#moonleeai writes sometimes

[oddinary4bts]

Love is a Laserquest | choi san

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving) -> face riding, let me know if I forgot any!

☆word count: 16.5k

☆a/n: Here's my submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala. It is coincidentally my first time posting about another group than bts, so I hope this won't disappoint! I really enjoyed writing it (even though it's really sad oop). Also my first time making a moodboard so hopefully it works haha

☆a/n pt2: thank you to @moonleeai for being my ever-so faithful beta reader, love you lots <3

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And do you still think love is a Laserquest? Or do you take it all more seriously? I’ve tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I’ve had But you’re always busy being make-believe

Love is a Laserquest – Arctic Monkeys

☆☆☆☆☆

The diner is silent, unoccupied. It always is on late weekday evenings, when most patrons have gone to bed, the city falling under a carpet of hushed silence only night can bring forth. It makes the diner feel like it’s straight out of a 70s movie, and it makes for the perfect study sessions too.

Night isn’t always soundless in your part of town. Hence why you’ve been trying to escape, pursuing an education that has been leaving you penniless, but with a bright future ahead. If you make it out of med school at a certain point, that is.

Tonight, you fear the peace that night usually entails has been ruined for you – there were gunshots earlier, close enough for you to see the police cars racing past as the law officers made it to probably yet another gang fight.

There’s been a gang war on your side of town. The diner has always been safe, a refuge for both sides of the war, where they aren’t allowed to fight. To carry in weapons and hatred. No, the moment they cross the threshold of the diner, the gangsters become one family, sharing struggles that only poverty can cause.

You wipe a table clean before walking back towards the counter. Your open laptop waits for you, and you quickly read the study guide you’ve made for yourself, the cardiovascular system and its pathologies forming a maze in your mind that you’ve yet to decode. Luckily enough, you still have a week before the bloc ends and you have to take the exam.

Plenty of time to cram everything about the heart in your thick little skull, you’d say.

Your lips move in time with what you’re reading, attention solely focused on the bright screen when a thump is heard right outside the door. It startles you, and you turn around to see the empty street out of the glass door.

It takes you about ten seconds to notice the dark form sitting on the ground. They’re leaning against the door, head lolling to the side. You assume it must be someone that’s ended unhoused, something that happens far too often where you live.

You’ve always been kind. When you were younger, you were told your kindness would be your demise. Yet you’ve never been able to be anything but kind, even though sometimes it might put you at risk. So you can’t resist but walk to the front door, trying to push it open.

It’s useless – the weight of the person is keeping it tightly shut, though they do straighten a little, as if coming to their senses. They turn, and the moment their profile comes into view you’re brought back eight years in the past. To a time when the world was still a beautiful place, void of violence and cruelty. To a smile so sweet it made flowers blossom on your heart, and to eyes so sharp you knew they had read your soul.

Choi San is sitting outside the door, and the caked blood on his cheek tells you enough – he’s injured. He pushes away from the door before slowly getting up. He clutches his side as he does it, yet when he turns back towards you and faces your horrified eyes, he still offers you a smirk.

You push the door open, thinking about the years between then and now. You had dated him for a few months that had felt like forever, until you had realized in what kind of business he was getting involved with. You had tried to convince him to flee before it was too late, and he kept promising that he would.

Only he never did, hiding lies with beautiful words that made your teenage self swoon, until your parents had realized and forced you to break up. It had been a nasty break-up, filled with hatred and words you didn’t mean yet had needed to say for him to leave.

You remember breaking his heart like it was yesterday.

“Choi San,” you greet him, and when he lets go of his side, you notice blood on his hand.

Something runs cold inside of you, even though he still sports a smirk on his lips.

He says your name, bowing his head. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Months, in fact. Because he does come to the diner sometimes. He usually ignores you, and so do you, so it feels strange to have him speak to you. To hear his voice as his words are addressed to you.

“What…” you trail off, glancing down at the ripped fabric of his black tank top.

He’s got a mean cut on his ribs, and it’s only then that you truly realize that he’s badly injured. Because there’s more – one of his biceps has been sliced open too, though blood is barely oozing out of it in small rivulets. The blood on his cheek is from where you assume he’s been punched with rings, and there’s already an underlying bruise under his eye.

“Got beaten up,” he states the obvious, and you immediately open the door wider to let him in.

He limps in, heading towards the nearest booth, where he plops down and lets out a pained grunt. You make sure no one is outside before shutting the door and locking it, flipping the hanging sign on it so it says closed in case a patron decides to show up.

You take a few steps towards San, hands shaking slightly at your side. Because that’s a grown man, bleeding out on the leather seat of the booth, and his eyes are shut though he looks in pain. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t yet started your residency, haven’t really gone from theory to practice… Yet you’re studying to be a doctor, are you not?

“Why are you here?” you ask, though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says, wincing as one of his eyes opens. He tilts his head to look towards you. “Word around the block says…” he pauses, takes a deep breath before continuing, “that you’re studying to be a doctor”.

So you are right. He’s here because he needs your help, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Why…” You look for words, and it takes you a moment to realize that it doesn’t matter.

For all the history between you and him, Choi San doesn’t deserve to bleed out to death on a cheap leather seat in a forgotten diner on the dangerous side of town.

He has the decency to chuckle at the start of your question, which only makes him wince in pain once again.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and it’s a little stupid because clearly, he’s in no state to move.

He doesn’t question it, and you run to the kitchen to thoroughly wash your hands and grab the first aid kit. At night, no cooks stay around, and you usually only reheat food if needed, which doesn’t really happen. You haven’t had any client coming in at night in weeks… until San, that is. So no one is there to see what is going on, which you reckon is a relief. Because you have no idea what’s going on.

You return to the booth where San is waiting, patiently. He’s clearly wiped his hand on his face because there’s fresh blood on his forehead, and you almost balk at the sight of it.

“What have you done?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

It seems he’s still in sync with you because he still hears. “Got involved with the wrong crowd.”

You put the first aid kit down on the table, ignoring his eyes when they flutter open, and he rests his gaze on you.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” you say as you unzip the kit and throw it open. You spare his side a quick glance. “This looks like you’re going to need stitches.”

He makes an effort of looking down at himself, though it mostly fails as he doesn’t raise his head from the seat. “Right.”

You grab everything you think you might need – alcohol swabs to clean his skin, fresh linen to bandage his side and arm, and stuff for his cheek too. He carefully observes you, with that piercing gaze of his that used to make you go crazy inside when you were young and impressionable.

You vaguely motion at him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask. “I can’t reach you if you’re lying back like this.”

His pink tongue darts to wet his lips, and he nods curtly. “Let me…” he trails off, resting a bloody hand on the table while he grabs at the back of the booth to push himself up. It has new blood appearing on his side, and you quickly move towards him, putting some linen against it.

As if it’s going to do anything. He clearly needs stitches, and you’ve got nothing with you to stitch him up.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly as he’s finally sitting. You just keep the linen on his side, eyes a little wide.

Your gazes connect inevitably, and time slows. You think about how he used to smile, how his eyes used to hold a softness you haven’t had the chance to see again since he’s walked out of your life.

Or rather, since you kicked him out of your life.

“I don’t think I can help,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he admits, shame turning his features into a mask of regret. “They… If they find me, I’m dead.”

Dread fills every ounce of your being. “San, what have you been doing?”

He looks away from your insistent gaze, scoffing slightly. “You don’t want to know.”

He isn’t wrong; you genuinely don’t want to know. Because he means nothing good, even with all the memories you share with him.

“Is it going to put me in danger?” you ask, as he still obstinately avoids your gaze.

He seems to freeze in front of you, as if you’ve pressed pause to your favourite show. To avoid the awkwardness, you busy yourself with grabbing one of his hands so he can hold the linen in place before you start washing the cut on his arm. It’s not deep, but you’re pretty sure it’ll still leave a mean scar, especially considering he can’t go to the hospital.

The thought has a drop of cold sweat roll along your spine. People want him dead. People want Choi San, the man you know as a young, scared teenager just trying to find a way to make his life better, dead. You remember the innocence in his smile – has he smiled at all in the years apart?

“I should go,” he says flatly. He moves to stand, but you hold him down, two hands firmly placed on his shoulders. It makes him wince, and you quickly release your grip.

“Don’t,” you tell him. “Let me at least patch you up.”

His eyes shut again as his head hangs low. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t even know who he is apologizing to, or why he is. All you know is that it causes your heart to clench in your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you were younger, you believed San was your star-crossed lover. You believed your high school sweethearts romance would grow until you’d be old and grey and at the end of a very long road. You had dreamed of a future with him, the way only teenagers can dream – with no sense of reality. Because your reality had never been to end up by his side.

His choices had been proof enough of it.

You still remember the day you first kissed. Under an August meteor shower, with just the night sky as your witness. It had been hesitant, slow and soft, just like everything with San. And you had believed the lie, trusted it with every beat of your little heart, until your parents had found out the truth about him.

Until they had broken your heart, even before you had broken his.

If the stars had known then, what was going to happen to you and Choi San, would they still have shone through the night?

He lets out a pained sound as you gently dab at the cut on his bicep. You clean the skin around the wound in and of itself, and he watches you carefully, piercing gaze not missing how your face clouds with memories.

“How have you been doing?” he asks so softly you think his words are a gentle summer breeze on your features.

You can almost still smell the summer night air of that field where you had stargazed, where you’d always meet so long ago.

“I’ve been okay,” you answer, truthfully. Because even though you haven’t seen him, you have lived your life apart from him. Have evolved without him by your side. “Better than you, visibly.”

He didn’t expect the joke. It makes him snort, and then a soft smile grows on his lips, softening the edges of his hard features. “You haven’t changed.”

You have, and yet you haven’t. Like him, you think there’s a part of you that is still sixteen, and will forever be. A part of you that remained stuck in the moment when you watched him walk away in the rain, as if even the sky had to cry for his broken heart.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” you murmur, nostalgia a melancholic song in your words.

He chooses to remain silent, because the proof of how much he’s changed is sitting right in front of you, wounded and bleeding and hurt. The hurt is behind his eyes, in the shadows of the past that have also been obscuring your vision.

“Yeah,” he lets out, barely audible.

And then silence reigns between you, because as much as you once loved him, eight years have made you strangers. You don’t know anything about his life except the dirty, obvious darkness that surrounds him, and he doesn’t know anything except that you are studying to be a doctor…

Which leads you to wonder how does he know in the first place?

You ask him, as you’re wrapping the linen around his bicep to make a makeshift bandage. You’re proud of the result, though your fingers can’t resist but linger on the taut skin over his muscle, surprised at how soft it still is.

“I’ve heard you mention it,” he admits, as you take a step away to look at the material on the table, as if it’ll suddenly make stitches appear for you to put them in his skin. “One of the times I was here.”

“You never said hi,” you reproach him, unable to hide the ghost of a bite in your tone.

“Neither did you,” he points out, and he isn’t wrong.

All you can do is purse your lips as you finally decide to clean his skin. But for that, you have to rid him of his tank top, to make sure there’s no fabric in the wound. You look at him, cheeks somehow burning even though all you’re doing is taking care of a patient.

Though he’s not a patient, and you’re not in a hospital. You’re just a server at a dusty, old diner and he’s just your teenage lover, wounded by his dangerous actions.

“Should I grab scissors to remove your shirt?” you ask, though you’re speaking to yourself more than to him.

He still finds it in him to tease. “You want me out of my shirt?” he enquires, smirk gracing his lips again. “Say no more.”

He tries moving, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you warn. “You’ll make it bleed more.”

He purses his lips, because nodding. “Right.” He glances at the first aid kit, before his eyes trail to your face again. “You got scissors in that?”

There are. You grab them, before turning towards him. It feels strange: you’ve never undressed him before. You had always wanted to wait, back then, before you slept together. You believed you were too young, and San had always respected it.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you tell him as you take a step closer to him.

He slightly leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you plan to do with those that might hurt?”

You roll your eyes, playfully, before taking the two other steps leading to right in front of his legs. You notice that they are slightly parted, allowing you to come closer, and you take a steadying breath before reaching between you, pulling at the fabric of his tank top.

“Stay still and you shouldn’t get hurt,” you whisper, ignoring the heaviness of his piercing gaze on you.

It burns right through you, and you have to tame the beats of your heart at the feeling of the warm skin of his shoulder against the back of your fingers as you bring your other hand forward, until you’ve started cutting his shirt.

It’s stuck to his side where blood has dried, and he winces but remains still and silent as you keep going, pulling on it a little harder to be able to cut. The moment stretches into infinity, because you can’t help but take your time. It reminds you of how you’d used to run your fingers on his back, under his shirt, when you napped in the field in the summertime. In an idyllic world where gangs and violence and war were mere inventions of the media, and not a reality that surrounded you.

You’d loved the field. The wildflowers, the open air, the way it was just you and him and a few lazy bumblebees as clouds lazily crossed the sky above. You were so young then, so innocent. Hands unstained from blood, from his blood.

Because as you cut, the hand touching his shirt stains with blood. You pale at the sight of it, but you keep going, pushing through until you’re done, gently pulling the fabric from his body until he’s sitting there, shirtless, with a long wound on his ribs.

You can’t help but notice his toned chest and the defined abs on his stomach. Though blood mars his skin, turning it into a piece of violence, Choi San is still beautiful. Beautiful in a dark, dangerous way that has you glance outside, making sure no one is looking.

But the streets are empty, void of life at this time of the night. At least, they mostly always are.

“You will need stitches,” you state again as if you both don’t know already.

“I can’t…”

An idea forms in your brain. It’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even know why it crosses your mind.

Your uncle has a hunting cabin far in the woods. He’s a nurse himself, and he’s always kept everything over there in case someone got injured and he had to stitch them up. You haven’t gone in forever, but you still remember the tall trees, the deep forest scent that reminds you of autumn and leaves and grey days spent reading by the fireplace.

You never went hunting, but you did accompany your father when he went, needing an escape from the city once in a while. An escape from a life that was slowly becoming too real.

Your uncle is currently halfway across the country, so you know you’d be alone at the cabin. You glance at your laptop over your shoulder – you have three days off in front of you before your next class on Monday. Indeed, the Friday class is pre-recorded and to watch online in your free time, and you figure you can always watch it some other time.

So you turn towards Choi San, almost surprised that he’s real and he’s still sitting in front of you, honey skin cut open on his ribs.

“I might know a place where you can go,” you admit, with a small voice, surprising both you and him. Because you doubt he expects you to want to help, after tonight.

“What?” he asks.

“My uncle’s cabin,” you remind him, because you’ve told him about it all those years ago. “He should have all that I need to stitch you up.”

San looks down at himself. “You’ve just cut my shirt open.”

It sounds a little dumbfounded, and you can’t help the nervous laugh that falls from your mouth. Because even though it doesn’t look too deep, the wound still is terrifying in and of itself.

“I’ll bandage it,” you whisper. “Before we go.”

He seems like he ponders for a time. You watch the debate across his features, his eyes falling to a spot on your chin. He looks sad, troubled and defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

You ignore his words, carefully washing his side. You avoid the cut and try to be as gentle as you can, but his muscles still flex as he clenches his fists from the pain.

He’s strong. That much hasn’t changed. Because he doesn’t make any sound as you finish washing him and then patch him up with those same careful hands. And when you move to his face, cleaning the blood, his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs softly.

He looks so much like he looked then that your heart aches, and you find yourself blinking away tears for this man who’s had it so rough he believed joining a gang would save him.

“I should have come to you before,” he murmurs. “You’re much gentler than Hongjoong.”

You don’t know the guy he mentioned, and you don’t feel like asking. Don’t feel like acknowledging his words, so you just finish with his cheek before stepping away from the peaceful aura that was treacherously pulling you in.

Like all those years ago, you reckon.

“Let me make a call,” you say, turning away from him as you move to the counter. You feel the weight of his eyes between your shoulder blades as you get your phone from next to your laptop. You call your boss, and as someone that’s never called in sick before, you feel anxiety flush through you.

Because you’re not sick. And how could you tell him that you need to take care of your ex-boyfriend of eight years ago?

Seokhyun picks up on the first ring, voice groggy with sleep when he mutters, “Hello?”

“Boss,” you greet him. You scrape your throat and spare a look towards San who’s watching you curiously. “An emergency came up, and I have to leave the diner.” You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from lying, and then you add, “There haven’t been any customers all night, so I was wondering… would you be comfortable with me closing for the rest of the night?”

Your boss says your name, a little reproachfully. But then he sighs, because he knows just as well as you what a good employee you’ve always been. “Are you going to be able to come in tomorrow night?” he asks.

You pull at dry skin on your bottom lip, assessing San’s state. You could always come back to the city for work…

“You know what, I know you’ve got that big exam coming up,” your boss says, sighing into the phone. “Why don’t you take the next week off so you can take care of your emergency and focus on your studies?”

If Seokhyun wasn’t a fifty-three year old married and father of three children man, you think you’d ask him to marry you right now.

“That would be really helpful,” you tell him, gratitude dripping from your voice. ��Are you sure that won’t be a problem for the diner?”

“The diner won’t lose profit if it closes for three nights in the week,” he points out. “I’ll see if I can get you replaced for the evening shift on Sunday.”

You thank him again as he grumbles that it’s nothing. He wishes you good luck, and when the line goes silent, you finally meet San’s gaze again.

“All sorted out,” you tell him, offering him a nod. “Let me just close the diner, and then we can go.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He observes you as you do so, quickly closing the diner like you’ve done about a hundred times before, though this time you’re far more excited to go. You grab a plastic bag to put away the bloody swabs, and though he groans in pain, San gets up to help you clean the blood that stained the cheap leather of the booth.

Soon enough, you’re ready to go, and you walk outside with the plastic bag in one hand and your backpack on your shoulders as San chuckles, looking down at himself.

“Do you have a shirt for me?” he asks as he follows you out.

You lock the door behind you before glancing at him. He’s quite the sight, naked from the waist up and bandaged like he is, and you can’t help the small chuckle you let out as you glance towards your car, that’s luckily parked right in front.

Though it’s a deadbeat car, you trust it enough to know it’ll make the trip to your uncle’s cabin, even in the middle of the night.

“My ex left some sweaters on the back seat,” you admit as you unlock your car doors and open the trunk to put your backpack and the plastic bag in there. There’s no chance in hell you’ll leave a plastic bag full of bloody swabs near your work.

You see San nod from the periphery of your vision, and then he’s opening the door to the backseat. “Your ex, huh?” he mutters as he grabs a sweater you used to love wearing and that you haven’t convinced yourself to give back to Hyunmin.

He carefully puts it on, and you’re pretty sure just the motion is going to make blood seep through the bandage. Somehow, you don’t care that it might stain Hyunmin’s sweater.

Hyunmin was a cheater, and even though you never really loved him, it took you months before you found the strength to break up with him. Needless to say, he doesn’t deserve his clothes back.

“Yeah,” you flatly say as you move towards the driver’s seat. You sit, and San follows you, naturally, as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

As you turn the keys in the engine, San asks, “Have you dated a lot?”

You bristle at the question, shooting him an embarrassed look. “Have you?”

“No,” he replies, features fully serious.

You purse your lips, focusing on the road as you start driving. You need to put gas in the car if you want to get to your uncle’s cabin, so you make your way towards the closest one. It takes you a moment before you register how San has stiffened next to you.

“Can we…” he trails off, and he sinks in the seat, trying to hide. “I can’t be seen here.”

You immediately press on the accelerator, and your car speeds down the street as you pass in front of the gas station. You glance at San only when you’re stopped at a red light. He’s pulled the hood of the sweater over his features, and he’s doing his best to hide.

“Where can we stop?” you ask.

“Next town over,” he answers. “I just can’t be seen in Bangtan territory.”

Right. You have no knowledge of how the gangs have divided your city, but you’re not surprised Bangtan has this part of town. It’s the industrial area, and you assume there’s a lot of money to be made around here.

“Sounds good,” you gently say, and then you’re driving again, the light turning green, allowing you to speed away into the night.

You drive silently all the way to the next town, watching your city disappear to be replaced by trees until buildings reappear. San is looking outside the window, and you can’t help but wonder how he’s been doing, truly. How he managed to get injured like he is right now, and mostly, if his dreams of running away still occupy his thoughts.

He had begged you, the evening you had broken up with him. Told you he’d make enough money to be able to move with you across the country and build yourself a nice little life over there. You had wanted to believe him for so long, until your parents had opened your eyes on just how he was trying to make money.

“Do you need anything?” you ask as you finally reach the gas station, pulling into the driveway. You park next to a pump, turning to face him only to find him already watching you.

“I don’t have money to pay for food,” he admits. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I lost my wallet in the… altercation.”

You gently put a hand on his forearm. “Hey, my treat. We have to eat.”

He inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly, before he nods. “Alright. I owe you.”

You reckon he’ll owe you for a lot more than just food at a gas station, but you choose not to say it. Not when you feel like someone’s watching over your shoulder, watching you drive away in the night with the person they are looking for.

You know it’s paranoia. No one followed you out of the city and into this town. It just feels too strange to have him here, with you. In your car, on the way to your uncle’s cabin, as if eight years have gone out the window. As if you can still be young and innocent.

It’s stupid, because you can’t. Time has changed him; time has changed you. And in just a few years you’ll be a doctor, and you’ll finally get out of this hellhole of a city, of its dangerous streets.

Of its equally dangerous man, that you know could probably pull you back in with one of his many well-crafted lies, one of the dreams he weaved expertly, whispering it into your ear.

You take a deep breath before getting out of the car. You go into the station, grab snacks for the next few days and then head to the counter. The guy behind nods as you approach, and you pay for the food and for gas before wishing him a good night and returning outside. San is still squatting in the car, clearly trying to hide, and you put the food on the backseat before putting gas in.

You watch his profile as you put gas in the car. Back when you were dating, his features weren’t as sharp, as glass-cutting as they now are. He used to sport a rounder face, but today you wonder if you’d get a papercut on his jaw. You wouldn’t even be surprised.

When you’re done with gas, you sit back next to him, and you quickly bring the engine back to life before pulling out in the street. As soon as you exit the city, darkness falls on the two of you, tall trees standing on the two sides of the road again. San doesn’t speak much, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s dozing off next to you.

“Hey, everything okay?” you ask, suddenly worried that he might have lost too much blood. Which, you reckon, you should have thought about earlier.

He sighs, glancing towards you. “Just tired.”

“Don’t…” you trail off. “Don’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid I’m going to die on you?”

“Choi San,” you warn. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that.”

He smiles, but you reckon he’s a little pale. Or at least you think he is, in the silver light of the moon up above. “I think I’m fine. Just…” He offers you a weak smile, though you’ve returned your attention on the winding road. “Just exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Worry clutches your heart, and you nibble at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “What’s been going on?”

He slightly shrugs. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“Am I not already in danger by just helping you?”

The silence is telling enough. And it remains for a while until San finally speaks.

“I was in a gunfight a week ago. Accidentally shot the youngest member of the other gang. He didn’t make it, and the gang has put a bounty on my head. Ateez took my gun and told me to run; I laughed in their face and said I wasn’t a coward. Then I got attacked by two guys with knives earlier, and I made it to the diner because I had nowhere else to go.”

Now the silence is deafening, heavy, and you think you’ve altogether stopped breathing. You’re struck with an image of San in the summer sun, smiling wide as he put a flower behind your ear, claiming you were the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The contrast with who he is now – a product of night, shrouded in darkness with no hint of that smile on his lips – is stark. And you wonder when’s the last time he has seen the sun, when’s the last time his life wasn’t violence like this.

When you say nothing, he scoffs, resting his head against the window as if it’d allow him to escape. Because clearly he wants to escape – he’s just told you that he’s killed someone after all.

And you don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to react to someone confessing murder. All you can do is stare at the street ahead, hoping you won’t end up in a gunfight with San. Because where would that lead you, other than in the dramatics of death?

You don’t speak for the rest of the ride. You don’t think he sleeps either, and dawn is clinging to the far horizon when you get to your uncle’s cabin, in a secluded forest that seems straight out of a fairytale. Instead of bringing you awe like it usually does, the sight of it makes you think of all the murder mysteries you had been obsessed with when you were younger, before you realized how horrible the real world truly is.

Neither of you move, as you turn off the engine of the car, and you fall into even more of a tensed silence, though this time you can hear the chirping of the early birds. It’s peaceful, so peaceful you can barely even grasp how tangible the presence of San is next to you. The presence of his actions too, looming between the two of you like a sword of Damocles.

You move first. Putting a hand on the knob, hoping to escape the heaviness into the dawn. San speaks before you can though, and your heart stops in your chest.

“I never meant for him to get hurt,” he murmurs, and you think he’s speaking to himself more than to you. “Everything went too fast, my gun was in my hand and I just… in situations like these, you don’t have time to think.” He leans his head against the headrest, eyes closing. “All I can picture since it’s happened is him falling and blood. Like a fucking blossoming rose, all around him.” He rests his closed fist on his forehead, rubbing it hard. “I haven’t been able to sleep; I’ve been sick every time I’ve tried to eat…”

“San,” you interrupt as you break and break for him. Because this is the San you know. This is the young boy that just wanted to escape and live in a better world. You can almost taste his remorse, taste his regret and shame. It’s poisonous, treacherous, a slippery slope that can’t lead anywhere good. “Let’s get you in. I want to get that cut on your ribs checked.”

He falls silent, and for a moment you feel guilty. Because what if he had more to say? You don’t even think you would have been able to listen. You need the escape, and you know he’ll permit it. Because the man next to you is a broken man, a fracture of what he could have been.

You step out of the car, blinking away tears – from the anxiety, from the exhaustion, and perhaps even from the pain you feel for him. He follows you, wincing as he swings his legs out of the car. He stumbles a little as he stands, but soon enough, he grows steady on his feet, and his attention moves to you. You climb the stairs of the cabin, lifting the rug to find the small trap that leads to the spare key. The padlock is rusted, but it stands strong as you put in the code, and a click is heard when you pull on it.

A few seconds later, you’ve unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal the cabin as you remember it. Not a single item is out of place, though dust covers everything, a clear indication that no one has been here in years. You let San in, before going back to the car to get the food you bought, bringing it in and putting it in the fridge. Three full gas canisters hide under the counter, and you sigh in relief – you’ll be able to get the generator on for some electricity.

You motion to the kitchen table. “Have a seat,” you tell San, who somehow looks like a lost puppy. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He nods, remaining silent, eyes downcast. You only move when he’s seated, heading to the bathroom area of the cabin, where you startle a spider that almost makes you scream out loud. You keep it in, heart beating out of your chest as you get the kit before moving back into the main area.

San is leaning against the chair, eyes closed. He senses you approaching, and one of his eyes cracks open to watch you carefully, a little like he did earlier, at the diner. It looks so similar to how he used to look at you, when you joined him at the field, that you stop in your tracks, heart squeezing once again.

You don’t like the way Choi San is making you feel, that’s for sure.

“Take off the sweater,” you tell him, putting the kit down on the table. You put some clean linen next to it, to put what you need over it, before washing your hands with the disinfectant you find in the kit. You put latex gloves on after, and then you fish wire and a surgical needle from the first aid kit that you carefully put down on the linen once you’ve torn the packages open.

As you were doing all of that, San took off the shirt, struggling a little as it meant he had to lift his right arm, which pulled at the skin of his ribs, where the cut clearly has started bleeding again. Though, if you’re honest to yourself, you’re pretty sure he’s been bleeding this whole time, even though it probably was just some fine rivulets.

Indeed, the cut isn’t all that deep, you remind yourself. Mostly because you don’t want to even think about the consequences of the blood loss. As long as he stays awake, you figure he’s fine – he would have lost consciousness a while ago if he was losing a lot of blood.

You remove the bandage you had carefully put in place earlier, wincing at the sight of the blood that’s seeped through it. San keeps his eyes close, lets you clean his skin again in peace, and you feel sick to your stomach as you realize you don’t have any anesthetics for the pain that stitching him up will cause. Indeed, the pocket in which your uncle usually leaves the lidocaine is empty, and you remember that he���s had to use it for your dad when he accidentally cut himself with a machete last summer.

“Huh,” you let out. You chuckle nervously. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

You worry at your bottom lip, holding his gaze as you gauge if he’s serious. When his gaze doesn’t falter, you offer him a curt nod, before getting the wire and needle ready under his watchful eyes.

You hand him some linen. “To bite on,” you explain as he just cocks an eyebrow quizzically. That makes his gaze widen a little as if he’s just now realizing how serious you were about it hurting, but he takes it nonetheless.

You think about the theory of how to stitch someone up. It was in your previous block – you watched hours of videos of it in an attempt to desensitize yourself to it. You don’t think it compares to the real thing, but at least you’re somehow confident of what you’re doing when you start.

San startles, groaning in pain, and you offer him a glare. “Don’t move, or it’ll be worse.”

A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, but he still nods. Even as you keep on stitching him, he remains as still as he physically can, though you don’t think he even notices how he’s trembling. Or maybe that’s you – you don’t even know.

Somehow, you make it through the whole thing. You think San might have passed out at some point, but he’s wide awake when you finish the knot to keep the stitches in place, looking up to meet his face.

He’s panting and tears of pain wet his waterline. He blinks them away as he takes the linen out of his mouth, dropping it on the table.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Let me…” you trail off, mind set on getting something to at least help him cool off, because he’s clearly been heating up.

You grab a washcloth and a small bucket, and head outside to walk down to the lake. You fill the bucket halfway, and take a few seconds to observe the calm surrounding you, hoping that it can ease the nerves rolling inside your heart like dark clouds do on the horizon whenever a storm is coming. You feel it in your bones – you have a murderer in your uncle’s cabin.

You have to keep that in mind. To not let Choi San in like you did when you were a young impressionable teenager.

You sigh, closing your eyes to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun is peaking over the horizon now, and you bask in its hesitant rays for all of twenty seconds before you convince yourself to go back in. You’ve got a patient to take care of, after all.

San hasn’t moved an inch while you were outside. The only indication that he hasn’t died on you is the groan he lets out as you put the wet washcloth on his forehead. You tap his cheek gently, as if to say, ‘suck it up, I’m just trying to take care of you’.

Which is exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

You watch him carefully for a few seconds before tapping his shoulder this time around.

“There’s a bed,” you remind him. “You’d be better passing out in a bed.”

He groans again, cracking an eye open. “I’ve just been repeatedly poked with a needle,” he drawls. “Give me a second.”

It makes you laugh. Because of the nerves, maybe. You’re not quite sure. All you know is that you’re laughing, and San opens his second eye to look at you as if you’re crazy. And you laugh for longer than you should – you’re exhausted after all, especially considering you haven’t slept since yesterday morning. So far, adrenaline has been keeping you going, but you can tell you’re about to crash.

“Sorry,” you apologize once you calm down. “This has just been…”

“A lot,” San finishes for you. “I know.”

You nod once before glancing at the doorway to the bedroom. It has no door, as your uncle and your dad usually come here alone and they don’t mind sharing a bed. It makes you realize that you’ll have to share it with San, which you reckon you should have thought about before. Because there’s no way in hell you’ll share a bed with him, especially after he’s told you why he’s being hunted.

There’s always the option of going into town later today so you can get a sleeping bag and floor mat to sleep on. But you’re far too tired right now to even consider driving, so you motion to the bed once again.

“Stick to your side; I’ll stick to mine.”

He smirks though he’s extremely pale. A lot paler than he was before, and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Because what if he dies? What are you supposed to do with him if he dies?

“You’ll have to help me to get to the bed ‘cause I don’t think I can move,” he says once his smirk dies. He curses under his breath. “I’m so pathetic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder again, reassuringly, eyes holding his. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re hurt. Everyone is pathetic when they’re hurt.”

He gulps before nodding once. It takes everything in you not to offer him more comfort because you feel like the slope would tilt forwards far too much if you did. Instead, you help him to get up, wincing as he puts most of his weight on you, clutching his side with one hand. You’re infinitely aware of how his skin is sticky with sweat, but you ignore it as you slowly walk to the bedroom.

You can only hope the stitches will hold because you don’t think he’d be able to withstand another round of them.

You finally reach the bedroom and help San sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, eyes shut tightly, and he doesn’t move for a time. When he does, it’s to stiffly lie down on his side.

“You might want to sleep on your back,” you inform him. “I don’t want you rolling around and messing up the stitches.”

He glares at you, though he looks like he’s already half out of it. You hold his gaze until he gives in, turning on his back with a deep sigh. You arrange pillows around him to make sure he’s not moving, and by the time you’re done, his breathing has already evened out.

For a moment, you just watch him sleep. You see him in the field where young love blossomed like a trillion wildflowers. You can almost breathe his pollen again, can almost feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips.

But he’s not what he used to be. Back then, you felt like you had discovered something new. Love, infatuation, affection, and desire, all in the form of the man sleeping next to you. You’d used to kiss, dance and sing to a song only your souls knew, and now you don’t think you recognize him anymore.

As much as he is him, he’s also but just the ghost of what he was. He’s trouble, danger in the shape of innocence, and you recall his words from earlier. You recall the despair, the regret and sorrow that haunted him after he told you. You can’t let him get to your head.

You reckon sleep might help. Though you’re afraid he’s going to waste away in his sleep, so you set up an alarm every hour, before climbing on the other side of the bed. You don’t pull on the covers, mostly because the cabin is warm, and you can imagine it’s just going to get hotter as the sun goes up and the summer heat slowly sizzles into the countryside.

It’s a good thing you put an alarm on. Because when it rings an hour later, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You’re pretty sure the second your head touched the mattress, you were out to the land of dreams. You groan, mostly because you’ve got a slight headache, but you power through it to make sure San is still breathing.

When you see his chest moving up and down steadily, you let yourself fall back asleep.

This goes on for the whole morning, and you only force yourself to stay up when your phone shows that it’s passed noon. As you had suspected earlier, the cabin has gotten extremely warm, so you force yourself out of bed to open all the windows, and then you use the washcloth from earlier to gently wash San’s face of the sweat.

He doesn’t even flinch in his sleep, but he’s still breathing and for now, that’s all that matters.

You head back to the main room, grabbing a pack of chips from where you had left the food earlier, and then you move outside to sit by the lake. Mostly because you need to put distance between you and San, but also just because the childhood memories of this place have you in their hold, and they’ve decided to make you miss the times when you’d swim around with your cousins before both of them had moved out of town.

One day, it’s going to be you too. You already know where you’d go – on the other side of the country, as far away from here as possible. You just want to forget all about the place you grew up in, and you know that, in a few years, you will have forgotten.

Though you’re pretty sure a certain piercing gaze will haunt you forever, especially after the events of today.

When another hour passes, you head back inside, putting the empty bag of chips in the trash before you check up on San. He’s still asleep, but this time he doesn’t look as pale as he did earlier. You assume it’s going to take him a while before he wakes, so you head to the nearest town to grab more food. Mostly to busy yourself, but also just because you know San will need a place to hide for a lot longer than just the weekend. Might as well make sure you have enough for him to survive a couple of days. In town, you also stop to eat at a small café on a small terrasse in the shade of a few trees, and then you grab the food you think you might need at the grocery store.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when you get back, realizing that you forgot to buy a floor mat. As you spy San, who hasn’t moved an inch since he’s fallen asleep, you figure that sleeping next to him tonight should be fine.

As long as his presence in your vicinity doesn’t drag you down memory lane again.

You bought some meat in town, so you head to the little shack outside where the generator is hiding. There’s a gas canister right next to it – also full – and you busy yourself for the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to get it started. When it finally rumbles to life, you head back inside to put the meat in the fridge, which has finally come to life.

When you hear a groan, you quickly jog to San’s side, fully expecting to find him awake. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep, and you stay next to him for a full minute, thinking he might groan again, though he remains entirely silent.

If it wasn’t for his chest moving up and down steadily, you’d believe him to be dead. But now that a few hours have passed, you’re pretty positive he’ll make it, though he’s probably going to sleep through the day and possibly through the next one too.

Which leaves you in the most peaceful atmosphere you’ve been in for a while, with the opportunity to study as you listen to the rush of wind in the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the cabin. You sit outside, this time near the fireplace, and you study until your stomach grumbles, indicating that it is time for you to cook.

You cook the meat you’ve bought on the grill outside, feeling thankful that your dad once showed you how to use it. You go back in to grab a bottle of water before you eat, and you’re bent in the fridge when you hear San moan again, and this time it sounds like he’s saying something.

You gently close the fridge, making your way to the bedroom. San hasn’t moved, but his features are creased in a frown, and sweat is rolling down his temples. You wet the washcloth, gently wipe his face, and you’re about to leave when he moans again.

It takes you far too long to realize he’s apologizing. What for, you can’t really tell. Though you remember his troubled eyes this morning, you remember his story, and your heart breaks in your chest.

He’s haunted. You think the ghost of the dead guy will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. And suddenly you’re struck thinking maybe, maybe if you hadn’t broken his heart all those years ago, you could have saved him from the gang.

Maybe you could have opened his eyes.

You still remember the break-up like it was yesterday. You remember the rain, him leaving without once looking back, but mostly you remember the words you had uttered. Ghosts of their own, that feel more real now that he’s come back into your life.

*****

                “You’re going to get hurt!” you yelled. “You’ll get hurt, San. What are you thinking?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and little droplets of water shot all around him. “I’ll be careful. We need the money if we ever want to make it out of this shit town.”

You blinked away tears, folding your arms on your chest as you tried to keep your heart from breaking. Though you reckoned it had broken when your parents had told you what they knew about San. When your father had mentioned Ateez, and you’d truly realized what it meant that he was part of a gang. San, your sweet, soft, and bubbly San, in a gang that had murdered someone just a few weeks ago.

“But that’s not a way to make money!” you screamed, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d hear the truth in your words, hoping he’d change his mind before it was too late. “Why don’t you get a part-time job, like me? Then we can go to college and get jobs in a nice city on the other side of the country!”

“It won’t work,” he drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to be out soon, not in a few years. I barely even have a roof over my head, Y/n…”

“Come live with me,” you choked out around the lump in your throat.

You both knew fully well that your parents would never let him come near you again.

“I can’t.”

You cried, hiding your face in your hands. You cried thinking of the field where you usually met, thinking about its beauty now fading into ugliness. You thought about the wildflowers, withered and dead as autumn had come. You thought about how you were convinced you knew what love was.

