hoseok and Namjoon entered right after. Kaya was a few seconds behind them, and they all felt the same. Besides being afraid of possible detention for running through the halls so late at night, all sat in silence waiting, taking in the gravity of the situation by glancing into each other's eyes in the dark. And it didn’t get better as the more they waited, the more impatient and eerie they all got. 

Elena still paced, cryptic. Sometimes she would look out the window or check the door for the ones missing. She would hear some of them whispering to each other questions she couldn’t lose time answering, nor had the patience since she was still hurt by their last meeting. At least not unless everyone was present. 

And then Yoongi opened the door, everyone looked at him frightened and relieved at the same time. Some searched for something behind his back with their phones flashlights and that made him turn around to check the hallway. It was too dark.

“What?” he asked, spooked, searching for their eyes once again. His hand is still on the knob, keeping the door open, as he too turns on the light from his device.

Elena paces quickly in his direction, pulling him into the classroom and peeking outside to check if he was indeed alone. She closed the door rushedly. “Are you alone?” 

“Yes,” Yoongi replied confused. “Shouldn’t I be?” 

“We’re missing my sister,” Taehyung said, going toward the window alarmed. The only thing he could see through that darkness was the woods silhouette. 

“Ok…?” Yoongi continued completely clueless, barely making sight of everyone present in the room due to the poor illumination. “What am I missing? We better have a fucking good reason to be out here.” 

But no one replied. Or even attempted to. 

Both girls looked at each other in a silent question about Freya’s whereabouts, putting their resentment aside momentarily. They reached the same conclusion with a hopeless shrug of shoulders. And Hoseok’s concerns didn’t help to lift the mood. 

“You don’t think she was attacked like Joy… right? She wouldn’t…” As soon as he questioned it Jin slapped his arm with a hard stare and he shut up flustered. But the possibility taunted everyone present. 

There was a pause. Time halted in that classroom. In a flash, Elena pulled her phone to text Freya in desperation, the faint flashlight from her mobile turned off in the process and the room got darker than it already was. 

“I’ll go look” Jungkook offered, a dagger piercing his stomach for missing out on both his and Freya’s promise to spend the after classes period together. Right at the same time, Taehyung crossed the room to the door. 

“C’mon…” Yoongi mumbled as he pressed his mobile closer to his ear, trying to call the girl in question. He had finally grasped the gravity of the situation. 

Jimin and Kaya were by the big window, swiping the landscape beneath them inch by inch. A red bleep twinkled by the edge of the forest and Jimin leaned his nose against the cold glass to try and see it again. He squinted his eyes, but nothing appeared. When he was beginning to think his eyes were playing tricks on him, he got startled by the sound coming from the door. He turned back in a flash. As soon as Taehyung opened it to set foot outside he came to a halt. Jungkook consequently bumped into his back like a domino. 

“Get inside!” They heard Freya’s hushed voice demand. “Turn that off. Now!” 

Suddenly the room was engulfed in a deep blackness. The kind of dark that makes the hairs on your nape jump. The one that makes every fear you have come true. No one dared to whisper a word out. All they could do was search for each other’s shadows and listen closely for the haunting sound of thumping against the cold marble floors of the corridor. 

A few minutes passed, maybe seconds when Yoongi lit his phone again. Time was hard to pinpoint when faced with the extreme nothingness of a total blackout. Soon, all convinced that the night guard had moved on from that section, they all turned the soft light of their screens back on again. 

“Sorry–” Freya was the first to break the silence. “I was already outside… Had to go around that security.” 

“Just. Please,” Kaya begged on edge, “Let’s get on with this–Whatever this is and go to our rooms. Please.” 

In a silent agreement, all eyes turned to Elena. 

The strawberry-blonde girl lifted up from the crouch she was previously hiding in and leaned on the teacher’s desk. The ones close to the floor followed, sitting by the empty wooden chairs in front of the class. Only Jungkook and Yoongi were up. One leaned by the wall and the other by the door to keep watch. 

“I texted you all here because I think I figured it out,” Elena says, a bit taken aback by her own statement. 

“What do you mean…?” Jimin inquires, and everyone looks as if the world would end. Because in fact, it was. 

“I know who You is.” 

next chapter.

#bts au #jungkook smut #bts ot7 au #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts college au #bts high school au #jimin scenario #taehyung au #jimin smut #hoseok fluff #bts x you #namjoon scenarios #yoongi imagine #jin fluff #jungkook imagine #bts series #ot7 smut #ot7 x you #horus academy #bluenpjm #bluenpjm.docx

[bangtanstanst]

In Plain Sight

A secret relationship isn’t exactly easy to hide, especially not when you work together – and when you make the most of some alone time during a grocery run, you get a little careless. A little too much so, perhaps.

