#park jimin fic

[wildestdreamsblog]

Might as well be drunk in love: 1 of 2

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This idea came to me when I went to the mountain and saw a love potion wine thingy being sold there. I think it's just the name of the wine, anyway! I really, really tried so hard to finish this in one post but it's already almost 8kish and we aren't even near the end sksks Happy New Year, my loves! I hope you'll like my gift for you <3

“Am I that hopeless?”

“What?” your friend asked in faux innocence, blinking her eyes owlishly at you. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, sweetie-“

You glared at her as you pointed in an exaggerated manner at the expensive pink tumbler she handed you mere seconds ago. The tumbler was too fancy, something that you wouldn’t buy for yourself and something that a certain handsome but infuriating CEO of yours was fond of carrying around.

However, what was insulting was the content of the said tumbler.

“I just gifted you that because you mentioned that it was beautiful-“

“Do you really think I’d end up alone?!”

“I don’t understand-“

“You literally just said that you put the love potion you bought in the mountains here!” you hissed lowly, keeping your eyes around the conference room as your department waited for the seven CEOs to arrive. You attempted to smile which more or less came out as a grimace at one of your colleagues who looked at you weirdly because of your mini-outburst. You weren’t exactly meek in nature, nor were you shy. However, you weren’t really keen on letting anyone overhear that your close friend bought you a love potion just because she thought you would end up alone.

That was embarrassing, even for you. So nope, you would for sure keep this under wraps.

Her brows furrowed harmlessly, although you could see a hint of smile on her lips, “You’re welcome?”

“I’m not thanking you-“

Just then, all the seven CEOs walked in the conference room, their presence commanding and silence reigned through the whole room. The first to enter was Min Yoongi. He was strolling in the room with his hands in his pocket. He was said to be the ace of the group who could smell bullshit despite it being miles away. He honestly looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here right now, though. It was the complete opposite of Jung Hoseok, also known as the sunshine of the group. He was smiling widely as he greeted the department and some employees by their names, yet you weren’t fooled by his beautiful smile. He was the strictest of them all. He was perfectionist down to the core and he was the last to forgive any mistake. The last of the hyung line to enter was the Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. It was like the room literally lightened up when he stepped in, like the birds sang melodically the moment he opened his eyes. His tall form and his movement were precise as he confidently sauntered to his seat which just so happened to be beside yours. He placed his pink tumbler on the table, so eerily similar to yours sans the engraved of his name on his tumbler. The beautiful asshole didn’t even spare you a glance. Your back unconsciously straightened when the lead CEO, Kim Namjoon, locked eyes with you for a moment when he entered the room.  He was said to be one of the most intelligent man in the whole country. You didn’t even doubt it one bit. He was capable, and his leadership was on another level. Should he decide to run for a political seat, you would undoubtedly vote for him. He had what it took, you thought. He was charismatic, calm and he knew when to listen.

The CEOs were dubbed by the employees to be divided by two: the Maknae and the Hyung line.

Finally, the maknae line entered. The three of them could always be found together. Park Jimin, the eldest of the line, who had one of the most beautiful smiles you ever saw. In fact, you once overheard your colleague that he interacted with her once and it left her thinking of what they really were. He was followed by Kim Taehyung and also labelled as his soulmate. He was expressionless as he entered, only cracking a smile when he turned to Jimin. You always thought that he could be a model or an actor if he wanted to. He definitely had the looks for it. Last to enter was the muscular Jeon Jungkook, also known as the golden maknae of the group. There were no contracts, mergers or acquisitions that he couldn’t convince the other party of signing. Not only was he capable of everything, but he excelled in everything. Thus, his nickname. However, despite the way he held himself during the negotiations, you observed him to be shy and highly reserved. All of a sudden, he looked up from his seat as though he could feel your eyes on him, his doe eyes curious as he took you in. He held your eyes for a moment until he blinked owlishly and looked down at his hands in curiosity.

Kim Namjoon sat in the middle, the others sitting beside him as they regarded the room with a powerful look.

 “Shall we begin?” Kim Seokjin asked, his eyes focused on the slides reflecting in the projector. 

Several headaches, passive aggressiveness from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin, disappointed sighs from Jin and Yoongi, difficult revisions ‘suggested’ by Taehyung, and corrections of miniscule errors of calculations by Jungkook later, the meeting finally ended.