“What’s the point?” you asked then. “What’s the point of putting your life in danger? Life isn’t some sort of a game, Choi San. Worse, what if you have to hurt someone? Do you think you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

He clenched his jaw, hard. “Do me a favour and stop asking questions.”

You closed your eyes, feeling sick to your stomach. Because it couldn’t be. Not San. Not your smiley San, who’d always weave dandelions crowns with you, as you’d pretend you were a queen and a king of that field you had found. An empty field, an abandoned farmland that was just yours and his to explore. That had been home to your first kiss, and all of those that had followed.

Now you wondered why he had always wanted to meet there in the first place. Was he trying to hide?

"If you love me, you’ll get out while you still can,” you said as your tears suddenly ended.

There was a weird sense of clarity in you, suddenly. You remembered the day you had fallen in love, the moment you had first kissed. You remembered the stars in the sky above, the meteors falling for the two of you. You remembered the music on the radio you had brought. Some Arctic Monkeys song about heartbreak, about moving on and failing to do so. As a joke, when it had ended, you had asked San, “Do you think love is a laserquest?”

His answer had been cryptic, mysterious, things that had made you believe he was the one. “Maybe. Maybe it is, and I’ve shot you in the back while you weren’t looking. Maybe I’m that annoying player that won’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll never find you annoying,” you had replied.

But today, watching the rain rolling down his face like tears, you realized that maybe, maybe you should have seen the warning behind his words. Because this betrayal, it came like he had shot you in the back – you didn’t think you’d be able to recover from it.

The past dwindled away as San spoke again, reminding you of the question you had just asked him. “It’s not a question of love, Y/n. I do love you. But it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed, coldly, and then you said, “You know what? You’re full of shit.”

“Alright then. Do me a favour and tell me to go away.”

“Go away.”

A long silence had lingered between you, voided of that summer warmth that had you falling in love. Like a piece was missing from the contract of you loving him, and him loving you. And you realized, maybe you had never really loved each other anyway.

He nodded once when you didn’t say anything else, before turning away. And you watched him walk away. You watched him thinking he was going to turn around and tell you this was just some twisted joke, the prank of the century. Only, he never turned around, and he disappeared behind the bend in the road, never to be seen again, cracking your heart open and splitting it in half.

*****

                The sun sets, like an ending to a dream. You’ve always liked the end – you think if you could choose, you’d want to witness the end of the world. The nostalgia, the beauty of endings… it’s something you understand now that you didn’t understand when you were younger. Because you and San ending, it had led to you focusing on high school. It had allowed you to get in the good college in town, with a scholarship that covered most of your expenses before you made it to med school.

There’s beauty in knowing losing San has allowed you to live out your dreams.

There’s less beauty in knowing that San has been sleeping for almost thirty-four hours now. Last time you checked, he was still breathing, but you’re starting to be afraid that he just won’t wake up. It’s irrational, you know – after the blood loss it makes sense that he’d sleep for a long time.

But it leaves you with far too much time on your hands to think and revisit the past. You’ve been doing it all day – thinking about the fight with your parents that had led to your break-up with San, thinking about that damn rainy evening he had walked away without once looking back. Thinking of the field, of sunshine and star falls and the sweetness of a first kiss. Thinking that, then, you thought you knew what it was like to be in love.

You haven’t dated anyone serious since San. Hyunmin was a distraction for a while, but you never were into it. Not like you were into San. There’s a guy in your class though, that you’ve been chatting with for a couple of weeks. He’s sweet, innocent, and the perspective of a future seems less scary with him around. He’s mentioned he wants to move across the country once too, and since then you’ve started talking more, the similarity of your wishes drawing you closer.

All day today you’ve been feeling like you’re slowly drifting away though. Slowly getting entrapped in a web you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

You decide to swim, seeking the fresh clarity only cold water can bring to you. You don’t have a swimsuit with you, but since San is half-dead in bed you figure it doesn’t matter. So you strip naked, feet making squelching sounds in the mud by the lake side as you step in the water.

The sharp cold has you holding your breath, but you don’t slow down. You’ve never slowed down in life – when you make a decision, you bring it to completion. And you’ve decided to swim, so swim you will.

The warm summer evening breeze catches in your hair as you take another step forward, the water now lapping at your thighs. You dread the moment it’ll hit your core, knowing that that’s the worst part, but you breathe in deeply, moving forward. Because there’s no moving backwards now.

When the water hits, your eyes flutter shut, and you hold in the wince that threatens to escape the mask of calm your features hold. Soon enough, you get deep enough to swim, and the movements bring welcomed warmth to your limbs as you flop on your back, tits out of the water.

Your uncle’s cabin is the only cabin in a fifteen miles radius. You know you won’t be interrupted, and so you let the water cool you down. Calm you down, hold you in its fresh embrace. It undoes knots in your back that have formed from worrying about San, but also from worrying about college.

From worrying that you will never be enough. You think it’s a normal anxiety to have, something most people must feel as they go through the trials of college, not knowing what to expect on the other side. A nice career, perhaps, though the perspective of failure is there too, looming over the horizon.

You sigh, and your eyes flutter open as your legs move mindlessly under you, making sure to keep you afloat. You look up at the azury ceiling over your head, so far away as it slowly turns gold. Out of touch, out of grasp. You watch the fluffy white clouds that are lazily crossing the sky, turning fiery in the sunset, as if they have all the time in the universe. And you wish you were them, up above. With nothing to worry about.

Without a Choi San on the brink of death lying about twenty meters away from you. You sigh, and you turn in the water, with the purpose of swimming again. Though your gaze catches movement by the cabin, and your head snaps towards it to see none other than the supposedly Choi San, standing on the deck with a hand clutching his side.

You shriek, looking down at yourself. Most of you is hidden, but you don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know if he’s seen you naked as you looked up at the sky.

He doesn’t move, only watches you where you’re swimming.

“Can you please look away?” you say from the water, and he has the nerves to lean against the railing, eyes still boring into where you’re swimming. You think his gaze might be so hot the water will boil, and it startles you into action.

You start walking out of the water, pointing towards the door. “You shouldn’t be up, Choi San.”

“I feel fine,” he says as you take another step forward, and the water barely hides your tits anymore.

That makes him turn around, as he offers you a little bit of privacy. You’re quick to get out of the water and wrap yourself in the towel you brought outside, and then you collect your clothes to head back to the cabin. San dutifully keeps his gaze away until you’re climbing the three steps leading to the deck, and it’s then that his eyes trail to you again.

“Thank you for the water,” he says, offering you a tentative smile.

You left water by his bedside earlier today hoping it will coax him to wake up. You’re strangely surprised that it worked.

“You should go sit inside,” you scold him, only half-heartedly. Because seeing him up and about reassures you, somehow.

He cocks an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The weather is beautiful, I’d rather sit outside.”

You roll your eyes, but you do let him walk down the stairs to sit by the fireplace while you go inside to take a quick shower and get dressed. You decide to make some food for him, though you know he shouldn’t eat too much right now, after not having eaten for a while. He has to start slowly, and you don’t even know if he’s hungry anyway.

You settle for preparing a cup of chicken noodle soup for him, so at least it isn’t too heavy on his stomach. You bring it to him outside, as he’s just calmly observing the lake.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small as he grabs the cup and the spoon.

You sit next to him, trying not to watch him eat too much. His hair is sticking to his forehead in some places, and you have the distinct thought that he’ll probably need to shower. At least there’s plenty of rain water in the bucket for the water pump.

“What have you been doing while I was out?” he asks.

You spare him a quick glance before losing your gaze in the rocks of the fireplace. “I’ve studied. Checked up on you. Not much honestly.”

He chuckles. “I’d argue that caring for someone is a lot.”

You glance at him, cheeks burning at the sight of his teasing smile. “Not really.”

He chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything more before eating another spoonful of soup. He’s almost done with the cup when he actually does speak, asking, “How long was I out?”

“A day and a half,” you answer. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t slept longer.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m made of tough stuff.”

You snicker, but you don’t say anything, just focusing on where you’re kicking at the dirt. When he’s done with the cup, he puts it down on the ground next to him, before sitting back in the chair. He stretches out his legs in front of him, sighing deeply.

“I still feel out of it,” he admits, and you meet his gaze.

“You can sleep more,” you tell him. “I’d just like to check on the…”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence. He immediately turns so his side is to you, and you have to admit you’ve done a perfectly good job with the stitches.

“So?” he asks.

“All good.” You pat his shoulder. “You can sit comfortably again.”

He’s smiling when he does so, and his gaze wanders to the lake once again. “I’m sorry I…” he trails off, and he chuckles softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your little swim earlier.”

You have the decency to flush furiously red, and you shrug your shoulders. “No worries, I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.”

You fall in a comfortable silence, surprisingly so. Rare stars dot the darkening sky up above, and all that can be heard for a moment is the flap of a bird’s wing as it moves from branches to branches in the trees by the water. The breeze picks up as you watch the little bird, and the leaves dance, loudly so. You’d think it’d be deafening in the silence between you and him, but it’s strangely reassuring.

As if, after all, you found your way back to the field. Only this time it’s completely different, as if decades have passed between you. At least, that’s how it feels like.

You notice San has dozed off in the chair next to you when you were about to speak to him again. To ask him how he’s truly been, in the years between then and now. Hoping to avoid mentioning what led to him coming to you, yesterday, a whole eternity ago.

You watch him, heart aching in your chest. Aching to reach out and brush his hair away from his forehead, aching to heal the cut on his cheek with a gentle swipe of your fingers. If only medicine was so simple…

It seems the peace of the early evening wasn’t going to stay around, because you notice dark clouds rolling in the distance, streaks of lightning cutting through them. Slowly inching closer, menacingly so, and you gently wake San up with your hand on his wrist.

He startles awake, hand shooting to his waist, finding nothing there. It startles you, and you both stare at each other for a moment until you realize what he was looking for.

His gun.

“San…” you let out and he runs his hand through his hair, eyes falling shut as he breathes in and out raggedly.

“Sorry.”

“San, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to let you see the vulnerability you glimpsed behind his piercing gaze. Refuses to acknowledge that he’s terrified, deadly so.

“Let’s go in,” you tell him, softly. Because you’re afraid you’ll spook him, when he’s clearly been living in fear long enough. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nods, carefully getting up without sparing you a glance. He heads inside, hand clutching his side again, while you pick up the chicken noodle soup cup before following him.

You’ve refilled the generator before swimming, so you know it’s been charging the batteries for a while now. You don’t fear ending up in the dark with San, and there’s also always the option of using the lamps and candles your uncle always leave here in case of an emergency.

The storm doesn’t roll in until a little later. You’ve forced San to put a shirt on – mostly so your eyes would stop betraying you, dropping to his toned body whenever he talked to you. You’re currently sitting on the couch, and as the rain starts, hammering against the window behind you, you pull your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms comfortably around them.

“How hard do the storms hit here?” he asks, eyes trailed to the world outside.

You follow his gaze, right as wind picks up to make the water hit the window even harder, creating a cacophony that forces you to speak louder for him to hear. “Pretty hard.”

He nods, and he glances once at you. “Fun.”

You smile, because you’ve always liked storms. Have always found them electrifying, energizing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the field when it rained?” San asks, taking you by surprise.

Making your heart clench so hard in your chest you have to take a wobbly breath in. If he notices he doesn’t say.

“We were always in that field,” you remind him. “No matter the weather.”

It’s his turn to smile fondly. “It got so pretty with all the wildflowers. But you were afraid of the bees.”

“Bees are scary!” You laugh, and he echoes it with a soft chuckle. “You’re the one that almost pissed yourself when we saw the rat.”

That makes him laugh, and he winces in pain clutching his side. “Gosh, is it supposed to keep on hurting like this?”

It douses your enthusiasm and your smile falls. “Well, it was a solid cut.”

His eyes get lost in the void as he takes on a wistful expression. “I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

You gulp, watching his profile carefully. “It wasn’t deep enough for that…” you trail off, even though you spent most of yesterday and today being convinced he’d die. “At least they didn’t… stab you.”

“They would have if… Wooyoung didn’t shoot.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to reply to that. San interprets that as discomfort, and he quickly adds, “He didn’t shoot them. Just… in the air. It attracted the police.”

You remember the cars zooming past the diner a lifetime ago, and you nod your head. “I heard.”

He seems surprised, and his gaze finally finds yours again. “You did?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, a little awkwardly. “I hear a lot of shootings, in the diner.”

His eyes widen, mouth falling open cutely. “You do?”

You don’t know what he expected. The diner is right between Ateez and Bangtan territory, and as much as it is a safe space, it is also near enough to dangerous grounds, and you’ve heard plenty of shooting in your time working there.

“Always,” you admit. “It can get scary sometimes… but you also get used to it.”

He looks sad. Infinitely so, like a lost puppy. That’s when the first thunder hits, so sharp and sudden you startle. Not quite as much as San, who ducks, wincing in pain as he clutches his side.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, in time with another thunderclap, though this time it’s more of a rumble.

You watch his chest as he breathes in and out quickly. “Just… fuck.”

Now, concern grows in you, and you gently put a hand on his shoulder. “San…”

He meets your gaze, and there’s so much white in his it makes you think of a terrified prey. And then it clicks: he thought it was a gunshot.

“Hey,” you quickly say, moving closer to him. You’re on the side of the stitches, so you still keep a safe distance between the two of you, but you grab his hand nonetheless. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say.

“I promise, no one’s going to find you here.”

He remains silent this time around, eyes still boring into yours. You take that as a cue to continue, because you don’t want him to panic. You want his thoughts here, with you, and not miles away in a city he should have escaped from years ago. You wish he had, knowing the atrocities that he would have avoided.

Would he have escaped with you, had you stayed just a little longer?

“I killed someone,” he says, and you balk at the silver lining his gaze. “I fucking killed him.”

You don’t know how to help. All you can think to do is cup his cheek, right as he starts breathing even faster. “Breathe with me, San.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes fall to your mouth. You make a good show of inhaling slowly, before exhaling even slower. It takes him a moment but he eventually follows your lead.

It breaks when there’s another sharp thunderclap, and he flinches, eyes shutting instinctively.

“Hey hey hey,” you say again, even more gentle, softer than before. You move even closer, and when a tear slips out of his closed eyes, you pull him into a hug, careful not to brush his side.

His head falls on your shoulder, and one of his arms wrap around your waist. A thunderclap later, he starts sobbing, fist balling the fabric of your shirt in his tight hold, and you let him do it. You let him hold onto you, hoping it’ll keep him here with you. Hoping it’ll keep him afloat during the storm that’s raging both outside and in his mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” you breathe, and you feel like you’re lying to him.

Because how can he ever be safe from the ghosts inside of his skull? The ghosts wandering the halls of him, tainting his soul with their presence?

“He’s never going to smile again,” San chokes out. “Everyone loved him. Even in Ateez… Jungkook was the best of us. The only one who had a shot at getting out of it.”

You don’t know how good he could have been, if he was a member of Bangtan. In your mind, you’d always seen Bangtan as the bad guys, mostly because they weren’t with San. Even when you had been struggling to evade that life, you’d still rooted for him.

It’s strange how you just realize that now, as you’re holding him while he breaks.

“You didn’t mean to kill him,” you remind San, still speaking with the calmest voice you can muster up. “You didn’t want to, San. You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m still a killer,” he says. He sounds angry, and you reckon he might be angry at himself. Might be consumed with his actions, dragged to hell before his time as his mind gets stuck replaying the events.

“Maybe,” you answer. “But,” you quickly add when he stiffens in your arms. “But you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. Repenting.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as he breaks some more, sobs rocking through him. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when you were younger and in love. It makes your gaze wet, yet you hold on strong for him. You keep your head held high, and you allow him to break in the safe haven that your arms represent.

Because to him, you’ve never been tainted. You’ve always been the ideal he was trying to pursue, albeit the wrong way.

“I don’t know how to repent,” he admits when he calms down. He turns his head, and his nose brushes along the skin of your neck, slightly tickling you. You ignore the feeling, especially as he adds, “Ateez… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

You run a hand on his back, soothingly. “It isn’t.”

Because there was you, too. There was the summer field and the twinkling stars and Artic Monkeys on the radio. There was the two of you, petal-soft kisses exchanged in the dead of night and in the brightness of day. There were rainy days, and then there was rain. There was him walking away, and you hate yourself then.

You wish you had stopped him that day, had kept him from going on to become what he’s become now. A person he clearly hates, someone that has a bounty on his head. Someone that doesn’t even believe they’re allowed redemption and you reckon you don’t even know if he is.

You only know that seeing him break is bending your will, the way the wind outside is bending the trees. All you can hope is that, like the tall trees, you won’t break.

*****

                The storm calmed down sometime around midnight. San ended up falling asleep on the couch, as you’d reassuringly ran your hand through his hair, trying to keep him with you. Though you think he’s been slipping through your fingers, into his demons.

You’ll find a way to bring him back. You have to. Turns out it comes faster than you think, as the electricity runs out and you busy yourself with lighting some candles throughout the main room. When you’re done, you put a blanket over him, and you almost let out a startled scream as his eyes shot open.

“Hello,” you say, resting a hand on your heart to tame the wild beats.

You’re about to move away, but he grabs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. You don’t really resist, though you think you probably should. You’re weak – weaker still when he murmurs your name.

“San,” you whisper in return, and you’re aware your voice carries too much longing. Longing for a past when life’s atrocities hadn’t changed either of you yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and a tear rolls on his cheek.

You dry it, fingers lingering there. “It’s okay.”

“Angel…”

The nickname brings you back to laser quests and favours and warmth creeping up your stomach for the first time in your life.

“I’m no angel,” you breathe.

“You saved me.”

You hold his gaze. There’s something hiding behind his pupils. The need, to forget. You don’t think you have the ability to run his mind through amnesia, but still you brush his cheek again.

“You deserved saving.”

His eyes glaze once more, though this time no tears fall. “It’s hard to believe it.”

“Do you still believe love is a laser quest?” you ask him, out of the blue.

As if you’re a line straight of that Arctic Monkeys song you listened to the first time you kissed.

“Maybe,” he says, a parallel to that first time you had asked the question. “Maybe it is.”

You can’t resist. You lean down, and you press the gentlest kiss on his lips. His are dry, but the way he sighs with you against him is soft, for your heart and for your mind, and you kiss him again. He lets you lead, follows the dance of your lips, lets you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

Even if you shouldn’t. Even if you know everything you’re doing right now is a mistake, you still find yourself deepening the kiss, opening your lips to slip your tongue out, teasing his mouth. One of his hands finds your thigh, and he squeezes ever so slightly as his tongue finds yours, and you let out a breathy sound.

When you pull away, eyes fluttering open, you find San’s gaze. You think about the boy he was then, the girl you were then. You think about who you were, together. And when he says, “Please make me forget”, you lean again, capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

For a reason unknown, the summer sky and falling stars pale in comparison to this kiss. Maybe because it holds longing, nostalgia. Hope that life would have turned out differently. For a moment, you picture what it would have been like, without Ateez. With you and him in the field, in your family house, in a car driving by the beach, windows down as the sun sets and you sing along to the radio, wind blowing in your hair.

You see a whole life there, with you and him marrying in the field, under the sun that had been the host of your first love. You imagine growing up by his side, attending college with him in the big city. You imagine how he would have become the owner of his own construction company, like his dad before him. You picture kids laughing, running around the house he would have built for you. You see Christmas light, late nights antics by the firelight.

You see it all, and you know you’ll never have any of it. But if you can have tonight, then you’ll grab it before it slips through your fingers. Before he walks away in the rain again, only to be a memory you cherish in the deepest corners of your heart.

“How?” you ask him when you pull away.

Mostly, you’re asking how to make him forget. But you’re also asking how it is that the feelings are still there, even stronger now, as if they’ve grown up with you, yet haven’t changed like you have. Like they are a constant of an ever-changing universe.

“Kiss me again,” he asks, begs, and you give in. You kiss him wildly, always making sure not to touch his side and the stitches.

You know sex would be a stupid idea, especially with the fresh stitches. But also because he’s barely had time to recover. But he doesn’t really give you a choice, pulling you on top of him until you’re straddling him.

You sit back on him for a second, eyes trailing to the spot where you know the stitches are. “This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper through the ragged breaths caused by the ministrations of his mouth on yours and of yours on his.

“I’m fine,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t believe him. But when he pulls you down again, large hand holding the nape of your neck firmly so you don’t escape, you want to believe him.

Want to believe the beauty of his lies, like you had when you were younger.

From where you’re perched, you can feel the start of his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly in the kiss, rolling your hips. His mouth falls open, and you capture his tongue, sucking on it once before you pull away, leaving hot kisses on his jaw.

“Sit on my face,” he says, and he sounds out of his mind. Crazed, a little like you too feel at the moment.

“What?”

“Can’t get hurt if you sit on my face, angel,” he explains, and then hisses when you suck a hickey on his neck.

You let him pull your shirt off, unclasping your bra yourself as you sit back on his lap. He cups your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his thumbs and indexes. You moan again, grinding your hips into his, and he hisses once more.

“You want to taste me?” you ask, head throwing back as he pinches your nipples hard.

“I’d fuck you, but you’re the doctor. Can’t risk fucking up my stitches, huh?” he replies, voice low and husky.

Your core heats up, pussy clenching around nothing. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, though you spy desperation beneath it. Like he thinks he doesn’t have forever, when it comes to you.

He’s right. Because tomorrow, you’ll have to go back into town, into the hellscape you call home. What will be left of the two of you then?

So when he tugs at your pants, you give in and get up, taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You step out of them, blood heating up by the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, gaze burning on you.

You have half a thought that you could probably ride him instead of his face, but when you see his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them glisten in the candlelight, you need to know what it’ll feel like against you.

So you straddle his face as he guides you down, large hands pushing on your thighs until your pussy is a hairsbreadth away from his lips. He blows on it, and your eyes shut with sensitivity. You clutch the cushion of the couch, hoping it’ll help steady you, but the moment his tongue flicks at your clit, you realize nothing will be able to steady you. Yet you still hold onto it, especially as he dives his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juice. He moans in contentment, before moving to your clit again. And his tongue is wicked down there, like it knows exactly what you like.

You grab a handful of his hair, grinding into his face. You’re pretty sure he’s chuckling down there, and then he unleashes himself. Sucking hard, alternating circling motions to teasing you with his teeth. You’d expect the latter to hurt, but the way he does it just makes you see stars, and your pussy clenches around nothing again.

San is deadly good with his mouth. Both with crafting lies and pulling moans out of you, and your thighs tighten against his face as he sucks particularly hard, before dipping his tongue inside of you. His nose brushes your clit, and then he forces you to properly sit on him.

The way his tongue moves inside of you, lapping up your juices while opening you up, has you on the brink of an orgasm in no time. Especially as he makes you grind again, holding you tight into place. When one of his hands moves from around your thigh to reach your clit, you cry out, head throwing back.

He’s quick to rub at your sensitive clit, and you grab one of your breasts, massaging it mindlessly before you pinch your nipple, hard, right in time with a skilled swipe of his tongue. Your orgasm meets you there, shaking through you as it explodes in a blinding flash of light. You moan, loudly, something that resembles his name, and he keeps you going, guides you through your high until you cringe with oversensitivity.

Only then does he let you climb off from his face. You stand on wobbly legs, before deciding to sit next to him, and you catch sight of the smirk on his lips. It makes you blush, right as you realize what you’ve just done.

When you realize what kind of sinful activity he’s dragged you in, this time around.

“Gosh,” is all you manage to say.

He chuckles, clearly proud with himself. “That felt good?”

You worry at your bottom lip, eyes going down to the tent in his pants. You want to pleasure him too, to take him in your mouth and make him feel good, but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t.”

You still and you meet his gaze with slightly-widened eyes. “Why not?”

His features turn somber, haunted, and the heat of the moment passes so quickly you think it might have been a figment of your imagination.

Were you really riding his face just a moment ago?

“Please just lay next to me,” he says, barely even a whisper.

You don’t know a lot of men that would choose cuddling over getting a blowjob, but if that is what he wants, then you’ll give it to him. You lay next to him, glad that the injured side is closer to the couch. That way, you can cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around you.

“Angel,” he murmurs after a time. “You’re a fucking angel. I think you’re my salvation.”

You highly doubt you hold this kind of power, but you don’t want to tell him. Have never been good at weaving beautiful lies for him to believe.

“We should stay here,” he continues. “Forever.”

And you wish you could. Wish reality didn’t exist, didn’t call for you to go back to your regular life like you’ve never been here with him. But you know tomorrow exists, and you’ll have to leave.

“We should have stayed in the field,” you choose to answer. “Under the shooting stars.”

“I wished for a lifetime with you, then,” he admits. “I wished I’d never have to let you go.”

You’d wished for a similar thing, but life is far too cruel to allow a world of first loves.

“Why did you…” you trail off. The question has haunted your sleepless nights for a long time after the break-up. Even years later, you’d still think about it sometimes, wondering if nostalgia would choke you up. “Why did you decide to join the gang?”

He tenses next to you. But you start tracing a mindless circle on his chest, through the shirt, and it distracts him enough for him to reply. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you?”

His voice holds the weight of the world when he says, “I did. And I made the wrong one.”

You want to cry, but you’re older now. You’re not the teenager who thought she was going to die from losing him anymore. You know what living without Choi San is like, and as much as it hurts, you know that it’s doable.

“You made the one you believed was right,” you say carefully. “But I do wish you had made a different one.”

He holds you a little tighter, as if that will make it so tomorrow never comes. “Me too.”

There’s an eternity of flickering candlelight on the ceiling, of the circles you trace on his chest and of your breathings forming a melody. Outside, the wind has died down, and the world is silent except from an occasional cricket braving the world after the storm.

“Where will you go, once you graduate?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

Because he knows. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

“As far away from here as I can.”

“I hope you find peace, wherever you go,” he whispers. “I hope you forget all about how we grew up in a hellhole.”

Do you feel bad for saying it? Maybe. But you can’t help saying it anyway. “I will, San.”

And like that rainy day years ago, you think you can see him walk away.

*****

Seven years later

The winter sun is strangely bright, up above. You’d think it will warm you up, but the cold is relentless, violent, and it sneaks into your coat as you walk out of the hospital. You’ve just finished a thirty-hour shift, and you can’t wait to be home.

To take a shower and forget that you’ve lost a patient today.

But you’ve saved another. A young man, with a stab wound in his ribs that should have killed him. But you saved him, stabilized his condition to the point you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Which is the only reason why you’re allowing yourself to leave now.

You’re never able to leave until you know your patients are okay. It’s been that way since your first patient, in a cabin in the woods you’ve done your best to forget.

You’d let San stay, after that weekend. He had given you the number of one of his friends, so you could get some clothes for him, and you’d gone back the next weekend. Bringing him the clothes, making love to him under the moonlight as if that would change the ending.

The following week, you had gone back to find the cabin empty. He’d left a note behind.

I hope I can find you again, wherever you go.

You kept the note. It’s in your bedside table, back at home, in the nice apartment you’ve been able to rent for yourself with all the money you’ve been making now. Enough to pay back student loans from med school, enough to reassure you that never again will you struggle.

You’ve never seen San again after. He hasn’t found you, and you haven’t searched for him. Have only looked up his name a couple of times, in the months following his disappearing, scared you’d find out that he was found dead in a ditch. But his name never came up, and you wondered if he had managed to escape, if he had managed to find a place where Bangtan couldn’t reach him.

You found peace, on your side of the country. Life is kinder here, though it still holds the same atrocities. You wonder if it’s the novelty of the city, or maybe if you’ve just grown old enough to be able to withstand the bad that the world throws your way. It’s hard to tell – you haven’t kept contact with anyone from back home, except Jae-on.

Jae-on, who’s moved with you when you’ve decided to come here, like he said he would. Jae-on, who asked you to marry him in late October, and you said yes. The ring sits heavy on your finger, and you mindlessly play with it.

In another world, you would already be married to Choi San. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of that world – a piercing gaze in the morning, a smile and a kiss to your temple. Talks about angels, children screaming in happiness. In another world, you’d be pregnant again, waiting patiently to add another piece of you and him to this world.

It’s fun to think about, sometimes, but you’ve been good at forgetting. Like you told him you would – most times, you’ve forgotten all about Choi San.

But today, you had a patient that reminded you of him. So you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to think about that note tucked in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, hidden under the thick socks you never use.

You allow yourself to think about the cabin in the woods, about the field where you would have gotten married had you been in that picturesque world you like to imagine. You think about laser quests and first kiss and rainy days and meteors. You think about summer, about wildflowers and him.

You’re so lost in thought you miss your stop home, and you begrudgingly get out at the next one. You’re tired, and your hands are shaking as you pull your phone out of your tote bag, wanting to text Jae-on that you’re going to be home late because you missed your stop. You walk to the other side of the tracks, sighing when you see a five-minutes wait for the next subway.

At least the sun is high in the sky, even though it is dreadfully cold. You shiver, putting your phone back in your tote bag so you can hide your hands in your sleeves again, hoping it’ll preserve them from the cold.

In your exhaustion, you forgot your gloves back at the hospital, you realize. It’s strange that you only realize now, and you reckon you really need to sleep, because your brain isn’t even working right anymore.

You sigh, glancing at the display showing the time. Still four minutes to wait. You think at this rhythm you might freeze in your spot before the next subway comes. You try to hide your face in the lapel of your coat, but a movement on the other platform attracts your gaze.

A man is helping an older woman climb down the stairs. She’s speaking loudly, which might be what attracted your gaze in the first place. You follow them as they walk down the stairs, and then when the man turns towards you, you meet his piercing gaze.

He smiles, and you realize that maybe, all those years ago, he was not spinning lies to you after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gosh yeahhh rereading it had me ralize that it is a lot sadder than I remembered it to be. At least we got an open ending ... :') What did we think? Should I write about other groups more often? Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate

Taglist:

@btsborahaee

#outlaw: the project #love is a laserquest #choi san #choi san smut #choi san angst #choi san fanfiction #choi san fanfic #choi san fic #choi san x reader #choi san x you #san #san smut #san angst #san fanfiction #san fanfic #san fic #san x you #san x reader #not bts #ateez

[theharrowing]

One Day at a Time

Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get...precarious.

Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.

🐺 Yoongi x Namjoon, established Namjoon x Wheein

🌙 word count: 39.4k

🌙 past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, angst, smut, eventual fluff, slash, nsfw, 21+

🌙 warnings: alpha/top Namjoon, omega/bottom Yoongi; Namjoon is married, and he has a big dick; Yoongi is a mess, and he cries a lot; a/b/o stuff (mating cycles, lots of scent stuff, wolf instincts, marking - there will be blood, omega slick), angst (hormones raging, pining, emotional infidelity, infidelity, hurt/comfort), smut (ritualistic sex, ass to mouth, anal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, extremely painful knotting, pregnant sex, begging, praising, possessiveness), confessions, falling in love, "happy ending."

🌙 note: hello, and welcome to my very first a/b/o fic! this is going to be a more modern take on some a/b/o lore and ideas. i did so much research and asked friends who are better versed with the lore and tropes (thank you @sailoryooons and @sweetestofchaos, i love you to the moon and back!!!), and i am really pleased with what has come of this. i never thought i would write a pregnancy fic, but here i am. the power of namgi and infidelity compels me. that being said, infidelity is a big part of this fic, so if you're not into that, you will not like this!!! this has all the build up and tension and very intense smut that one might come to expect from one of my fics, so buckle up and take the warnings seriously. 🌙 Yoongi deals with a lot of mood swings with his heat cycle, so if he seems completely irrational at times, it is because he is. and oh boyyyy, does he cry a lot. A LOT. idk how to describe Yoongi's genitalia situation. he has a dick but also … idk ... would his butt be a cloaca??? best not to overthink it. sometimes it is referred to as a cunt. hehehe. Wheein in this fic is very real housewives and i love/hate her.

🌙 written for one shot two shot fest

🌙 thanks to @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons for beta reading!

🌙 posted july 2023 | read on ao3 (link coming soon!)

INDEX:

1: I finally get to have you | 19.9k words

2: It feels right; I don't care if it's wrong | 19.3k words

tags: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @mgthecat​ @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki @sumzysworld @yoongoboongo0🌙 comment or dm to be added to the tag list!

One Day at a Time is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations or reposts allowed!

#namgi a/b/o #namgi smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #alpha namjoon #omega yoongi #bts a/b/o #bts smut #bts angst #fic: one day at a time

[hisunshiine]

—whims & inconsistencies | 6

→ posted: sept 30, 2022 → pairing: kim seokjin x poc!reader → genre/au: victorian era!au, pride&prejudice vibes, fluff, smut, angst → chapter rating: +18 / M for Mature → wordcount: 7.3k words → chapter warnings:  talks of the attack & wound treating, talks of sick father, argument, minor character death, angst!!  → credits: @hobeemin​ for the most amazing banner idea. @peachiilovesot7​ I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU, and @moonleeai​, you hype me up to the clouds! it makes me enjoy writing so much more because of the two of you and the feedback you provide. ♡ → an: i know i am supposed to be posting weekly, but seriously life gets in the way and i had a deadline for another story which i missed by 6 days :( but it’s now posted so i can focus back on whims!! and then, ya know, I lost my adhd meds and then the hurricane hit us, but yeah! we get through! only 1 chapter left after this one!!! can’t believe i’ve brought my mini series to life finally but i am so glad that i did!!

series masterlist   map of Sonyeondan taglist: @firesighgirl @jungshook7​ 

Seokjin stares at the door for longer than he intended after you disappeared through the frame and out of his house. It feels like your departure means more than just simply leaving; he feels like you’ve just walked out of his life.

Unable to continue sitting still, Seokjin plants his feet to the floor and stands up with purpose. Wasting no time, the man travels up to the second floor where the bedrooms are and enters his youngest brother’s bed chamber, but finds it empty. Seokjin had been busy doing work in the study when you arrived earlier, and he reckons that Taehyung must’ve left the house sometime when he was preoccupied.

He can’t confront his brother, so Seokjin does the next best thing. He begins searching Taehyung’s room, currently a chaotic mess as the maids have yet to tidy up after the young man, and all it takes is a lifting of the bed sheets that hang haphazardly off the bed frame. The curved shape is hard to miss, scuff marks and scratches layering the protective casing of your instrument, engraved nameplate near the clasp glinting in the soft light cast through the open curtains of Taehyung’s room. 

Seokjin’s mind swirls with the thoughts of what you shared with him compared to what he saw on your skin when he treated your wounds the same night you lost your violin. He replays as much as he can remember about that night. He remembers his brother leaving with his friends to go to the tavern, knowing that they were going to drink themselves into a stupor that was much the case every night since his father had fallen ill. 

He knows that once he left the house, he hadn’t walked far when he had heard what he now knows was your harsh breathing and quickened steps in your haste to get away from whatever—whoever—was chasing you. Seokjin remembers the fear in your eyes when you collided into him, as well as the instant relief once you realized it was him. He couldn’t possibly forget the way you reacted to his touch, or the way you leaned in to kiss him when he had swept your hair tenderly from your neck, remembers how a shutting door had the two of you jumping apart. 

That must have been Taehyung and his idiot friends getting home. As your attackers, they could not have been far behind you and Seokjin, and taking in that they must’ve been stumbling drunk and hurt in the dark of night…the timing of it all made too much sense. Especially with proof of your violin case right here in his room, held tightly in Seokjin’s paling hands.

Taehyung’s mind is a mess. He doesn’t understand his own feelings lately, doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to you like an adult. He knows he was wrong, but part of him just feels incapable of showing remorse right now. His father is dying, he can barely get through the day sober, and he’s just remembered all of the awful, heinous things he’s been doing since he found out about his father’s illness.

Taehyung hesitates on the well worn footpath, turning around to go back and apologize, but changes his mind, heading back down the road to turn off to go meet with Jungkook at Jimin’s house. After a few minutes of walking, he turns back around, shaking his head so hard that he’s sure that if anyone were to look out their window, they would think him mad. 

Maybe he is mad. He feels like he’s going crazy, like his life is no longer in his control, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. Maybe going to talk to you right now, after you so boldly cursed at him, after he sneered back at you, swallowing down the apology that was on the tip of his lips, is the wrong thing to do. Taehyung slows his walk, pausing on the road. He places both of his hands on the black iron fence bordering the Lee household, taking deep breaths as he tries his best to think through the murky hangover fog.

Taehyung hates this. He hates himself. He hates who he’s becoming, but he doesn’t know how to stop. Who could understand what he’s going through? It’s not fair that his father would get the least time with him, that he wouldn’t be able to be present for all of the things Taehyung wanted his father to be there for. Growing up, his father was always working, but did his best to make time for them, to impart his wisdom on his sons, but it wasn’t enough. His father wouldn’t be here to help him when he makes mistakes; already his father has no idea of the man Taehyung is becoming. He should have already stepped in and redirected him from this reckless path. Taehyung can’t stop the way his mind warps to blame his father for getting sick. Because if he wasn’t bed ridden and ill, if he hadn’t been unconscious the past few days, he surely wouldn’t have allowed this behavior to continue. 

Gathering his bravery, Taehyung decides to turn back and seek you out. His gait is quick, light on his feet as his determination to make things right leads him back to his own house. He expects you to still be inside with his eldest brother, so Taehyung plans to make a quick stop at his room to make sure he looks presentable. In his haste to meet with his friends, he hadn’t much cared for his personal hygiene.

Approaching his room, he sees that the door is ajar, which is not how he left it. He distinctly remembers closing it before leaving. Stepping closer, he sees Seokjin standing in the middle of the room, your violin case in his hands. Fear instantly shoots through Taehyung, and his defenses push out every apologetic thought he had. In a panic, he yells at his brother.

“Why are you in my room?! Get out!” Taehyung’s usually deep voice takes on a higher tone, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Antsy, he walks towards the elder, hands outstretched to take the violin back into his possession and hide it away from sight; the evidence of his transgressions is not something he is ready to face.

In his narrowed vision, he doesn’t see when Seokjin’s face turns from shock to rage, so he is unsuspecting when Seokjin lunges at him, tossing the case upon the disheveled bed sheets so his hands are free to latch onto him.