≽ pairing: jimin x reader ≽ genre: fluff, firefighters!au (no actual fires happen), established relationship, the relationship is also a sEcReT but do either of these adorable clingy idiots care? seems not (aka heads up: a ton of pda) ≽ warnings: none ≽ word count: 2.8k

anon requested: "We better not get caught." + Supermarket

a/n: hello friends!! I hope you're all doing well :D I'm so excited to finally upload this one, it's always fun to write overly sweet fluff hehe – I hope you enjoy it! :) I also want to thank the wonderful mars (used to be @jooneos) for betaing this fic💕

requests | masterlist

The supermarket is crowded right around the dinner rush; chatter fills your ears as you toss a crop of lettuce into your shopping cart, and you lean onto the bright red handle as you slowly push the cart ahead towards the colourful selection of bell peppers. With the cash registers so close to you, insistent beeps nag at your ears, joined by the sound of cartwheels hobbling over the slightly unevenly tiled floor. Softly humming a song that’s been stuck in your head since yesterday, you stop and wait for another customer taking their sweet, sweet time crossing in front of you. You absently run your finger along the collar of your dark blue work polo, needlessly making sure it’s straightened out.

“Hey, stranger.”

An arm wraps around your waist and a pack of tortilla wraps lands in your cart. You jolt out of your daze and smile as Jimin nuzzles his nose underneath your jaw, pressing his lips against your neck.

Letting out a content sigh, you bite your lip, trying to stay focused. You’re in uniform, you try to remind yourself. Your jacket hides the fire department logo on your chest, and his goes hidden underneath his coat – no one would know, really, but you both told yourselves you’d keep up a semblance of professionality when you started dating.

That turns out to be more easily said than done.

“Jimin,” you mutter, putting a hand over his wrist. You’re not quite able to push his arm away from around your waist. “Someone’s gonna see.”

He laughs softly. His breath fans over your skin and you shiver, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. If you weren’t in such a public place, you’d be melting into him by now. “That would be one hell of a coincidence,” he replies, turning his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. “We’ve never run into anyone here, let alone someone from work.” His thumb traces circles onto the back of your hand as he wraps his other arm around you as well. You’re already forgetting the point you were trying to make. “Plus, people hate looking at PDA– didn’t you see The Winter Soldier? We’re basically incognito.”

You can’t help but laugh. “As long as we stay like this, I’m guessing?”

He hums and presses a warm kiss to your neck, and your stomach does a small somersault. “Exactly.”

With another sigh, you lean into his touch for a moment before you untangle his fingers from yours and move to grip the handle of your shopping cart. The other customer has long passed you by – or fled from the PDA, if Jimin is indeed right – and the path towards the bell peppers is free now. “If only we didn’t have groceries to buy for our dear, dear colleagues,” you say a little more wistfully than you feel, pushing the cart forward.

Trying to, at least– Jimin seems to disagree with your plan to keep moving. With a soft whine, he tightens his arms around you to keep you from walking away, burying his nose into your shoulder.

You smile and turn to look at him. “We gotta get those bell peppers, babe.”

 “Gimme a minute,” he mumbles, his thumbs stroking circles into your hips. “I’m busy.”

With a laugh, you reach up to run your fingers through his soft, dark hair, brushing the nape of his neck as you lean into him. He hums in contentment, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you start softly, lowering your hand to play with the soft, thin fabric of his sleeve instead. “But I don’t think doing PDA with a colleague you’re secretly dating is considered an acceptable use of your time.”

“Well, then,” Jimin returns as he slowly trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, his lips curling up into a smile against your skin. “We better not get caught.”

You can’t help but laugh, and you turn around in his arms to wrap yours around his neck. Jimin lifts his head to smile at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners – though you don’t get much of a chance to look at him before he nudges forward and rubs his nose against yours. His lips ghost over yours, teasing you, daring you to lean in and kiss him. In public. In the middle of a grocery store.

You’d simply be stupid to resist.

Jimin sighs softly as you press your lips to his, and you melt into his warmth. You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching them down his neck. His hands press into your lower back, keeping you flush against him and –

A cart loudly clatters past you, and you’re suddenly reminded of where you are.

With a sharp breath, you pull away and bite your lip, sending Jimin a small smile. You swipe your thumb across his lips. “We should really get to those peppers.”

Jimin huffs and pouts teasingly, but slowly lets go of you. His hands linger on your hips for just a second before they drop back down to his side. “Can’t believe you’re trying to be professional when we’re not even at the station,” he mutters with a scowl – though you can see a smile breaking through.