You were weary as you trudged out of the conference room the CEOs were still in. They dismissed the department, expecting revisions within the day after tomorrow before discussing among themselves. It was honestly not a lot of time and you could already feel the lack of sleep you and the department would further experience under their tyranny. You willed yourself not to fall asleep as you walked to your desk, your close friend who was equally tired as you sat down on her seat beside your desk.

“I’m so tired. It’s like my soul and all the happiness I was able to experience in my young life were sucked out of me,” she lamented, her head resting on her desk. “If only the pay isn’t so greaaaat. ”

You nodded at what she said, already likening the CEOs to dementors in Harry Potter. Interacting with them made you aged several years. Additionally, meetings with them made you reconsider whether you needed a roof over your head, whether you needed to eat at least twice a day, whether you needed to drink clean water-

Speaking of…this wasn’t your tumbler. 

The horrifying realization made you stood up abruptly. You lifted the pink tumbler to your widening eyes, and by that name there was no denying that this wasn’t yours. Your sudden movement awoke your friend from her own misery, yet you didn’t have the time to explain. Without any further thought, you ran back to the conference room, screaming and crying about how you were definitely going to get fired.

Of course, the elevator was under maintenance.

Of course, you had to run numerous flights of stairs.

Of course, it was just your luck that you ran into your manager just when you reached their floor.

And of course, the moment you opened the door, there they were, innocently drinking from a glass, the tumbler emptied as it sat in the middle of the table.

“Don’t drink that!”

Taehyung was the first to turn to you, his dark expressionless eyes meeting yours with intense stubbornness. He kept his eyes on yours as gulped the contents wholeheartedly.

Oh heavens, no.

He put the glass down with a resounding thud which felt like a nail to your coffin. You turned to look at the other CEOs with shaky eyes and it was apparent that they definitely drank their fair share of whatever was in the tumbler. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if it was really safe for consumption. You were going to kill your friend for her prank!

Their eyes were focused on you. You couldn’t even blame them. You shouted at them all while looking like a lunatic with your disheveled hair and huffing breaths like you did a marathon. Oh wait, yes you probably did by the amount of running you did today. They were probably thinking that you were mentally unfit for this job and oh my God you were going to lose your job.

“May we help you, Ms. Y/N?” Hoseok asked you politely, his eyes never wavering from yours which was…unusual. Despite him being the image of kindness and approachability, he never looked at his employees for longer than necessary. He was a man that possessed such discipline when it came to his time. This… was absolutely an unnecessary length of time for eye contact.

“T-that’s my drink,” you finally said after tearing your eyes from Hoseok’s. You pointedly looked at the empty pink tumbler, not minding the intense look Namjoon was giving you.

“We apologize, little one,” Namjoon broke the silence, his deep voice awakening you from your stupor. “Yours looked like hyung’s.”

Little one???

 Jimin smirked before running his hand through his blonde locks. His eyes were on yours as he looked up at you. “Yours undeniably taste better, though.”

Before you could even blink, Yoongi pointed at you with a rare smile on his lips. “You looked thirsty. Would you like to go to my office and drink with me?”

Was that…an invitation?!

You felt a hand tugged your sleeve. You turned, only to find beautiful doe eyes looking up at you from his seated form. “Hi! What year were you born?”

“199x-,“ you answered absentmindedly, you eyes roaming around the room when he tugged your sleeve again for your attention.

“You’re older than me!” he gasped; his excitement palpable as he stood up. He towered over you, his grin pleasant and you thought at that moment that he looked a lot like a bunny, or a kangaroo with the way his chest muscles were bulging over his office clothes. “Then you’re my noona! I can call you ‘noona’, right? Come on, take a seat here!”

He pulled the chair closer and tapped on it eagerly.

This was wrong, you thought. Was that thing really effective?! You dreaded to think that it was and you had a certain someone to torture once you get out of this room.

You were shaking your head before he could even pull you and you watched as his expression fell. Suddenly, he looked like a child that lost his toy with the way he was pouting. And nope, you couldn’t deal with that today. You looked at the man who hadn’t spoken one bit before smiling sheepishly at him. You placed his pink tumbler in front of him.