“Why did you do it?!” Seokjin just wants to understand; everyone in the town knows of Seokjin’s intentions towards you. Well, his previous intentions. He suspects that following his accusations and your level of hurt and upset there is not much left for the two of you. He doesn’t understand how someone he cares for and who likewise cares for him, his brother, could do something so egregious towards you, the woman with whom he had hoped to make a life with. Confused and hurt, Seokjin doesn’t realize he has Taehyung in a stronghold, shoved up against the dresser, which shakes from the sheer force with which Seokjin threw him into it.

“Listen, Seokjin, I don’t know why—”

“You don’t know?” Seokjin grasps Taehyung by his shirt collar, pulling him closer to him almost in desperation of wanting to understand his motives. Seokjin’s voice is loud now. “Whatever do you mean, you do not know?! One does not simply go around attacking the person that their brother loves—”

Anger taking over him, Seokjin tightens his grip and turns Taehyung to the left, backing him against the wall as he shakes with anger.

“I was drunk! I-I promise you, I feel like shit about it, and I admit, I crossed a line. I regret—”

“Oh, it’s quite easy to be remorseful now that you’ve been caught in a lie, isn’t it?!” Seokjin screams, spittle flying from his mouth as his face turns red in anger. His hair flops around his head, like a crazed halo moving with him. “Just tell me why you lied to me…why did you lie about YN?”

Buried within the volume of Seokjin’s voice, Taehyung can hear how desperate his brother is for answers, a desperation for answers he does not have, and he tries again to explain.

“I don’t know why, I guess I panicked—”

“That’s not good enough!” Seokjin roughly shoves Taehyung into the wall, letting go of his shirt before rearing back his right arm and landing a punch to Taehyung’s face. Taehyung reacts quickly, rushing at Seokjin to wrap his arms around his waist. Seokjin knees Taehyung in the stomach where he’s folded over, and throws another punch at his head where it’s buried near his waist.

Taehyung groans in pain, knees crashing into the ground as his grip loosens from Seokjin’s middle. Seokjin can’t stand to hear his brother’s voice weakly repeating “I don’t know why I did it,” and he takes advantage as Taehyung crumbles to his knees, shoving him backward. His legs fall to either side of Taehyung’s torso; Seokjin lands blow after blow to Taehyung’s body as he curls into himself. 

Namjoon hears yelling, but he is slow to rise from his desk until he hears the sounds of things breaking and a cacophony of blows and begging. Leaving his bedroom in a blur, the sounds of fists making contact with skin and muffled words said in anger grow closer. Running down the hall, Namjoon almost doesn’t believe the sight before him. Taehyung’s room is more disheveled than usual; his vanity dresser is skewed off the wall and belongings lie scattered on the floor. 

Next to the items is Taehyung, who has his arms up by his face to protect himself from Seokjin, who’s fists move in a malicious flurry to try and land as many blows as possible. Namjoon can see that Taehyung is bleeding, and Seokjin’s knuckles are stained with blood. Rushing into the room, Namjoon grabs Seokjin from under his arms, pulling him off of his youngest sibling.  

“No! Namjoon, let me go! He deserves it! Let me go!”

Namjoon doesn’t listen, dragging Seokjin to the corner of the room after some struggle. Namjoon gets in front of Seokjin, using the breaking of eye contact from his prey to help allow Seokjin the chance to clear his mind and regain control of his actions, albeit Namjoon can tell the anger is still there, bubbling just underneath the surface.

“Get him out of my sight,” Seokjin spits venomously, and Namjoon moves quickly towards Taehyung, lifting the crumpled and bloodied man into his arms before he carries him out of the room.

Seokjin sits by himself in the drawing room, an overstuffed armchair positioned earlier in front of the window so that he could watch the sun make its fiery descent while he thinks. Despite it being hours since the sun has set, his tumultuous thought process has yet to aid him in  wrapping his head around the conundrum that is this most derelict relationship with you. He is aware of the role he played in it being in such a state of disrepair, and tries to understand why you chose not to be upfront about what occurred, but he also wishes you had just been honest with him from the moment he found you in the street. 

The logical part of him knows that it probably wouldn’t have helped much; the end result would most likely have been the same. Seokjin is fairly certain he would have gone after Taehyung as soon as he came home, and that you and he would still be in the same predicament, because how could Seokjin, knowing that his brother hurt you so terribly, bring you into his family where you would have to see your attacker all the time? People would surely talk if they were to see Taehyung in a broken state, and the gossip would do more harm to you and to his family’s reputation as high ranking government officials. No, this was the unfortunate outcome no matter which way Seokjin tries to spin the occurrence in his head.

A heavy knock interrupts his thoughts, but the door swings open with urgency before he can respond. 

“It’s Father,” Namjoon says with sorrow in his eyes, “the doctor is working on him, but doesn’t think he will last the night.” Namjoon is gone from the doorway before the words finish reaching Seokjin’s ears.

Seokjin stands quickly and rushes after Namjoon, following him into the darkened corridor and down towards their father’s room.

Once he enters, he sees the doctor with several women aids surrounding the bed. They murmur quitely to each other while his mother stands off to the side of the room near the curtained window, one arm wrapped around her stomach while the other’s elbow rests on the crook of the arm, hand covering her mouth as tears stream down her cheeks.

Seokjin rushes to her side, and she pulls him into a hug.

“He was—he was talking to me, saying that he felt dizzy all of a sudden, and then he just—” her tears begin to drown her face and she can no longer speak. Seeking her son’s comfort, she buries her face into his sturdy chest, and he does the only thing he can; he holds her tightly until she is able to gather herself. It is during this time that the doctor is able to get his father resting comfortably, pulling Seokjin into the corridor to tell him the news.

“Your father is alive, but I do not think he will survive to tomorrow’s sunrise. He appears to be suffering from an ailment we believe is apoplexy. He has lost consciousness, and we do not believe he will regain it. It is best for the family to keep him company tonight to aid in his passing from this world.” The doctor placed his weathered hand on Seokjin’s shoulder before stepping back into the room to gather his kit and aids.

Once the house is empty of all visitors, Seokjin insists that his mother go and rest, promising to call her in if anything changes. He sends Namjoon to make sure the servants prepare a light meal for his family to eat, telling him to allow the servants to make themselves a meal as well, for it was to be a long, melancholy night.

The shadows grow long as night continues to grow deeper, candle flames flickering as the door to the room creaks open slowly. Namjoon is asleep, curled up on a small chair he dragged into the room as their mother sleeps on the loveseat near their father. Seokjin looks to the door, where he’s sat across from at a narrow table, his deep brown eyes taking in the sight of the youngest’s unruly mop of hair peeking through. His hand throbs at the sight of his brother, the reminder of the reason his knuckles are wrapped in bandages.

“Any news?”

Taehyung’s deep voice is low, but he inches into the room with a slight limp, one arm positioned across his chest with fabric tied around his torso to keep it in place. His face looks a bit better now that there is no longer blood covering his handsome features, but those same features are slightly disfigured from bruising. Now that his face has been cleaned up, Seokjin notices some split skin in various places: his brow, his lip, and above his nose.

“He still breathes, but it grows shallower by the minute,” Seokjin answers, his voice full of grief. Taehyung ventures forth into the room towards the only available seat left, joining Seokjin at the narrow table and collapsing into the chair next to him. Seokjin eyes him warily, but neither feels vengeful anymore, just tired. The two sit in silence for a quarter hour before Taeyhung works up the courage to speak.

“I-I wish I could explain it to you.”

Seokjin glances away from their father to look at Taehyung. He can see the young man is serious, and sober, which is a rare sight these days. His own voice is a quiet response, the two of them trying to not disturb those slumbering in the room.

“I wish more than anything that you could too. It seems that I have lost the only woman that I wanted to spend my life with in the matter of seconds it took for you to cast your lies.”

“It was not my intent, brother, you must believe me.”

“Then why did it happen? Why her? You knew how I felt about her, right? You must have known!” His whisper is harsh, his desperation to understand his brother’s actions lacing each syllable.

“Because that’s what people do when their dad is dying!” Taehyung’s voice breaks as his eyes quickly release the pent up tears. He takes several breaths to calm himself down as Seokjin waits patiently for him to continue. “Ever since they told us Father was dying, I’ve been…drinking a lot more than usual to deal with the way the thought of losing him makes me feel. I’ve been mad at the world, and I hate that feeling more than anything, because this is the same world that gave me such a wonderful father. And I feel confused by that because how can I hate it and love it at the same time?”

He gently wipes at his face with his good arm, careful of his cuts and bruises.

“How can I hate our father for leaving us, when I love him so?” he adds quietly, almost as an afterthought. 

“When I saw YN with Min Yoongi, I honestly thought she may have been leading you on. Drinking numbs the pain, but it also riles my anger, and I just…I wanted someone else to hurt instead. I just wanted it to not be me for a moment. I wasn’t in my rational mind. I feel I’ve been drunk for the past few months. There hasn’t been a day that I’ve woken up sober or without a headache.”

“It’s not good Taehyung. Father did not choose to leave us. It is not but what he was dealt in this world. It is not for us to tempt fate or take matters into our own hands just because we too hurt. He is in pain everyday as well.”

Taehyung nods.

“I know, that’s what makes it so maddening. He would trade everything for more time with us even if it meant his suffering would continue, and yet I can’t help but to be mad at him for being ill.”

Reaching for his younger brother's free hand, he holds it tightly within his own hand, trying to transfer some semblance of comfort.

“You are not alone in going through this. We are all here for you to lean on, use us instead of the drink. It has brought you nothing but misery and pain.”

“It is my actions, not the drink, that has brought me misery and pain. I must stop making excuses. I have thought about this all day, with my mind clear, and it is not wise for me to continue on in this way. Father…he wouldn’t be proud of me right now. I know I’m not.”

Seokjin is proud to see Taehyung behaving so much like his former self. Their father raised them to be noble and chivalrous gentlemen, but it has been many months since that side of Taehyung has shown itself.

As if he had been waiting for this moment of clarity and forgiveness between his eldest and youngest sons, their father takes one last shaky inhale before releasing his last breath. The room grows quiet, the two brothers eerily aware of the passing of their father. It is a strange feeling, to know that one has gone from the world, and yet, the two brothers wait, willing their hearts not to break in the hope that they will hear his labored breath draw once again; it never comes. In that moment, Taehyung feels a sense of duty, to clean his slate and become the man his father raised him to be, while Seokjin feels the burden of being the oldest and the duty of being the new Lord of the house settles itself around him, his shoulders sagging a bit at the weight. With a deep breath he raises his head to bear the responsibility, knowing his father trained him well to carry it atop his broad shoulders with the balance and grace of a leader.

Their father’s funeral is held several days later, after the customary waiting period to make sure that their father was well and truly passed on. The body was then removed by an undertaker for embalming before it was brought back to be laid out by the local women who help with such matters. The formal room is set up to display all of the best possessions, finest furniture, and the casket all three brothers had helped with building, in which their father now lay. 

You had first heard word of Lord Kim’s passing the morning after you had stormed from Seokjin’s residence, a letter being delivered to the Jung’s during brunch to alert the family to the head-of-household’s passing. Hoseok instantly went into “friend mode”, making sure to have the servants deliver food to the family. Such a loss is often felt by the servants and maids as well, and Hoseok did not want them to bear the weight of loss while also trying to maintain their duties and sense of normalcy so soon. 

“Everyone in the home deserves the chance to grieve,” he had said when Jiwoo questioned his motives. You and Jiwoo take the carriage into the Citadel Market, gathering flowers, twine, and other items to create a mourning wreath for the family to place on their door. It is sent over by the servants, part of you glad to be able to continue to avoid the Kim family after everything that’s transpired.

Your luck of evading them comes to an end however, when the five of you dress in black to attend the funeral at the Kim manor. Hidden between the two Jung siblings, you walk inside solemnly behind another family who greets Widow Kim in the hallway leading into the formal room. You separate from Hoseok’s parents and make a beeline for Namjoon, who stands off to the side near the large windows that look out at the street.

“Joonie?” 

His head turns to you fast, and you’re sure his neck cracks slightly. His eyes are watery, but his voice is steady as he focuses on you.

“YN, thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Joonie. I’m so sorry for your loss. I know nothing I say will help, but I’m here for you if you need me.” 

Namjoon nods, more than aware that if anyone in the room knows what it’s like to lose a parent, it’s you. Stepping closer, he envelops you in a hug, one that surrounds you with his crisp scent of woodsy warmth. You hold him tightly, letting him release a few tears onto your shoulder. He sniffles, pulling himself back together before lifting his face. 

“Thank you, YN.” Namjoon appears to hesitate, his mouth opening and you can see as he wages a battle within himself before speaking once more. “I wanted to say sorry to you as well, for, you know. Taehyung.” He lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck in avoidance of making eye contact with you.

“Namjoon, you know you don’t have to apologize for him.”

“He’s my brother, of course I do.”

“No, you don’t. We’re best friends, and I would never blame you for something he did.”

You embrace Namjoon once again, relieved to know that you did not have to retell the story to him, though you wonder which brother told him what happened and just how much.

Hoseok and Jiwoo join you a moment later, offering their condolences to Namjoon, and your eyes scan the room, searching for the one who broke your heart. Instead, your eyes land on the youngest Kim, looking a little—a lot—worse for wear. A black piece of folded fabric wraps his upper body, pressing his left arm to his body, and a bandage peeks out from the sleeves of his shirt. His split lip looks like it’s mostly healed, but you can see some slight bruising fading from his typically flawless skin.

“YN.”

His voice startles you, your gaze traveling from youngest to oldest as he commands your attention. 

“Seokjin, I am truly sorry for your loss.” You keep a demure tone, despite the way standing so close to him with heated eye contact makes you feel.

“Thank you, YN. It means a lot to me that you came.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss this. I know how much your father meant to you, and to your brothers.” 

Seokjin can’t seem to take his eyes off of you, his pupils moving back and forth across your face, taking you in: the shape of your doe eyes and the golden flecks sparkling throughout them, the plumpness of your lips, the way your skin looks bronze in the sunlight streaming through the window. He wants to hold you, wants to wrap you in his arms and have you comfort him in that way only a lover can, but there’s still too much unsaid between the two of you. Too much hurt still lingers in the aftermath of your situation. 

“YN, I would like to speak to you, in private. If I may have a moment, I would appreciate you stepping across the hall with me.”

Looking around the room, you see that most everyone is engaged in conversation, not paying the least bit of attention to you and Seokjin. With a nod, you allow him to take your hand and follow him through the door, exiting back into the main hallway and across the way where the dining room is located. You realize his hand is wrapped in black bandaging, the rough material harsh against your soft palm, and notice that the wrappings are similar to what his youngest brother has on his injuries. You assume this is how Namjoon was aware of what happened.

The dining room is abandoned when you walk in, and Seokjin turns to close the double doors so that you can be alone. The sound of a dragging footstep causes you to spin around, and you find yourself standing in the room with Taehyung, who holds your violin case in his good arm. 

“I wasn’t sure that you would meet with me if I asked you.”

“Well, you had that quite correct.” You move to leave, but his voice cuts through the silence, pleading.

“Please, YN…I want to apologize. I didn’t deal well with my Father getting sick, and I know that that is no excuse, but it is the reason that I lost control that night. I was angry, life felt unfair, and I know I shouldn’t have, but I took my anger out on you.”

He steps forward, and you have to will yourself not to flinch away from him. You know that Seokjin is there if you need him to protect you, but something in Taehyung’s eyes makes you trust him. As if you’re finally seeing the real Kim Taehyung, and not the drunk, mind-addled version who has been the one to greet you every time something bad happens. You think about what they just went through as a family. You may have lost your parents, but you didn’t have to watch them suffer for months on end until they left you. You didn’t have to have them halfway there, knowing they couldn’t give you 100% of themselves. In a way, you’re lucky. 

“I just wanted you to know how sorry I am, for scaring you, for hurting you…for everything. I hope that one day you can forgive me of my trespasses.”

You nod slowly, overcome from the thoughts of losing your parents, grief resurfacing years later as you are a witness to their pain. 

“Yes, Taehyung, I think one day I could forgive you.”

He nods solemnly, placing the violin case on the dining table, before swiping at his unshed tears clumsily and silently leaving you and Seokjin alone. 

“So, you must have come to the conclusion that I know the truth. Your truth. I, too, owe you an apology for accusing you of lying to me before even giving you the chance to explain, and for everything that I said to you, I didn’t mean them. I was, to put it plainly—angry.”

“Do you have a habit of saying things you do not mean when angry?” You don’t mean to come across so brash, but your emotions feel all over the place and you have no patience left for the man you had thought you could love.

“No, I do not make it a habit, but I am only human, YN. I was angry, confused by what I was being told, and hurt.”

“I, too, was angry and confused as I was being accused of being a harlot by you. I had come to you to confess my feelings, just for you to trample all over them. You destroyed me, Seokjin—”

“No, please, YN, you must understand. I don’t want to give up on us, I still want you—”

“That may be true, but right now, I can’t do this, Seokjin. You have no idea the way you destroyed every ounce of trust I had, not only in you, but in us. In our ability to come to one another in doubt and listen openly without judgment. I want a partnership, but what I saw that day was not that.”

“I know, and I am sorry, YN…what can I do to make this right?”

Staring at the man who held your heart and tore it into pieces, you can’t be sure he won’t do it again. That he won’t not believe you again. Just the thought of experiencing something even remotely similar triggers your tears. You remain stoic as they fall, knowing what you need to do.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. I think a part of me will always want you—know that we could’ve loved each other for the rest of our lives. That part of me will always resent myself for this, but…I think the best thing for us both right now is to end our courtship.”

“End it? But what of our future? What of me and you—of us?”

Us. So he has dreamed of it too, a beautiful future with you as his and he as yours. Belonging only to each other in a way that you had already almost given in to. Your response is resigned, holding no malice but also no warmth.

“There can be no ‘us’ right now, don’t you understand? What we were is now broken, and I am not sure if it can be fixed.”

Taking a deep breath, you give him one last glance, hoping to memorize his handsome face before he becomes a distant memory to you—with time, you pray.

“I shall take my leave now, Lord Kim.”

Seokjin can do nothing but watch you as you walk towards the double doors, exiting back to the funeral with your slightly damaged violin case in your hands. Seokjin is left feeling the traces of an empty home as you walk out of the dining room. Without his father to talk to for advice and the love of his life walking out of it, he’s overtaken by a deep sense of sorrow and longing for everything he has lost in his young life.  

Whirlwind. That’s the only way to describe the past two weeks that you’ve experienced. Planning for you and Jiwoo’s debut ball normally would not need so much effort from you, but what better than party planning to take your mind off of a little thing called heartbreak? Minuscule pieces of fabrics that had layered the floor in the formal room, where you all had taken over as command center for the planning were now gone, returned to its glory. 

Mrs. Jung, ever the lovely hostess, is excited as she watches the tailor fit you into your dress. It is of a similar style as the others who have debuted this season, short sleeves and the traditional color of white with a low neckline. You spin in the large mirror, eyeing the way the embroidered butterflies glitter when the beaded parts hit the lights. 

“You look celestial, YN. Quite the image of a seraph. I am so jealous.” Jiwoo stands next to you in a dress the same color but with a different design, sakura blooms weaving up and down the garment, leading to a light pink ombre bottom as if the fallen petals had gathered at the hem.

“Jiwoo, you look divine! The picture of femininity. Your dress is exquisite, and the sakura blossoms send the message ‘best try your hardest for my hand, or I’ll be gone as fast as the sakura blooms’. I do hope you find your suitor tonight.” 

You slide your hands into the long white gloves the maids proffer to you, sharing a soft smile with Jiwoo.

“Oh, YN…I hope you do too.” Jiwoo’s voice is soft like her smile, knowing that you were not yet ready to move on from Seokjin but it was what you must do. Debut season was upon you, after all. Mrs. Jung leaves to check on the main hall where the party will be held and you sit calmly while the last of your hair and makeup is touched up. 

The sun has finished setting, and your stomach flutters with anxiety as the moment of your entrance grows closer. Jiwoo stands near the doorway, ready for this moment. She will walk out first as she is older than you by a year, and once she descends the steps into the hall, you will do the same. This gives you just enough time to bask in the applause before the dance. The dance.

The dance which you had forgotten about, had forgotten to tell Mrs. Jung that you had broken off your courtship with Seokjin and that you would like a replacement, so far as to even think of Hoseok to be the one to escort you from the stairwell to the dancefloor—it was too late now. Jiwoo disappears into the hallway as you hear the butler begin to read off the introduction paragraph as she descends, music playing in the background of her grand entrance. 

In your haste to throw yourself into planning and avoiding heartache, you didn’t even mention what had happened, wanting to wait until after the ball to talk to the Jung’s, forgetting this small tidbit that no one reviewed because the plan had been in place since talks started before everything fell apart and now…now you had no way of knowing if Seokjin was even in attendance tonight, hidden off upstairs in the formal room as you were.

You walk to the door on autopilot as the maids lead you to where you will start once you are announced. The few faces at the base of the slightly curving stairwell are but a blur as you hear your name proclaimed loudly. 

“Presenting, Miss YN LN!” You step into full view of the audience and begin the descent as the music swells from the quartet, just subtle enough that the butler can be heard from where he speaks on a small raised platform over the crowd.

“Miss YN LN is the daughter of the late Mr. & Mrs. LN from Sonyeondan. YN is a graduate from the Music Conservatory of Seoul. She honors her late father, a tradesman, by being one of the first women graduates from the conservatory as a principal violinist. YN is sponsored by the Jungs of Sonyeondan. YN will share her first dance with…”

You barely hear the words as the ground floor grows closer to your feet, dizzy as you realize that you had left the name blank because you were going to ask about Hoseok but then completely shut your mind to even thinking about Seokjin, which meant your head and heart didn’t bear think about this moment prior to now, and the silence grows as the butler glances at the base of the stairwell, unsure which of the men lined up to watch your debut is the person escorting you for your first dance. 

He coughs to cover the faux paux of pausing at such an embarrassing moment he knows this must be for you, and repeats the last line one more time. You panic, head turning left and right, searching for Hoseok or Yoongi, Namjoon even, just someone to be your escort as the voice bellows louder. Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears, palms starting to dampen the silk of the gloves that encompass your hands. For a few seconds you regret your debut, regret choosing to be in the spotlight with Jiwoo instead of being the wallflower—

“YN will share her first dance with—”

You don’t hear the name he says, because through the blur of the faces, one becomes clear to you as it always has been since you first set sight on him. You would recognize the warmth of his hand even on your deathbed, would know those almond-shaped monolids in the richest shades of brown, so amiable and inviting…

“—Lord Kim Seokjin, son of the late lord and widowed Kim of Sonyeondan.”

The volume in the room turns back up to full blast as you walk gloved arm in arm with Seokjin towards the middle of the floor where Jiwoo stands with Jackson, one of the training lawyers in town. The music swells as the applause dies down, and you are pulled into Seokjin’s arms to begin waltzing. As the two of you revolve around the room, rhythmically swaying in the arms of your former lover, you can’t help but to reminisce on what almost was. 

“You look…breathtaking, YN. Absolutely breathtaking,” Seokjin intones lowly. You stumble slightly, but his hands do not let you fall for long, pulling you back into the rhythm easily, as if his hands were meant to guide your path.

“Thank you, Lord Kim.”

“Please,” he grimaces out, “you need not be so formal with me.”

“I’m just not…I’m still trying to wrap my head around—” you meet his eyes meekly in a moment of weakness then turn away. “I think being formal with you is for the best. I don’t want to confuse myself.”

“You mean you don’t want to confuse me, YN. Let’s not pretend that the reason that we are apart is by your choice.”

“Let us also not pretend, Lord Kim, that the reason that choice was made was because—” you pause, not wanting to rehash the second worst experience of your life. “Placing blame at this point does nothing to help the situation. It provides not one solution. Only harbors resentment.”

“Just answer me this, YN. Have I lost you forevermore?”

You remain silent, thinking over his words. Has he lost you? As you take your last twirl in his arms, you step into his space. 

“I am not sure if I ever was truly yours, or just someone you enjoyed passing time with.”

And with those last words you walk away to greet your guests with the Jungs. 

You’ve been introduced to and kissed many cheeks and despite only having danced a few times, your feet ache. You make an effort to enjoy yourself, despite the bittersweet start to your night, and the thoughts of longing to send everyone home fade to a dull, fleeting thought that only pulses when you catch Seokjin around the room. 

You look up and see Seokjin standing at the refreshments table, his mother introducing a beautiful girl to him, one who looks more like him and less like a foreigner like you do. The pangs in your chest when Seokjin dances with other young women who look so much more suited to be in his arms lodge themselves sharply inside you, and you feel a small glimmer of ‘I told you so’ for your choice to walk away from him. A small triumphant part that says you made the right choice. It saddens you of course, but you understand: he’s a lord and you’re the exotic orphan. 

The week following your debut only brings a bitter quiet, as the Jung residence has not received any visits from potential suitors looking to court you. Jiwoo has had quite a few men present themselves to her, including the lawyer, Jackson, which makes you feel okay about not having any; she occupies the space enough for the both of you. 

All week you practice with your two best friends, arriving early and begging them to stay late. You always make sure one of them walks you home, or that Hoseok comes to retrieve you, never wanting to be alone after the sun leaves the sky. You stay up late practicing, and in your determined state, end up sleeping in. 

You take your time in the morning to get ready before leisurely heading to the practice hall, walking silently into the echoing room where both Yoongi and Namjoon were set up and waiting for you, talking casually.

“I am not looking forward to the engagement party. Seokjin asked me to compose something for it, but I don’t even know this girl, and part of me feels like I can’t do that to YN, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s tough. How are you supposed to compose a love song for your brother and this girl you’ve met all of once, and you’ve never seen them interact enough to know what their love even sounds like?”

You set your violin case down louder than usual and the two men turn to you, jumping slightly as if caught.

“YN, hey, you made it.”

“What are we working on today? You said something about a new song?”

Namjoon’s face scrunches in distaste at being caught talking about Seokjin and his betrothed. “Oh, no, that’s something else I might work on…haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s okay, Namjoon. I can help you if you need someone to play what you compose so you can hear it.”

Namjoon shakes his head.

“No, YN, I couldn’t have you do that. Plus, it would sway how it sounds…it would sound too much like what I had already started working on for you—”

Yoongi punches Namjoon in the gut, causing the tall man to hunch forward in pain. 

“Shut up. Let’s get to practice.”

Hearing the news that Seokjin was engaged was like feeling a permanent injury to your bow hand, or being told you would never be able to hear music again. Knowing that your best friends had already secretly begun working on a song for you and Seokjin was that feeling times ten. It only solidified the fact that you were not the only person who viewed you and Seokjin as a couple. As an us. You didn’t know how much heartache one could handle before they gave up on love all together, but you had to be close.   

You place the sheet music on the stand with shaky hands, positioning yourself closer to Yoongi so that you two could begin playing the melancholy song that Namjoon had written for his father passing. [https://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/media-player.jsp?&type=audio&productID=10047964] It was full of grief, but interlaced with long sweeping notes that swell in volume and by the end, you know that listeners would have tears in their eyes. 

Once practice ends, the two men praise your playing, citing how well you seem to capture the essence of grief within the song.  

Back home and alone in your room, you release the tears you held back while practicing, realizing how much your heart still wants to be with Seokjin, feeling the loss of him through your chest in sharp pains as you cry yourself to sleep.

end note: I realized that in my world building, I did not adequately explain how debuting, courting, engagements, etc. work in the Whims & Inconsistencies series! So I will be delivering a surprise later today ft. a side character that touches base on this in a way that I hope is easy fun and makes up for the time i’ve been away...thanks to the hurricane i finished it in one day. keep your eyes peeled!! ♡ 

series masterlist —thank you for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!! please let me know what you think of this story!

© hisunshiine 2022. All rights reserved.

#bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #bangtanbathhouse #clubzerooclock #ksmutclub #bangtanwhq #bts imagines #bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #hisunshiine writings #jin x reader #jin smut #jin fluff #jin angst #jin au #jin writings #jin fic #jin fanfiction

[colormepurplex2]

get to know me

Thanks for the tag @7deadlysinsfics 💜 !

1. Are you named after anyone? Yes. I was named after one of my mom’s third grade best friends. Fun fact: I was almost named Dia, which was her other best friend’s name.

2. When was the last time you cried? Oh boy. Maybe a week ago. I don’t remember the exact day but I know the moment, getting my kiddo ready for bed and they had a meltdown over brushing their teeth. It had been a long day and I was emotionally at the end of my rope so I silently cried while brushing the teeth of a thrashing and screaming toddler. Fun times.

3. Do you have kids? Just the one, mentioned above.

4. Do you use sarcasm? Who me? Never.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about a person? Physically? Their eyes. Otherwise? The way they carry themselves. You can tell a lot about a person through body language.

6. What’s your eye colour? They’re dark blue around the edges, a greeny-blue in the center, with orange around my pupil. But, they lean more blue at first glance so I always just say I have blue-ish eyes.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? I want to be too scared to go to bed. But I’m also a soft little bitch sometimes and am still scared of the dark so take that how you will.

8. Any special talents? I’m musically inclined and can play 7 different instruments. Otherwise, I’m a dud.

9. What are your hobbies? Art of any kind. I really like to do digital art and write. I’m a pretty avid PC gamer, too. Cooking, traveling, reading.

10. Where were you born? Bavaria, Germany.

11. Do you have any pets? For the first time in my entire life, I’m kind of petless. I technically have 3 cats, but they weren’t allowed to travel to Japan with us when we moved here last year. I hope to be reunited with them in a few years when we move again.

12. What sports do you play / have you played? Not really a sporty person. I did marching band for 8 years…does that count?

13. Dream job? Anything in brand and marketing media. Kind of a sad fact, I did have my dream job a few years ago but had to give it up due to the pandemic and having my daughter in 2020. I was a media, marketing, and merchandising specialist for the entire north west district of a large retailer. I essentially made the graphics and any in-house brand media for events and day-to-day use. I still do freelance work, but I want to get back in with a company or brand.

14. Favourite subject in school? Math, oddly enough. Unless it was geometry, then no thanks. Also pretty partial to science.

15. How tall are you? 5’3”

No pressure, tagging @cherrysoulth @joonslfttiddie @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai Please ignore if you’ve already done this 👀💜😅

#tag game #get to know me #learn with Leah

[ffion451]

This is so random but where do you store your writing (i.e. google docs, notes???) I love your stories and i CAN'T wait for the next chapter where I DIE and resurrect :)

It’s a good question! I am terrified that I’ll lose everything so I always work somewhere where it autosaves. Usually I write in Pages on my iPad but I often export to Google docs or Word if a lovely person beta reads for me.

In TMI that nobody asked for, I like to write in an old squidgy armchair that I kind of fold myself into and then balance my iPad and its tiny little bt keyboard on a little tray in my lap. It is a bit awkward but it is now The Writing Chair™ and I am compelled (by my own irritating brain) to write there.

Chapter 13 is coming soon I promise. I have re-read it so many times, edited it and some superb writers @moonleeai and @cherrysoulth have given me feedback so it’s all ready to go except for one little smut scene that for some reason is giving me trouble 👿 I intend to get that out of the way sometime today though and will post soon after!

I am so glad you’re excited for it! Thanks for reading and I hope dearly that it doesn’t disappoint 💛

(EDIT: It’s out now)

#lovely anon #writer things #there I go AGAIN sharing things nobody asked for #patient readers #thanks for tolerating my weirdness #ffion rambles on #kick up the fire and let the flames break loose

[moonleeai]

Amber Confetti

Written for @bangtanwritershq Falling Together event

⟢ Jungkook x female reader ⟢ Word Count: 3.5k ⟢ Genres: Second chance ⟢ Warnings: cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, unprotected penetration, smut, misunderstanding, sickly sweet!

Thank you Jasz and @queentiti72 for beta reading!

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The summer heat was finally coming to an end; the days are still warm and balmy and the nights are just brisk enough for a light sweater. You love the cooler weather but autumn always reminds you of him. You haven’t seen him for almost two years, yet somehow you can still smell him when the weather shifts. He habitually changed scents during seasons, going from a woody, summer coconut to a fresh, citrusy spice. Just like the cozy, autumn air that clings to your skin, you can still feel his embrace during those lazy days when the cool air would blow through the apartment windows. 

Your relationship just wasn’t at the right time; he was always tired, never wanting to leave the apartment, and always busy with work. The few days he had off would be spent aimlessly scrolling social media, or catching up with friends. It slowly caused a rift that eventually pushed you away. You never stopped loving him though. He was a sweet person and very affectionate when he took the time to shower you with attention. He just couldn’t balance it all. You never faulted him, instead you blamed the universe, and maybe in another time it could've worked. The relationship ended and you both parted ways on bittersweet terms.

September is the month of cosmos flowers and today you were treating yourself to a stroll through Olympic Park. You slip into a denim blue, button-up blouse half tucked into a long flowy white skirt with blue dalmation print. Finishing the look with white low top sneakers and a cross-body clutch, you head to the train station.

The orange cosmos and pink muhly grass were in bloom and you need to give your eyes a break from all the computer work you’ve been doing. The trails twist and turn along streams and ponds then through fields of colorful flowers and tall grass. You take in all the beauty, snapping pictures here and there, then walk through the center of the pink grass to get the perfect selfie. Finally away from all the tourists, you reach a spot with no one around, you take a deep breath in through your nose and catch the light scent of freshly mowed hay. With your nose in the air you take a few steps forward then you stumble into something and fall to the ground on your hands and knees. Suddenly the aroma strongly changes to something familiar—fresh citrusy spice. You look back to see what you tripped over and there he is staring right back at you, mirroring your wide eyes and frozen in place.

“Jungkook?!” 

“YN?!” 

He quickly stands and grabs your wrist pulling you up onto your feet. You both wipe at your clothes, dusting any dirt off. 

“I’m so sorry, I knelt down to tie my shoe.” He reaches toward you and brushes your hair behind your ear.

You nod your head and ask, “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess. You?”

“Same.” You’re momentarily hypnotized. He’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes shine under the bucket hat he has on. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

“You remembered my birthday?”

“How could I forget?” Your stomach flips at his smile.

“Thank you. You look as gorgeous as I remember.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “You’re not too bad yourself, Jeon.”

“So, what brings you here?” He asks while blushing, never taking his eyes away from yours.

“I needed a break from work. I wanted to get here before the festival starts and brings in more crowds. What about you? It was never really your thing to come to these places.”

“I wanted to try something new.”

“That’s really good you’re doing new things for yourself– or someone?” Suddenly you feel uneasy at the possibility that he may be in a new relationship, doing the things you always begged him to do with you. 

“Myself. There is no one else. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I’m not.” You both fidget in place, your hands roaming to find something to hold, so you grab the strap of your purse and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think we could catch up? Get a coffee or something? I–I’ve changed, and I’d really like to talk with you.”

“My number hasn’t changed,” you say as you look down at your feet, hoping to hide your rosy cheeks. He pulls out his phone and sends you a text. 

“Now you have mine.” He smiles and gestures around to the field of muhly grass. “I came this far off the path to take a selfie.” He laughs.

“Yeah, me too. I guess no one else wants to walk this far.”

“Maybe we can take each other’s pictures?”

“Sure, why not.” You both pose and take photos for each other, surrounded by the beautiful pinkish-red tinted grass. 

“Do you maybe want to keep walking around, together?” he suggests after putting his phone away.

“I’d like that. What do you have left to see?” 

“I just got here, so everything.”

“Me too.” You look into his eyes and feel like you’re being pulled in by some type of force. Realizing you’re staring, you smile and look away while he chuckles. The attraction between you two is still very much there and you can’t help but wonder if the universe is helping you two find your way again, at the right time.

Continuing along the trails, you both take more photos with orange cosmos that look like pinwheels atop slender stems and silver grass of white and bronze ends weeping toward the ground. You take more pictures on a rainbow bridge, visit the museums, and a musical fountain before realizing you've been walking and talking for hours. 

“Are you hungry? I’d love to finish chatting and catching up with you over lunch,” he grabs your hands, “maybe even ice cream too?” Ice cream is your weakness. No matter how full, how sad, or how grumpy you are, ice cream is the answer.

“Lead the way, Jungkookie.” You both smile not only with your lips but your hearts and he holds his arm at an angle for you to snake your hand through the triangular hole, holding onto his bicep while you walk.

You’re sitting in a yakiniku cafe grilling meats and vegetables, catching up on the years and sometimes reminiscing on your past memories. He had some time off and he became aware of his loneliness. He worked hard as a journalist never having time for himself to enjoy life. He’s a little older now, and wiser, which made him reflect on the past and decide to make some changes. 

“So I told myself, I needed to go out and have fun and see things. The first thing that came to mind was the place you asked me for months to take you to,” he hangs his head in shame.

“Hey,” you reach out and grab his hand, “it’s okay. The past is the past. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” He grasps your hand.

“You have no idea how happy I am that I went today. I didn’t think I’d ever run into you again. It’s like–”

“The universe is giving us a second chance?” you chime in, hoping you’re on the same page.

“Exactly.” You both shyly smile and look at your hands, interlaced together as one.

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Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and soon it’s two months into being together again. Everything started out perfect, like a dream, it was as if Jungkook really did learn from the past and is making sure not to repeat his mistakes. He spends time with you, makes you a priority, and even enjoys fun, new experiences with you. 

Laying in his bed with sheets half covering your naked bodies, Jungkook says, “Stay the night. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but you can lock up when you leave. Or we can leave together, I’ll go in later.”

“But if you go in late, you’ll get home late,” you roll onto your side to face him.

“You tell me what you want and I’ll do it, YN,” he smiles and runs his hand softly over your arm.

“What if I said,” you lower your voice and prop yourself on your elbow to whisper in his ear, “I want to make you feel good all night.”

“I would say let’s get it!” he scrunches his nose and smiles, turning his body toward you but you place a hand on his shoulder and gently push him back to laying on his back.

He gasps softly when you graze over his thickening cock. Then whimpers when you wrap your fingers around, squeezing just a little, stroking just a bit. His hips rock as he lets out another mewl. You press your lips against his neck, “I love the pretty sounds you make as I build you up.”  His hands snake in your hair and he pulls you in for a kiss. He moans against your lips and you feel his body tremble against yours. You slide a leg across his thighs, taking your place in his lap. You squeeze his shaft and slide him into your wet core perfectly, sinking down until he’s deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck, YN.”

“Mmm you fill me so good, Jungkookie.” 