You jokingly narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head in mock disappointment as you push the cart towards the vegetables. “Last time I checked, we’re still in uniform, babe,” you reply, stopping in front of the bell peppers.

He simply pouts in reply and you grin in amusement, grabbing a few peppers and tossing them into the cart. “But since we’re just on a grocery run…” he starts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I can still do this, right?” He pointedly throws his arm around your shoulder.

You gasp dramatically. “Jimin, this is scandalous.”

“Hey, I’m only human,” he returns with a grin, drawing random figures on your upper arm. “One can only hold back so many kisses before they explode.”

You laugh. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, his gaze flickering down to your mouth just briefly, and he licks his lips. “Maybe.”

You smile in amusement. “Thought so,” you mutter, leaning up to kiss him. It’s meant to be brief, really – but unfortunately, Jimin chases your lips when you pull back, his nose pressing into your cheek, his bangs brushing over your forehead as he wraps an arm around your waist once more. You sigh and give in, warmth spreading through you at his touch. Your hand sneaks around his neck as he playfully bites your bottom lip, and you laugh softly.

When he pulls back, a giddy smile curls at his mouth, and his eyes are brimming with fondness. You return the sentiment, gently rearranging the way his bangs fall over his forehead. Even though you’ve been dating for several weeks now, the newness of it all hasn’t faded for either of you.

You both have to work not to lean in again – he clears his throat and pulls the grocery list from his back pocket, frowning down at it. “So, chips next.”

With a soft smile, you take his hand in yours and turn the cart in the direction of the chips aisle. “We’ll catch up on those kisses once we get home.”

He grins. “Deal.”

The rest of your grocery run passes by too quickly – much to the chagrin of both of you, and certainly not for a lack of trying to draw things out – and you’re emptying your cart into the trunk of your car only fifteen minutes later. The sun is still high in the sky, beating down on the small parking lot; you’re grateful for the cool summer breeze, making it bearable enough to keep your jacket on. Huffing a stray strand of hair out of your vision, you step back from the car and turn to put the cart back at the entrance.

Jimin has other ideas.

“Babe,” he whines, dragging out the word as he closes the trunk of his car and locks it. He chases after you, wraps his arms around your waist from behind to keep you from crossing the parking lot. “Stop going so fast,” he says through a pout, and you can’t help the fond smile that pulls at your lips as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw. “I need to mentally prepare before we switch back to colleague mode.”

You smile, craning your neck to kiss him on the lips before you turn back to look around, making sure you’re not blocking any cars. “I think this is more of a physical preparation, but –”

You fall silent, and your heart drops.

Jimin simply laughs, kissing your neck– and you suddenly want to sink into the hot asphalt underneath your feet. “But what?”

You finally manage to unfreeze your limbs, and you pull at Jimin’s hands to make him drop them. “Jimin,” you whisper nervously. Your face heats, your heart pounding. “Jimin, colleague mode.”

“What? Wh–”

The rest of his question remains stuck in his throat when he looks in the same direction and jumps back a mile, leaving your back cold from where he’d been pressing up against you. His eyes are wide as he stares at Jungkook, who’s standing just a few steps away from you, halfway towards biting into a powdered donut. He’s in his civilian clothes, an all-black outfit with a black backpack to match. He returns your stare, seems as frozen as the two of you – as if he’s the one who got caught doing something that could mean serious repercussions.

“Hi,” you blurt out, blinking at him. You can’t gauge his reaction past the initial surprise etched into his features, and your pounding heart doesn’t make it much easier to think straight. “We were just…”

“We were getting groceries,” Jimin hastily fills in. “For dinner. At the station.” He clears his throat, his cheeks flushed red. It’s not exactly an excuse, but there’s really no way to explain this away– it’s not like you were caught in a simple hug.

Jungkook blinks and nods slowly. “Right,” he says, his gaze flickering between you and Jimin. He clears his throat, nods once more – the surprise seems to fade and he puts on a smile, though it’s still somewhat dazed. He slowly takes a bite of his donut, his cheek bulging slightly as he adds, “It’s… it’s nice to see you guys.”

“Ah, you– you, too,” you say quickly, your hands gripping the shopping cart handle so tightly that your knuckles turn white. What is he gonna say? Is he gonna tell everyone? Fuck, you’re gonna lose your job, aren’t you? Your life is over, it’s all over just like that. And all because you didn’t have an ounce of self-restraint.

With a smile, Jungkook nods quickly, his eyes still moving from Jimin to you and back at Jimin. “Well, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts the strap of his backpack. “I’ll see you guys at shift change, then.”

He nods at the two of you once more, and you nod in response. Taking a step back, he slowly takes his phone out of his pocket, bites into his donut again – and before you can say anything, he turns and walks away.