“I apologize. I must have switched yours with mine-“

His jaw tightened as he leaned in. Heavens, he was even more handsome this close. Kim Seokjin looked up at you with his ethereal eyes before resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve been drinking yours since the meeting, my love. It’s absolutely not your fault. Mine was coffee. This-“ he lifted the empty tumbler, “-is, I presume, a juice.”

Confusion further painted on your face, “You knew? Then why did you keep on drinking-“

He shrugged his broad shoulders, “It’s…addicting.”

“O-okay, then I’ll just leave yours here-“

“Tell me, my love. Do you like your job?”

Welp, here it was. You were so going to get fired. Oh my God, how were you going to feed your cat? He had such an expensive taste!

“I-“

“Because there’s an opening in my office. Would you like to be my secretary-“

“But hyung, you already have one-“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” he hissed at the now pouting man before turning to smile at you as though he didn’t berate his co-CEO in front of you. Chaos ensued as the boys fought and bickered for who would be your direct boss as you inched closer to the door.

“I’m just gonna go,” you whispered and before you could even reach the door, Taehyung looked up at you with his sharp eyes.

“Where are you going!”

“I-I have to finish the report this week, right?”

Namjoon stood up before declaring that he would finish it for you. And when you shook your head, “I am officially moving the deadline to next month! No need to stress, my little love!”

You blinked owlishly before doing what was best for you and your sanity- you ran away.

“So, they drank it?”

“Are you even listening to me?!” you shrieked over the phone, walking back in forth in front of your cat that was now looking at you as though he wanted to be adopted by a sane person and not you. “I just told you. They all drank it. All seven of them!”

You could hear the laughter in her voice which was not helping your panic, “I thought you didn’t believe love potions?”

“I-I didn’t! You didn’t see how they were acting! It was so peculiar!”

“Well, honey, how did they act?”

“Kindly! And it’s so weird!”

She paused, her silence making your heart beat faster. “Holy shit. It’s definitely effective. I need to go back there and buy another one for myself-“

“Focus! Is there an antidote or anything?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my grandmother that lives there. I’ll let you know, but for the meantime, hold on very tight, okay?”

“What do you mean?!”

“Uhm. She said it’s very potent? I thought she was kidding. We’ll observe them tomorrow, okay? I’ll fix this.“

You were only able to sleep for two hours last night for two reasons: your work that you accomplished at eleven in the evening, leaving you six ample hours to sleep, and second, them.

Your phone didn’t stop ringing last night. You didn’t know how they obtained your number, and you dreaded to think that they used their position to direct the Human Resources department to give your personal number (yup, they definitely did).

You were about to fall asleep when your phone wouldn’t stop, and when you opened your eyes, you wished to all that was holy that you threw away the tumbler as soon as she handed it to you. Or that you didn’t choose the sit next to Seokjin.

You wished to God that your phone wasn’t blowing up now, but it certainly was.

Kookie: Hi, noona! Welcome to the Bangtan groupchat!

You squinted your eyes as the glaring screen illuminated with several messages from them.

Jwehope: Darling, are you a sprite? Because you've got the right amount of fizz to make my heart pop!

Jiminie: That’s so corny. I, for one, think that little one is a magician.

Jiminie: Because everytime I look at her, everyone just disappears.

V: Do you want to disappear, Jimin? Because I can arrange that.

Joonie: Ms. Y/N-shi, do you have a moment? I asked because I would like to discuss something.

At that, your trepidation grew. Among five, the lead CEO definitely held a serious tone. Did they find it as weird as you did that they were paying you attention? Did they trace it to that drink? Were you now in an even bigger mess than you initially thought?

You replied tensely: Yes, I am available, Kim Daepyonim.

WWH Jin: Why are you still awake? Beauty sleep is essential, my love!

Joonie: Great! I’d like to discuss the exponential growth of my feelings for you.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Suga: You’re all so hopeless. My Y/N would never fall for that.

Suga: On the other hand, would you like some Samsung stocks?

And that was why you never got to sleep peacefully last night. You sighed as you got on the bus. You opted to leave at an earlier hour because you wanted some time to think without the noise of the world and the buzzling movement of people commuting. You could feel a headache coming, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come through.

You should have known your prayers were seldom heard.

A vacant seat on the backside of the bus greeted you, and you were only too elated to finally sit throughout your commute. Peace, finally, you thought. You had barely settled in, barely breathed a sigh of relief when the once empty chair beside you was filled in by none other than him

“Fancy running to you here!” Taehyung noted in a deep voice as though this was not part of his plan, as though he didn’t wake up at a godforsaken hour just to ‘run’ to you.