You roll your hips, savoring his soft groans. You lean onto his chest to meet his lips again, sliding to the tip and then back down in long smooth motions. Jungkook whines then cups your breasts as you sway above him, sucking your nipples hungrily. He runs his tongue over your swollen nubs then teases them between his teeth eliciting a sharp hiss from you.

“Am I making you feel good Kookie?”

“You have no idea. I’m about to fucking bust,” he pants into your breasts.

“Cum inside me, fill me with your love.” Jungkook holds your hips down as he thrusts up into you, the squelching sound bringing him to an end. You lick and bite his earlobe while moaning into his ear as he empties inside you.

“That. Was. Fucking. Amazing.” He holds onto you while guiding you over onto your back with his dick still inside you, “I’m going to kiss you until I’m hard again, and then fuck you like a good girl deserves. You we’re so fucking hot for that. Now it’s your turn to feel good.”

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Something changed and this week your emotions are all over the place. Jungkook canceled plans and didn’t have as much time for you, again. You didn’t want to address the elephant in the room but not doing so was slowly and silently eating away at your soul.

You were working from home today and decided to rest your eyes for just one minute but that minute lasted hours as you slept peacefully with the cool air drifting around the apartment. You wake up to gentle kisses along your bare thighs and his hand rubbing your legs.

“You’re here already? What time is it?” you ask while giving a small stretch and reaching for him. 

“It’s only 3 p.m. You weren’t answering your phone so I just let myself in.” He leans into your arms and rests his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair.

“Oh sorry. I ended up taking such a long nap. Did you get off work early?”

“No, I came over because you weren’t answering and– I have to tell you something.” 

“We’re not going to the lantern festival, are we?”

“I have a deadline that I really need to finish tonight.” Your hand stops at his words as he embraces you tighter.

“Jungkook.”

“I know. I’m so so sorry, I just–it’s a bad time right now with all the holidays and festivals coming up.”

Clearing your throat you repeat, “Bad time?” You move yourself enough to where he gets the hint and frees you from his hold. Now sitting up and facing each other you can talk. 

“You know what the holidays are like for me–for journalists.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to write about something after actually going and experiencing it?”

“Please, YN.” 

“Please what? You’ve canceled on me twice this week alone. It’s like we’re falling into the same pattern as last time. I can’t do that again. I can’t give you all of me and only get pieces of you.” 

“You know how important this season is, please, last chance. After tonight, it won’t happen again. I know it won’t.” He pleads while gripping your hands firm with his. 

“You can’t know that.” Your eyes fill with tears and you don’t even try to stop them. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

“YN, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. The lantern festival has another week left and–and there’s another place you wanted to go, what was it called?” He’s frantically trying to console you, his hands rubbing your arms then pulling you into a hug, trying to make right of the situation.

“Nami Island,” you respond flatly against his shoulder.

“Yeah, there. We’re going! I promise!” His voice is too cheery for the setting and mood he just evoked. Irritating your core, but you were tired of talking already.

“‘Kay. Sure.” 

“We’ll even get ice cream,” he tries to joke and lighten the mood.

You scoff and roll your eyes but can’t help but give a soft smile, “Whatever.”

“You’ll see, YN. You’ll see.” He continues patting your back with one hand and wiping away your tears with the other. Silently promising himself that this would be the last time he made you cry sad tears. 

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What you didn’t know was he was making plans. Being with you was everything he wanted after he did some self reflecting. He wasn’t going to mess it up again but the days he had to cancel on you, there was no way around it. The first day he canceled because the jeweler customizing something very special for you took way longer than expected and the rush order needed to be perfect. The second time was a rescheduled meeting with your brother and parents, getting approval for something very special. He took off work and had it set for the morning but your brother had to push it back, causing Jungkook to miss your planned adventure. The last time was because he got the call to pick up your rushed jewelry and the shop would be closing for two weeks. He had to pick it up and cancel on you so as to not ruin his grand plan. He’s disappointed in himself for all the misfortunes that happened but it wasn’t under his control and he can’t tell you, not yet. The universe brought you to him again and he surely wouldn’t mess it up ever again. He knew in his bones that you two were destined by fate.

Jungkook kept his promise and made sure you both made it to the lantern festival, together. He will never forget the way your eyes lit up during the parade at the hundreds of ornate paper lanterns, your favorite lantern being the big, colorful dragon with all its intricate details. The way your body swayed to the music and how you clapped for the folk dance performers that gave their heart and soul to the tradition.

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Nami Island; a place you haven’t visited since you were an adolescent with your family. You have beautiful memories here of various paths lined with sky-high trees, and a wooden riverside walking path with stunning views of the lake and surrounding mountains. 

“Jungkook! Let’s ride the couples bike!”

“Anything you want, YN.”

You both set off along the paths, feet perfectly in sync. As you pass pastures of sheep and alpaca you tell Jungkook the memories you have of them when you were younger. You stop at a faded red and teal temple perfectly nestled between tri-color leaves and take pictures. 

Jungkook pulls you into him, kissing your forehead, “I hope you’re happy, YN.”

You hum into his chest before saying, “I am, Jungkookie. I am.”

“Do you smell that?” he asks while sniffing the air like a curious puppy. 

You can’t help but giggle, “You’re going to love this, let’s go.”

You both hop back on the bike and head in the direction where the smell is coming from.  As it gets stronger, Jungkook’s mouth begins to water. 

“I smell gochujang! Please tell me we are going to eat whatever smells this good!”

You stop in front of a restaurant that mimics the temple you just saw. 

“Welcome to the infamous Nami Island Dakgalbi!” You stand in front of the sign like Vanna White. 

“You’re seriously the cutest woman I have ever met,” he wraps his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Jeon.” You poke him in the ribs and grab his hand, leading him into the restaurant. 

The perfect crisp weather dish, spicy chicken stir-fried with rice cake and vegetables, is delivered soon after being ordered. The gochujang hits your tongue and the spice stimulates your taste buds causing your mouth to tingle while the sweet flavor cools and soothes soon afterward. Jungkook talks about how the gummy rice cake and crunchy vegetables go together nicely with the sauce and you notice his eyebrows are furrowed, a sure sign he loves it. You want more of these moments with him, forever.

After lunch, Jungkook finds an ice cream shop and you split a flavor since it’s a little chilly and you’re both stuffed from the delicious dakgalbi. You sit on a bench around some cute animal statues to eat the ice cream. After a few bites, you shiver a little and he pulls off the flannel tied around his waist, placing it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks. I guess I should’ve brought a heavier outer layer,” you admit.

“Once we get moving, you’ll warm up again. Besides, I don’t need it. It was just to look cute for you.”

“You’re always cute, Jungkookie.” You take the cone and boop his nose with the ice cream. His jaw drops dramatically and eyes widen until his lips and cheeks rise into a deep smile. 

“You’ll pay for that!” he jokes playfully, lightly tickling your sides, causing the cone to go crashing to the ground. You both stare at it, then at each other and giggle. 

“Whoopsies! That was all your fault though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says playfully, “What’s next on our agenda?”

“My favorite tree path! To the Ginkgo Tree Lane!”

With each pedal of the bike, Jungkook’s heart beats faster. He couldn’t wait to get to your favorite place but more so he couldn’t wait to surprise you. He could slowly see the gold and brown colors ahead. 

“Let’s leave the bike here and stroll through the path on foot,” he suggested. You had no hesitation, already in awe of the beauty before you. Jungkook reaches for you and you walk hand in hand through nature. The prehistoric trees lined perfectly on either side of the walkway. Their bushy branches and fan-like leaves meet together above the path creating a tunnel over anything below. The optimal mixture of yellow and orange leaves above your heads and below your feet, crunching under each step.

“Can you believe these trees live for thousands of years?” 

“They symbolize longevity or something right?” 

“Are you trying to impress me, Jeon Jungkook?” You look at him and place your free hand over your heart.

“I may have read a s—sign or s—something,” his nerves take ahold of his vocal chords. 

“Are you cold? Take your flannel,” you suggest, moving to take the shirt off of you.

“No, no! I’m fine now.” 

“This place really is beautiful,” you say with your eyes attentively studying the textures and colors of the trees. Jungkook’s eyes are fixated on you though.

“Yes, you really are beautiful,” he replies.

You stop and look at him, “Not me silly, the view! Look at this place. It’s absolutely magical.” You spin around and pull Jungkook’s arms around your waist with your back toward him, “Breathtaking.” 

Jungkook takes his hands from around your waist and you shiver at the loss of connection. You turn to face him and he presses his lips to yours, placing both hands on either side of your jaw. Pulling away he says,  “YN, I love you more than I can put into words. I want to forever be on this ride of life with you and whatever our destination is,” he doesn’t break eye contact while simultaneously lowering to one knee, pulling out a small box, “I’m ready to start our new chapter.” 

“Jungkook!” you shriek and fall into his arms.

“Is that a yes?”

“I love you! Yes, yes! A hundred times, yes!” You sprinkle him with kisses all over his face. He giggles and grabs your hand to place the ring on your finger. He stands both of you up and places his forehead on yours. Your eyes on your newly adorned finger as he admires you.

As if the universe wanted to assure its presence, a soft breeze sweeps through the chestnut tree trunks, sending the vivid amber leaves swirling around you, giving off the appearance of celebration confetti.

#bangtanwritershq #moonleeai writes sometimes #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #bts jung jungkook #bangtanwhq #thebtswritersclub

[moonleeai]

Code Name: Gummy Bear

˚ʚ pairing: Asset!Namjoon x Agent!Reader ˚ʚ au/genre: Agent/Asset, soft smut ˚ʚ rating: MA ˚ʚ warnings: implied violence, blood, cursing, implied sexual acts ˚ʚ wc: 1262

˚ʚ Summary: You were hired for two things: to keep Kim Namjoon safe and content. What’s the harm in also giving in to what we wants…

˚ʚ Thank you to @downbad4yoongi for beta reading!

˚ʚ Part of the @bangtanwritershq September 2023 “Big Boys” flash fiction writing event

You were assigned to Kim Namjoon’s detail only three months ago. He’s been the most straightforward assignment by far; all you have to do is keep him safe and content. Three months ago, pretty boy was riding his bicycle in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed a horrific act under the Han River Bridge. The government can use his information, but the mafia wants to bury him—dead or alive.

The man may be muscular, but he’s more of a lover than a fighter, and you—well, you’re as badass as they come. You can take down men before they know what’s coming, leaving them bloodied and bruised, begging for mercy on their knees— if they survive your attack.

You learned everything about Namjoon reasonably quickly—he’s a talker. All he needs is art in any form and gummy bears. Your team is taking longer than expected to find the last few mafia members. Three months have passed, and Namjoon is getting restless; he keeps putting himself in dangerous situations.

Today, he snuck out to a museum as he sent you on an impossible task to purchase gummy bears and a rare art magazine. It took three vendors laughing in your face before you realized what he had planned.

You take a deep breath and pull out your encrypted phone, “Activate GPS on Gummy Bear.”

“Confirm identity,” a monotone voice says from the other line.

“Agent Daisy.” A code name you unwillingly earned to help ease the minds of your assignments; your deadly actions were intertwined with your persona, so your handler thought a flower code name would help. You hate it.

“Confirmed.” Within seconds, you have Namjoon’s location and hail a taxi to the site. Frustrated, you open the bag of elastic gelatin and rip the heads off the bears with your teeth.  

When you arrive at the closed museum, you can smell the trouble. With your phone guiding you to the basement, you hear men shouting and find Namjoon tied to a chair with a spotlight on him. You scan the space and find there are only three thugs. Easy. You pull your hair into a bun, zip up your jacket, and throw the hood over your head. You begin your walk toward them with your head down, the grocery bag making light rustling sounds at your side.

“Yah! Who are you? How’d you get down here?!” Yells one of the men. You continue your walk. “Are you dumb?” He continues trying to scare you as you pick up your pace. You stop just a few steps away, look at the man closest to you, and smugly smile while dropping the grocery bag.

“You boys have something of mine,” you flick your eyes to Namjoon and back to the man, “and I don’t play well with others.”

Before you knew it, all three men were knocked out cold, and your team was collecting the bodies —clean-up protocol. 

“What took you so long?” Namjoon scoffs.

“Next time…I’ll quit and leave you for the wolves.” You chide and get in the backseat of a black SUV waiting to take you and Namjoon back to the secure apartment. He likes it when you get mad, says it’s hot, which pisses you off even more. You sit in silence with a blank stare while Namjoon admires you candidly. He reaches out to grab your hand, but you stop him, “Touch me and I will break your fingers.” Namjoon draws his bottom lip between his teeth before smirking and averting his eyes out his window.

You walk through the apartment door like a hurricane. Shoes get hurled in opposite directions, and you throw the plastic bag of art magazines and half-eaten gummy bears onto the kitchen island as you make your way to the bathroom. 

Namjoon follows you like a puppy nipping at your heels. You start the shower and take your jacket off, tossing it forcefully to the ground. Namjoon’s eyes widen, “Shit! Are you okay!?” His eyes fixate on your white lace tank top, where blood stains a few places. You glance in the mirror at him standing behind you, innocent and sweet, undoubtedly concerned. 

“Yeah, Gummy Bear…it’s not my blood.” You turn to look at him as you remove your top, exposing your bare breasts. You watch his Adam's Apple bob as he swallows hard. “See, everything’s fine. I need a quick shower. You wanna watch?” you snicker. He rolls his eyes and walks away. “Coward!” You call out behind him and giggle as you step into the hotter-than-hell water.

Namjoon has never struggled with resisting you. Your lewd advances and constant showing of skin leave little to the imagination— and he has a wild one. One that has him dreaming of all the things he wants to do with you— if only he weren’t so nervous to open that door. For now, he has fun riling you up and getting reactions, although he never intended for you to get hurt in the process.

Freshly showered, you slip on a baggy t-shirt and go to the living room, where Namjoon reads a magazine and eats gummy bears. He’s lying with one leg flung over the back of the couch, so you plop down by his crotch, throwing your legs over his one leg stretching on the couch seats, and close your eyes. Namjoon quickly sits up, seeming uncomfortable with your proximity. You put a hand on his chest to stop him from moving.

“Relax, Gummy Bear. I need to recharge, and this is so you can’t escape me.”

Namjoon lets out his unknowingly held breath, “Your lip…it’s…”

You curl your lip inward and flit your tongue on the cut, “Yeah. One of those assholes sucker punched me. It’ll heal.”

Eyes still closed, you feel Namjoon’s finger graze your laceration. He says nothing, but you can feel his apology. You open your eyes just enough to notice his stare has turned passionate. Heat spreads under your skin, and your heart begins to race.

“Gummy Bear, are you finally going to act on those impure thoughts?”

“Can I?” Before you can respond, Namjoon is shyly and gently pressing his lips to yours. Then he brushes his lips down your neck, nibbling and sucking, “I’m safe, thanks to you. How can I thank you, Daisy?”

You cringe at the name, and now the heat burns red like a demon. Giving a devilish smile, you pin him down on the couch and straddle his lap. 

“What the fuck?!”

“You know I hate that name.” You wrap one hand around his throat, applying light pressure, reminding him how you are completely opposite of a fragile, little daisy.

He taps your arm frantically, and when you let up, he breathes heavily. “Fuck! You fucking terrify me!”

Your pussy clenches, sending a quiver through your body. You lean closer to him, “Mmm, talking dirty to me?”

Namjoon smirks, and you feel his dick twitch, “I want to do so many dirty things...What should I call you? Princess?”

“Fuck a princess, I’m a King.” You laugh mischievously.  

He runs his hands up your thighs and tepidly lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your pussy. He curses under his breath and firmly grasps your hips, then glides your naked core against his hardening cock. You take control of his hands and pull them up to your breasts while rocking your hips against his cock. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he damn near begs, “Fuck me, please!”

“Oh, Gummy Bear…I’m going to eat you alive.”

#kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagines #moonleeai writes sometimes #bangtanwhq #thebtswritersclub #Spotify

[moonleeai]

Namaste Collab: Teri Hasee Ka Noor 

Title : Teri Hasee Ka Noor 

Pairing : Hoseok x female reader 

Word Count: 13.8k

City/State : Kashmir / Goa 

Timeline : February / March

Rating : Mature 18+ 

Genre : travel au, friends to lovers, fluff, baby angst, SMUT 

Warnings: unprotected sex, slow burn, explicit language

Summary : Hoseok takes best friend duties seriously and makes it his mission to cure your winter blues. He intends well by surprising you with a tropical vacation but it starts off colder than anticipated. Hoseok fixes his mistake in time for the hot weather to stir something in both of you, but will his flirty nature hinder the flame? 

AN: The meaning of the title is “the radiance of your smile/laugh”. Thank you Baby Queen Jiya @btsstan12 (ao3) for the beautiful banner. It’s so much more than I expected and I love love love it as much as I love love love you.

A huge shout out to Jasz @downbad4yoongi, Sara, and Kari for beta reading this and helping me so so much! xoxo

Special thanks to @sugarwithtea , @btsstan12 (ao3) and @apotatomashedbybts for having me in your desi BTS fanfic collaboration! It was so fun learning about India! I hope you like my take on it ☺

Read More Stories here: Namaste Collab Masterlist

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. 

Life is so boring sometimes. The highlight of your month was buying a cordless vacuum for your newly renovated hardwood floors—adult things. You love your job as a dance director at your best friend Hoseok’s dance academy. He keeps the days entertaining, but you’re tired of repeating the days in the same ways. Today, after teaching the last class of college dance majors, you helped Hoseok do the nightly cleaning of the studio. He blasts hip-hop music and moves rhythmically around while sweeping, and you wipe down the mirrors, watching how his body flows to the beat like a graceful bird gliding in the wind. He glances over and catches you staring, you quickly look away and grumble.

“Hurry up, Seok. I wanna go home.”

“For what? It’s not like you have plans!” 

He wasn’t wrong. Your best friend of a few years knew exactly what you were going to do tonight. Nothing; your favorite thing. He used to get offended when you wouldn’t come out to clubs but quickly realized you just enjoyed the comfort of being home. Once he learned that about you, he started inviting himself to your place instead.

Hoseok is a man of many talents, but he’s most known for dance and his ability to choreograph and practice until perfection, spotting any slight flaws in a millisecond. The hottest dancer there is, was, and will ever be. His presence is a force known as J. Hope or Jay, his stage name. Hoseok is an above-average gentleman, J. Hope is the motivator everyone needs at the end of an exhausting practice, and Jay– well, he’s the performer with the sultriest moves.

The next song comes on, and you both pull your faces into surprised expressions. The song-- Troy Sivan’s “Youth”-- was one of your favorite duo choreos from back in the day. Quickly, you both jump into place and begin the dance from muscle memory. This time though, you two are a little too close, and Hoseok decides to improvise; instead of grabbing your hand at the end, he pulls your wrist up, raising your arm above your head, making you spin, and your back firmly presses into his torso. He places his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying your bodies together. You can feel your temperature rising, and the need to melt into his hold almost takes over. 

“Ahh…I love this dance!” Hoseok nearly screams in your ear, forcing you to pull away, hand over your ear. He laughs and goes back to cleaning while you’re glad to have a reason to walk away. Hoseok is a very touchy-feely friend, and it never bothered you until recently. During the holidays, you were both single and spent too much time together. Too much because now... now you think you’re falling for him. 

You both like the same music, the same movies, and you both love to dance. So many of the holiday nights turned into spontaneous dance battles or deep conversations about those things you equally enjoyed. His laugh was beginning to be your favorite sound, like poetry in pretty handwriting. Every giggle and smile from him filled your soul with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You finish the mirrors and watch him two-step to the trash can. He glances over as if he can feel your eyes on him and gives his charming smile. The smile that drew you in and made you crave his friendship. He embodies comfort, like the feeling of a favorite oversized sweater on a cold day, wrapping you in warmth.

“Let’s stay here and dance.”

“No, Seok. I’m hungry.”

“We can order takeout.” He walks over and reaches for your hand, but you pull away, knowing you’d give in to whatever he wanted once the slightest spark ignited your bones from his touch. 

“Let’s go to my place… it’s close; we can grab food and move the couch to dance. Plus, I have all the alcohol.” 

Hoseok watches you, amused by all the layers of clothing you put on as if you’re preparing for a snowpocalypse and your strawberry lip balm. He knows you are a tropical person at heart, and every winter, you believe it just may be your last. Your beach-loving, sun-soaking spirit is having the most challenging time battling winter blues this year, and Hoseok is going to fix that. He’s been planning something and intends to tell you tonight. Only if you would give him the time to do so; he’s been dying to say something but hasn’t found the right time all night, and now you’re rushing to get home. 

“Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Oh, I was just…lost in thought.” He throws a midweight jacket on, “Let’s go!”

“At least put this beanie on, Seok! You’re going to get sick one of these days!” A hint of a smile plays on his lips as he gently takes the hat and turns away from you to hide his flushed cheeks. He’s always faintly enjoyed you taking care of him. 

After grabbing food and arriving at your apartment, you hurriedly remove your shoes, rush over to your freestanding electric fireplace, and turn it on. Hoseok, still at the door hanging his jacket, tells you to throw your jackets over to be hung. Then you both sit at your coffee table in front of the fire to eat. 

“So, I’ve been wanting to tell you some news.”

“What news?” 

“I’m going to close the academy for a week and go on vacation.”

“Va–? What! To where? When?!”

He stifles a grin and tots his tongue over his teeth, “India.”

“In–! Are you serious right now? By yourself?”

“Well…no. I bought two tickets and have everything planned out. A week in a tropical place–”

“Jeong Hoseok! Who are you going with?”

“I was hoping… you?” The last word comes out so soft and shy you almost miss it.

“You’re serious?” Hoseok nods his head yes to your question. “O–Okay! Yeah! I’ll go!” 

Cutely, his shoulders rise as he half states and half questions, “Soooo… we’re… going to India?” 

“We’re going to India!” I could kiss you right now!

But you don’t; you settle for a tight embrace and huge smiles before you both return to eating. After a few beats of awkward silence, you’re looking up pictures showing each other beaches and cabanas. The excitement is too much to hold in, and you both surrender to fits of giggles. Hoseok throws his body into your lap and you’re enchanted by his comfortable sound. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

On the plane, you sit back and get cozy in the oversized seat. Thankfully Hoseok splurged a little for business class. The dijon yellow cushions and extra pillows make it feel like you’re sitting on the couch in the tranquility of your home. 

Achoo! You look up in disgust as you were just sprayed unexpectedly. A child in front of you stands in their seat, looking at you. Snot running from their nose is enough to tell you they probably have a cold but– achoo!-- the menace is sneezing directly at you. You swat at the air to rid your space of the germs and scrunch your nose at the kid, making them turn around in their seat. 

“Let’s look up the places and try to plan what to see and what to do before you lay this kid out,” Hoseok says, pulling the reservation up on his phone.

“More than the beach?” You laugh because that’s all you want to do. Sit in the sand and sun, letting your body absorb enough heat that might keep you content until summer arrives.

“Well… I saw a boat ride on Dal Lake. The boats are pretty, and yes, the beach, of course.” He shows you a screenshot that he took of a row of wooden boats painted in pastel colors with vibrant cushions. The boats are beautifully resting on a still body of water, but the background catches your attention. There are snow-capped mountains exquisitely reflected in the lake. Snow-capped. Snow.

“Seok, when was this picture taken?”

“Mmm, I just got it off the internet.”

You connect your phone to the Wi-Fi and ask for the resort’s name.  

“Well, it’s two hotels because the package is split into like a north and west tour. Gulmarg and Goa. It was rated pretty high.” He pulls up the reservation and shows you the booking. You type in the first name.

“Hmm... How do you spell the city?” The first picture that came up showed a building with a snow-covered roof.

Hoseok spells it out as you slowly type in the name along with ‘things to do’ and choose the first option. You notice a few pictures with snow again.

“Seok. Did you happen to check the weather for this time of year?”

“What? No. It’s India. Isn’t it always hot?” You both stare at each other. As quick as uncertainty weighed on your chest, his candied hazelnut eyes swept it away, sweet and syrupy, glazing over any discomfort. 

“Let me see the reservation again.” Kolahoi Green Resort, Gulmarg. A luxury resort is nestled near India’s most popular spot for skiing. Skiing. I can’t strangle him on the plane. Reading on, you also see he’s booked a honeymoon package, whatever that means. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Seok…maybe you should read the whole resort description.” You tilt his phone toward him and hold your finger under ‘skiing’ and ‘honeymoon’.

His expression turns into a panic. Eyes wide, he covers his mouth with his hand. 

“I am so sorry. I swear I booked the beach package! I saw honeymoon packages, but I didn’t think I chose that one. I was only looking at the differences in price.”

You pull the phone back and start reading the entire reservation. There is, in fact, a beach for four days, but only after the one by the ski lodge for three days. Three days in the cold, which you just left. To say all excitement has left your body is an understatement. You immediately begin thinking about the lack of clothes you packed. Your suitcase is full of cute sundresses, tank tops, and shorts. You don’t even remember packing jeans. Luckily, there are the sweatpants and hoodie you’re wearing on the plane. Maybe, just maybe, it’s warmer now. You look up the weather in hopes of quelling your thoughts. 

“Seok, I don’t know if I have enough warm clothes for three days in the cold. The temperature is like 11 to 15 degrees Celsius. I– I only packed dresses and–” 

“I’m sure we can buy some clothes somewhere. You can also wear some of mine; you know I overpacked hoodies and sweats.” He goes into compassion mode, a voice of reason. There’s always a solution to a problem; he does just that as you both continue talking. His voice is a soothing palette of neutral tones, easing you into solace. 

“Yeah.” You turn and stare out the window with your hands tucked under your thighs. Hoseok can feel how disappointed you are and will spend these hopefully not-too-cold days doing whatever he can to see you smile. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The resort is pretty. Not your cup of tea with the patches of snow still covering the surrounding property, but you can kind of see the appeal. The receptionist gives some information on the area and informs you that it’s the last weekend for skiing since it’s warming up. 

Warming up. Ha! Skiing is the last thing on your mind, but Hoseok’s body wiggles, and his face lights up. When he turns to look at you, you return a small smile, feeling your cheeks heating up. As the receptionist hands over the key card, they congratulate you with best wishes, and you both walk away confused. 

“What was that about?”

“No idea,” he rushes through those words to get to the next subject, “but would you want to snowboard tomorrow? The sign says they rent out everything, even snow gear.”

“Seok.” You press the button on the elevator, and the doors open instantly.

“Please! I promise I will do whatever you want if you do this with me!” Hoseok begs as the elevator ascends to your floor.

“I literally want to stay in a warm room the entire three days.”

“No way! The lake boat ride is here.” 

“Okay. Then I want to be inside for the rest of the time.” You joke, waiting for him to open the door.

Hoseok scans the room key and holds the door open for you. You walk through and see pretty decorations. Gold balloon letters spelling ‘congratulations,’ flower petals leading to, as well as covering, the bed in a heart shape. The four-post bed has a canopy with sheer white linen cascading down, surrounded by fairy lights, illuminating a tray with a champagne bottle in an ice bucket and two glass flutes. 

There’s only one bed.

Across from the bed is a large two-seater sofa in front of a gas fireplace. You walk further inside with Hoseok on your heels, following the flower petals that continue through sliding doors into a spa-like bathroom. Flameless tea lights and votives of various sizes cover every possible surface area. While everything is beautiful, you’re both still confused.

“What in the world?” 

“Do you think they gave us the wrong room?”

You both walk back to the bedroom and find a card on the small table. You pick it up and read it aloud, “Congratulations, newlyweds. Best wishes from the Staff at Kolahi.”

Hoseok finds another note. “Look at this! It’s not a mistake. It has our names and ‘please call when you’re ready for your complimentary desserts.”

“You did book the honeymoon package, Hoseok!” You start laughing because, honestly, what else can go wrong?

Hoseok submerses in your laugh. He’s been worried, but now a warm tingle is stirring inside him, and his heart beats faster. He watches as you go back to the bathroom.

“Ah! It’s a jacuzzi! We have our own hot tub! I want to use this right now!”

Hoseok freezes at the words. A hot tub… in the room… where you both have to sleep… for three days. The beach is a vast open space, so being in a bikini among a sea of others is no big deal… but you’ll be wearing one so incredibly close. Intimately close. The blur of you walking by brings him back to the present.

He clears his throat as you walk to your suitcase, “Don’t you want to explore the area first? See what all is out there?” 

“Oh. True. Yeah, let’s do that. We can use the jacuzzi to end the day. I could use a nap, too.” 

“No naps. We have to get on this timezone. Come on! We’ll unpack later; let’s go look around.”

Down in the lobby, you sit on a loveseat in front of the fireplace while Hoseok talks to the receptionist. You pull out your phone and check to see how far the lake is that Hoseok is dead set on. It’s two hours away and all the way back by the airport. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, frustrated by the lack of planning. When you open them again, you see an activities book on a table next to you. You pick it up and start browsing through the pages. 

There’s a gondola ride, shrine, temple, and three restaurants. Anything indoors sounds excellent. One of the restaurants is a glass igloo, and you immediately look for Hoseok to tell him, knowing he will love it.

He comes up beside you, and you flash the page so he can see the igloo. 

“I was just about to tell you about that!” He plops down next to you, showing some notes he took on his phone from the receptionist. Pretty much everything in the book you’re holding. “They said the gondola is beautiful at sunset, so we could do that first. Then come back to eat–”

“Then jacuzzi!” You shriek, too excited for a night of relaxation.

Hoseok looks at you, baring a tight-lipped grin; your eyes trace the lines ending in dimples, then float to the mole on his upper lip. He unexpectedly jumps up, pulling you both from a haze and holds his hand out for you. You take it and make your way to the gondola.

Staring at the cables disappearing into the distance, you remember Hoseok’s fear of heights. 

“Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Yeah, I should be okay.”

You both continue following the small crowd and chatting. You were cold at first, but the constant conversation has seemingly kept you warm by occupying your mind. Or maybe it’s his presence. 

Closer to the front, you can see that the ride is in two parts–ten minutes to the first stop and then twelve to the last. The gondola fits six, but with the small number of attendees, you get a cable car to yourself. You sit across each other and observe the surroundings as it ascends the mountainside. 

“I feel so dumb.” Hoseok sighs after the statement.

“What? Why?” you ask while sliding your lip balm over your lips. Hoseok watches and notices the way your lips shine afterward.

“For one, not checking the weather. And two, I had no idea there were huge mountains here!”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn’t know either. Now we do.” You offer a smile, plumping your cheeks into two small plums. Hoseok melts into the seat, responds with a simple grin, and gazes back out the window. 

You pass over pine trees and snow-submerged valleys. You stay on, opting not to get off at the first stop, and before you know it, you’re at the peak. You would’ve never known Hoseok was afraid of heights, at least on the outside. A frigid breeze slices across your bare face when you step off the gondola. Your body quakes as you follow people to a scenic point. 

The setting sun plays peek-a-boo with the fluffy clouds, displaying pastel colors across the sky and a fiery glow on top of the mountains. Hoseok asks you to take fun photos of him, and you laugh while getting every angle possible. A lovely couple offers to take a picture of both of you, and you return the favor for them. 

After a few more steps along the mountain’s edge, Hoseok grabs your wrist and starts jogging, “I’m done! It’s so cold!” You giggle, keeping up with him, and breathlessly throw yourselves back into a gondola. This time he sits next to you. When the door shuts, and the cable car begins descending, he wraps his arms around you. He wiggles and gets as close as possible, pulling you into him and placing his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this; let’s warm up.” His warm breath strikes your neck, and a kaleidoscope of warmth ignites in your stomach. You rest your head against his and take a deep, shaky breath. That’s how you remain the entire ride down, quietly wrapped in each other as the light disappears from the sky. You’re tempted to ask what’s on his mind, but you also don’t want to read too much into his actions. He’s always been touchy in a friendly way, and you don’t want to ruin it.

After dinner, you walk back to the suite and discuss the delicious food. You can’t help but think about how great the hot water in the jacuzzi will feel. In the suite, you open your suitcase and pull out toiletries, pajamas, and bathing suits. You start to feel shy about the itty bitty fabric barely covering your ass. Hoseok watches you as your eyes flit from one to the other, then calls the receptionist to deliver the complimentary dessert, and then goes to turn on the water. 

He comes back out with a robe for you as there’s a knock on the door. He gets the delivery and places it on the tray on the bed. You both marvel over the creative mithai charcuterie board; various ladoos, plain and chocolate-covered strawberries, sweet boondi, and kaju katli. After Hoseok takes a million pictures, he carries the tray of dessert and champagne into the bathroom and puts it on the shelf by the jacuzzi.

Coming back for the glasses, he mentions, “I’ll change in the bathroom. Take your time.” He closes the doors behind him, and you change before pulling the robe over your bikini. When you open the doors, he’s already in the water with the jets on full blast.

You stand at the edge of the jacuzzi, “Would you, maybe, close your eyes?” You chuckle before continuing, “This feels a little awkward.” He turns his head from you and closes his eyes with a massive grin. You drop the robe and quickly get in, sinking until the water is at your clavicle. “Okay. You can be normal again.”

Hoseok sits up, fills the champagne glasses and hands you one. “A toast to our buddymoon!” 

You roll your eyes but still laugh, “You’re so corny.” You both clink your glasses and take a sip. “Did you try any of the desserts yet?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you. Do you want me to hold the tray in front of you?”

“Oh, uh, no. It’s okay. Will you hand me one of the diamond thingies?”

“According to the little guide, that is kaju katli: cashews, sugar, cardamom, and ghee.” You reach for it, but he’s already bringing it to your lips. As you open your mouth and let the sweetness hit your tongue, your lips graze his fingers, and your eyes briefly meet before looking away. He grabs one for himself and rests back against the basin. 

After some time, you’re on your last glasses, having finished the bottle, and feeling relaxed. You both have been chipping away at the dessert and reveling in all the deliciousness. 

Deciding it’s been enough time in the jacuzzi, Hoseok stands, and you notice how his shorts cling to his thigh muscles; he pulls at the fabric, easing the clinging fabric away from his groin. He steps out, drying off haphazardly, and walks to the bedroom, closing the door behind him again. You get out and dry off before donning the robe back on to join him. Standing at the minifridge, he pulls out a bottle of rosé, but all you can see is his waistband resting low across his hips, dangerously low, exposing a faint happy trail under his belly button. The dips and hills are graciously defined on his stomach, and you feel a warmth overtake your body. You raise your hand to your cheek in hopes of hiding the flush. 

“Are you drunk already?” Hoseok teases.

“No! It’s just… hot.” You roll your eyes and motion toward the new bottle, “Where’d that come from?”

“It was in the fridge. Strawberry time!” He places the wine by the fireplace sofa and returns to the jacuzzi to get the fruit. You can’t help but smile at his excitement and the little noises he makes with every step to and from the bathroom. He motions for you to sit, pours the drink, and hands you a glass. You both reach for the same strawberry from the tray and then giggle at the chances. He grabs it, reaches toward your mouth, and watches intently as your lips wrap around the heart-shaped fruit forming a perfect pouty circle. You can’t unsee his tongue slowly swiping across his bottom lip as his eyes glaze over, trapping your attention like a mosquito in amber sap. You remember to chew when his eyes break from yours and roam down your slightly open robe. You reach for the neckline to close it, and he turns away, grabbing a strawberry for himself before sliding against the back of the sofa. “You’re right… it’s really warm in here.”

You clear your throat, eyes on the flames. “So…one bed. Looks like we’re going to be pretty close.”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to have something to keep me warm tonight.”

The night ends with bellies full of wine and dessert and happily planning the next day of adventure. You have absolutely no desire to snowboard, but Hoseok’s sunshine smile and light laughter seep into your heart. You want nothing more than to continue seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. 

In the bed, you both lie facing the ceiling like statues when he breaks the silence. “Can we like… cuddle?”

You snicker at first, but the idea of it sounds lovely. “Sure, why not.”

Hoseok falls asleep quickly with his arms and legs wrapped around and over you, while you lay there, calming your racing heart in his grasp. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Slightly waking, you adjust your body, rolling on your side as something rigid grazes your hip, eliciting a hiss from Hoseok. “Shit! Sorry, Seok!” Startled, you sit up and fling your legs over the bedside, jolting yourself awake. 

“You didn’t have to jump away. It just–”

“No, no. I should get up anyway. Snowboarding, right? Let me start getting ready.

Ignoring everything that happened, you both take turns in the bathroom to get ready and head to the lobby area. First, you stop in the gift shop and buy matching ‘I love Kashmir’ long-sleeve t-shirts to go under your hoodies, then proceed to the rental shop. You’re not thrilled while standing in line, dreading the cold and the effort and energy snowboarding takes, but your soul is soaking in the radiant smile coming from Hoseok. 

To add more dread, you had hoped to look at least cute while being drained of all excitement, but the shop has the hottest trends from the 1990s in snow bibs, boots, and boards. You settle for the rose brown and black gear and a snowboard with a pale purple bottom. Hoseok, on the other hand, chose to pair the ugliest of every color together and call it ‘fashion.’ You won’t lose him in the crowd.

A few passes on the bunny slope, and you’re as ready as you’ll ever be. As you both glide over the lift, you look for the signage that informs riders which slopes are the easiest to hardest—usually, a color scale. Here, there are only signs stating zones one through four.

“How do we know where to get off?” you ask while staring, puzzled at the signs. 

“Beginner slopes are always the first stop, I think.”

“Seok! I need facts, not guesses. Didn’t the brochure say the locals use the first one to get around to other villages?” Hoseok shrugs and continues with the flow of the line. When you reach the front of the line, Hoseok asks the operator where to get off and they confirm ‘one.’ 

“I guess it’ll be a surprise.” Your nerves are a wreck, and as much as you want to have fun, for Hoseok’s sake, you can’t get into the right mindset. 

You both get off at the first stop and glide down the path to make way for others behind you when you quickly realize this slope is not for you. It’s not steep, but the rivets and snow conditions make it least favorable for a novice like yourself. 

Hoseok yells that he’ll meet you at the bottom, and you watch as he gracefully swoops across the mountain slope. You watch a woman wearing neon teal pants drift delicately right behind him. How you wish that were you. 

You ride on your heels the first bit, destroying your thigh muscles like lava is coursing through the veins. You glide to the side, out of the main path, and fall on your butt to take a break. Watching people pass by, even kids, you curse under your breath and hold back tears of frustration. A pep talk would be nice, but the one best at those just left you to your demise. 