You let out a sharp breath, putting a hand to your chest to feel your heart rabbit against your ribs. Jimin runs a hand through his hair and stares after Jungkook, worrying his bottom lip.

“He won’t tell anyone, will he?” you breathe out, glancing over your shoulder at Jungkook as he gets into his car, slamming the door closed behind him.

Jimin quickly shakes his head. His brows are furrowed when he turns to look at you. “No,” he replies, though he sounds unsure. His gaze flits over to Jungkook’s car. “No, he’s not like that,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he looks back at you. His frown remains etched into his forehead, though, and he nervously chews on his bottom lip. “Sorry, though.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaving the shopping cart be for the moment. “What?” you breathe out with a smile, reaching up to gently take his lip out from between his teeth. “Why are you sorry?”

He huffs. “Well, I got us caught, for one…” he says lowly, his voice trailing off into a mumble. “And we don’t even know for sure if he’s gonna –”

You squeeze his lips together to keep him from talking, and his sentence dies out in an instant. His eyebrows shoot up, his lips twitch up into a smile between your fingers. “We’ll text him before we get back to the station to make sure, and then that’s all we can do,” you tell him firmly. You’re pretending to be much more confident than you are, but you suppose there’s truly nothing else to be done. “Worst case scenario, we’ll have to rely on the captain’s level of chill,” you add with a grin, and Jimin laughs as you let go of his lips.

“Guess so,” he says, sighing softly. He tilts his head at you. His frown is still regretful, his eyes brimming with guilt.

You can’t help but soften at the look on his face – but you huff at him nevertheless. “Stop that,” you tell him, pushing at his shoulder before you grip the grocery cart once more. It rattles loudly as you push it towards the entrance. “Namjoon’s reasonable. As long as we keep putting out fires as usual, I think he’ll be fine with… us. And so will the others.”

Jimin follows you as you park the shopping cart in its designated spot. “I guess,” he says through yet another sigh, slinging his arm around your shoulder while you walk back to your car. You instinctively reach up to hold the hand dangling off your shoulder, intertwining your fingers with his. “Still.”

An amused smile pulls at your lips and you look up at him, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

He looks down at you, shrugs. “I just wish we didn’t have to worry at all,” he replies. Immediately, he clears his throat and averts his eyes, shakes his head sharply. “But, y’know…”

You hum and let out a soft sigh, leaning into him. “Me, too,” you return gently, coming to a stop at your car and reluctantly letting go of his hand. His arm tightens around you almost imperceptibly before he drops it back to his side and digs the car keys from his coat, unlocking the doors so you can slip inside. “But hey, it’s not like we don’t have any fun, right?” you add as you sink into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt into place. “Plenty of dates to be had in the safety of our apartments.”

Jimin bites his lip, but he can’t stop a bright grin from breaking out. He needlessly adjusts the rearview mirror. “Can’t say you’re wrong,” he replies, playing with the car key for a moment before he sticks it in the ignition.

“Back into colleague mode we go,” you say through a sigh.

His grin widens, and he holds up his hand for a high-five. With a laugh, you slap your hand to his – and before you can pull away, he grabs hold of your hand to pull you towards him, sneaking in a kiss that lingers even after he pulls away.

You sit back, pursing your lips to hold back a bashful smile, and you stare a hole into the windshield.

Jimin laughs softly. “Just had to fuel up,” he says with a smile as he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot.

You can’t help but snicker. “You sure that was enough, then?”

He hums and shrugs noncommittally. “It’ll have to be.” He glances at you as he pulls up to the parking lot exit, stopping just before he joins the road. His black hair shimmers in the summer sun, and it almost looks like he’s glowing. “Think we can handle four more hours?”

“Oh, please,” you say through a snort. “We can handle anything.” Jimin smiles and reaches out to take your hand in his again. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, sending a burst of warmth through you. “Four hours? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

He chuckles and turns right to join the road, the engine roaring as the car speeds up. “I don’t think we got any lemons, so that might be a little difficult,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder as if he can look into the trunk. “Piece of cake, maybe?”

You laugh, leaning your head back against your seat. He grins proudly in response – your chest bursts with fondness at the sight, and you can’t help but smile brightly as you look at him. “Didn’t get that either, but we can always bake one,” you offer.

A giddy smile curls at his lips, and he gives your hand a small squeeze. “It’s a date, then.”

You grin and nod firmly, letting your intertwined hands rest on your thigh. “It’s a date.”

a/n: ahh thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Don't hesitate to let me know what you thought, I'd love to hear from you :) I hope you have a wonderful day/night wherever you are!!💕💕

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