You blinked, astonished by his presence. This was the last place you expected him to be. Hell, you didn’t even sure he ever experienced riding a bus! What the fuck was he doing here? Where was now your peace?!

“You-You’re here…” you trailed off, your eyes widening in shock as your brows furrowed in disbelief. You had foolishly thought that maybe, once they slept it off, then it would slowly be flushed out of their system. Oh, how wrong could you be. “Why?”

Taehyung smirked at you, his dark eyes taking you in. His dark hair was gelled up, his suit impeccable and without any crease in sight. He was somehow manspreading and you weren’t stoic enough not to notice the way his thick thigh was touching the side of yours. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re so…honest.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed by his honesty. It didn’t displace him; what did was the annoying pain in his heart as the hours passed by and you weren’t in his arms nor his sight. He hated it. It felt wrong!

The other boys weren’t fairing any better but oh well, to each of his own. He may or may have also drained their cars of gas so they couldn’t leave. He thought that no one needed you as much as he did.

“I surmised that you wouldn’t believe if I say I frequent this path just for the hell of it, correct?”

You nodded dumbfoundedly as speech eluded you. His candor was definitely out of this world, and he seemed to not care as he only stared right at you.

“Now,” he whispered before tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now I feel at peace. The annoying pain finally stops.”

What pain?!

Before you could even ask him to elaborate, his head leaned on your shoulder.

“Daepyonim Kim-“

“Just stay like this for a while. I didn’t get to sleep, my love,” he answered in his hoarse voice, his eyes already closed as he dozed off. You didn’t know why you let him. It absolutely was not due to the fact that you felt your heart skipped a beat when he laid his head on your shoulder. Nope.

You managed to run away from Taehyung once the two of you arrived at the company, simply by practicing your non-existent ninja moves and awkwardly slipping out of the elevator just as the doors closed, his face an image of betrayal and panic. You breathed a sigh of relief before running out of the building. You still had an hour before you were needed, you for sure wouldn’t spend it inside that establishment or you would end up crying.

You were focused on your phone as you read real life stories of love potions. The sharing of stories kept on increasingly became more serious and scarier. You had yet to find a post about antidote. You weren’t 100% set on it being real, but the way Taehyung acted today was not right.

For heaven’s sake, the man barely said any word to you for the whole year you worked in their company. He had only looked at you before, and now he was outright going to you. But maybe, the other CEOs weren’t affected?

It was a hopeful thought, and you felt yourself smile a little- which of course vanished just as quickly when you looked up from your seat in the coffee shop to see Park Jimin sitting in front of you. You didn’t even know how he moved so smoothly and quietly. He was smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. His blonde hair stood out as the sunlight hit his hair perfectly.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“Daepyonim Park,” you gasped both at shock and well, his beauty. His smile turned wider before he tried to hide it as he sipped from his coffee cup.

“Just Jimin, little one. I presume Taehyung- the bastard who will soon be six feet underground for what he did, by the way- already went to see you?”

You nodded, “He did…”

He scrunched his nose before resting his chin on his hand as he leaned into you. His pouty lips were protruding even more as he looked over his long lashes to you. My God, this man was so charming and his movements seemed so sensual. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you finally, finally understood your coworker who had a major crush on him for years based on one interaction.

“He’s so bad, my love. Did he tell you that he drained all our cars’ gas tank at two in the morning?” he asked in a conversational manner as though it didn’t faze him. His other hand reached to yours, slowly entangling them together and giggling a little at the slight size difference. He found them perfect and cute.

God, you were so endearing, he thought to himself.

“He did what?!”

He nodded slightly, holding your hand up to inspect further before quietly taking a picture of your clasped hands. You were so out of it that you just let it be.

“What Taehyung failed to account for was the existence of taxis. He only managed to anger six men, so good luck to him today. But enough about him,” he stated before looking into your eyes. Being the sole focus of Jimin was just too much, you thought. He was bigger than life, and his inherent appeal was palpable that even girls around the coffee shop kept on stealing glances on him. “I miss you so much today that my heart and head hurt so much, yeobo. I thought that I was going to die if I don’t see you.”