A few deep breaths, and one too many children passing you, gives you very little motivation but enough to hop back up and continue down the slope. Your thighs are on fire, but you alleviate the pain by using other muscles, which also gives more speed-- speed you don’t want. You panic and tense up, causing you to dig your toes too far into the snow, making the edge catch, and you brace for impact. You hit the ground face first, so hard your body goes into a forward roll; your goggles rip off as your head clashes with the firm snow, and all air expels from your lungs. 

Hoseok yells your name a few times from behind and stops next to you frantically. 

“Are you o– is there– are you hurt?!”

You take a few short breaths to test your lungs for proper functionality. Quietly you let out, “No but– that hurt. So fucking bad!” Then tears begin to prickle, and emotions are ready to boil over, “I’m done! I didn’t come here to be freezing my ass off in the snow or to be bundled up like this!” You break down into the ugliest of cries while your shoulders bounce up and down from the force of your sobs. “I wanna go back to the rooooooom,” you whine while sniveling.

You look at Hoseok through hazy eyes, but his face turns away from you. He is likely holding back a giggle in hopes of not upsetting you more. He clears his throat and faces you with a gentle smile and twinkle in his eyes. It soothes you enough that tears stop falling, and you begin to feel warm. Hoseok pats your head and uses his glove to wipe your face, then rests his hand on yours.

“Let’s take the boards off and walk down. I’ll get you some spiked hot chocolate.” You nod your head, and he unclasps your bindings first. 

Walking down the mountain silently makes you feel bad for what you said. 

At the bottom, you prop the boards in the holding area when the woman in neon pants appears. You watch as a scene from a drama unfolds, and before you know it, Hoseok is walking with her as they flirt back and forth. Your eyes dance between the two, noticing how smiley they are. You feel like an outsider. Your hand is balled tightly by your side, and when you can’t stand the pain of your nails digging into your palm any longer, you shake it off and walk past them into the lodge. 

You order your drink and find a table to sit at. Jealousy has reared its ugly head, and you’re fighting with yourself. You shouldn’t feel this way. You can’t feel this way for your best friend. You take a sip and let the alcohol flush the jealousy down into the pit of your stomach. 

Hoseok finds you and sits beside you with his body angled toward you. “Here you are. Why’d you leave?”

“If you want to keep riding, go ahead. I don’t want to make you miserable.” 

He reaches up and places both hands on the sides of your cheeks. His thumbs swoop under your eyes, wiping the last remnants of tears. “I promise you. I’m having a great time.” 

Radiant. His warm touch and kind words weave into your soul alongside the space occupied by his smile and laugh. Serene. Your body relaxes in the window seat and immediately feels every ache and pain from your tumble. You roll your neck around and pause in the areas that need more stretching. 

“Do you want to get a massage?” He pulls out his phone, “I’m pretty sure I saw one here.”

“No, no. A good stretch and maybe the jacuzzi will be enough.” You both stare out the window at the snow-covered nature. Taking a gulp of courage, you say, “Sorry, Seok. What I said on the slope was mean, rude, and uncalled for.”

“Would you stop that? I had fun, now let’s do something you want. You wanna get in the jacuzzi then order in for dinner?” Hoseok notices how your eyes light up like a candle at the mention of food.

“Yes! Let’s get different dishes to try new stuff. Chicken and beef, maybe?” Now it’s your turn to pull out your phone and find the room service menu you took pictures of. “Oh, look, lamb! Butter chicken and lamb biryani? Or maybe curry? Oh! Hummus! And garlic naan! What?! There’s so much!” 

“I love how excited you get over food.” He chuckles, “I’ll look up pictures, and if it looks good, we get it.” 

You replay his words in your mind. Love. How did he mean that? Does he feel something like you? Or was it more of a friendly love? You glance his way, eyes soaking in his profile. You must’ve stared a little too long because he meets your gaze. Your eyes flit to his heart-shaped lips, and you can’t help but wonder if they feel as pillowy as they look. 

“You okay?” His voice forces you to finally blink and look down at his phone.

“Yeah. This set looks good.” You point to a picture, and he takes a look. 

“Okay. It’s settled. I’ll order while you’re getting blasted by the jets.”

Finished with your drinks, you return all the snow gear to the rental shop and head to the suite. Hoseok runs the water for you and turns on some of the flameless tea lights. He sets his phone in the corner, plays a Lofi Bollywood playlist, shuts off the light fixture, and walks out. You carry your bathing suit into the bathroom and close the door. 

Hoseok lies on the couch, closes his eyes, and surrenders to the sound of the jets and soft music. He imagines the bubbles around your collarbones; your eyes closed, body relaxed. A throb sends a jolt through his stomach, but he places a hand on his groin and adjusts to calm himself down. You call for him, and his body freezes, lifting his head to ensure you’re not standing there.

“Come join me. I’m bored, and this music is so relaxing. I think you’ll enjoy it too.”

“I can hear it out here.”

“Please?” 

There’s a flutter in his chest, and he’s changing to join you.

You smile at him as he walks through the threshold and close your eyes when he enters the basin. You both don’t say a word but enjoy every second of your closeness. The water feels electrified as you chat away.

Later, with bodies relaxed and bellies full, Hoseok pulls you into a hug on the couch. 

“I hope you’re having an okay time. I’m excited to see all the cute dresses you packed for the beach tomorrow.”

“Any time spent with you is a great time, Seokie. Thanks for bringing me. I promise not to throw any more tantrums,” you chuckle at the last word and pinch his ribs in an effort to break away.

“Hey!” He laughs and smacks you with a pillow. “Wanna finish the night watching the sunset from the balcony? Then a nightcap by the fire?”

“Sounds perfect.” 

You couldn’t think of any other way you’d love to spend the evening. Well, maybe cuddling again, but for now, sunset and a drink with your best friend, who you adore, and possibly more, sounds like a truly perfect night.

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

A few hours later, Hoseok wakes to vibrations in the bed and discovers you shivering. He pulls the quilt up to your neck and wraps his limbs around you before feeling that you are soaked. He sits up, trying to see anything in the pitch black, getting his eyes to focus on you. He swipes his hand across your forehead and gasps at the heat that comes off you. He briskly walks to the bathroom, turns the light on low, then kneels by your bedside to better understand what’s happening. You whine as he tries to wake you. 

He calls your name softly while rubbing a hand down your back, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“S–so cold,” you mutter as he watches sweat bead on your forehead. 

“I’m gonna go get you medicine. Drink some of this water for now.” He helps sit you up against some pillows and slowly guides the water bottle to your lips. After a few sips, he hurries out of the room and to the lobby mini-mart in hopes of getting you something to aid in breaking your fever. 

When he comes back into the room with two rustling bags, you look at his hands bewildered. He unpacks an array onto your side table: ginger tea, bananas, children’s applesauce squeeze bags, chicken noodle soup, a box of jello, orange juice, and Gatorade. 

“I thought you were getting medicine?”

“I mean, these are the natural way, right? But I have more.” He grabs the second bag and unpacks a variety of cold medicine in liquid and pill forms.

“Seok! What–” Your head pounds at your words, and you close your eyes as if that will stop it. You take a deep breath, open your eyes and turn toward the side table. You reach for the box of jello and scoff, “How were you going to make this?”

“Hmm…not sure, but I will figure it out if you want it.” He grabs the box from you and starts reading the directions.

“Seok, I probably just have a cold from that kid sneezing on me. A fever at most; I’m not puking.”

“Right! Um…tea? Soup?”

“How about medicine and a cool rag so I can go back to sleep?” You smile at his thoughtfulness, but keeping your eyes open becomes more difficult. 

Hoseok opens the medicine, opting for a liquid form, and brings it to your lips to drink. Then he grabs a cool cloth for you, places it over your forehead, and gently rubs his hand over your hair. You scoot down to lie comfortably and begin to relax again. You hear Hoseok rustling around, turning off lights, and getting changed for bed again. He snuggles up close to you, wrapping you in his hold. You can feel yourself drifting into dreamland when his hushed voice brushes the side of your neck.

“I went overboard, huh?”

“I didn’t expect anything less from my Seokie,” you whisper. He warms at your words and buries himself further into you. Even with a fever, you could still feel his radiance healing you deep inside.

Sometime in the twilight hours, Hoseok woke again, but this time you were talking…or more like mumbling. He raised his head and blinked heavily several times to ward off the grogginess. 

“I like your lips.” He heard you say softly. 

“Hm?” he asked quietly. 

“Heart-shaped clouds. Pretty clouds.” He grinned, feeling a kaleidoscope swarm in his belly, then leaned into you and kissed your cheek. He watched as a smile swept across your lips and thought you looked like an angel, fast asleep.

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The next morning you feel like a brand new person. You stretch and realize Hoseok isn’t next to you. You sit up, and just as you’re about to call for him, he walks in with a beaming smile and a mug of ginger tea. He hands it to you as you make room for him to sit. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course. How are you feeling?”

“So much better! I’m glad it was just overnight. We have so much more to see!”

Hoseok clears his throat and looks toward the ground, “Do you happen to remember what you dreamt about last night?”

“Dream?” You think for a few seconds, “I don’t think I had any,” you lie, bringing the mug to your mouth. You did remember. However, you weren’t going to tell him you dreamt of his lips, soft and pillowy, pressed against yours. Or how his hands felt like heaven as they rested on your waist while his tongue moved slowly over yours. A heat was creeping up your neck from the recollection. 

“None at all?”

“Nope. Why?”

“No reason. I just thought I heard you say something in your sleep.” Hoseok snickers and hops off the bed.

“What? What did I say?” 

Hoseok sing-songs from the other room, “Just nonsense.”

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Today was a smidge warmer than the others, and for that, you were thankful because Hoseok was still dead set on taking a shikara ride on Dal Lake. With your suitcases in the trunk, the taxi made its way to Srinagar. You asked the driver about the weather and how cold it may be on the lake. He reassured you the boatmen would have blankets to help keep you warm. 

When you arrived, the scenic view took your breath away. The snow-capped mountains staggered along the horizon against an unblemished blue sky, towering over their reflection on the lake. Your suitcases were taken to a houseboat for courtesy storage, and you both set foot on the shikara—a beautiful wooden yellow boat with a half-bed on one side and a bench on the other. The cushion is covered in red velvet with a black floral print, and the boat’s roof has vibrant blue curtains draping down but drawn back elegantly so you can see the scenery. As you get comfortable among the cushions, the man hands you a rich red and gold-toned blanket. 

The man rows and speaks, “Welcome to the second-largest lake in the Kashmir valley. We call it the ‘Jewel in the crown of Kashmir’.”

“May I ask why?” you question.

“Well, not only is it an important source of fishing and water plant harvesting, but it’s also a beautiful, tranquil piece of nature. It sits against the backdrop of the gorgeous Himalayas.”

He continued to explain that people live in the houseboats lined along the bank. How the lake was usually bustling in the warmer months with floating markets and locals selling food and drinks. A few were working, but it wasn’t worth it without many tourists. He rowed to a houseboat with a shop where you bought hot tea and then navigated to a souvenir market where you bought a few trinkets for memories.

The guide continued his journey around the lake while you and Hoseok snapped pictures and awed at the beauty over and over. With the Himalayas in the background, the guide slows the boat to a stop and gestures toward a chest full of garments, traditional Kashmiri attire with authentic accessories. 

“Would you like to put some on for a picture?”

“Oh! Um it’s–” you begin, but the guide cuts you off.

“Honeymoon package, yes?” You and Hoseok look at each other and smile.

“Right…yes.” You reach for a magenta ghunghat with a gold embroidered border and drape it over your head, “Like this?”

“Yes, yes. Beautiful.” The guide takes a few shots at different angles and then commands, “Now kiss.”

“I’m sorry?!” You both bark but with smiles.

“Newlywed pose! You must kiss with this background.” The man gestures his hand around, emphasizing the beautiful scenery.

While he’s right about the scenery, you can’t help but wonder if he would be offended if you said there was a mistake. You’re not really newlyweds. You turn toward Hoseok, who is already grinning from ear to ear. Hoseok giggles and you can feel your body flush, even in the cold air. 

“It’s just a kiss,” Hoseok says calmly. The way the words and your name flow from his mouth is music to your ears. They float around your head and cause a dizzy spell as his lips creep toward yours. The subtle touch of his lips sends you into a freefall from the top of the mountain. Your heart shivers as he ignites a flame, thawing winter and bringing spring to life. 

The guide clears his throat, and Hoseok pulls away first. Just a kiss that has now set a fire within your heart. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

There was mostly small talk from Dal Lake to the airport and even less on the plane to Goa. You didn’t want to talk about your feelings, especially with the one who ignited them and probably didn’t feel the same. 

You watched episode after episode but had no idea what the story was because you were playing the kiss repeatedly in your mind. You tried to nap but were restless from the lingering tingle of that moment. Hoseok, on the other hand, was sound asleep. One more reason you knew he didn’t feel anything. 

Hoseok faked being asleep, shoving his feelings away and jamming them so far down they couldn’t threaten to escape in a confession right there in row seven. He would peek and steal glimpses of you, and when you had your eyes closed, he would trace his finger over his lips, craving to taste your strawberry lip balm again, yearning to feel– whatever that feeling was deep in his stomach when your mouth molded to his. 

The taxi ride to the beachfront hotel is full of excitement. Already the weather was hotter, and you could smell the salt in the air. You hung your hand out of the open window, making the slightest little movements to your fingers to let the wind carry your hand into ‘catching waves.’ Hoseok basked in your happiness and watched the wind breeze across your face and jostle loose strands of hair. 

Check-in to the hotel was smooth, and you were given yet another honeymoon suite, much like a villa. Although this time, you couldn’t complain. You felt like a liar but also spoiled and enjoyed every minute. This luxury villa has its own personal plunge pool surrounded by tropical plants and flowers. The lush lawn surrounding the pool and the gorgeous view of the sea from the verandah made the setting a romantic oasis. 

Staring out at sea, Hoseok’s hand brushes your lower back, sending chills down your spine. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks softly.

“You wanna just hang out here and adventure out tomorrow? We could swim and eat dinner. There’s still a few hours before sunset; maybe we could watch it from here?” You feel yourself rambling, but if you stopped, the feelings from earlier would surely emerge again. Your mind begins spiraling, wondering if staying in was a bad idea. Maybe out in public, you wouldn’t be nervous, you would be able to act normal. “Or–”

“I like that idea,” Hoseok quickly cements the plan to be together, alone, in your villa. 

Not much later, you’ve ordered a pitcher of a coconut-based cocktail to drink during your swim. Dinner and wine are set to be delivered before sunset. Music plays while Hoseok lays on an inflatable pool float, and you lay on a chaise to soak in some of the sun you’ve been dying to stain your skin. Twenty scorching minutes later, you’re ready to cool off. You reach for Hoseok’s cup and pour both of you another before setting the pitcher closer to the pool’s edge and make your way into the refreshing water. 

Hoseok has been watching from behind his sunglasses. The way the sun illuminates your skin and accentuates every curve. The barely there bathing suit covers just enough, letting his imagination go wild, too wild. An ache arises between his legs, and he groans before falling into the water to cool off and calm down. 

You walk over to Hoseok’s float, and he swims to meet you there. Handing him both glasses over the float, you dip into the water and then rest your arms on the other side. 

“What is on your agenda here, Seokie?”

“Mmmm, well, I thought you would just want to lay on the beach all day, so I didn’t actually plan anything. There’s water sports, some old monuments, and lots of clubs and parties. I think I saw something about a sunset cruise.”

“While all that sounds interesting…I am only interested in sun, sand, and saltwater! But, for you, my Seokie, I will make an exception for parties and maybe a cruise.” 

You raise your glass toward Hoseok, and he matches your gesture, clinking his glass against yours. You both chug back the contents, finishing the liquid. Hoseok takes the cups to the side of the pool and fills them again. 

“Let’s go sit in the little nook.” Hoseok nods toward the built-in bench. It’s so tranquil; you both are leaning back, eyes closed, with your arms resting on the stone surrounding the pool. Hoseok speaks first, “I kinda like when you call me your Seokie.”

Your heart gallops at the sound of his voice. Slowly, you open your eyes and turn your head, catching sight of his lips. Your bottom lip curls between your teeth, but as your eyes rise, something catches your attention over his shoulder: a not-so-cute gecko inches from his arm. 

“It’s a cute nickname, yeah? Can we switch seats? I think the sun is better where you are.” You tell a quick fib hoping to keep him calm. “I’ll go over you; just slide this way.” 

Hoseok obliges, and as you’re straddling his lap. His eyes can’t help but fixate on your chest. He lets out a huff of air which hits between your breasts, triggering goosebumps to rush over your skin. You ignore the sensation and cup some water in your hand to splash the reptile away, but Hoseok’s hand touches your leg lightly, drawing your attention. You look down at him with dreamy eyes. His candied hazelnut richness sticks to your soul and pulls your heart with its gooey sap. Your skin tingles as you recall the kiss on the lake while his other hand slowly slides up your other leg.

Then, the universe had other plans, changing time into slow motion. 

The gecko betrays you, moving just enough to attract attention. Hoseok jerks under you, squeals, and stands up, sending you back into the pool. As you swim back to the nook, Hoseok prances and yips his way back into the villa. 

You giggle and rise to your feet to step out and refill drinks. You call out while pouring the last of the cocktail mix, “Seokie, it’s safe!”

He peeks his head out of the cracked door, “You sure?”

“Yes, scaredy cat, come on.” 

Hoseok slowly walks out, watching where he steps, then takes the glass from you. “Dinner should be here soon. We should get cleaned up and go inside.”

“I wanna watch the sunset while we eat.”

“We can see it from the window. There are things out here.”

“I thought we were gonna do what I wanted since I endured the freezing cold and went snowboarding and got sick,” you whine.

Hoseok’s lips stretch in a straight line across his face, and his dimples make a full display. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, moving toward you to grab your hands with his. “For you, I will eat with the creatures.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff and try to pull away, but Hoseok doesn’t let go. You scrunch your eyebrows and search his face for a reason, but he only smiles with a gaze that caresses your soul. Hoseok seems like he wants to say something, so you wait; his mouth opens as the doorbell sounds.

“Food delivery.” Hoseok releases your hands and walks toward the door. You stand there for a second longer, trying to assess what just happened.

The food is brought in by multiple staff and laid out gorgeously on the dinette, and each dish has a tag placed next to it with a description. An oversized center plate has fish thali and a few smaller plates and bowls with rice, crab masala, butter-garlic calamari, vindaloo, and naan. They also placed dessert trays full of sweet bread with perad– or guava cheese– sweet turmeric cakes called patoleo, and a bowl of melted chocolate surrounded by coconut cookies. To make things even better, two bottles of alcohol that are popular in the area, coconut Feni and a rich Syrah wine from a local vineyard, are provided with the food.

The staff leaves and your stomach rumbles in the silence. Apparently loud enough for Hoseok to hear as well.

“Wow! You must really be hungry. I’ll make the plates; you pour the drinks.”

Time passes too quickly while eating on the verandah. The two of you have yet to run out of things to talk about, and this new adventure to India has just given you even more to discuss. 

Delicious food, full-bodied wine, and a sunset later, you take a dip in the pool one last time before heading to bed. It’s illuminated with soft purple lights, giving off a milky way appearance. Hoseok sets up the Lofi Bollywood playlist again, and you both float peacefully together. 

When the peppery syrah runs out, you’re both tipsy and a little tired from being in the sun for most of the day. You both have kept your distance, mostly just floating on the pool floats and admiring the star-studded sky. When you both decide to clean up and call it a night, you stumble inside after each other, laughing and pulling at one another to get to the shower first. 

Hoseok wins by a quick battle of rock, paper, scissors and is off to shower first. You take another gander at the food and do some picking before grabbing your clothes to change into. 

When Hoseok walks out with only a towel, your mind goes blank while your eyes fixate on a few drops of water beading along his v-line. He voices it’s your turn, and you quickly grab your clothes, beelining to the bathroom. Hoping the warm water would sober you up before bed was wishful thinking. When you step out to grab your towel, you lose your balance, bang into the wall, and start giggling to yourself. 

“You okay in there? Did you fall?”

“Nope! Just a little…bump. I’m fine!”

“Do you need…help?”

“No! I’m not dressed, Seok! Don’t come in!” You can feel your cheeks flush a hot crimson while you dry off. Why is his voice so sexy right now? You wrap the towel around you and look in the mirror, then tap your hands on your face a few times. The sound of music grabs your attention, so you snap out of it and reach for your clothes. Only to find there is just a T-shirt. Somehow you forgot underwear. You shake your head and put your shirt on, realizing it’s not yours. 

Well, this will be awkward. You open the door and scan the room for Hoseok, but he must be in the other room. Before he notices, you beeline to your suitcase to find your hairbrush, undergarments, and another shirt that’s not his. You find everything and turn to go back into the bathroom.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks from the threshold. You wince at being caught red-handed.

“I accidentally grabbed it! Sorry! I know you hate when people wear your clothes. I came out to get my shirt, and I will change.” You lift your hand to show your shirt and inch back to the bathroom, but something holds you back. Hoseok’s hand is around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“Let’s go dance.”

“Let me finish getting dressed.”

“Nope!” Hoseok pulls you into the other room, where he’s moved some furniture and made space for dancing. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he pulled you into him, taking the items from your hand and tossing them onto the nearby chair. That’s when you see you grabbed a lacey lavender thong instead of the boy shorts you usually wear when sleeping. Embarrassed, you go to hide them, but he keeps a firm grip.

“Seok, I need to finish getting dressed.”

“You’re dressed enough. Dance with me,” he whines, and you search his eyes for any hint of his mood. 

“You’re kinda cute when you whine,” you tease and bop his nose with your finger.

“And you’re kinda cute in my shirt.” 

His words take you by surprise, and you look away but his hand catches your chin and pulls your attention back to him. You look into each other’s eyes as he sways you back and forth. He smiles and you feel warmth bore into your skin. He removes the towel from your head and drops it to the ground. Your mind is already foggy from the wine, but now this– whatever this is– adds to the cloud. He raises your hand above your head, making you spin. You clutch at the hem of your shirt as it lifts, exposing the side of your upper thigh and buttcheek. Hoseok pulls you back into him, face to face, and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, maintaining eye contact. You’re dizzy; from the wine or the spin, maybe both. The music you forgot was playing stops abruptly, and you both stutter-step, clashing your feet together. 

“I guess we’re tipsy, huh?” he says just above your ear. “Maybe we should get to bed. We have to wake up early for the tour, right?” He hugs you tight, then walks toward the bedroom, leaving you standing there with your thoughts. Your body, hotter than the sun, almost collapses under your weak knees. 

Completely forgetting about your hair and undergarments, you follow in his footsteps. All of the lights are off save for the one on your side of the bed. Hoseok is waiting for you, covers lifted for you to get in. You sit on the bed and reach to turn the light out, then assume the position you’ve been sleeping in for days. As you scoot back into Hoseok, his arm rests just under your breasts, his hand sliding between your ribs and the bed. You can feel how the shirt has bunched under his arm, and the hem rests just above the bottom of your butt. 

Hoseok thinks about how close he was to kissing you again, feeling your lips rest on his. He can feel how doughy your breasts feel on his arm, and he’s fighting the urge to squeeze them in his hands. He imagines how they would fit perfectly in his palm, his fingers massaging into your flesh. He tilts his pelvis back a little, feeling a sensation between his legs, and he lets out a sigh. 

Hoseok’s breath tickles the back of your ear, sending a vibration down your spine, your back arches sending your ass into his half-hardened member. He pulls his lower half back from you and rests his forehead on your shoulder. 

“S–sorry, Seok.”

“Please be still,” he whispers.

Hoseok raises his head only for his wet lips to catch the skin on your neck. You gasp and stir again, sending his hips into a frenzy. Unable to ignore the feeling, he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. Your hips roll again, this time against a rock-hard Hoseok. He lets out a shaky breath, and his arm across your chest pulls you closer. 

“I want you,” he mutters along with your name against the crook of your neck before dusting your neck and shoulder with his lips. He pulls his arm from your chest and brushes the underside of your breasts. His hand traces your ribs and follows the curve of your body. He stops on your hip, digs his fingers into your flesh, then does the same to your breasts while slowly thrusting into your backside. He feels good. Too good. He pushes himself up onto his elbow and pulls you under him. 

It’s dark, but he still searches for your eyes when he places his hands on either side of your head, then lowers his body onto you. His lips, those beautiful lips, push onto yours and part them just enough for his tongue to swipe across yours. You follow his lead and press your tongue to his, your hand snaking up to his nape and the other dragging your nails down his back. Hoseok shivers and moans, moving one hand to your ass, pulling you into his throbbing manhood. He grinds against your aroused button and swallows the mewl that escapes your mouth. 

You feel euphoric, and part of you wants to go all in with Hoseok. The sober part realizes this may just be the alcohol speaking. You wouldn’t regret it, but what if he will? What if his flirty self isn’t thinking straight and is just being a man chasing his sexual desires in the moment? Hoseok lets go of your ass and moves his thumb against your core; he coats his thumb in your slick and uses it to slide against your nub with intense pressure and slow rubbing. Juicy lips wedge together between his tongue, languidly dragging it along yours.

“Wait, Seok. Wait,” you mumble against his lips breathlessly. He stills and meets your eyes. “May–maybe we should wait until we’re both completely sober.”

Hoseok passionately kisses you again, following an imaginary line down your jaw to your neck. He sucks the skin into his mouth gently. “Is that what you want?” His teeth graze your clavicle, then he nibbles and chuckles at your arching body. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

His weight is crushing you, much like the words– suffocating your senses– and there is no way out. There isn’t enough air to help you overcome the punch to the gut. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It sounds like something someone would say when they were just scratching that itch.

“I–I think it’s best,” your voice trails off like you have more to say, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Okay. You’re probably right.” He briefly stays on top of you, then slides off to your side. “I’m sorry if I crossed the line.”

“That’s not it… I don’t want us to regret anything we did while intoxicated.”

“Makes sense.” There’s a long pause before he continues, “Can I still use you as my body pillow?” 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 It doesn’t have to mean anything. Easy for him to say. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The four days in Goa are going quickly, too quickly. You’ve mostly spent them relaxing on the beach, finding adorable cafes, and avoiding what happened and what was said the first night. Even though you said you only wanted to sunbathe and party, you made sure to experience the local culture. 

You walked a beautiful heritage tour through a place blending Portuguese and Indian traditions. The quaint streets were lined with traditional Portuguese-style homes in a palette of bold, bright colors—breathtaking preservation of heritage amongst modern development. 

One day also consisted of a bus ride to the jungle and trekking to a waterfall. The private tour guide told you the water had minerals like a natural spa where you could sit and relax to rejuvenate, but they forgot to mention the little fish that would surround you, and Hoseok’s scream was too embarrassing to stay.

Today was your last full day, and you were determined to soak up every last second you could in the sun. The morning was spent walking along the shoreline, and this afternoon was spent by the pool. You promised Hoseok tonight would be spent at the club because it was the last night to do so. He wanted to dance badly. 

You made sure to have enough time for a shower and a nap. The nap turned into another cuddle session that was quickly becoming your favorite way to sleep. The way Hoseok’s body molded to yours felt too good ever to let go. You were also growing accustomed to his warmth and how his lips would sometimes skim over your skin. But you kept a wall around your heart again, only thinking of it as a friendly snuggle.

It was time to get ready for the club, so you took your outfit into the bathroom. Hoseok gets dressed into his white button-down shirt and yellow shorts, then begins making pregame drinks, and you can hear him making little sounds while he concentrates. It made you recall a few nights ago; you heard little moans while his body subtly rutted into yours. You didn’t wake him or mention it because it was thrilling and made you want more. You wanted to take his hand and place it where you really needed to feel the friction... 

“Do you need help in there?” Hoseok says right outside the door.

You shook your head, looking in the mirror, wondering when you even got dressed. Your outfit was a khaki knit romper. It was backless save for the lace-up string to hold it in place. It looked perfect against your tanned skin with gold hoop earrings and three layered gold necklaces. Keeping your hands behind your back, you realize you need help tying it.

Holding the top, you opened the door with one hand behind your back. “I do, actually,” you swallow hard, noticing his bulged eyes, “can you –uh– tie it, please?” 

Hoseok couldn’t blink. His brain was malfunctioning, and his heart was tearing through his chest. He stumbled backward, then nodded his head yes. You turned slowly, and his eyes roamed every millimeter of your figure. The khaki color accentuated your tan, the perfect sun-kissed, silky skin. He tied the strings and noticed how the shorts ended just below your ass cheeks. He spun you around and looked at the front.

“Y–you can’t wear this,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Hm? Why not?” You turn toward the mirror, twisting, looking for something wrong.

“It’s basically see-through!” he scolds.

“I have pasties on…can you see them? Can you see my underwear?”

Hoseok feels like he’s going to have a cardiac episode. “No. Well, I mean–I– I don’t know. I’m not looking that hard.”

“Well, look! I need to make sure before we go out.”

He steps back again, and you feel naked under his gaze as you slowly turn, making sure everything is in place. 

“One bend or squat and your ass will be out.” 

“Who cares? Not like we’re going to see these people ever again.”

“Right. Okay, looks good. I’m just gonna pee before we go.” He walks into the bathroom and closes the door. 

Now you’re wondering if the outfit is too much. You walk into the bedroom, check yourself out, and decide you look hot and ready to party. Something else crosses your mind as you let your thoughts drift to the other night, how Hoseok raked his hands over your body. How you molded into him while your tongues did the tango. When one of his hands caressed your breast and the other sought to pleasure you? The excitement ends when you also recall, ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything’.

You snap out of it when you hear the bathroom door open, “Ready for the drinks?” he calls out. You both down some shots, quickly sip the cocktails, and then start walking to the club.

You both arrive at the club tipsy and giggly. The booming bass takes over your bodies, and you float rhythmically to grab a drink and then hit the dance floor. Dancing together feels good. His sparkling smile penetrates your heart like the sun’s rays penetrate the Earth’s atmosphere. Drunk off the excitement, and you find yourselves getting closer and closer. You’ve slowed from the beat and look up into his eyes, glossed over from bliss. He leans down as if to say something but the song changes.

He can’t stop his body from reacting, and he’s off to a new dance, showing off his skills… Jay has arrived. He finishes his drink, nudging you to do the same, then sets the empty cups on a nearby table. His sultry steps stalk toward you and turn you around, pressing himself against your backside. You gasp at the sudden movement but flow perfectly with him. His hands rest on your hips, fingers applying pressure to your hip bones. He grinds into you slowly, and you feel the slightest bulge. You push your ass into him and hear a slight hiss escape his mouth. His one arm snakes around your shoulders while the other hand firmly rests on your belly, holding you in place. He grinds into you again and brings his lips to your ear, “You look irresistible in this outfit.”

Your breath hitches, and your back arches away from him, causing your ass to press against him again. He moans your name softly, “Be careful, or we may have to call it a night.” 

Overwhelmed by impulsive thoughts and the cracks in the wall around your heart, you giggle and turn in his arms, “Maybe we should…get water? I’ll be right back.” You walk off the dance floor and head to the bar. 

You ask for ice while the bartender makes cups of iced water. You grab a cube and drag it along your clavicle to cool off; the water glistens on your skin. Once the bartender places your drinks in front of you, you turn to find Hoseok in the crowd before you start walking. 

When you finally spot the back of his yellow shorts, you smile and begin to turn toward the drinks when you see hands with hot-pink nail polish grasping Hoseok’s neck. You watch the hands play at his hairline and swear you hear his distinctive chuckle over the booming music. 

The sinking feeling in your stomach tells you to run away. You look back at the drinks on the bar and reach for your water. When the cup gets to your lips, you realize you’re trembling. The neon lights become dizzying, so you follow your gut and leave. 

Walking along the shoreline, shoes in hand, the sea laps at your feet, each impression erased. You stand still, facing the water, once a vibrant blue full of life, now slumbers in a dreamy black robe. The moon casts its light in a pathway, calling you to walk its passage to serenity. 

You step away from the water, find dry sand to sit on, and plop down onto it. The sand retreats into your shorts, but you don’t care. Your eyes stay fixated on the moonlit path until self-made salt water trickles down your cheek. 

You fell carelessly in love with someone that you’re not sure was even capable of doing the same. “Who was I kidding?” You speak softly to the moon, dig your feet further into the sand, and wrap your arms around your legs. 

Back at the club, Hoseok feels dehydrated from all the dancing and leaves the dance floor to find you. After two laps around the place and asking women outside the bathroom if you’re inside, he starts walking out. He thinks back to when he last saw you, going for water, and then he got distracted dancing. Not just dancing– dancing with another woman. “I’m an idiot!” Hoseok nearly sprints out of the club on a mission to find you.

Clouds slowly roll across the sky, obstructing the moon and the moonlit path vanishing. The shots from earlier have worn off quicker than you’d hoped, and it’s getting chilly sitting by the water with little clothes on. You brush the sand off your butt and legs, grab your shoes in one hand, wrap your arms around yourself, then start walking toward the villa. 

From a distance, Hoseok ardently calls your name. You turn toward his voice and watch as he races toward you. His body slams into yours, almost knocking you over, but his arms hold you tightly in place. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“The ocean was calling me. And you... You seemed a little preoccupied.” You step out of his hold. “Plus, seeing you dance like that with someone else– after saying– I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“Am I crazy, Hoseok? I know we both feel there’s more to this... more to us.”

“You’re not crazy. I feel it too. I–”

“You’re confusing, you know? You flirt with me all day but then do the same with other women. You’re all over me in bed and on the dance floor but then dance the same way with someone else. It hurts, and I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I’m an idiot, I know. But please, please let me fix this. I–” Hoseok stops talking and stares into your eyes, searching your soul for the words.

“You what? Want to have your cake and eat it too? I don’t want to be your toy.”

“I meant what I said the other night, granted it wasn’t the right timing, but I do want you–”

“Forget it, Hoseok! Let’s just pretend nothing happened and go back–”

“I don’t want that. I want you in more ways than just sex. If anything, this trip has brought us so much closer, and I can’t imagine not waking up next to you, and I don’t want it to end.”

Unsure of what to say or if you should believe him, he was the one who said it didn’t have to mean anything, and now he says this. Your eyes brim with tears as raindrops prickle your skin. Hoseok looks up at the clouds and scoffs at the inconvenience. The rain falls steadily, drenching the two of you and masking your tears. 

Hoseok grabs your hand and pulls you along while running back to the villa.

Neither of you say a word on the way back, yet your minds are not silent. When you enter the door, you gently slide off of Hoseok’s back and straighten your romper down. He turns to face you and runs his hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. He toes off his shoes, keeping his eyes on you, and then dashes for the bathroom coming back with a towel and robe.

“I wasn’t sure which one you may want.”

“Thank you,” you mumble.

Hoseok watches you sluggishly dry your hair as much as you can, then puts his hands on yours and takes the towel. He dabs your face, slowly moving down your body, removing as much water as possible from your satiny skin. When he’s finished at your feet, he looks up at you, eyes warm and inviting like a cup of coffee. You swear you can see hearts dancing in the richness of his irises. 

He drops the towel, removes his shirt, and stands before you. You can tell he’s nervous before his hand lands on your cheek, spreading his warmth into your skin. 

He holds your hands and rests his forehead on yours, “I made stupid decisions, but I promise you, I am stupid for you. I’m scared I ruined everything when in reality, I wanna be with you. More than friends, more than a hookup. I want to be your partner.”

“Seok–”

“I never should have said, ‘it didn’t have to mean anything’, because it would always mean something to me. I regretted the words the minute they came out but didn’t want to dig myself deeper.”

You pull away slightly to better see his face, attempting to find whatever answer your heart seeks. 

“Yes, I swear. I have wanted to confess my feelings to you for years–”

“Years!?” You swat at his chest and step back, but he doesn’t let you get far, pulling at your hips.

“I love our friendship and working with you. I was afraid my feelings would ruin what we had, but then it felt like you maybe had those feelings too. Instead of talking to you about it, I tried to hide it in other ways that ended up hurting you and almost lost you. I will never let that happen again.”

Hoseok leans in and presses his plump lips to yours, the air from his nose tickling your upper lip. You fuse your lips to his, and the kiss radiates your surroundings, the dark, damp room now ambient and forgiving. Your body molds to his as sweet tingles of butterflies escape the crumbling wall around your heart. Hoseok lifts you onto him with his lips still pressed to yours, and your arms wrap around his shoulders. He walks gingerly to the bed and lowers you down onto it. His mouth breaks away from yours and moves to your breasts, barely held in by the top of the romper. His tongue outlines the mounds as his hand feverishly runs along your thigh.

He murmurs your name, “Please be my partner…my lover?” He stills his hand and sprinkles kisses up to your neck. 

You giggle at the tickle, “Yeah, I’ll be yours, Seok.” You can feel his smile broaden against your skin before he lifts his head and looks at you.

“One more thing…a favor.”

“Hm?”

“Call me Jay when we’re in this kinda mood.”

“Okay?” Your curious tone prompts him for more.

“It turns me on, and I wanna hear it from your pretty mouth,” he coos before swiping your bottom lip with his tongue. 

Hoseok stands, eyes roaming your body, and pulls you up to do the same. His hand reaches behind you, untying the strap and letting the top of your romper loosely fall. The material sits on your hips before you push it down, letting it fall to your feet. Hoseok grins at the sight of your pasties, and you hide your face behind your hands. 

He tugs gently at your hands and pulls you into him, swaying into a dance. He kisses your forehead and then twists you, placing your back against his chest. Your body melts into him as his hands explore, and teeth nip at your ear. Hoseok begins to bend you forward, pressing your body into the mattress. You put your hands out to soften the fall onto the bed, and they slide above your head. Hoseok admires the sight before he lowers himself onto you, pressing his semi-hard cock into the crack of your ass and sliding a hand down your arm until his hand intertwines with yours. 

You lift your body, making him adjust so you can roll onto your back. Pulling his face into yours, you place soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw. He grinds against the thin cotton between your legs and squeezes your breast. You let out a slight noise that ignites his desire, and soon enough, his mouth is ravishing anywhere it can reach, stirring fire within you. 

“Mmm, Jay.” 

Hoseok stops abruptly at the words that escaped your lips. His forehead collapses against yours, “Say it again.” He peels the pasties off your nipples and pushes your breasts together, licking the crease between them. He sucks the skin into his mouth hard enough to leave his mark, then moves onto a nipple and nibbles lightly before swirling his tongue around it. He sucks it and releases it with a popping sound. You squirm under him as he does the same to the other breast.

“Fuck, Jay.” His body turns to jello– weakened by your whisper– falling limp on you. 

“It sounds better than I could’ve ever imagined.” He slides a finger into your underwear and pulls it off you. Kisses linger on your skin from your breasts to your stomach. His warm breath is on your thigh, and your body shivers under the heat. 

His mouth sweeps your folds, and he licks a long, unhurried stroke. Your legs shake, and your hands fly into his hair. His tongue flicks at your swelling nub as mewls escape your lips. 

“Jay, please.” 

He continues flickering his tongue and makes eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow. “Hmm?” The moan sends vibrations up your spine and a whine from your chest. You grab the sides of his head and steady him as you rock your hips against his face. He chuckles, sending your body into a frenzy. You moan his name repeatedly until you climax, dropping your hands, but he continues. You whine and wiggle out of his grasp when it becomes too much. 

Hoseok lets you come down a little before repositioning on top of you. You can feel his thickness against your leg, you push his underwear down until he takes it off. He kneels between your legs, and you watch as he pumps his cock a few times, eyes trained on you. He leans down with his hands on either side of you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Blissed out, you can only mumble a resemblance of a response. Hoseok laughs and an iridescent aura overtakes your body, giving you more energy to continue. 

“Can you handle a little more of Jay?” he quirks. You bite your bottom lip and nod your head. He eases into you; his cock drags along your walls, filling you deliciously. “Fuuu…so wet and tight.” He lulls, waiting patiently for you to adjust to him, and peppers soft kisses onto your mouth. 

His hips pull back slowly and gently push back into you. His tongue pushes in the same movement against yours. He swallows all of the moans slipping from your throat. Lewd sounds are coming from each movement, and he groans, “Do you hear that? I’m gonna cum so fast.”

Hoseok holds himself up off of you and quickens his pace. Your tits bounce with each thrust, along with little sounds leaving you; he’s close. 

You hiss and moan his name again as you hit another high. When he feels your walls throbbing against him, he lets go, not stopping until every drop is out of him. He rests on you, staying buried in your warmth. 

Hoseok nibbles along your shoulder, then bestows tenderhearted kisses up your neck, landing on your mouth. You drink him in like a refreshing iced tea on a hot summer day. 

He mutters your name against your neck, “That was even more amazing than I’d ever imagined...and trust me that's been a lot.” His smile against your skin radiates happiness into your bones, a feeling overwhelmingly pleasant. 

“Mmhmm. I think India is my new favorite place. It's beautiful here, even the cold part, and the memories are enough for a lifetime," you pause for a moment, your fingers combing through his fluffy hair, "and I really like this too."

Hoseok suppresses a laugh, letting out a puff of air, “Me too, but it's only my favorite because I'm with you.” He kisses your shoulder and finds one of your hands to wrap his fingers around yours.

The two of you lay there, one hand interlocked and the other tracing each other’s bodies, gentle kisses on exposed skin, letting this new experience seep into your core memories. Like traveling to a new place for the first time and becoming deeply smitten with a new, beautiful place. 

You look at Hoseok’s face, his eyes closed and soft features aglow, even in the dark. His smile is your favorite sight and his laugh is your favorite sound. He is easily your favorite adventure. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Namaste Collab Masterlist

Glossary:

Ladoos- traditional Indian dessert is made with different types of flour that are mixed with sugar and shortening, then shaped into balls.

Sweet boondi- fried gram flour balls soaked in flavored sugar syrup. 

Kaju katli- a cookie-like Indian sweet made from a dough consisting largely of ground cashew nuts; the name translates as "cashew slice."

Shikara- a wooden, flat-bottom boat

Ghunghat- head covering or headscarf

Vindaloo- Indian curry dish, which is originally from Goa, based on the Portuguese dish

Fish thali- complete meal consisting of Rice, fish curry, fried fish, and veggies

Feni- a liquor indigenous to the state of Goa, India. The two most popular types are cashew and coconut.

#namaste bangtan collab #namaste bangtan #moonleeai writes sometimes #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #sexy JAY

[moonleeai]

❄️ pairing: Park Jimin x Reader named Taylynn ⛄️ genre/au: Fluff, Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, romcom, Christmas au 🦌 rating: PG ❄️ wc: 6,346 ⛄️ summary:  A cute story about two friends that decide to "fake date" for the Christmas Holiday while visiting family, but with each household they fall for each other. 🦌 an: Thank you @downbad4yoongi and @cherrysoulth for beta reading

Story written for @mrsparkjimin18 as part of the @bangtanwritershq holiday event “Christmas Love”

❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️

Jimin sits across from you in your dining room at the two person table in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. It’s a ritual that no matter how busy life was, you would see each other every Sunday. It just so happens to always start with coffee, whether it be at a new cafe or at your place to have your beloved hand-drip coffee in front of his favorite window. When he walked in today you could see something was bothering him, he wasn’t his normal bubbly self. Usually you could decipher if it was due to a late night of gaming or girl trouble, but today was something different. Lucky for him, you were already baking his favorite homemade pastry to have with the coffee. This would absolutely do the trick to cheer up your best friend. 

“Are those your famous cinnamon rolls I smell?” Jimin breaks his gaze from the city view, tilts his head back and sniffs the air with his eyes closed.

“Yep! Apparently, my ‘best friend intuition’ knew you would need them today.”

“You’re seriously the best.”

“What’s up though? What happened?”

He groans, “My parents. You know…it’s that time of year for them to start worrying– or more so pestering– that I’m not married or even in any sort of relationship–” He’s interrupted by the buzzing of your phone vibrating on the kitchen counter. You jump up thinking it was the timer for the rolls, but it’s your mom calling. 

“Hold that thought, it’s my mom,” you say to Jimin.

You answer and then put the phone on speaker so you can check the oven. Not to your surprise, she has a similar tune. Your mother has also been on your case about getting married because you’re almost thirty and it would seem the world is ending due to your lack of interest in the subject. You look over to Jimin and you both roll your eyes before you cut in on her concern. 

“Mom, while I would love to keep this conversation going, Jimin is over and we’re–”

“Ooohhh, Jimin-ah! I miss you, my son! You know you two would make such a beautiful family!” 

“Oh my god! Mom! How many times are you going to keep saying this?”

“I miss you too, Eomeoni!” Jimin shouts from the table. You shake your head ‘no’ so he would stop encouraging her behavior.

“Okay, Mom. Love you. Bye!” You quickly hang up before she says anything else.

You and Jimin have been friends since high school and your mom has always had the biggest crush on him for you. Of course he laid the charm on thick whenever he was around so it made it hard to escape the constant ‘why aren’t you dating’ questions. Jimin was attractive but you never liked him in that way. You two were always great friends who enjoyed each other’s company and neither of you were generally interested in anything more than friendship with each other.

The timer goes off and you pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven, placing the tray on the stove top. As you carefully move them from the tray to the cooling rack, you see Jimin out of your peripheral opening the refrigerator to get the icing. 

“These need to cool off first,” you say as he brings the bowl to the counter closest to you.

“I know. I’ve watched you make them a hundred times. Which is how I know you usually pull the icing out to get it closer to room temperature.” He leans back onto the counter, watching you place the last roll on the rack.

“Ya know, Park Jimin, you just may be husband material for some lucky lady someday soon. You got the beauty and the brains,” you tease as he rolls his eyes. You lay the spatula and tray in the sink and turn to lean back on the opposing counter. 

“Taylynn, you of all people know I am just not interested in all that work. I like my job but I’m still a rookie and being stressed about worrying someone else every day is just not what I want. I just want to have fun.” Jimin was somewhat right. While being a police officer was a dangerous job, there were times that you would secretly worry about his well-being. “Also, almost every girlfriend has hated you and that’s a deal breaker.”

“Not true! Me and Sajin got along great! I saw her more than you sometimes.” 

Jimin scoffs, “Have you never heard of ‘keep your enemies closer’?” 

You gasp at his remark, “What! I thought she legit liked me. No wonder she stopped talking to me when you broke up,” you frown at the new revelation. 

“Are they cool enough yet?” Jimin pokes one of the rolls testing the temperature, he’s always been impatient when it comes to eating his favorite pastry. Usually opting to dip the dough into icing instead of making it aesthetically pleasing, he claims it’s less messy this way. 

“Yes, impatient one. You can start eating them now.” You grab some plates and hand him utensils to start dishing and frosting the rolls. He dances in tiny back to the table and you follow behind him giggling. 

You both chat, catching up from the past week, filling each other in on work drama. You notice he is extra fidgety so you ask more questions to try and pry whatever it is out of him. As you take the last bite, he finally lets it out. 

“Maybe we could pretend we’re dating…just for the Christmas weekend when we have to go to our parent’s houses? I feel bad having my mother worry about me all the time. At least this way, maybe she will be comforted a little.”

You slightly choke on your food and tap your chest as if that will help. You quickly grab your coffee to swallow the liquid to clear your throat, but that causes you to wince because it’s still pretty hot in temperature, which then makes your eyes fill with water. This entire debacle, Jimin just sits staring at you with wide eyes. Finally, after a few coughs, you catch your breath.

“Aren’t you like a trained professional to help people in emergency situations?! You didn’t even budge! What if I was choking to death!”

“I know the signs of choking and you weren’t–”

“You could’ve at least pretended to be concerned! And you want to pretend to date? No way.”

“You didn’t even think about it!”

“Right because I almost DIED!”

“Well, it’s not a terrible idea.”

“Jimin! You want us to lie to everyone?”

“More like…role-playing. Don’t you like that kinky shit?” You drop your jaw and raise your eyebrows to the ceiling. “Plus…it’s just a weekend! It’s not like we don’t know everything about each other anyway, it’ll be so easy and then we can have some peace from them.”

“First off, that guy was the one into it. I was just playing along. Second, we would still get a billion questions after the weekend. Do you plan on ignoring your mom for months? Besides, they will totally know! Your eyes tell everything almost immediately.”

“They do not! I’m good at keeping secrets. And we already talk to each other every single day so we would be able to answer those questions.”

“Yes, you keep secrets from escaping as words, but as soon as one is spoken by anyone else, you move your eyes around or start giggling! Immediately signaling that something is going on.”

“I can do a weekend. C’mon, Taylynn, please! I want my mom off my back for a little while. Please, for me?” He pushes his plump bottom lip out into a pout and blinks his eyes. He knows you have never been able to resist his adorable charm.

“Ugh! Fine! One weekend, Jimin! Don’t make me regret it.”

❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️

You follow through with your agreement but instead of two days, the trip gets extended to four days by request of the mothers, two at his family’s house and two at your family’s house.  After filling the car with gifts and luggage, you both begin your journey to the countryside together. It’s a two hour drive but road trips are always fun with Jimin. He makes the best playlists to have a car karaoke session which makes the time fly by.

As you pull into Jimin’s parent’s driveway, you see them waiting at the glass door. 

“Here we go, babe!” Jimin cheerfully sings, making you cringe but laugh at the same time.  “Let’s go in first and then get the stuff out later,” he says while putting the car in park. He comes around and opens your door, which is nothing new, he’s always been a gentleman, but as you step out he grabs your hand and places it in the nook of his arm where your fingers instinctively curve to his bicep, catching you by surprise. You knew he was fit, you just didn’t realize how brawny his arm was.

As you get closer you can hear Jimin’s mom gushing in sweet accolades.

“Aigo,” she says long and drawn out, as you step across the threshold, “I knew you two would end up like this one day! What a sweet surprise just in time for the holidays!” You and Jimin look at each other smiling and then back to his mom as you toe your shoes off and change into house slippers.

“I guess we just had to figure it out, Eomma,” Jimin says. His mom’s eyes are shaped like crescent moons from her smiling so hard. You kind of feel bad for lying to her.

“I hope you two are hungry for lunch, Appa made way too much food.”

“It wouldn’t be Christmas if he didn’t.” Jimin smiles and then guides you into the dining room. He purposely made sure he didn’t make any pit stops for food because he knew his dad was cooking enough to feed an army. 

His mother goes on to talk about how she set up the ensuite for you both to stay in for the next two nights. You weren’t exactly expecting his parent’s to be okay with you both staying in the same bed, let alone the same room.

When lunch is ready, Jimin makes your plate with extra sweet potatoes, just the way you like it. He comes back to the table with his plate and sits beside you, then pulls your hand to his lips, taking his time, sending you a wink. You can’t help but notice how warm and soft his lips feel on your skin. You narrow your eyes and then smile in the presence of his parents. After some small talk and stuffing your faces with delicious food, you sat there finishing the meal with a small coffee.

Jimin’s dad talks you into making some of your special cookies while you praise him for the spread. Little does he know, your special cookies are a result of following the directions on the chocolate chip bag and adding a little extra butter. Once the coffee cups are empty, you and Jimin make your way outside to unpack some of the gifts and luggage. At the trunk of the car you quietly talk to Jimin.

“Why are you being so touchy? Stop that shit!”

“It has to look real, Taylynn.” You roll your eyes at his smirk and throw one of the bags over your shoulder. 

“Don’t you feel a little bad? Seeing how happy your mom is with this preposterous lie.”

“A little, Miss Dictionary, but I also like seeing her happy. Even if it’s a little white lie.” 

Jimin sets the gifts in the living room and calls for his parents so they can open them. You and Jimin had agreed prior to this arrangement that you would only buy each other one gift and open it at your parent’s house. His mother opens hers first and immediately starts crying at the jewel studded bracelet with all of their birthstones from her adoring son. His father opens his gift and gushes at how thoughtful his son is, holding up a book. Jimin had all of the family recipes from both sides of the family made into a cookbook, original handwriting and all. 

The rest of the evening is peaceful. You pull out all the ingredients to make cookies once dinner is finished, and like the good fake boyfriend Jimin is, he helps you every step of the way. He reads the measurements off the bag and you put it all together in the mixing bowl. When he’s not looking, you take some of the dough mix and wipe it on his nose. He angrily puffs air out and glares his eyes at you while you snicker. 

“Taylynn, you know I hate stuff on my face!”

“Yep! And there’s nothing you can do about it…can you imagine my fake boyfriend getting mad at me in front of his parents? Tsk, tsk. They would surely have a stern talking to their son.”

“You’re enjoying this too much for someone who was so against it.”

“Gotta make the best of it!” You spoon perfect little balls onto the cookie sheet and place them in the oven. 

“Just remember, payback is a bitch.” Jimin winks and walks out of the kitchen. You’re not the least bit worried about a payback, he is in no position to piss you off in front of either family.

The night ends in front of the gas fireplace. His parent’s have long gone to bed, but you and Jimin decided to start another movie to get into the Christmas spirit. Earlier you watched The Grinch with his parents and now you’re watching Home Alone. He’s nestled between your legs on the floor with your back resting against a beanbag chair and your hand is softly stroking his head, running your fingers through his fluffy hair. soon realizing this position no longer needs to be held without an audience. 

“Dude, get up. We don’t need to sit like this anymore,” you nudge him to move but he doesn’t budge. You call his name and tap on his shoulder, still no movement. You lean over to get a look at his face and just as you’re next to his ear, he turns his head and opens his eyes, locking them with yours. Although his eyes are chocolate brown, the fire highlights caramel swirls trapped within a thick black ring. Suddenly, your temperature rises and you swallow hard before pulling away. 

“Sorry, I was just seeing if you were asleep,” you quietly say. 

“You sure you weren’t about to kiss me?” he chuckles at his own joke, stands and reaches out for you to grab his hands, which you do, and he pulls you off the ground. He turns the fireplace and television off while you fold the blankets and put them neatly on the couch. He illuminates the dark hallway with the flashlight on his phone and walks toward the bedroom with you behind him.

“Rock, paper, scissors for who gets to shower first?” Jimin asks from the bedside.

“What? No, ladies first.”

“Ladies take too long, come on I’ll be quicker.” 

“You’re a terrible fake boyfriend.” You cross your arms and pout.

“You know I can’t say no to that face…” he grumbles and waves his hand for you to go first. 

You snicker, blowing him a kiss, then gather your pajamas,  skin-care products, and things for your hair. In the ensuite bathroom, Jimin’s mother has laid out resort-like amenities. Small bottles of body wash and lotions. Two beautiful plush robes that look comfy enough to sleep in. She even put fresh flowers in a vase which are very fragrant in the small space. You look over at the freestanding bathtub and notice a bamboo bath tray with scented oils, bath bombs, and candles.

Not wanting any of it to go to waste, you start drawing a bath. You set up your products and select a lo-fi playlist on your phone and set it on the bath tray, then throw in a lavender bath bomb with some rose oil and soothing bubble bath into the quickly filling tub. You pull your hair up into a messy bun and sink into the water. The bubbles sit just below your clavicles as you lean your head back on the pillow, closing your eyes and breathing in the aroma. 

The door flies open and you startle sitting up. Jimin’s eyes lock on yours and there is nothing but silence for what feels like an eternity.

You exhale, not realizing you were holding your breath, “What the fuck, Jimin!” You panic and quickly glance down at your body, thankful the bubbles are doing an excellent job covering you up.

“I gotta piss and you’re taking forever.” He looks around noticing all the spa supplies and takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. “What is all this shit? You brought stuff to pamper yourself?”

“No! Your mom set it up. It would be rude not to use it at least once.”

Jimin raises his eyes and head acknowledging your statement then walks into the toilet room and closes the door behind him. Resting your head back onto the bath pillow, you cannot believe he is using the toilet while you’re sitting there naked in the tub. He comes back out and washes his hand. Then sits on the edge of the tub.

“You’re getting a little too comfortable there buddy. Get out!”

“I’ve literally seen you in a bathing suit, not much left to the imagination there.” He touches all the bath oils, smelling each one slowly. 

“Jimin, can you please go. This is weird. I know we’re besties but there are some boundaries, no?” 

“Hurry up. I want to shower.” he huffs and walks out.

Unable to relax anymore you scrub your body clean and get out. After applying your nightly face products and body oil, you put your pajamas on and throw the robe overtop. When you walk out of the bathroom, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through his phone. 

“All yours, creeper.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, walking past you.

The door shuts and you hear him click the lock. As the shower runs you set out clothes for tomorrow and make a mental checklist of everything they have to do tomorrow; the morning will start with coffee, of course, make more cookies, volunteer to deliver meals to the elderly, and then relax with another home cooked meal by Jimin’s dad. You take the robe off and hang it on the desk chair then climb in the bed and get under the covers. Jimin has already laid out extra blankets for him to use over the covers. You scroll through your phone a little but at the first yawn, you place it on the charger and close your eyes.

You hear Jimin come out and he starts ruffling through his suitcase loudly. Turning to tell him to be quiet, you see he also put on the fluffy robe. His wet hair is pushed back exposing his undercut and forehead. For a second, you admire his beauty, but then turn back over choosing not to say anything.

He turns off the light and climbs in bed, scooting close to you under the covers. 

“Now what are you doing?”

“I’m cold and you’re already warm.”

“Jimin, just use the blankets you pulled out.”

“Body heat is better.”

“Is it your goal to piss me off in this fake relationship? Because you’re doing a damn good job.” You don’t mind the extra warmth, you just don’t want to blur the lines of your friendship. You do a lot together and share everything together, but something about being this close makes you a little hot and bothered. 

“Please bestie, there’s no body pillow and I need something to help me get warm to fall asleep.” Jimin’s soft whine rides a wave into your ear, rousing a slight shiver down your spine.

“Fine,” you submit to his request. 

“One more thing?” 

“I think you’re out of requests,” you smile and shake your head.

“Will you…play with my hair?” 

You turn to look at him and then immediately regret it because just like earlier, your eyes are locked on each other and his glint from the moonlight coming in through the window. Your noses are only a hairline apart, but neither of you move back. His features are sharp but soft, enchanting. His eyes roam down to your mouth as his lips part and his tongue flirts between them. You nibble your lower lip, close your eyes, and nod your head, ignoring the sparks in your chest. Jimin lowers his head to your chest so you can reach his hair.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your heart sounds like it’s beating really fast.”

“Oh, uh, probably just the extra weight on me. I’m fine though.” Jimin hums in response and falls asleep without any hesitation. 

With the weight of his limbs over you, it’s not long before your breath and muscles relax and you can feel sleep crawling over your body. Jimin stirs and buries his nose in your neck, the faint streams of warm air tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Jimin?” you whisper, but there’s no response. You can tell by his breathing that he’s still asleep and you have become his body pillow. The extra warmth actually feels good, too good. You try to relax your body again, twisting your upper body slightly away from him, but he grips tighter and moans, mumbling something. “Are you awake?” you whisper again.

“Mmm, you smell so good Tay.” Now you’re sure he’s messing with you. You turn your face toward his, waiting for him to open his eyes and giggle. Slowly and slightly, his hips gently rock into your leg and you feel a lump pressed into you. You bite your lower lip, as excitement races through your veins. You feel his bulge twitch and swell against you, and while your brain is telling you to push him away, you take a deep, shaky breath and gently shake him.

“Jimin. Jimin please, move over.” He grunts and subconsciously does as you request. You let out a sigh of relief but now you’re electrified and wide awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell just went on through your body. 

The next morning you wake up as the big spoon with your head pressed into Jimin’s back and arms wrapped around his waist. You quickly pull away and sit up, the movement jostling him awake. You turn to look out the french doors leading to the patio out back and gasp. 

“What?!” Jimin sits up abruptly.

“Look! There’s deer at the wood’s edge.” You quickly get out of bed and open the door, walking toward the patio screen to get a closer look. Jimin runs after you with the blanket.

“You’re gonna freeze out here!” He has the blanket behind him like a cape then wraps it along with his arms around you, his body pressed firmly against your back. You feel warm and comfortable, trying to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach. 

“How’d you sleep?” you ask him, ready to talk about last night.

“Man, I slept so good,” he says, extending his limbs in a stretch. 

“I bet you did with your dick pressed against my leg while you had me pinned under your arms and legs!”

“WHAT! I’m so sorry! I– I didn’t know I was that close.” His eyes open wide and his cheeks have a pale pink tint to them. 

“You were talking too,” you say, fishing for any inkling that he may have been awake. 

“Wha–what did I say?” 

Before you can say anything else, his mother calls your names and announces breakfast is ready.

Luckily the rest of the day was busy, filled with holiday activities that kept you both active and not too close for too long. You laughed a lot when Jimin and his dad got hit on by every grandma in town to whom you delivered meals. By the time dinner came around, things felt a little more normal. Since you have to be at your parent’s house for breakfast, you both spend the evening packing your luggage, leaving the room when each other showered, and sleeping with a wall of pillows between each other.  

❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️

On the short ride to your parent’s there is casual small talk mostly reminiscing about high school days. You have fun singing and grooving along to the road trip playlist so it never felt awkward. 

When you pull into the driveway, Jimin shuts the engine off but stops you from getting out.

“Hey, Taylynn? I’m really, really sorry about the other night. We haven’t really talked about it, but I can tell it made you uncomfortable and I didn’t mean to cross any lines.”

You feel bad that he’s apologizing. Of course he wasn’t doing it on purpose and you feel terrible that he’s been beating himself up about it for who knows how long, knowing him, probably since the minute you told him.

“It’s okay, Jimin. I guess we can just say we’re closer than ever now,” you joke, “just keep your thing away from me for the rest of the weekend.” You give him a serious look then burst out laughing, rubbing your knuckles in his hair, fraying it in every direction.

“Why would you do that before we go in to see your parents?” Jimin puffs out, checking himself in the rearview mirror, pushing his hair back in its rightful position.

“Because, as your fake girlfriend, I love annoying the shit out of you.”

“I’m telling you…karma.”

You spend the next few hours eating, catching up with your parents, and also filling them in on how you and Jimin started dating. One thing you happened to notice, both sets of parents seem to be completely unphased, but genuinely happy. Like they were just waiting for this to happen one day. 

Again you’re making cookies with Jimin in the kitchen. As you’re mixing, you get some of the dough on your finger, but as you sneak up behind Jimin and try to rub the mess on his face, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand toward his mouth, licking your finger clean. You open your eyes wide and shriek, dropping the mixing bowl. Jimin catches the bowl but not without getting some of the dough on his fingers. He looks at his fingers and then to you. 

“Jimin. No! Don’t do whatever you’re thinking!” you backpedal and try to get your socks to grip the kitchen floor so you can run.

He giggles and grabs the strings on the back of your apron before you’re able to get too far. You squeal from being pulled backwards and at the sight of his dirty hand coming for your face. You close your eyes tight as his fingers connect to your cheek and he pulls you closer. You open your eyes just in time to see his face next to yours and his tongue dart out, connecting with the dough on your cheek.

“GROSS!!” you cry, trying to escape.

“I told you…karma.” He lets you go still giggling and crosses his arms over his chest with the biggest smile, he’s so very proud of himself for getting revenge.

“Okay, okay! Even!” you call out while washing your face in the kitchen sink. 

“That’s what I thought. Don’t mess with the best jokester there is, Taylynn.”

It’s finally time to open presents; a family tradition to do it on the evening of Christmas because your entire childhood, your parents worked Christmas day to make the extra money. You understood at a very young age that this holiday was about the time spent with each other, it didn’t matter what time of day.

You give your parents a joint gift that they could use together. A complimentary golf day at their favorite place where they won’t have to spend a dime. Everything is paid for, meals, the course, and a spa treatment. When it’s time to exchange gifts with Jimin he wants to open his first. You hand him a small box. As he opens it, his jaw drops. 

“What? How did you know I wanted this watch? I’ve been saving up for it,” he runs his finger along the ridges in the brown leather. 

“I saw it on your computer one day when I came over to watch a movie. There’s something else in there, too.” You know how much he loves charities so what better than to donate in his honor to his favorite charity, and let him wear the silver locket bracelet to remember. 

“You donated to UNICEF? Tha–that’s so thoughtful. Thank you, so much.” Jimin is taken aback at how meaningful your gift is and almost forgets that he needs to get yours from the garage. He sets his gifts to the side and jumps up, skipping toward the door. You're talking to your parents when he comes back in and you see their faces light up. When you look at Jimin you see a huge bouquet of blush pink peonies with sage green stems, wrapped in a brown paper bag, as well as a large gift bag. He hands them both to you.

“Jimin… these are beautiful… and my favorite!”

“I know,” he replies shyly with a small smile.

You’re not sure why you are getting emotional over flowers. Something you often buy for yourself, but coming from Jimin– that makes you feel giddy, overly happy, and shocked. You peek into the bag, sans any tissue paper– true boyfriend style, and glance back at Jimin who looks a little anxious. As you’re pulling the purse out of the bag, you can see the signature Louis Vuitton pattern all over the canvas. 

“Jimin…” you know this may have cost a fortune and there is no way you can accept it.

“Please don’t worry about the price, you know I’m a bargain shopper. But when I saw it, it screamed ‘Taylynn’. It matches those sunglasses you always wear and kind of matches the colors of the interior of your car.”

“I–”

“You never buy yourself expensive things so I thought I would do it for you.”

“I love it so much!” You hug the bag and then sniff the flowers. He laughs at how ridiculously cute you look hugging a purse, the smile on his face shining brighter than the sun. You set your gifts down and throw yourself in his arms, giving him the biggest hug. You feel his body relax as he holds on for just a little longer than usual. 

A little later, there’s not much going on so you ask Jimin if he wants to make hot cocoa and go sit on the balcony to watch the sunset over the lake. As you're sitting there in the quiet, enjoying the view, it begins to flurry.

“The first snow,” Jimin coos into his mug of cocoa, “make a wish!” You both close your eyes and make a wish, keeping it to yourselves.

“Too bad it’s getting dark and we won’t be able to watch it cover everything.”

“I hope it snows a lot so we can build a snowman and have a snowball fight.”

“You’re such a child sometimes.” You love that about your best friend, even if his jokes can go too far and annoy you.

❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️ ⛄️ 🦌 ❄️

The next morning you wake up alone. You hear everyone talking in the living room so you peak your head out. Jimin looks like he’s about to go visit an igloo.

“Finally! You’re awake! There is so much snow, I already shoveled for your dad so let’s go play! Get dressed!” Jimin declares.

“I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“I have a thermos filled up for you! Brush your teeth and let’s go!”

You didn’t pack snow gear so you throw on layers of clothes hoping it’s enough to keep you warm. As much as you want to complain, this is Jimin’s favorite time of the year, and he joyfully agrees to do things you like to do all the time. 

Outside you watch Jimin frolic around like a deer. The cold air quickly wakes you up and you slowly sip on the coffee he made for you. He makes snowballs and lines them up perfectly, one set for you and one set for him. Then he moves on to bigger snowballs to make a snowman. You run back inside to get rid of your coffee and grab a scarf for the snowman and as soon as you step foot outside, a snowball hits your leg. You look up at Jimin who has fallen on the ground from laughing. You walk the scarf to the snowman and wrap it around its neck, bend down to pick up a snowball, and walk toward Jimin who is now making a snow angel. When you get over him, you drop the snowball on his face. 

“I don’t think you wanted to do that!” Jimin jumps up, startling you into a run, he catches you quickly and throws his arms around you in a back hug but pulling you to the ground too. You both land on your sides and he lets go, then straddles you and pins you in the freezing snow. He gathers snow in both hands and holds it over your head, “Say you’re sorry!”

“Never!” You yell and put your ice cold hands on his bare skin under his shirt. His arms instinctively pull into his body while he yelps, the snow dispersing on your sides. He doubles forward, his nose now touching yours. You both open your eyes wide and he pushes himself up to stand, then grabs your hands to pull you up. “Let’s go get warmed up,” he says, noticing your clothes are a little wet.

In the bedroom you’re both drying your hair after changing into dry attire. 

“I can’t believe we got to see and play in the first snowfall together.”

“I know. I don’t even remember the last time I witnessed the first snowfall. I usually wake up to the middle or end of it.”

“Do you believe in the superstition?” Your heart speeds up with his question. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know… if you witness the first snowfall with the person you like, true love will bloom.”

“Uh, I guess so–”

“Do you think… that could apply to us?” Jimin walks toward you and latches onto your hands. 

“What?” 

“We should date for real.” Jimin blurts out. You stand there frozen, heart racing, staring into his eyes. “These last few days I have seriously been wondering how I’ve let you be just my friend for all these years. You’re more than everything I could ever ask for in a partner. You made my heart race and gave me butterflies all weekend.” Now it’s your turn to blush in front of him.

“Jimin, I–”

“Before you reject me I need to get it all off my chest. I fall for you a little more each day. It’s actually driving me crazy. When we go back to the city, I don’t want to only see you on Sundays. I want to see you, everyday. I want to spend time with you, every single day.

“I–” you look down and take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves before looking back at him, “I feel the same way.” 

“You do?” Jimin says surprised and excited.

“Yeah, I really do,” you simper.

“I love you, Tay.” There’s that nickname again. Your heart flutters and you can feel your face flushing deeper with color. “I think I’ve loved you for a while, but this weekend really put it into perspective for me. I think we could be, should be, more than just friends. We already know everything about each other, no one has ever been so attentive at giving me a gift like you, and no one has ever felt like home more than you do.” Jimin stands there nervous, having just spilled his guts to you. 

You look past him and see the flowers and purse he thoughtfully picked out for you. You think about the coffee he made you that tasted exactly as if you made it. The playfulness between you two in the snow and in the kitchen. How you were a team making cookies and cinnamon rolls. The butterflies you felt on a few different occasions. You do love your best friend so what’s the harm in letting him know. 

“I love you too, Jimin. This weekend has been fun and I haven’t been this happy in, well, ever.”

“So you wanna, like, be official?”

“You mean, drop the fake title?”

“Yeah…what do you say?”

“I say… let’s do it, Boyfriend.” Jimin smiles so big, his beautiful brown eyes disappear. He suddenly lets go of your hands.

“Hold that thought,” he runs out of the room and comes back with what looks like a plant and some tape, he tip toes in the doorway and hangs the plant. “Come here, please.” 

You walk toward him where he stands, “Is this mistletoe?” Your head is tilted back looking up, studying the smooth, oval leaves with white berries. You look back at him and his full lips.

Jimin leans in and softly places his lips on yours, lightly pulling your bottom lip between his. He sluggishly removes his lips from yours and rests his forehead on yours for a brief moment before speaking. “I loved my gifts, but honestly, the most perfect gift is you.”

#bangtanwhq #secret santa #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #christmas with jimin #jimin fanfic #fake dating #friends to lovers #jimin fluff #moonleeai writes sometimes #fic: the perfect gift

[moonleeai]

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by @ 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚒𝚗𝚎 of @bangtanwhq

My Big 3 are: ​​☼ Aquarius - Members - JiKook ☾ Pieces - Where they meet- Walking on Campus ↑ Leo - Cliche Trope - Strangers to Lovers

🟠 Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

🟠 AU/Genre: Pistilverse AU / Strangers to Lovers / Almost Romeo and Juliet

🟠 Rating: MA

🟠 WC: 2,404

🟠 Warnings: Oral - Sexual activity

🟠 Tags/Inclusions: tattoo tracing~the smell of books~praise~pistilverse ~oral~late night karaoke~body worship~longtime pining~soulmate

Fic Notes:

°°°"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."-- Emily Brontë

°°°Jimin- Bonded Pistil; If he sleeps with another Stamen, the poison spreads through their blood and they die of poisoning within three days.

°°°Jungkook- Stamen; Stamens who have sex with a bonded Pistil will also die of poisoning, but Jungkook doesn't know he's an anti-stamen with healing power

ABOUT PISTILVERSE

🖤Thank you @rec-me-bts for another beautiful banner! I truly appreciate you always making time to help me out!

🖤Thank you, Sara and Jasz @downbad4yoongi for betaing!! I love how you both always hype me up!

Jimin has seen him before around campus, a beautiful man hidden under dark baggy clothes and a bucket hat. Jimin imagined he was built like a Greek God under those layers but never approached him, just admired from afar. Years ago, Jimin was tricked into sleeping with a venom stamen. When he asked about the flower, the venom stamen said it wasn’t poisonous, a lie. Jimin didn’t know a pretty flower could be deadly at the time, drawn in by the beautiful sleeve of color and fragrant perfume. When the flowers bloomed along his spine on the barren branch, he felt the sting for days; thankfully, it wasn’t excruciating. But he was left with the pain of one-sided love, and the memory was forever branded on his back as a bonded pistil. The memory was enough to scare Jimin away from connecting with anyone else, knowing that sleeping with anyone else would activate the poison in his blood and end his life.

For months, he kept his distance from Jungkook, walking mindlessly together with their friend group to and from classes. The campus landscape easily kept Jimin from staring, sidewalks lined with flourishing flowers. No one knew Jimin was dreaming of Jungkook’s touch, imagining running his fingers along his pale skin, pressing their lips together, looking into those doe eyes while Jungkook's body hovered over him. He wants to worship Jungkook and be his one and only lover. Deep down, Jimin can feel a gravitational pull toward Jungkook, but he fights it, knowing nothing can come of it. Jimin missed being touched and always dreamed of having a life-long partner, but his past endeavors tore that away from him.

Jimin grabs a coffee and makes his way to his normal spot at the campus library to work on his final dissertation. He takes a deep breath through his nose, breathing in the familiar earthy scents mixed with musk and hints of vanilla. Today, there's another scent that he has only smelled outside. It's delicately sweet and floral with a muted citrus-orange. And, as it danced its way through his nostrils, a sexy depth evoked erotic thoughts. Jimin was dizzy from the scent and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling that was taking over his senses. His body reacted with a tingling flutter surrounding his heart and a deep desire in his belly. His cock twitched with arousal, bringing him back to reality. He looks around to find the source of the scent but only hears a door closing in the distance.

A month later, the semester is over, and Jimin is unwinding at a local bar with friends when he smells the floral orange again. His eyes wander, looking for the source again. In a crowd of men, he spots a forearm with a flame-orange tiger lily with black spots on the petals, the mark of a stamen. The lively color is hypnotizing. Jimin's eyes roam the rest of the individual, starting from the bottom, clad in chunky high-top black boots and relaxed-fit black pants bloused into them. The man's shirt is also black, with a thick silver chain necklace draping over the shirt collar. A shiny lip piercing sits on plush lips that he thinks he may have seen before. Jimin's gaze meets the man's, and they both shyly smile before Jungkook looks away. Jimin's heart flutters, and he battles the arousal growing between his legs. He admires Jungkook like a pretty painting for a few more seconds before turning away. Jimin feels the gravitational pull toward Jungkook again, but he fights it, knowing nothing can come of it.

A few moments pass, and the orange floral scent gets stronger, almost knocking Jimin off his feet. He takes a deep breath before there's a tap on his shoulder. Like a deer in headlights, he's slightly looking up into those doe eyes he's been daydreaming about. Jungkook's lips are moving, but Jimin hears nothing. He watches as Jungkook's lips draw up on just one side then his tongue probes at his lip piercing. Jimin briefly widens his eyes, frantically realizing he's just staring.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'm Jungkook. What's your name?"

"Ah. Jimin. Nice to meet you, Jungkook." Jimin silently says the pretty man’s name a few more times as if engraving it into his brain.

"Nice to meet you too, Jimin. Wanna get outta here?" Jimin's heart stops, and the air from his lungs is expelled.

"I--I can't. It's not a good idea." Not only is Jimin afraid of connecting with another, he’s also not the only one who would be affected. Stamens who have sex with a bonded pistil will also die of the poisoning. Jimin could never take Jungkook's pretty being from the earth.

"I was just thinking some karaoke would be fun...and I could use some company."

"I really wish I cou--"

"What if I beg?" Jungkook reaches for Jimin's hand, circling his thumb along his paper-thin skin and sending chills over Jimin's body.

"Only if you promise karaoke only."

"As you wish." Jungkook pulls Jimin behind him as he darts for the door. Jimin brushes his hair back, smiling from ear to ear. They reach a motorcycle parked on the corner, and Jungkook hands him a full-face helmet. He doesn't think twice before putting it on and jumping on the bike behind Jungkook. Jungkook grabs Jimin's arms and wraps them around his waist. Jimin inhales the scent as if it's the last time he may ever smell it again. Jungkook leans forward and takes off carefully, blurring the city lights surrounding them.