Your brows furrowed in concern before pulling your hand from him and you could have sworn you heard him whimpered. You laid the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to see whether he had fever today. He felt fine, you concluded, as you looked closer to see if he looked sick.

Maybe the ‘love potion’ caused these symptoms? Taehyung did mention experiencing pain.

You managed to escape from Park Jimin when he insisted on buying you pastries, and you in turn ran to the exit like your life depended on it. And perhaps, it did because you were running late. You only had fifteen minutes and the coffee shop you went to was not fifteen-minute away from the office. You were running like a lunatic, waving at the taxi that finally took pity on you. You were about to open the door when a large and tattooed hand slammed it shut.

You looked up in anger, ready to berate the man who did such a rude gesture when you recognized who it was.

Right then and there, and despite it being barely eight in the morning, you already met the entirety of maknae line. Jeon Jungkook looked like a badass with his all-black getup, his hands wrapped in motorcycle gloves, and his hair carelessly falling around his face. Despite all that, he looked innocent with the way he grinned at you, his nose all scrunched up when he greeted you.

“I’ll give you a ride, noona. Come on,” he stated as he gestured at the black motorcycle haphazardly parked on the side. You had never ridden one, and you didn’t want to start now. On the other hand, the taxi was already driving away and you could only look at it with longing.

You decided that you could afford being late just this once instead of riding with him. You were shaking your head.

“But you’re going to be late. I’m going there, too, so it’s no bother if that’s what you’re thinking-“

“No it’s just… I like to walk during the mornings…really.”

He frowned at you as he removed his gloves, “Didn’t you read the memo about tardiness, Y/N?”

“What memo?”

He was typing rapidly on his phone, “About how there would be 50% deduction of the salary should there be any tardiness this month…didn’t you know?” he asked innocently as he finished typing, his doe eyes trained on yours. Coincidentally, the moment he pocketed his phone was the moment your phone dinged.

“I don’t think that’s legal, though. I haven’t received the memo-“

You looked down at your phone, and there it was, an email about that. How could it only reach you now?!

You looked up in panic, and he looked at you with a hint of satisfaction before covering it with an innocent smile. “Shall we? I promise I don’t bite.” Yet.

He drove like a lunatic and you thought that you would really rather be late than experience a thrill such as this. Of course, it was only natural that you didn’t want to put your arms around him. You technically didn’t know him at a personal level and Jungkook did know that.

So, of course, like the intelligent man that he was, he only did the thing that made sense. He sped up, and he chuckled as your adorable screams reached his ears. Your equally lovely arms were now wrapped around him as they should always be and for once since yesterday, the ache in his heart eased. He felt at peace.

He giggled when you finally realized that this was not the path to the office, but in his mind, his other hyungs already got to spend time with you. Shouldn’t he too?

Jungkook helped you get off his bike, his eyes closely watching your expressions as you took the scenery around you. It was quiet despite the busy world below. The overlooking garden he brought you to was enchanting and it remained untouched by the quick-pacing world below. Jungkook couldn’t help but mirror your smile.

“It’s even more beautiful at night, noona. I come here when things get quite overwhelming.”

You turned to him as the two of you sat down. He had laid his leather jacket for you to sat on, a true gentleman you would think if only you weren’t aware that he drank the potion. “The golden maknae gets overwhelmed, too?”

He scrunched his nose at you before softly pinching your nose, “Of course, I do. I’m only human. I was trained when I was only thirteen…it gets too much sometimes. But it’s okay. I like it, and I like the hyungs, too. That’s why I cannot get mad at Tae.”

“He didn’t just empty the gas tank, but he also hid the keys. For added measure, he deflated my tire. He only did that to me. Should I be mad, little one?” he asked with the perpetual charming and shy smile on his face. “Ahh, but I cannot stay mad at him. I do understand him.”

“You do?”

He nodded eagerly, “I would have done the same thing if only he didn’t do it first. You do make us crazy, little one. Why is that?”

It was an eventful morning, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that the rest of your day would be any different. You friend was still yet to be found as she was preoccupied with researching for further information about that potion, which she should have done before giving it to you!

You sighed for the million time as you stared at your food. You were sitting alone in the company’s cafeteria as you were eating your late lunch. The workload was just too much today despite Kim Namjoon’s departmentwide directive that the revision would be presented the following month. Your superiors did find it peculiar and thought that the head CEO was simply playing with them and that he would cruelly demand the output the next day. See, even his reputation preceded him, you thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be lenient when it came to deadlines.