When they arrive at an apartment complex and remove their helmets, Jungkook notices Jimin's confused expression.

"I guess I should've said karaoke at my place?"

"Probably, yeah. Look, I want to get to know you– I do– I just can't."

"Relax, Jimin; it’s just singing," Jungkook smirks and grabs Jimin's hand again, leading the way into his apartment. It's clean, almost empty, but cozy at the same time. Jungkook flicks a small lamp on, casting a faux galaxy throughout the room on the walls and ceiling. He grabs two beers from his fridge and guides Jimin to sit on his couch. Jimin can't take his eyes off Jungkook as he watches his every movement, only tearing his eyes away to look at the TV and song choices. He doesn't need the beer; Jungkook’s scent makes him tipsy enough.

"It's almost 1 AM, you sure this is okay with your neighbors?"

"Yeah, I do it all the time. We can sing our hearts out, and no one will care." Jimin nods and they pick a song.

One song leads to many. An hour later, they are close enough that Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Jungkook's body. He stopped singing just a song ago, wanting to bask in the angelic vocals coming from Jungkook. He leans into him with a shiver, hoping to steal some of his heat and glances down at the glowing tiger lily. His hand gravitates to it and traces the outline of the flower. Each swoop of his finger sends butterflies through Jungkook’s veins. Jungkook stutters, bringing Jimin out of his trance.

"Ss–sorry. It's just...beautiful." Jimin says while looking admirably into Jungkook's eyes.

Jungkook puts the mic down and lets the soft R&B play in the background. He angles his body toward Jimin, takes his chin in his hand, and leans into a kiss. But, before their lips meet, Jimin turns his head, and Jungkook’s lips fall onto his cheek.

“Jungkook,” Jimin whispers.

“Mmm,” Jungkook moans, “I want to hear you call my name endlessly.”

“I’m bonded.” Jimin blurts breathlessly, nervous from the anticipation of a torturous fate and the overwhelming intoxication of arousal.

Jungkook lightly pulls Jimin’s face back to focus on him. “We can kiss, can’t we?”

Jimin leans in, pressing his lips ragingly into Jungkook’s. His body melts into Jungkook when his hands wrap around his torso, strongly gripping his sides. Jungkook sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth and swallows the mewl that escapes from Jimin’s mouth. The kiss is passionate and too hot; the room feels as though it’s a hundred degrees warmer. Jimin tugs at the hem of Jungkook’s shirt as their tongues swipe across each other. They pause only long enough to remove their shirts and for Jimin to confirm that Jungkook is built like a Greek God. Jimin traces the lines of Jungkook’s chiseled chest and prominent abs. Jungkook kisses down Jimin’s neck, slurping loudly as he sucks feverishly. Jimin alternates between hisses and pants at the sensitivity. The flowers on his back are inflamed, but he doesn’t care; Jungkook is still making him feel euphoric.

“Jimin,” Jungkook rasps between kisses, his chest heaving. Jimin whines, sending Jungkook into a frenzy. He lifts Jimin onto his lap and attacks his nipples, nipping and sucking, licking and soothing. Jungkook pulls his face away and watches as Jimin’s face twists in discomfort. He shifts, reaching up to kiss Jimin’s lips again. “Your lips.” mwah “They’re like marshmallows.” mwah “Soft.” mwah “So sweet.”

Jungkook’s hands slowly start to undo Jimin’s pants, exposing the top of his briefs. He dips a finger into the band, testing Jimin’s willingness. Then continues with his honey-laced words. “Your voice,” mwah, “Enchanting.” Mwah, “Your skin, supple and silky.” Jimin rises on his knees, allowing Jungkook to pull his pants down over his peachy bottom, then sits to the side to pull them all the way off.

“You next,” Jimin pleads, and Jungkook happily obliges, standing to remove his pants swiftly.

“Stand,” Jungkook demands, pulling Jimin into him. Jimin gasps as Jungkook pushes his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, grabbing fistfuls of ass. Jungkook’s hardened cock is outlined in his magenta briefs, resting against Jimin’s stomach.

“I c–can’t,” Jimin shakily lets out.

“I can,” Jungkook palms Jimin’s length, eliciting a whimper. “Your body,” mwah. “It’s so beautiful.” Mwah, “I need to feel you, all of you.” Mwah.

“Jungkook—”

“When you say my name, it flows through my body like moonshine, electrifying every inch of my body,” Jungkook breathes as he lowers to his knees, leaving a trail of kisses along Jimin’s v-line. He pulls the briefs down Jimin’s ripped legs and frees his leaking cock. Jungkook’s tongue darts out against his lip piercing, the cool touch of metal chilling the tip of his hot tongue.

Jungkook reaches out and squeezes Jimin’s throbbing shaft, his own arousal pooling in his lower stomach. Jimin is powerless against Jungkook’s touch, paralyzed in anticipation. Jungkook brings his lips to Jimin’s cockhead and licks slowly, twirling his tongue around the top.

“More. Please, Jungkook.”

Jungkook smiles and licks a long stripe from Jimin’s balls to the foreskin, then places gentle kisses along the shaft. Jimin giggles, squirms under the tickle, and places his hands in Jungkook’s hair, pulling him off. Jungkook looks into Jimin’s eyes and opens his mouth wide, ready for his mouth to be stuffed. Jimin grips Jungkook’s hair tighter and pulls his eager mouth toward his leaking length. Jungkook slowly lowers his mouth, swallowing Jimin whole. Jimin gasps as the tip of his cock hits the back of Jungkook’s throat. His throat is tight and so warm.

“You take me so well,” Jimin says while petting Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s nose is almost touching Jimin’s pubis, and his eyes are focused on Jimin’s. “So. Pretty,” Jimin praises while pushing his cock further down. Jungkook’s eyes well with tears before spilling down his cheeks, and Jimin wipes over his cheekbone before pulling out. A string of spit connecting Jungkook’s lips to Jimin’s cock.

“Jungkook, your mouth is…it’s sinful.”

Jungkook eagerly shoves Jimin’s cock back down his throat, bobbing his head up and down. He focuses on the tip while stroking his shaft, basking in the coos coming from Jimin. He sinks his mouth as far as he can, swallowing on the descent, and stares up at Jimin, who has his head tilted back. Jungkook moans at the visual as Jimin’s body shakes.

“I’m cum– Jungkook, I’m cumming.” Jungkook swallows every drop proudly. Jimin runs his thumb over Jungkook’s lips and then pulls at his chin for him to stand, crashing their lips and tongues together. Jungkook leads Jimin to his bedroom to seal their fate.

Laying next to each other, hands caressing each other’s skin, Jungkook confesses, “I must admit, I’ve seen you a few times. But there was a feeling I’ve never had, and I was scared to approach you.”

“A feeling?”

“Like we were fated…kind of? The closer you were, the more attraction I felt. I feel so deeply connected with you right now; it’s hard to breathe. If this is our first and last time together, I’m happy.”

As Jungkook finishes speaking, Jimin writhes in pain, stronger than he’s felt before. They both assume it’s the poison igniting through his veins. He curls into a fetal position, exposing his back to Jungkook. Jungkook quickly sits up and places his hand on him, trying to soothe Jimin’s pain as tears stream down his cheeks, wishing he could do more for him. Jimin stops and gasps for air, inhaling deeply and then coughing.

“Jungkook—”

“Jimin! Your flowers!”

“Yeah, they—”

“No! They-- they’re disappearing!”

“What?!” Jimin rolls onto his stomach so that Jungkook can get a better view.

“They’re fading, but—” Jungkook watches as the watermelon-pink centers fade into the salmon-colored edges until they are completely gone, something else appearing and occupying the place.

“But what?!” Jimin doesn’t understand. The poison should be killing him, but instead, he’s floaty, a type of high that has him on cloud nine.

“Tiger lilies…”

“Jungkook! Please--”

“My flower…it—it’s replacing the azaleas.” Jungkook’s hands trace over the tiger lilies appearing on Jimin’s back, like magic before his eyes. As each pink flower vanishes, a bright orange one blossoms.

“Replacing? Like…like…”

“Like I—I’m an anti-stamen?” Jungkook whispers, not completely sure if he understands it all fully.

“Anti-stamen. So, you cured me?” Jimin sits up abruptly and feels a tingle along his hip. He looks and watches as a bouquet of snow-white flowers with sunny yellow centers blooms along his hip bone. When an anti-stamen cures a poisoned calyx, the healed becomes a stamen. “You cured me!”

Jimin tightly hugs Jungkook as they cry in each other’s arms and succumb to their fate. Jimin feels their hearts beating together, adding to the joyous event of two calyx souls being joined as one.

🖤thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! 🖤

#bangtan writers hq #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin x jungkook #jikook #pistilverse #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #bts #moonleeai writes sometimes

[moonleeai]

🎄 A Christmas Favor ▻ pairing:  Seokjin x f reader x Taehyung ▻ genre/au: Cabin Getaway au, holiday traditions, Smut with a side of Christmas ▻ Rating: MA 🔞 ▻ WC: 3,395 ▻ Summary: You and Jin were in a pickle with your son but Uncle Tae came to the rescue. Jin wants to repay him with a big favor. ▻ an: thank you to @queentiti72 and @downbad4yoongi​ for betaing

▻ Tags: Hot chocolate, snowball fight, kissing, oral, biting, hint of dom/sub, puns!

Part of the @bangtanwritershq 2022  Bangsmas - A “banging” Holiday Writing Event.

It’s the last day of school before Christmas break and you’re waiting in the pickup line for your five year old son, Uju, to be brought to your car. You take a quick look at the to-do list for this week’s events, quadruple checking that you’re not missing anything. In just a few hours, your family will be headed to the cabin to spend Christmas with Seokjin’s best friends. You look up from your completed checklist and see Uju and his teacher coming your way. The teacher opens the back door and Uju climbs in, wishing his teacher a Happy Christmas and buckling himself into the seat. As you pull out of the school parking lot, he begins to chat away.

“And you know what else mama? Haeun said Santa isn’t real.”

You knew this would eventually happen but you were hoping Uju would at least have a few more years before breaking the sad news to him. Both him and his father love Christmas and all the festivities that come with it. You already knew how you would tell him; Christmas is about the spirit of making others feel good and bringing joy to all. You just didn’t think it’d happen at five years old.

“Oh, nae adeul, I’m sure she meant the mall Santas. You know the ones who are elves in disguise that get your message to the North Pole Santa.” 

“Maybe…” Uju hastily replies. He’s smart— too smart— and luckily before more questions arise he spots the donut shop and asks for a treat. You happily oblige. While sitting at the donut shop table, you send a quick message to Seokjin.

You: Problem. One of the kids in Uju’s class told them Santa isn’t real. I told him she was probably talking about the mall Santas. I’m not ready for the innocence to fade away.

Hubby💋: I have an idea. I know someone who can pull something off while we’re at the cabin. I’ll ask for a favor. See you at home.

Seokjin always has a solution for every problem and handles it in the calmest way possible. Admirable at the least.  When you walk into your home, all the suitcases and bags are by the door, ready to be loaded into the family van. After a few quick trips between the house and van, your little family is ready for the week away to begin Christmas traditions, this year with one bonus surprise for Uju.

🎄

Your family arrives at the cabin second, behind Taehyung and Yoongi, who come out and immediately steal Uju away, leaving all the bags for you and Seokjin.

As you're placing the last bag into the room, you feel hands grip the sides of your waist. Seokjin walks you to the bed and bends your hips over the edge, pressing your body into the mattress and his firmly against your backside.

“Jin! The door is open!” He pushes himself off and smacks your ass.

“This is mine…all night.” He winks at you and walks out the door, leaving you a hot, bothered mess. That man’s desire for you always feels good and never leaves you guessing. 

All the other guys trickle in over the next few hours, and over dinner you go over the activities for the week. Tonight will simply be Christmas movies so everyone can settle in and unpack. Everyday there is also a scheduled naptime with Uncle Yoongi and a bedtime story by Uncle Namjoon. Being the first nephew of a big family, with uncles of very different personalities, sure has its perks.

On day two, some will get groceries and everyone will make their annual ornaments and decorate the tree. Day three is for making gingerbread houses with Uncle Hoseok, a campfire, and s’mores. Day four is the snow day where Uncle Jimin and Jeongguk will take Uju out to tube, sleigh, and anything else that keeps him busy so mom and dad can wrap his presents. Day five, everyone will explore the town and see all the decorations, then you and Jin will drive Uju around at night to see all the lights. On day six, Christmas Eve, you will bake cookies for Santa and Uju will get a surprise from Uncle Taehyung. 

The first night comes to an end and you and Seokjin tuck Uju in bed while Namjoon reads him a story. Seokjin closes your bedroom door and locks it behind him. You turn and see the smirk on his face as he walks toward you. You haven’t had alone time in weeks but you can’t help but make him work for it.

“I’m ready for bed, it’s been such a long day.”

“Oh no, no, no. November was hell. We hardly saw each other and now we finally have time to release all the pent up stress.” Jin’s hands wrap around you loosely and you wiggle away from him. 

“Isn’t it good sometimes not to release? I thought it helped with raising energy levels and better stamina. I don’t think one more week will hurt you.” You can tell he’s not sure if he should keep pressing the obvious or let it go. “I just need to shower, then I can sleep really well.”

“That’s it? Just a shower?” he pouts.

“Did you have something else in mind?”

“I have a lot of things in mind…”

“Hmm…well you know what you have to do,” you taunt. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen as he watches you turn on the shower and take all of your clothes off. He quickly does the same and joins you in the bathroom. He grabs your arms sliding them up to his shoulders and picks you up, placing your bare ass on the counter. His teeth nip at the skin on your clavicle then his tongue draws faint squiggles up to your throat. You lean your head away, allowing more room for him to work. He gently bites the side of your neck and brings his lips to your ear. 

“Please let me at this pussy. I want to fill you up until my cum is leaking down your legs.”

You smile at his eagerness and nod your head toward the shower. Seokjin lifts you off the counter and the two of you step into the steamy shower. He slides an arm around your waist and the other to the side of your neck, bringing you in for a kiss. You quietly whimper against his lips and pull him closer. He pushes you gently back, trapping you between the wall and himself and slips his thigh between your legs. You breakaway from the kiss to catch your breath and he finds your nipple to take the place of your lips. As he sucks your nipple into his mouth your hands fly to his hair, pulling just a little while you moan low in your throat so as not to be too loud. Your hips gently rock against his thigh creating friction against your clit. He looks up at you coming undone then pulls his thigh away before plunging two fingers inside you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter and he grins against your chest. 

“Mmm you just wanted me to beg huh?” He pulls his fingers out and pushes back in, curling them. Your head thumps back onto the tile wall as expletives leave your mouth. You clench around his fingers with every movement and Seokjin is desperate to make you fall apart all over him. He pulls his fingers out causing you to whimper. He kisses you hard and bites your bottom lip before saying, “Turn around for me.” 

You want to obey, but before he can dive in you grab his cock and give it a little squeeze, eliciting a hiss from him. “Hmm, did someone forget their manners?” you tease. 

“Please…please YN I–I need to feel you right now,” he whimpers in your ear while thrusting in your hand. You continue pumping him and biting at the skin on his shoulder followed by soothing kisses. He shutters and nibbles your earlobe, “Please, Jagi. I need to coat your walls. All this cum has been waiting to be released.”

You turn around, jut your ass toward his hips, and place your hands on the wall. He slowly guides his tip in and then deeply buries himself inside you. You gasp in pleasure as he stills, allowing you to adjust. Your walls throb around him and now he’s the one cursing under his breath. He slowly begins to roll his hips, feeling your walls swallow him whole. He brings one hand to your clit and rubs generously to match his thrusts, his other hand wrapping carefully around your throat, bringing you into him. The constant pressure on your nub and the drags against your walls send you into an orgasm so good, your legs nearly buckle. Seokjin bends you forward and continues pistoning in and out of you until he succumbs to his own pleasure. You feel the warm spurts filling you and his hips stutter until he halts his movements. He reluctantly pulls out and watches the cum slowly run down your leg before mixing with the water.

“Fuck that’s hot. You’re definitely pregnant with all that cum.”

You roll your eyes and bring him in for a deep kiss before getting on with your initial plans of showering and sleep. 

🎄

So far, all the traditional activities have been a hit. The tree is decorated with past and present homemade ornaments and the gingerbread houses are on full display in the bay window. 

It’s the fourth day and Uju is ready to play with his uncles in the snow. The others are following their own agenda as the only request for today was for you and Seokjin to get a few hours alone to wrap presents. Before you begin, you look out the window to watch your son and his child-like uncles play. You notice Jeongguk making snowballs lightning fast and sneaking them to Uju to pelt at Jimin who is trying to build a snowman. All of them have bright smiles on their faces.

You sit on the floor surrounded by toys, clothes, and enough wrapping supplies to have your own store. There’s a system; Seokjin hands you a gift, you wrap it then he tags it, repeat. As you're finishing the last gift, Seokjin realizes you’re both way ahead of schedule.  He helps you clean up and hide the gifts, then disappears into the closet. He comes out wearing a different outfit then earlier, gray sweats and t-shirt with mistletoe on it. There are obnoxiously large letters spelling out ‘I didn’t make the rules” with an arrow pointing down.

“Jin, your humor really is–”

“Top tier?” You push air out through your nose and shake your head, getting up to stretch.

“Let’s go play with Uju in the snow.”

“So is that a ‘no’ or ‘maybe later’?”

“Jin.”

“I haven’t had your pretty lips wrapped around my cock for months, back when you wore that sexy black lingerie for me. Fuck, just thinking about that–” he grunts while using one hand to tighten the fabric at his groin, showing off his bulge. Your lips part and eyes fixate on his fingers tracing his dick-print which seems to be getting longer by the second. You draw your bottom lip into your mouth to stop the drool from seeping out. 

You come back to your senses as you hear commotion downstairs. Seokjin sprints to the closet to change his shirt when the sound of little feet and giggles are heard running up the stairs. You open the door, ready to embrace Uju and take him back downstairs for some hot chocolate and to give Seokjin some… time. 

🎄

It’s finally Christmas eve and the cookies are ready. Seokjin grabs the carrots and a glass of milk while you help Uju put cookies on a plate. You all walk over to the small side table by the Christmas tree and leave everything for Santa and his reindeer. You tell Uju it’s time for his bedtime story so he could get to sleep for Santa to come when suddenly, there's a loud thump outside and the sound of bells. Then the front door opens and there stands Santa, well Taehyung, in a Santa suit using his best acting skills for his nephew. 

This was the favor Seokjin had asked from Taehyung. He hadn’t told you either, knowing you’d trust whatever it was he had in mind. He knew getting a suit would be easy and Taehyung was a great actor and a great uncle. He also wanted Uju to get just a little more time to believe in everything magical that surrounds Santa and Christmas.

Uju’s eyes are wide as he runs toward Santa, speechless. He reaches his tiny hand up and grabs Santa’s, pulling him to the plate of cookies. Taehyung sits in a chair and pulls Uju into his lap where they eat the cookies and drink the milk together. He tells Uju how when children get older, Santa becomes more about love and less about actually seeing him in person. Anyone can keep the magic of Santa alive and be a kind, generous, good human being. He points to Uju’s heart and says everyone has a little Santa magic that lives in their heart, ready to help and give to others around them. Taehyung comes up with some other clever fib about the reindeer and stuffs the carrots into his pocket for later. He tells Uju to get ready for bed because he can’t see how Santa gets the presents inside and he needs to go visit other children too. 

Uju dashes for the stairs, telling everyone to hurry and get ready for bed. Namjoon and Seokjin follow behind, while the others giggle from the couch at his cuteness. When Uju is out of sight, you thank Taehyung and promise to return the favor in the future for him. Taehyung simply says he’d do anything for his hyung’s family. 

The rest of the house is fast asleep as you and Seokjin tiptoe quietly down the steps with the presents. You perfectly place them around the tree and step back to make sure it’s to your liking. Seokjin back hugs you as you both bask in the lights reflecting off the shiny packages. Everything about this cabin and time spent with Seokjin’s brothers is magical in itself; adding Christmas makes it a thousand times more special. 

Back in the bedroom, you collapse onto the bed on your back, your lower half still hanging off. Seokjin grabs your legs and puts them on his shoulders. He pushes your pants up, exposing your calves, then kisses each one.

“Say your left leg was Thanksgiving and your right leg was Christmas…Can I visit between the holidays?” You throw your hand onto your forehead with a loud smack which is drowned out by his wiper blade laugh. 

“You gotta stop reading dad jokes, Jin.” 

“But they’re the best,” he whines.

“Only to you.” You sit up on the edge of the bed with him standing between your legs. 

“Sooo…you know how Tae did us that favor.” He places the palm of his hand on the side of your face and rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“Mmhhmm,” you respond, leaning into his touch.

“Well I was kind of thinking we should do him a favor too…” 

“We absolutely should. What do you want to do for him?”

“I was hoping you’d be into having him as a guest tonight.” You search his eyes for a more detailed answer when you notice they have gone darker. The left corner of your mouth raises and you nod your head. Seokjin grabs his phone, within seconds there’s a faint knock on the door and Seokjin is welcoming Taehyung.

“Jagi, I know usually you like to be in charge, but tonight– tonight I want you to take care of Tae. I want to watch you blow him. There’s a position I think we all would love. Can we try it?” 

You raise an eyebrow to which he quickly responds ‘please’ with a smirk on his lips. You nod ‘yes’ and he positions you lying horizontally on the bed with your back against the mattress. 

“Trust us, okay?”  

You barely get a sound out before Taehyung pulls you from under your arms, resting your neck against the edge of the bed. Seokjin removes your clothes, exposing your bare body to both of them. Then he follow suit with his own clothes.

Taehyung grabs your wrist and places your hand against his rock hard cock, pushing against your hand. His other hand grazes your neck, his thumb pushing through your lips onto your tongue. 

“Hyung told me how sinful your mouth is. I’m leaking just thinking about it.” Taehyung pulls his pants off, his crotch just above your head. You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek, reaching up. All three of you watch your fingers loosely wrap around his shaft and your thumb swipe over his slit, spreading the cum over the thick protruding vein. He drops his head back and sucks in a deep breath.

“Do you want me to suck it or do you want to fuck my mouth?” you ask, already guessing what he will choose.

His eyes grow wide and he looks at Seokjin, “Whatever you want, Jagi, whatever you allow him.” 

“Mmm, you want my tongue on that big cock of yours, huh?”

“Yes, so bad,” Taehyung says with shaky breath.

He jerks into your hand as you bring his cock to your mouth, gliding the head over your lips, the sticky precum spreading like lip gloss. You run your tongue over the sticky mess left on your lips and let out a moan, sending his body into a shiver.

“Fuck, you tease so fucking good.”

“Do as you please, handsome.” Both of their cocks twitch as you open your mouth and push your tongue out. Taehyung steps forward and you wrap your lips around him. The sound he releases seems like he is almost done; he is already coming undone at your hollowed cheeks as he moves down steadily. You moan and force down more until you gag just a little and spit drips from the corners of your mouth. 

Taehyung groans and Seokjin moves between your legs, grabbing your thighs and throwing them over his shoulders. “He can’t have all the fun, Jagi.” He spreads your lower lips and admires the glisten before his tongue draws sloppy shapes around your clit. 

Your back arches as you let out a muffled cry, one hand grips the back of Taehyung’s thigh while the other grabs Seokjin’s hair.  Taehyung slowly moves in your mouth as you dig your nails into his skin and moan more. He can’t hold back, moving faster and harder, hitting the back of your throat. 

“Noona, I’m–” You press your tongue flat along the underside of his cock, he pushes in and stills while his cum paints your throat. As he pulls out, your body trembles uncontrollably. Seokjin stills your hips and as you reach your climax, he feasts making sure to swallow every last drop.

Too tired to possibly think anymore, the guys move you to the middle of the bed. Facing Seokjin, he kisses your forehead and the tip of your nose, while Taehyung grazes his teeth against your shoulder. 

“One more, Jagi?” Your body trembles and they grins. Seokjin tilts your chin up with his finger and crashes his lips into yours. While your tongues slide over one another, Taehyung’s hand slips down your thighs between your legs. Both men’s fingers alternate from rubbing your bundle of nerves and pushing inside you. 

“Is your name Jingle Bells?” Seokjin quips.

“Please don’t,” you moan while Taehyung nibbles your earlobe, sending electricity through your bones.

“Cause you feel ready to go all the way.”

“I can’t believe she married you,” Taehyung sasses.

Seokjin chuckles as he pushes himself slowly into you. Taehyung lifts your leg slightly and pushes himself in as well. The fullness of them both dragging against your walls has you mewling between them.

You decide to take a page from Seokjin’s pun book, pulling his lips toward yours and cradling Taehyung’s nape.

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.”

#bangtanwhq #bangsmas #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #jin smut #jin fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #seokjin x reader x taehyung #moonleeai writes sometimes #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin x reader #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader

[moonleeai]

My Moon

“ARMY Birthday Bash” BWHQ Fic Gifting Event

🖤 Written for Sara🖤

➢ Fic Pairing: Vampire Jin x Human Namjoon ➢ First Person POV ➢ AU: Vampires ➢ Rating: MA 🔞 ➢ WC: 5,371 ➢ Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst ➢ Trope: Strangers to Lovers ➢ Requested details: angsty vampire story ➢ Warnings: M x M sex, cursing, pain, blood drinking, obsession, forced vampirism

A/N: Thank you Jasz @downbad4yoongi , Leah @colormepurplex2, and Kari sunkissedwriter for beta reading and helping shape this story for Sara!!

Summary: Seokjin hides his vampire identity in a sleepy town as a restaurateur. He spends his time living off animals and creating to die for meals until a new handsome face comes to town. Like the moon loves the sky, there is an instant attraction, but Seokjin may be too much.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

Living as a modern-day vampire is simple and fun. Nowadays, no one cares if you’re a vampire as long as you’re not trying to kill them. They also don’t want to see or hear about how I satiate my hunger. My body has adapted to being in the sun and living off more than just human blood. My powers have weakened some, but I can still use my levitation and greater strength whenever I need. I don’t use them too often because I want to fit in and act as human as possible.

Becoming a butcher in disguise at a trendy eatery is my most clever façade yet. Kosmos, nestled between plenty of pretty coffee and pastry cafes, is my haven, so to speak, my safe place where I can fit in with the crowd. A delicatessen with a condo above it, a rooftop deck, and a large garden in the back. I found this sleepy but safe town along the Baltic Sea when I fled my last city from vampire hunters. I quickly became named the most handsome man with a sleek and classy aesthetic delicatessen, where I sell sliced meats and creative dishes. 

Human blood became boring to me ages ago. The hunt for wild animals is much more thrilling but also has much less risk than hunting humans. I tame my violet eyes by thriving off animal blood, something I’ve been doing longer than I can remember. In the restaurant, I can slaughter and cook the most exquisite meals, satiating my deepest cravings. I only open Kosmos four days a week, staying open well into the late hours and spending the other evenings hunting and experimenting with new dishes. 

Tonight is busier than usual. In an effort to liven up the area, the town council brought in a new art gallery, and from the talks of everyone, there’s a fetching curator as well. Kosmos happens to be the closest eatery, drawing many patrons in after they’ve visited the gallery. The artwork descriptions are fascinating, but the person they describe sounds much more intriguing. Tall, broad, drop-dead dapper; all words I’ve only heard folks using on myself. I'm a bit jealous of all the attention this new curator is getting, so I must see him for myself.

Instead of my usual day hunting, I decide to take a gander at the art gallery. Everyone is correct. The tall, burly man that greets the guests is devastatingly beautiful. I am possessed by his loveliness which leads me to spend countless days taking peeks from the sidewalk inside the small space through the large Crittall-style window. The art keeps the people busy enough not to notice me lurking day after day. 

Tonight, out of curiosity, I follow the new man. He rides a bicycle slowly and seems to enjoy the small-town views. With earbuds, he hums along to a tune I cannot hear. His apartment building is nice. A stunning yellow two-story home with dark accents and a maroon roof aside a cobblestone path. Outside of the front door, somehow within the cracks of the stones, are robust red flower bushes that rest along the house perimeter.

I perch myself on the roof of the home across the street and have a perfect view of this gorgeous man. I watch as he relaxes with a glass of whiskey and reads a book until he’s cleaning up and going upstairs. A bedroom light shines dimly through the upstairs window, completely unobscured. I stare as he undresses, removing his clothing, rough and messy, and tossing them onto the floor. As he turns off the light and lies in bed, the moon casts a perfect glow onto his silhouette. His chest slowly rising and falling is soothing. 

So soothing that time passes too quickly, and before I know it, the sun is rising. Today, I will make my existence known and visit this dreamy man at his gallery. Slowly but surely, I will make him fall in love with me and want to live eternally by my side. 

When I arrive at the art gallery, the man is occupied with a few guests, so I walk around aimlessly. Black hair compliments his warm honey skin under a white shirt tucked into cream slacks. While conversing with others, his dimples shoot daggers into hearts, and his deep voice soothes the sharp pain. 

“Hello, I’m Namjoon,” his deep voice boasts. As if I haven’t been watching his every move, I feign startled when he arrives by my side. His chocolate eyes pierce my dead soul within seconds.

“Seokjin,” I reply, flashing my sultry grin while extending my hand to grasp his in a handshake. His scent is warm and inviting…a soft rose with a hint of jasmine, something I now wish to smell endlessly.

“What do you think? These are ones I’ve collected over the years.”

“I’m not much on art… just wanted to check out the newest talk of the town.” My eyes roam his tall, brawny frame, and a subtle blush blooms on his cheeks.

“There are no right or wrong answers when it comes to art,” Namjoon says while placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me to another piece. “This one is by Yun Hyong-keun. Inspired by nature, he combined colors like those of earth and water tones.  He would spread the pigments over days, weeks, or even months to create intense darkness, implicative of the hardships he endured.” 

Not only is this man beautiful, but he is also intelligent. His eyes gleam as he speaks of the artist. 

“You got all that from looking at a painting?” Namjoon chuckles at my ignorance. “Do you do any painting yourself?” His eyes turn dark, and it looks like he’s deep in thought when he finally responds with a side grin. He nods his head to a side door and begins walking toward it, so I follow.

Namjoon slides the door open, holding it for me to pass through, and then closes it behind us. The dark room has a few paintings with a single dim spotlight casting over each piece. 

“These are my personal works,” Namjoon says.

There aren’t many colors, all gray, black, and red. A deep vibrant red. He tells me about a few of the pieces. The first one is like a window; two large black rectangles enclosed by a thick, vivid scarlet border. Hazy with muddy edges where the colors bleed together. There’s another canvas with a frail, ghostly white being against a black background smeared in red hues. At first glance, one may perceive that it’s a dress, but I see blood pouring over the body. Both are labeled as ‘Untitled’.

My favorite, though… displays interesting shadowy woods. The smudging of the paint looks like thick fog around grayish tree trunks. What’s fascinating is the leaves are clusters of red dots, bright and burgundy shades, creating a beautiful depth while also looking like blood splatter. 

I listen intently as Namjoon explains his art. Aside from his brawns and brains, his voice is hypnotic. I find myself stuck watching his mouth, his tongue bouncing around, forming each word perfectly. I subconsciously draw my bottom lip between my teeth, concentrating on his alluring mouth.

“You’re quite handsome; you know that?” Namjoon speaks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“I know, I never get old.” I wink, and Namjoon chuckles, clearly amused by my antics.

“Would you…maybe… like to spend more time together?” Namjoon asks, and I find the shyness of his words endearing. 

“I’d love that.” I reach for his hands and rub my thumbs over his knuckles. Namjoon notes my touch is cold but never pulls away. I know my heart would be shaking in my chest if it still beat, but it sits frozen in my ribcage as it has for centuries.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

For our first date, we meet at a coffee shop. Quaint, relaxed, and the most refreshing iced Americanos. We both wear our version of casual attire. Namjoon’s slate-gray t-shirt is devilishly low, the v-cut plunging between his perky chesticles, hugging his biceps tightly. My eyes drift, following the curves he has on display; I don’t care if I get caught, either. The conversation is easy, steady. Small talk and casual getting to know each other. My mind is set on one thing…making him my lover…my forever, in just three lunar phases. I just need to tell him I’m a vampire.

On the next date, we take a stroll through architecture-filled historical sites and gardens with maps and pamphlets in one hand and our other hands busy with interlocked fingers. If my cold hands ever bother him, he never mentions it. We steal glances of each other every second we can. Here in the botanical garden, surrounded by lush trees with leafy branches, the weather is perfect, and flowers are in full bloom. Next to a pond is a gazebo where we find a bench to rest and hold hands. Listening to the birds sing around us, we talk and learn more about each other. I decide to tell him about my uniqueness. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, and I really hope it doesn’t scare you away.”

Namjoon turns toward me, giving his full attention.

“I’m just going to say it… no sugar coating… no—”

“Just say it,” Namjoon interrupts, his eyes frantically searching for clues as his heartbeat speeds up.

“I-- I’m-- a vampire.” I wince at the words shutting my eyes tight. When I hear no sounds, I peek through my eyelids, confronted by dimples. “I’m serious, Namjoon. I should’ve told you sooner, but—” My words are cut off by Namjoon’s finger delicately placed on my lips.

“Can I say I kind of knew?”

Confused, I reply, “You… knew?”

“Your skin is perfect porcelain, and you have the coldest touch. You dress more dapper than most our age. I’ve seen your violet eyes… and don’t get me started on your very interesting butcher hobby. Need I say more?”

“And that…none of that scared you away?”

Namjoon tightens his hands around mine. “I’ve never felt more smitten…more ensnared to a person like I am with you. A vampire, a wolf, or a bear…I’d still find you insanely attractive, and dare I say, I’d love you the same.”

“Love?” I feel like I’m hearing things, Namjoon really loves me already. “We’re like two volcanoes talking together then.” 

Namjoon scrunches his eyebrows. “What?”

“I lava you, too.” After we both laugh like windshield wipers on dry glass, I lean in and kiss his cheek. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders; now I know he will spend forever with me. 

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

I plan our third date wisely. I am yearning to be close to him, so we go to the Forest of Wisdom, an hour’s drive with thoughtful conversation and getting to know more about each other. He tells me he’s always been fascinated with vampires and their abilities. Much as to why his art is mostly black and red, aligning with my original impression of blood splatter. To my surprise, he has a vast knowledge and is very calm talking about vampires. Namjoon and I find seats on the floor, and he reads me a book of poems with our shoulders pressed together.

“Ah this one, by Alexandra Vasiliu…’I want to bloom in your arms like the moon blooms in the night’s arms.’ I love that.”

I stare at his chestnut orbs, reading over the words in a loop, watching his eyebrows furrow while he’s lost in thought. I look to the next page and read, “‘If I were the moon, I would want you to be my sky.’ Namjoon, I think I shall call you my moon.”

“I’d like that,” Namjoon coos, snuggling into my side.

Quickly I’m learning Namjoon’s pleasures. He enjoys touch, and I feel his infatuation grow as he sneaks light touches in disguise of picking or brushing lint balls off my shirt. I catch him staring quite often, obviously entranced by my ethereal beauty.

On the way back, seated in the car, his baggy shorts hike up to his mid-thigh. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh, I move his shorts upward a bit more and feel his warmth under my icy palm. He shivers but places his hand on top of mine, keeping me there.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

Tonight, Namjoon wants to try cooking, making something delicious together. This, I’m a master at. I close Kosmos for the night and teach him everything I know. He brought an expensive bottle of whiskey that we share most of the night, and I show him different techniques with knives. I leave him to cut an onion and carrot while I whisk the sauce; things happen so quickly I can’t remember the order in which they occur. A thud and a gasp from Namjoon, and then a smell that overwhelms my senses. My eyes flash violet, and I am next to Namjoon within seconds. I reach for his hand and bring it to my mouth, letting the droplets of blood fall on my tongue. He tastes like syrupy butterscotch. My eyes roll to the back of my head as a growl escapes my throat.

Fangs threatening to appear, I pull his hand away and pull him into me, close. “Are you okay, my moon?”

He pulls away and studies my eyes. “Kiss me,” he whispers.

Confused, I stay still, but his lips crash into mine. My cock throbs as he explores my mouth with his tongue, giving me a taste of his whiskey breath, a mixture of barley and vanilla.

“Let me get you upstairs to tend to your cut.” I lead him to the stairs up into my home and sit him on the couch while I go to get the first aid kit. I dab some ointment on and place a band-aid over the cut. Namjoon places a hand behind my head and brings me into another kiss that I can’t resist. Who would want to? 

He moans into my mouth before breaking the kiss, “That was fucking hot… the way you licked my wound.”

I sit back against the couch. Carefully watching this mountain of a man remove his shirt and press his body into mine. My eyebrows arch at his boldness.

“Your heart is racing,” I note while tracing my hand over his chest, riling goosebumps.

“Do you want to taste more?” Namjoon mewls, pecking my lips fiercely.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You like blood, and I have what you like. I’ll try new things… for you.” Namjoon’s eyes long for acceptance. Who am I to turn away his desire to please me? Especially if it lets me taste his saccharine blood again.

My breath gets caught in my throat, admiring his body as he tilts his head to the side to expose his neck. He leans closer and deeply whispers, “Bite me.”

My head spins at the words, lips barely brushing his skin as one of his hands firmly grips my inner thigh. The pounding of his heart sends shock waves through my body, and my cock strains against my pants. Namjoon eagerly climbs into my lap and entangles his fingers in my hair, yanking my head back to make eye contact.

“I don’t want to hurt you; a bite is painful,” I warn, giving Namjoon a chance to change his mind.

“Pain is pleasure, Seokjin. Do it. Bite me.”

I smirk, lick my lips, and dig my frosty fingers into his waist before pushing my mouth onto his plump lips. I trail my tongue to his neck and suck for a moment before my fangs appear and scrape against his skin. One moan from Namjoon and my fangs sink into his skin like a warm knife through butter. My eyes loll with ecstasy flowing through my body.

“Ah, fuck,” Namjoon groans, and his body squirms in discomfort. But as I swallow a tongue-full of blood, I withdraw my fangs and soothe the painful punctures. I suck again, grunting when his hips grind down on mine, hissing into his neck at the touch of his clothed bulge against mine. His soft whines turn me on further, lost in his soul as I take more blood, coating every crevice of my mouth. Human blood has never tasted this good; I need to control myself.

I feel blood dribble down my chin, and I pull away from him, fascinated by the maroon rivulets that flow down his neck toward his chest. I’ve never seen anything more erotic than him dripping with blood, lips turned in a pout, and asking for more. I watch, amused, as blood trickles down to his nipple, begging for my mouth. Latching onto him, I gently suck his nipple into my mouth and then lick up the blood trail, my tongue grazing his skin back up to the puncture marks. The marks will heal before the night ends, leaving just a bruise.

“Seokjin,” my name plummets from his lips in a soft gasp, his hips bucking into mine. “Touch me,” Namjoon pleads. His thumb runs over my lip to collect stray blood before pushing his thumb into my mouth. I suck on his thumb and pull from it, making a popping sound, then move my hands to his waist. He stands while I tug his pants and briefs off. He tugs at my pants, and I lift my hips off the couch as he eases them to my knees, my aching cock hitting my stomach.

Namjoon straddles me again, licks his lips, and presses his plush lips into mine. I kiss him back, moaning when he nips my bottom lip, tongue tangling with his as he deepens the kiss. His large hands grip my shoulders as he slides his cock against mine and rests his forehead on my shoulder. I fight the urge to sink my teeth into him again.

I fuck my cock against Namjoon’s, swipe my hand over our tips, and spread the precum over our shafts, squeezing them both with one hand. It doesn’t cover us both, but it’s enough friction to feel good, too good. I stroke us at various paces until Namjoon’s body tenses. I can feel he’s ready to burst.

“Cum all over me, paint my stomach,” I encourage him with my tongue in his mouth. Namjoon shakes, and hot cum spurts onto my stomach. He lowers his head and sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he rides out his high, hips stuttering and starting to slow.

His bite sends me over the edge, and I groan as my cum explodes and mixes with his. He deepens another kiss, pressing his body into the stickiness between us. We stay like this until our breathing slows, caressing each other. Namjoon sighs and grabs his shirt, wiping us off and cleaning my stomach.

“We should do this again sometime,” Namjoon praises before climbing off me and finding his clothes.

“Stay,” I say, a little more pleading than I intend. Namjoon smiles and drops his clothes back to their place on the floor.

🌙🌙🖤🩸🖤🌙🌙

The next morning, when I come back from my hunting, Namjoon is gone. I go to his home and find my place on the roof across the street and watch him through the window. This time, he’s painting. A black and gray scheme with a walking path between rocky hills and skinny bare trees. He dips his brush in red and paints a huge circle in the middle, a blood moon. Then he’s back to black, stroking lines into a figure of a person with a cape blowing in the wind. The finishing touch, though…I’m not sure what to make of it. He dips his brush in the white and creates a sword in the person’s hand. An individual with a silver-looking sword walking toward a blood moon.

I don’t think Namjoon knows or understands what the meaning of a blood moon is for vampires. My desire for blood is boosted times a thousand, which usually causes conflict for my kind. People become more aware of vampire existence during the blood moon, and therefore I, as well as others, are faced with imminent threats and conflicts.

I’ll tuck this in the back of my mind for a later conversation because, again, the time has quickly passed, and the sun is setting. On my way back to my place, a great idea sparks my mind to have Namjoon willingly agree to be my eternal lover. He loves plants and the outdoors, so I will create a garden for him. Something he can look forward to maintaining for all eternity. 

In between spending time with Namjoon, I spend the next few weeks preparing, finding, and importing exotic, fully bloomed night flowers and plants for a moon garden where I will confess my love and propose an immortal life together. Purple fountain grass that rustles in the breeze. Plenty of flowers to shine under the moonlight like the fragrant iceberg rose, giving off fruit and honey scents. White wonder caladium with its green edges and pink veins throughout the white leaf. Clusters of phlox, jasmine, and moon flowers with their lemony perfume. 

I use pebbles and white marble chips to create a crescent design on the ground. A small waterfall provides the soothing sound of running water and reflects the moonlight. In the middle of it all, a makeshift bed with comforters and pillows. This is where I will ask Namjoon to be my eternal lover and hear him beg me to turn him into an immortal like me. Here is where we will confess our love and be one with each other for time without end. I even set up an easel with a canvas and all the art supplies he could possibly need to paint boundless pictures of the garden.

Namjoon arrives for our evening together dressed casually elegant. A loose-fitting cream, cashmere sweater with a polo neck paired with black weaved leather pants. His style puts mine to shame with my white satin button-down shirt tucked liberally into black slacks. After sharing a meal and tender touches, I tell him I have a surprise. I’m nervous and have to hide my shaking hands as I blindfold him and take his hand, carefully guiding him outside into the garden I created out of love. I remove his blindfold, and he inhales sharply. While he takes in every detail, I watch the stars twinkle in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“A moon garden… for my moon.” I point to the area with the painting supplies and then shove my hands in my pockets, “and all the things for you to let out your creativity.” Waiting for his response, my stomach flips, thinking how close I am to spending an eternity with him.

“It's ethereal and perfect, just like you.” Namjoon kisses me deeply, holding the back of my head with one hand. Pulling away, he murmurs, “I love it.” 

I slot my lips with his and suck his lower lip between my teeth; feeling greedy, I declare, "I want to ruin you and make you mine for eternity." My brain short-circuits, and all subtleness is out the door. Namjoon tenses, then he simply grins at the statement.

“Ruin me, Seokjin,” he whimpers.

Namjoon glows under the full moon, and I am eager to make him mine. Standing next to the garden bed, I trace my hands along his mountainous ridges. I listen to his coos and swallow them as they escape from his throat. We tear at each other's pants, and he tugs roughly on my blouse, sending buttons soaring in opposite directions. I moan in response to both his passion and his palm caressing my confined cock. Free of our imprisonments, I lower him onto the blankets, surrounded by pillows. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows rise for a quick second before relaxing again. “Your eyes, they’re exquisite.” I drop my head to his neck, acting shy of his compliment, and sprinkle his skin with kisses. Is this when I ask him? No, not yet.

I feel Namjoon reaching for something, so I glance toward his hand. He’s pulling a bottle of lube from his pants pocket. I look into his eyes and wait for him to say something.

“Ruin me. Bite me. Make me yours.” Namjoon’s words have blood rushing to my cock, and I rut against his rock-hard thigh. 

“Your wish is my desire.”

“What are you? A genie?” 

I drench my fingers along with Namjoon's hole with the lube. Carefully, I push one finger past his rim, taking my time to loosen him up for me, showering him with gentle kisses... for now. "Is this okay?" I ask while dragging my teeth over his prickled skin.

"More, Seokjin, please," his whine spirals into my ear, sending a thrill down my spine. I insert another finger, praising him with words and soft suckles along his neck. I linger over his vein, letting it pulsate on my tongue. The throbbing on my tongue excites me more, and my hips rock, pushing my swelling cock into his leg again.

"More," he breathes. 

"My moon. You're so good for me," I moan low and soothe his tense body with my lips.

“Bite me, Seokjin, please. I need more–” his words are cut off by his moans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please…” he begs continuously, almost in tears. I gaze at his body’s slight movements, his chest heaving, before I sink my fangs into his succulent neck. His butterscotch blood fills my mouth immediately, and Namjoon hisses as I swallow. I pump my fingers quicker, scissoring them as I swallow more nectar.

"I'm ready, please. I can't wait any longer."

I pull away, hide my fangs and drown myself in more lube. I watch his blood trail onto his shoulder and slowly press my girth into him. His sounds, oh his sounds. If I didn't have centuries of self-control, I would've cum already.

"Seokjin–ah– you're s–so big. Go–ah–slow, please, please, please, slow," Namjoon begs as his body writhes underneath me.

Slowly, my cock bottoms out inside Namjoon, and I pause, allowing him to breathe through it. I press my lips on his and use my tongue to part his lips, tangling our tongues, numbing his mind from the sting of the stretch.

"So good, my moon. You're doing so so good." My cock throbs inside his tight muscle. "Mmmm, can you feel that?" I subtly move my hips and swallow each mewl he makes. I pull my face away and look into his eyes as I drag my cock slowly out of him and push back in a little quicker. His glassy eyes flutter, and I raise my hand to his cheek, brushing away a single tear with my thumb. "Shhh, it's going to feel so good. I promise."

The garden fills with moans and pants as I drag my cock slowly against Namjoon's walls, licking from his collarbone to his shoulder, getting every last drop. I cage his head with my arms and quicken my pace, watching and feeling how his body reacts to me. He ruts his cock against my stomach, seeking any kind of friction.

"Fuck. Yes, like that," Namjoon moans, his back arching off the makeshift bed of blankets. His ass swallows my cock so deliciously; it’s a torturous pleasure.

I rise to my knees, unsheathing myself, and a whimper escapes Namjoon's lips. I pull his hips to my waist, and his shoulder blades rest on the ground. I maneuver a pillow under his hips before turning my attention to his raging pink cock with pre-cum that glistens in the moonlight. I spit in my hand, then caress his thick length, smearing it around and mixing it with his fluids. His body shakes with pleasure, all for my eyes. I take my other hand and squeeze his throat before following his perfectly sculpted lines down his chest and to his abs. I abandon the lube and align myself with his hole, entering slowly and as deep as I can.

Namjoon rasps a deep, stuttered moan as he pushes his ass into me. I stroke his cock rhythmically with my thrusts until he releases his warm arousal onto my hand and all over his stomach. I slow, only to finish depleting his every last drop, then press my hand firmly against his stomach, smearing the sticky substance. He smells of jasmine and honey, like the flowers around us, I immediately want to taste it. 

I bring my hand to my mouth and lick his remnants, growling in pleasure. This excites Namjoon, and he clenches around my cock. I gasp and feel my cock twitch inside him. The moonlight highlights every bead of sweat on Namjoon's torso as I pump furiously inside him. His accentuated plump veins and arteries, with his breathless sobs, are the push I need to find my release. Head falling back, I roll over the edge and fill him with my release. My body crumbles on top of him, and I slow my hips milking my cock to completion. I place my arms on either side of his head, soaking in his beauty, feeling drunk on love. 

I kiss him wildly and then lazily lift myself and roll to his side as he wraps his arms around me. I run my hand over Namjoon's hair and tuck it behind his ear, basking in an afterglow.

But as we lock eyes, I sense something is off with my love. He’s next to me but seems so far away. My chest tightens.

“Everything…okay?”

“Why did you do all this for me? This garden with beautiful plants and a perfect view under the moon?”

“Because I love you, Namjoon. I want to be with you forever and make you the happiest—” I didn’t want to ask him to be my immortal partner this way, laying next to each other, naked, half covered in blankets.

“Happiest… what?” 

“Well, you already know so much about vampires, and you seem really fascinated with them, so I—I don’t know. I was hoping you’d maybe want to be one… with me.”

Namjoon’s lips move, but no words come out. 

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like?” I ask, trying to pry words from him.

“No,” he answers quickly.

“Oh—okay…Wh—what about being with me? For good?”

“Why couldn’t I stay human?” Namjoon abruptly sits up and grabs for his clothes. Dressing frantically while I rush to do the same.

“I mean, I just thought we could be together…endlessly. It would hurt too much to watch you age and leave me.”

“I don’t want to give up my human life,” Namjoon nearly whispers, and I can feel the uncertainty of the future weighing heavily on his mind.

“Why? What can be better than eternal life with me? Your true love?”

“I—I want to experience life…I don’t want to be stuck here forever…” Namjoon sputters. 

“But you can see the world. Every country, every food, enjoy owning the rarest items or plants…” I try to reason with him, calm his worries even.

“I don’t want to survive off blood and watch the world pass me by!” Namjoon yells, and the blood I’ve stored in my body begins to boil. My eyes feel different, I can feel them change, but it’s not the same. “Your eyes, they’re a reddish tint.”

My anger boils through my limbs, and I lurch toward Namjoon. He runs behind the easel and picks up a paintbrush, angling the handle toward me like he wants to stab me. “Stop! Don’t come any closer!” Namjoon shouts, trying to keep me at bay.

“I’ll have you, no matter what!” 

I use my power and conquer him, sinking my fangs into his neck, this time, not letting go. My entire strength is used to subdue him and drink his blood. The difference is I don’t stop. Not until I feel a cold, black cloud surround me. I drank just enough to leave Namjoon alive but unconscious next to me.  I bite my wrist and open his mouth, squeezing drops of my blood into his mouth and coax his throat to help him swallow.

I have never wanted anyone this badly; this is the only way that will make him stay with me forever. I kiss his lips and lay patiently by his side, awaiting my new eternal lover to awaken to our new life.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtanwhq #bts vampire au #jin x namjoon #Kim Seokjin x Kim namjoon #mxm #vampire seokjin #strangers to lovers #fic: my moon #moonleeai writes sometimes #thebtswritersclub

[moonleeai]

Good Fortune & A New Beginning

Written for the Netflix and Chill event for Bangtan Writers HQ 

Characters/pairings: Yoongi x fem oc (first person POV)

AU Type: Coffee - Neighbor 

Theme: First Introduction

Word Count: 2k

Thank you to @abitjess for beta reading

Shout out to @rec-me-bts for my beautiful banner and divider! I gave you literally nothing and you made magic. thank you so so much.

I love my quiet neighborhood. There’s really no noise aside from the few kids I hear after school and on weekends. Everyone knows each other and we all look out for one another. It took a few months for me to adjust to the culture but everyone was so kind and patient, helping me adjust. All but my immediate neighbor. He always seemed a bit grumpy with me…only me. I’ll get to him later.

The neighborhood has the most beautiful landscaping you could imagine. The parking lot is lined with vibrant fragrant plants. There is a three mile walking path lined with flowering trees of all colors. The colors vary from lavish lilacs, blush pinks, milky whites, and a fiery orange; as if someone was trying to grow a rainbow. The path is surrounded by thick luscious green grass, perfect for sitting to read or stretch. This is my favorite place to be. Every morning before work, I’ll jog or walk the path to get my blood flowing. After work, it’s the perfect place to unwind; watching families play around and fill the air with laughter, smelling the floral fragrances, or listening to the birds singing melodic songs. Most nights I read or practice yoga until the sun dips below the horizon and nature paints the silky smooth sky like a kaleidoscope. 

The first day I moved in, it felt like I was in a different world; a kind and relaxed world. Everyone introduced themselves and grabbed a box, following me into my apartment. It was very odd at first but it felt good. An older gentleman went to grab a heavier box when Mr. Grumpy came out of nowhere and said, “Uncle! Don’t. I got this one.” How sweet, right? Wrong. It was the last box and he decided to leave it outside my door. I nicely asked, “Would you mind putting that in the bedroom?” His response…”Guess you shouldn’t have packed it so heavy.”

Not a great first interaction. 

I watched him for weeks while I doodled with chalk with the neighbor children, ate grilled food family style with the adults, and gave my backstory to all the inquiring elders.  The kids were gathering flowers from the trees along the path and bringing them to each adult, then throwing them up in the air and letting them rain down. When they did this to Mr. Grumpy, he proceeded to give them a botany lesson. 

“You know all these different colored flowers have meanings,” he stated while separating the colors.

“Like what, Uncle!?” The children were intrigued and swarmed him to hear more.

“The white plumeria means new beginnings, the red poinciana is for confidence, and the purple… these have a longer story but I’ll just say, if one lands on your head it’s good fortune. These are for wisdom and good luck.” The kids were all talking at once, repeating everything they just learned. He smiled at them and I suddenly noticed how handsome he was.

“What was the name for the purple one?” I asked.

“That one is from the Jacaranda tree.” He barely looked at me when he responded.

He was so smiley and polite to everyone…everyone except me. I knew everyone’s name and basically their ancestral origin, but nothing about him.

One night I thought I would be slick and bake some chocolate chip cookies stuffed with oreos. They are heavy as a brick and sweeter than sugarcane, but delicious nonetheless. After making my rounds around the complex, I knocked on his door. 

“Yeah?” he said while opening the door to just a crack.

“Hi! I’m Miji, your new neighbor.” 

Stone cold, no reaction.

“Umm, so I made these cookies…it’s chocolate chip stuffed with an oreo. They’re great with milk or ice cream…”

“That sounds like diabetes.”

“Oh.” I was so stunned, nothing else would come out. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before someone was coming out of their door.

“Oh Miji! The cookie was so good, thank you dear,” the older woman looks at my hands, “Yoongi, why haven’t you taken it yet? Be a good neighbor and accept her treat.”

“Yes, Auntie. Since you said it was good.” He opens the door wider and holds his hand out watching the older woman descend down the staircase.

“I hope you like it…Yoongi was it?” he sighs as if I just cursed him. “Is that really your Aunt?”

“How long have you been here?” he sneers.

“Just a few weeks.”

“And you haven’t heard anyone call others auntie and uncle…what do the neighbor children call you?”

“Oh yeah… they do call me auntie, but I just thought they were confused.”

“It’s just the culture.”

“That’s so sweet!”

“Sure…okay…goodnight,” he begins to shut the door.

“Wait. Will you be at the cookout this weekend? I feel like I know everyone but you.”

He raises one eyebrow, “Why do you need to know me?”

“I mean I don’t need to but–”

“Kay. Night.” and the door shuts. I was genuinely trying to introduce myself and get to know him like all the others but he was not interested.

After a month of getting settled in my new place, I decided it was time to explore the three miles of planted rainbow. I felt like a child walking and running, taking pictures of the flower trees from any and every angle. My gallery was filled with dozens of pictures of each color glowing from the sun. Two miles down, I saw him running towards me. I took my earbud out and waved to say hello but he just kept going, not even making eye contact. What is his problem with me? I continue my run and admiration of nature’s flourishing beauty. I took my time getting back and as I was walking up the stairs, he was coming out of his apartment. 

“Going to work?” I asked. He nods, glaring at me with irritation. “Have a great day!”

I never met him before, never talked to him, and hardly have been in the space adjacent to him long enough for him to hate me already. Trying to be nice became a chore with him, so I declared that day to be the last time I tried to make a good impression.

The weekend comes and I’m baking again. This time brookies! Brownie mixed with chocolate chip cookie. I had the windows open, music playing, and drinking my third can of hard seltzer. I finished mixing the two doughs and put the pan in the oven. As soon as the oven door closes, there’s a knock at my door. Thinking it’s probably the kids from downstairs, I opened the door with a huge smile. 

“Are you trying to piss people off?”

Yoongi to the rescue to kill my vibe and my buzz. “What do you mean?”

“Turn your music down. It’s ridiculously loud.”

“Are you kidding? It’s not even that loud.”

He looks at the source, “It’s literally on the wall between us. I can hear it as if it’s on my own tv.” I’m sick of him. 

“Not a problem, Sir. I will rearrange my living space to accommodate your needs.”  I start to close the door but he puts his hand on it, stopping me.

“You don’t have to be rude–”

“Me?! Be rude?! You’re one to talk! I haven’t done anything to you, yet you look at me like I’m a thorn in your eye!” 

“Thorn in my side.”

“What?”

“The saying is ‘thorn in my side’ not ‘thorn in my eye’.”

“Whatever…you knew what I meant.” Was that a smile? Did he just smile at me? “What’s so funny?”

“You’re cute. Please keep it down though, I have to work late and I’m trying to take a nap.”

“Okay…” and that was when everything changed. He nodded at me on the path when we passed each other. He said good morning or evening when we were coming or going from our apartments. The ice really broke when I was playing with the kids in my apartment, they had left the door open. I was learning the latest viral dance from them when he peeked in while opening his door. One of the kids saw him and begged for him to come as well.

“Uncle, uncle! Come learn with auntie. She needs extra help!”

I burst out laughing, “Hey! I’m not that bad!”

He smiled, “Maybe another time, uncle’s gotta get some rest.”

“Okay kiddos, let’s go outside now so the music isn’t so loud. Who wants to do Yoga while the sun sets?” The kids cheered and started running out.

“Miji,” he called, “thanks.” There was that handsome smile again.

“No problem Yoongi, don’t want to disturb your beauty sleep,” I replied, giving him a wink.

One morning, we ended up walking out at the same time to start our run. Not to invade his space, I smiled and nodded with my earbuds in and started my jog. I was looking up at the trees when I saw the most beautiful birds and butterflies fluttering about. I had to try to capture the sight for my ever growing gallery of nature. I had enough pictures to publish my own national geographic at that point. Down low there were white butterflies along with the orange and black monarchs and at the tree tops were radiant green birds gliding from branch to branch.

“They’re beautiful, yeah?” Yoongi says, cordially.

“Yes! I’m amazed every day I’m out here. I can’t get enough.”

“I can tell.”

“I’m sure you’re used to it.”

“I take for granted how much beauty there is…this is the first time in a while I’ve stopped to enjoy the view.”

“You should see my photo gallery.” I laughed.

“Enjoy the rest of your run,” he grinned.

“Yeah…you too.” I couldn’t help but wonder, were we friends now? I felt like he was finally coming around to me. I grew fond of him and his casual conversation. 

I didn’t see him for a week and asked the elderly woman across the way if everything was okay. She told me that Yoongi frequently went on business trips and would be away for weeks at a time. A few nights later, in lotus pose under a Jacaranda tree, I had just tucked my phone away from snapping pictures, when a familiar voice appeared. 

“So how many sunset pictures do you have?”

“Hey stranger. I do have quite the collection.”

“I’m not interrupting am I?”

“Not at all. Care to join?”

“Yoga? No thanks. But I’ll sit here with my camera.”

“You like photography too? Or just sunsets?”

“Both.”

“I never see you out here at night.”

“I see you all the time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Kinda hard not to,” he says shyly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Don’t tell me I have a secret admirer…” I joked.

“Not so secret anymore.”

“You're serious? Then why were you so mean to me before?”

“Mean?”

“Yeah! So mean, I nicknamed you Mr. Grumpy…” he laughed, and I found it adorable.

“I guess I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings.”

“Your…feelings?”

He grabs my hands and pulls me up to him, our faces now extremely close together.

“Yeah…you’re gorgeous and I wanted to kiss you the minute I saw you. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that. I’ve never felt that before and it scared me a little. Especially since I didn’t know anything about you.”

I was dazed. Suddenly, I knew no words.

“Miji, can I kiss you?” he asked so sweetly, placing his hand on my face and gently brushing his thumb across my cheek bone. With our eyes locked, staring into each others’ souls, I nodded my head yes.

His lips were doughy, covering mine completely. My arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, getting comfortable in the moment. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on mine.

“I’m sorry I was mean to you. I promise I’m not like that at all.”

“I can forgive you under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Kiss me again.” 

“I could get used to this,” he said through that handsome smile I was so fond of.

“I could very well be in love with you.” 

And there, under the Jacaranda tree, where we were surrounded by petals of confidence and good fortune, the sky turned into a blaze of color, and we declared a confession leading us to a new beginning.

Thanks for reading! (✿◠‿◠)

#bangtanwritershq #bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bangtan yoongi #yoongi drabble #moonleeai writes sometimes #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts x reader

[moonleeai]

Get Away

𓆩♡𓆪 Thank you Shaytaree, Sara, and Izza for beta reading and giving this life 𓆩♡𓆪

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⟢ Fic Pairing: Taehyung x fem reader / Namjoon x fem reader

⟢ Genres: angst, fluff

⟢ Rating: 18+

⟢ Word count: 2,337

⟢ Warnings: name calling, cursing

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“You look like a whore, too!”

“Thanks Tae Tae! You always were the best with compliments!” You turned and blew a kiss in his direction while your insides felt like they were being squeezed by a giant’s fist. You wrapped your hands around your arms and rubbed up and down to take the chill away. It was a summer night but seeing him with someone else…and hearing those words…your body temperature seemed to be non-existent. 

It was Halloween and your friends convinced you to come to a costume party in a racy ensemble. You wallowed in self pity for months after the break up and finally agreed to go out with friends. You needed to feel pretty, feel wanted, and feel alive again. You dressed up as Lola Bunny: tall bunny ears, a white sports bra with matching cheeky shorts, both with blue trim. The top had Space Jam written on the front and a number ten on the back. Your lower half fit with white high dunks, knee high socks, and a fluffy bunny tail affixed to the shorts. You were enjoying yourself at the rooftop lounge until you made eye contact with Taehyung, his face twisted with a foul look. You were quick to turn away but he made sure you’d not just notice him, but notice he was with someone new already. You tried showing interest in the guys flirting with you, taking any drinks coming your way, but in return, Taehyung’s jealousy reared its ugly head, abruptly ending your night. He shoved a guy you were talking to and got in your face, your friends were able to pull you away from him, but that didn’t save your ears from all the menial words he pelted your way. Security dragged him outside and, as you were leaving, he thought he’d get in one last jab. You jumped in a taxi with your friends where they do what they can with your inconsolable, sobbing, trembling self. You remember getting back to your place but nothing after walking into your room. 

“Hey— hey are you okay?” The earthquake of a shake was enough to startle you, but the voice…was it really…you rolled over and saw him sitting next to you. 

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“You never changed your code. I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“And?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

He may have been a jerk at times but he was also a sweetheart. His hurtful words were something you always justified as him being stressed from his responsibilities. But you weren’t letting yourself do that anymore. 

“For fucking what Tae!? Last night you looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of your Gucci shoes. Then you called me a whore! Of all things…that’s something I’m far from.”

“I was just jealous.”

“At what? It’s not like I was all over anyone like you were with that blonde. We’ve been broken up for months. Let’s just move on already.”

“I—“ he tried to say more but you interrupted him.

“You haven’t talked to me since you broke up with me. I must have called and texted a hundred times like a crazy person and you didn’t return a single one.” Your voice broke but you refused to shed another tear in front of him.

“I just want you to do something with your life. Is that so wrong?” He tried to rebut.

“Please go now.”

“Come on. Let’s talk. Please. We can work things out if you just…I don’t know, have some ambition.” He turned on his charm, holding your hands and giving the sweetest expression, even though his words were laced with poison, but you realized you couldn’t let him keep putting you down.

“Tae, before I get nasty, please. Please just fucking go.” You grabbed your head, trying to soothe the sudden hammer hitting nails into your skull. 

“Fine. I’ll go. I brought you these hangover cures. I know drinking isn’t really your thing.”

You look in the bag of goodies and start feasting on a few of your favorites. After three years of dating, he knew you well, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

“K. Thanks. Bye.”

He sulked out of the room but not before shouting one last insult, “You don’t have to be so bitchy. At least I have determination to do something with my life!” You waited to hear the door close and give the locked chime sound to grab your phone and search ‘how to change code on keypad’, but the hammer returned. 

In the beginning he always had compliments; said you were too smart when he proofread your college papers, so cool and cultured from traveling abroad in places most only dream of, and so stylish with every outfit you wore but loved you in sweats. He loved how you weren’t materialistic and thrived off experiences. Always stating he couldn’t want anything more…but people change. He couldn’t accept what you had decided would be the most fulfilling for you. You thought back to the night he crushed your dreams: 

A short weekend getaway to the beach, for two separate reasons. You wanted to celebrate your birthday a little early, but Taehyung had something else in mind. Staring up at the night sky, you listened to the waves lapping on the shore line, the crackling of the bonfire next to you, and the trill of bugs collectively making the perfect summer night song. He grabbed your hand and enlaced your fingers. 

“Can I– ask something?” You sensed he was holding something back with the question. 

“Of course.” You turned your body towards him, admiring the glow of his skin under the moonlight, giving him your full attention to hopefully put him at ease. 

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Hmmm, I see us married with kids. Maybe two…or three by then. If you really want five we’ll have to get to work fairly quickly.” You giggled, smiling from ear to ear.

“No, yn. You. Where do you see yourself?”

“I don’t get it, I just told you.” 

Irritation laced his tone, “Instead of where you see us, just tell me where you see you.” A brief silence and your eyes began to wander around. Unsure of whatever game this was, not wanting to set him off more, you couldn’t think of any other way to answer except for rewording what you said already.

“I– see– myself married with kids?” It came out like a question instead of an answer.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking infuriating sometimes.” He sat up abruptly. Your chest tightened and all you could do was worry about what was next. How could you fix it?

“Okay…I’m trying. Can you give me some context? I mean, in five years I see us, not just me. What am I saying wrong? How should I be saying it?” You reached for his hand to keep things calm but he pulled away from you.

“That’s the thing…you have no intent on using your degree or having a career. You just want to be a wife and mom.”

“What’s wrong with that? It’ll be hard to work with five kids,” you racked your brain trying to think of alternatives, “I mean do you want to stay home? I’m sure we can find a happy medium.” Your mind swarmed with thoughts and emotions that you just couldn’t seem to swat away. They crowded the cognitive space of your brain and caused confusion. 

“We want different things.”

“I– I can get a job with my degree before we get married and have kids, if that’s what the problem is.”

“No.” he said cold and flat

“So– you don’t want five kids anymore?” 

“Jesus, yn. I don’t think we’re meant to be together, okay. We’re just comfortable with each other. And it bothers me that you don’t want to be anything more than just a wife and mother.”

“Anything more? I always imagined being a wife and mother as the most rewarding job in the world.”

“Again. We’re different and don’t want the same things. There's no point in wasting each other’s time anymore.”

Suddenly there was a comfortless silence. The bugs were no longer making melodies with the calm waves. The fire went out, causing the cool crisp air to kiss your skin, inciting goosebumps to prickle your skin. Clouds quickly began covering up the glistening stars that littered the sky.

FIVE YEARS LATER

After taking to heart Taehyung’s words which still felt like yesterday, you decided maybe he was right. You couldn’t keep doing part time jobs until your dreams came true. With your Architecture Design degree, you decided interior design and decorating suited you best. After just a year of working for a high profile company, your name soon became as well known as Joanna Gaines. Two years into the game, you were sought after by so many you had to start turning jobs away. Deep down there was always something missing though. This was just filling your time until you could be what you really wanted. A wife and mother. 

You were finishing up your last job for a home on the beach. The owner wanted you to be a part of the celebration for their new home and cozy space that you created with all their wishes and demands. This Halloween party was formal attire only, a glamorous event with tasteful tuxedos and flattering evening gowns. You dolled yourself up in an off the shoulder wine colored gown with a high slit on the side, exposing your leg up to your thigh. Hair was in a simple half up style allowing your wavy hair to lay just at your collar bones. As the celebration mellowed out, you excused yourself and made way to what used to be your favorite place. A place in which you hadn’t visited for such a long time. The same beach where your dreams shattered years ago.

You walked down the weathered wooden path and at the end, you halted to take off your heels. Stepping off you lifted your gown, and appreciated the velvety sand between your toes. You perched on a large drift log and slightly slid your toes to the water's edge. Listening to the murmur of the sea, you looked up at the clear sky, a black marble slate embedded with white flakes glistening for all the world to see. A shooting star streaks across your view and you let out a sigh of relief. You did it. You’d been doing it. No longer stuck in his words that haunted you for so long. 

“A beautiful lady shouldn’t be out here alone.” You turned and saw Taehyung, also dressed to the nines.

“Uhhh– hi,” you let out.

“What’s the coincidence we meet again.”

“No idea. What are you doing here?”

“I was at a friend's wedding, just got back to the rental house, so I thought I’d go for a stroll.”

“Oh.” You looked down, not really interested in a conversation.

“You?”

“Just finished up with a client’s celebration…also just going for a stroll.”

“Yeah? I hear you're pretty popular now.”

“I guess.” You glanced at your phone, hoping your way out would arrive soon.

“So not just a wife and mom, huh?” Suddenly you feel dissatisfied. Still five years later, he has the same mentality. But little did he know this was your last job…for that exact reason. He continued, “Since you actually turned your life around, you wanna go grab coffee or food? We could catch up…maybe see—“

“Actually, let me stop you there. If you must know, I am a wife and a mother now. I started this job years ago just to fill my time until I could live my dream. I got married eighteen months ago and we have six month old twins, a boy and a girl. Their dad asked me to quit working and devote all my time to them. So yeah…I am just a wife and mom after tonight.”

“I didn’t know you got married…and kids… already, wow?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why would you? We’re of the past. I have someone who gets me and loves me for wanting something as simple as being a devoted wife and loving mother.” 

You heard heavy footsteps making their way down the wooden planks and a huge smile came across your face knowing exactly who it was.

“Honey! There you are. My sister is watching the babies so we have a few hours of us time before they wake up. You know they won’t be happy if they don’t see us there.”

You turned back to Taehyung gleaming, “Goodbye, Tae.” 

As you walk up the path, your husband gushes, “Baby what is this dress? I swear I’ve never seen this one on you. Please tell me you have pics.” You giggle as your husband's hands find every curve possible in just a short walk. “Wait, wait, wait.” He picks you up and sits you on the railing. Arms tight around your waist and lips graciously kissing the top of your breasts.

“Namjoon, not here! My clients are literally a stone throw away!”

He looks up smirking but obliges, gently bringing you back down and pressed his lips on yours. When he pulled away, he asked, “Who was that guy down there?”

“Remember my ex who dumped me because–”

“You’re kidding! That was THE Taehyung?”

“Flesh and blood.”

“I’ll be right back.” Namjoon kisses your cheek and jogs back to the end of the path.

“What are you–” you are interrupted by his shout.

“Hey, Taehyung. Thanks man.” He gives a sloppy salute and jogs back to you grinning.

“What was that for?!” you ask, confused.

“Honey, how could he let you get away?” he leans down, nuzzling his lips on your neck, kissing every spot of skin he could, “I won’t make that mistake, I won’t ever let you get away.”

#bangtanwritershq #bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #bts #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts tae tae #bts tae x reader #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts joonie #bts one shot #taehyung oneshot #namjoon one shot #moonleeai writes sometimes #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung #kim namjoon #Namjoon #namjoon x reader #thebtswritersclub

[moonleeai]

Moonleeai's Corner

✿ About Me 

Aloha! Welcome to my tumblr. I am a mom, wife, and ARMY! I mostly Beta read but try my hand at writing sometimes. I enjoy the beach, hiking, and listening to music. I love meeting new people so please say hi! (✿◠‿◠)

✿ Networks

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✿ My Writing

Most of my writing is NSFW so please please MDNI

 A special thank you to @rec-me-bts for these beautiful layout banners!!

Code Name: Gummy Bear 18+

˚ʚ pairing: Asset!Namjoon x Agent!Reader

˚ʚ au/genre: Agent/Asset, soft smut

A Christmas Favor 18+

🎄 Seokjin x fem reader x Taehyung

🎄 Cabin Getaway, Smut with a side of Christmas 

Good Fortune & A New Beginning

➻➻ Yoongi x female reader

➻➻ Fluff- Grumpy neighbor to lover

Young Love 18+

❥❥ Yoongi x female reader

❥❥ Fluff and Smut

Universal Language

❀ Hoseok Drabble

❀ All Fluff 

Good Enough 18+

⟡ Hoseok x female reader

⟡ Angst, smut, cheating, cursing

Ladies and Gentlemen 18+

ღ Hoseok x female reader

ღ Fluff and Smut

Teri Hasse Ka Noor 18+

☺ Hoseok x fem reader

☺ travel au, friends to lovers, fluff, baby angst, SMUT 

The Perfect Gift

❄️ Jimin x fem reader

❄️ Fake dating, Friends to Lovers, fluff, romcom

if it's our last 18+

🟠 Jimin x Jungkook

🟠 Pistilverse, Strangers to Lovers, Fate, Almost Romeo & Juliet

Get Away 18+ 

⟢ Taehyung x fem reader / Namjoon x fem reader

⟢ Angst / Fluff

Amber Confetti 18+ 

⋆·˚ ༘ Jungkook x fem reader ⋆·˚ ༘ Second Chance, fluff, smut

#moonleeai writes sometimes #bts fanfic #bangtanwhq #bts #bts fluff #bts x reader #drabble #bts jhope #bts hosoek #hoseok one shot #jhope drabble #yoongi fanfic #bangtan yoongi #yoongi cute #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bts smut #bts yoongi #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts aus #bts au fic #bts drabble #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #bts fic #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader

[moonleeai]

WIP CHALLENGE: Life Unknown

I need to know more about this! A Namjoon series? Please tell me more!

I have been writing this thing for months! A little here and there...It's an established relationship that starts out smutty, hot, super fluffy, and sweet! Then in comes obstacles, angst, and an unknown future. Things stop going as planned and they have to figure their way through it...together or not...to be or not to be! LOL

Here are 2 snippets from the beginning and middle ish:

She makes her way to the stage for her speech. After talking for a few minutes she sees Namjoon get up and start walking toward the stage. She doesn’t skip a beat and stays very professional. Once she finishes and everyone is clapping, he walks up to the stage. She turns the mic off and covers her mouth to ask what he’s doing. He grabs the mic and smiles. She’s nervous but knows he understands business so she lets him go.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for being here and supporting my very best friend. I just wanted to come up here and add how proud I am of everything she’s accomplished over the years on her own to make this company what it is today. Of course with some help from her amazing staff and employees. I also wanted to put some rumors to rest while we had the opportunity.”

Her eyes get a little bigger and her body starts to panic on the inside. Everyone in their chairs seems to shift a little.

“We are dating and have been for quite some time but weren’t able to say anything. So as of today I’d like to make it official.” He reaches out and grabs her hand, sending the crowd into applause and admiration. Their smiles are so big and eyes are on each other as if no one else is in the room. The night ends and they’re in the limo on the way back home. Both phones are going crazy but they are only focused on each other.

“I guess it’s too late to ask this, but are you sure about this”

“Never been more sure,” he says while pulling her on top of him. She’s sitting on his lap facing him, hands on his face. Their lips and tongues interlocked.

“The driver window is sound proof right?” she asks.

“Yeah why?” he says smirking.

...................................................................................................

“Miss. We have 7 dozen roses to bring in. Where would you like them?”

“Umm, anywhere is fine!”

Once they leave she looks at the card.

“A dozen for every year. An extra for our future. A color for every feeling. You are my everything. This will not fix anything but please accept them as my love for you and my deepest apology for hurting you. I will give you all the time in the world, just please let it be with me. –Joonie”

 She can’t even fake a smile, the pain in her chest unbearable. She sends him a picture text of the flowers but no words then goes to open the long box. She then sees it’s from the bridal shop. “Wow they wasted no time.” She opens the box and immediately cries.  She hung the dress up in the closet, doubting every choice she ever made in the past 6 years.

#moonleeai writes sometimes