The sudden gentle thud of food a lunch box made you jumped from your seat, your eyes widening as you saw that it was none other than the eldest of the CEOs, Kim Seokjin. Disbelief held you captive. It was an unexpected sight – the CEO, whose tailored suits and polished demeanor spoke of boardroom authority, now standing before you with a container of something that smelled absolutely delicious.

He smiled at you as he took the empty seat in front of you. He busied himself with laying and opening the numerous food containers in front of you. Your eyes widened at all the homecooked meals in front of you.

“I got up at four in the morning to prepare all these. I still don’t know what your favorites are, but we’ll figure it out as we go, right?” he asked, busying himself with putting food on your plate. “Always eat on time, little one. It’s bad to skip meals.”

“W-why did you cook all these?”

He blinked owlishly at your question; surprise written on his face. “Well, my love, I couldn’t sleep and I felt this stabbing pain by the mere thought that you weren’t eating enough.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“So from now on, I decided that I’ll always cook for you,” he declared strongly before lifting his chopsticks with vegetables to your mouth. Suddenly, you felt eyes on you.

How could you forget that you were in the company?! Your head turned, looking at the employees who were all watching your interaction with the unobtainable CEO. They were whispering and you knew by the end of the hour, everyone in the company would know of this. How could you live once they had the antidote? You could already hear the rumors about how you were just for their entertainment once they tossed you aside.

You were about to stand up when Seokjin gently gripped your chin. He turned you to him, his beautiful eyes willing you to listen to him. “Don’t mind them, little love. Pay attention to me only. Nothing and no one matter outside us, okay?”

It wasn’t okay because none of this was real. On the other hand, the meal tasted heavenly…

---

If they weren’t going to get sick, you definitely would. You felt like you would collapse any moment.

The amount of stress was taking a toll on you. You felt like you needed to be on your guard, lest another CEO would ambush you. You were just human! And they all looked like they stepped out of a photoshoot, or that they were ethereal beings that decided to go down on the mortal realms. The way they were showering you with attention and declaring their attraction to you and the way they said that not being with you felt like a stabbing pain in their hearts were all getting to you, damn it!

You were just a girl.

And once this all ended, you were dreading to think of what would be left of you now that you saw them on a closer and more personal level. You wanted to think that this couldn’t get any worse, but it did as you read the most elusive of the CEOs’ email to you.

Hi, my little one,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to request your presence at a meeting in my office to discuss my growing feelings for you today at 2:00 pm. Your insights and expertise on this matter would be highly valuable to the discussion, and I believe your input will contribute significantly to our objectives of being together forever and ever.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and I look forward to our discussion.

Best regards,

CEO Min Yoongi

He had this faraway look on his face when you were led by his secretary in his office. His hands were in his pocket as he looked at the bustling city from his floor to ceiling window. His black long hair was sleeked back, revealing his stoic face. The dark suit he was wearing did nothing but compliment his form. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were until now.

He looked like he was not paying attention, yet he turned around the moment that the door closed behind you. Min Yoongi looked at you for a moment too long that you started to shift uncomfortably. His attention was just too much, and you couldn’t act like you were no longer affected by any of it.

And from the looks of it, the moment you blushed was the exact moment his face softened. He gestured for you to take the seat in front of his desk. He mirrored your movement, now sitting on his expensive swivel chair. He clasped his hands and rested them on the mahogany table.

“Daepyonim Min-“

He held his finger up, asking for your silence before spilling what you thought to be both outrageous and the most beautiful and heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to you in this life. “You’re beautiful, and not just in the way that you look. No. You’re beautiful in the way that the sun finally shines after a month of storms; you’re beautiful in the way that the waves keep on going back to the shore even after they were pushed away in the desire to kiss the sand; you’re beautiful in the way that flowers bloom after the unforgiving winter coldness. And that is why I’m giving you Samsung stocks.”

Confusion settled over you like a fog. You had almost melted from what felt like a poetry when he once again brought up his stocks idea from last night.

“I-I really don’t need Samsung stocks, Daepyonim Min…”

He looked aghast at your statement, before reaching over the table and holding your hand in his particularly large ones. “Call me Yoongi, my love. Or better yet, call me your other half,” he implored you and he only let go when you nodded in confusion.

“Also, nonsense! Everyone needs that stock, little one. Besides, nothing speaks more about my love for you than giving you all my Samsung stocks. And above and beyond, it filled me with this immense pain knowing that you’re just out there not owning any of their stocks. I couldn’t breathe with the mere thought of you going without.”

“Excuse me?”

And with a stoic face, he said, “Congratulations, little one. You’re now a millionaire."

At six in the evening, the head CEO finally made an appearance. You did find it peculiar that you had a fairly quiet afternoon after meeting with Yoongi. Your brows were pinched together as you were lost in thought when the elevator opened, revealing the head CEO. He had yet to notice you, his large and imposing form leaning against the side of the elevator. His eyes were close. You noticed that his white sleeves were already folded, his tie already loosened as his black suit laid on his thick forearms.

Kim Namjoon was the image of weariness, and you thought he looked quite pale. Your growing concern for him was what made you stepped inside the lift rather than running away yet again. The sound of your heels as you stepped in was the only sound in the elevator. You pressed for the ground floor and you saw that the floor for basement three was already pressed. Perhaps, the head CEO was going home now. Now that you were standing almost next to him, you only further affirmed how small you were next to him. He was already larger than life, and the way he always held himself exuded confidence made him more striking…and manly in your eyes.

The ride was fairly quiet, and through it all, he had his eyes closed. You kept on stealing glances, thinking that maybe among the other CEOs, he took in the least amount of potion. You felt lighter with that thought. At least you only had five men you needed to find the antidote for. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen the sunshine of the group, Jung Hoseok yet.

The elevator dinged, signifying your floor. You had taken merely a step when you felt a large hand completely encircling your wrist, effectively stopping you from leaving. You automatically turned, startled to find him with his eyes trained on you. He looked way too alert for someone who had his eyes closed for the past minute. You gasped when he pulled you closer to him as he pressed the close button.

“Daepyonim Kim,” you called him as you craned your neck to look at his draconic eyes.

“Leaving so soon?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a subtle mix of amusement and curiosity.

You hesitated, the words tumbling out of your mouth as he caught you off guard. “I... uh, yes. I was heading to the lobby. I’m about to leave for the night," you stammered, attempting to regain composure.

A playful smile curved his lips as he completely blocked the exit. leaned against the elevator frame, effectively blocking your exit, which sounded successful as the door closed. “I missed you,” he breathed as he took you in, his thumb gently running over the inside of your wrist as though touching you brought him immense comfort. “A lot. It was hell without seeing you the whole day.”

You blinked owlishly and you wanted nothing but to hide your face from the intensity of his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he smiled so gently at you, the dents on his cheeks making an appearance which made him more charismatic that you couldn’t say no when he told you that he would take you home.

But he didn’t exactly say which home because you ended up in what turned out to be the CEOs’ huge ass mansion. Your eyes roamed around the mansion, the high ceilings and the fancy marble flooring all screamed wealth that you didn’t even dare of dreaming to have. He confidently led you to what appeared to be a grand dining room. The room bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. The delicate flames danced gracefully, creating patterns of light and shadow that played across the table. The air carried the subtle fragrance of the candles, a mix of vanilla and subtle hints of lavender.

The dining table was adorned with crisp, white linen, and the flickering candles were nestled in elegant holders, their glow reflecting off polished silverware and crystal glasses. Each flame seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle melody playing in the background, creating a soothing symphony that enveloped the space.

He pulled a chair for you, and instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. He chuckled lowly when he caught your questioning eyes, “I have been apart from you for so long today, little one. I need this to feel alive.”

You straightened up in vigilance that the other CEOs would show up. “Are the others here, too?”

He looked at you like you said something funny. The chef he hired today gently laid all the dishes he made, explaining about each dish before wishing the two of you an enjoyable night. Namjoon told you that he wouldn’t feed you any of the food he made unless he enrolled himself in a culinary school first, hence the chef. He waited for the chef to leave before turning his full attention to you.

“I shipped them off to Antartica.”

“You what?!”

“I simply said we were flying to Japan for a quick meeting. They believed. I lied. End of. So anyway, how many children do you think we should have?”

My God, you wanted so bad to lay on your bed and sleep the whole night. You though about filing for sick leave tomorrow, you were long overdue for a leave, anyway. Kim Namjoon was kind enough to drop you off. However, it was only after you promised him that you would talk about possible schools for your future children that he let you go.

On the other hand, your friend finally called and you were sorely disappointed to know more about what she gathered today. Her grandmother had to ask the other folks that lived in the mountain about your situation and it somehow appalled you that you weren’t the first to experience this.

It was, at the same time, sad to see people resort to this from loneliness.

Was an artificial, forced love and companionship better than being alone?

There were both an instant and quite a long-term effect of the potion, she said. The instant was mostly upon ingesting the liquid. Once they locked eyes with the owner of the potion which so happened to be you since she technically gifted it to you, then the immense attraction would start. You thought that this explained why the seven of them all acted that way in the conference room.

The long-term effects were what caused you to groan all the way up to your apartment. And right then and there, you saw what the long-term effects were. As you trudged up to your apartment, you felt the exhaustion to your very bones. You were looking forward to a hot shower in an effort to wash away the problems that stemmed from a simple prank when you saw who was leaning against your front door.

The last of the CEO, Jung Hoseok, was leaning against the door, his head bowed down as he clutched his heart. He looked like he was in unfathomable pain, his lips almost the shade of white. And your friend’s words echoed in your mind.

‘Prolonged non-contact with the object of their desires will cause them to be physically ill.’

You hurried up to him, holding his shoulders as you looked at him. You were crouched down in front of him, peeking up at his pained face.

“S-sir, are you okay?”

His chest tightened, his face contorted, a mask of agony etched with lines of distress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the intense effort to draw in even the smallest amount of air. The hallway fell silent, save for the raspy, labored breaths that escaped him.

‘They may try to fight the unexplainable feelings they have, and this will only cause them harm. In fact, if they go without you for a long period of time, their body will suffer for a long time.’

“Hoseok? Can you hear me? I’ll call for help, okay?” you tried to make yourself sound calm for his sake, but seeing him struggling, desperate to gasp for air was making you panic. Your negligence did this, you thought. You should have made sure that you were holding the right tumbler that day.

You were about to turn to call for help when you felt a hand pulled you closer, and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. He was still breathing hard, but you noticed that the shallow breathings were farther and apart as though he could finally breath. The moment you touched him, the moment you looked into his eyes was the exact moment that a wave of relief swept over him as the oppressive grip on his chest began to loosen. The moment that you called his name was the moment that the torment that had shackled his every breath gradually lifted, replaced by the sweet release of a deep, calming respiration.

“Don’t leave me.”

‘However, every interaction with you would only make their attraction grow further.’

You placed a glass of water in front of the man who now looked perfectly fine as though he wasn’t fighting for his very life outside your apartment. He was offering you reassuring smiles as he gently watched you. He was surrounded by sacks of expensive cat food, toys, and vitamins. And of course, your cat was only too happy with them, evident by the excessive purring he was emitting as he climbed on the CEO’s lap.

“I did hear that you have an adorable son int the form of a cat,” he started as he petted your spoiled cat. “As his future daddy, I would like to provide for him as early as now.”

You didn’t pay attention to whatever he was saying, and instead, you sat next to him to see if he was really fine. The paleness was now exchanged by a healthy look on skin. It was as though that didn’t happen.

“Hoseok, listen…the reason that you are all acting this way to me, the girl you didn’t even notice before this, was because-“

“Because of that drink, right?” he interrupted you, wearing a soft smile that conveyed he harbored no anger.

“Y-you know…”

He nodded before tilting his head, “I do. It’s weird, as you said. The thing is, all of us suspects the same thing. You, little one, only confirmed it.”

“I didn’t mean for any of these to happen-“

The soft look he had was now dropped, revealing the strict CEO that everyone knew him to be. “Regardless, little one. You need to take responsibility over your actions.”

“H-how?”

“You’re going to live with us until all of this fades. You’re going to take responsibility over us, my love.”

Part 2

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #kim seokjin fic #ot7 x reader #kim seokjin x you #kim namjon fic #jung hoseok fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #kim seokjin x reader #bts x reader #park jimin x you #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x you #bts x you #jeon jungkook x reader #kim taehyug x reader #park jimin x reader

[hollyhomburg]

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[joonsy2k]

★ pairings - Jimin x Fem!Reader

★ genre - smut , fluff.

★ summary - You were always told tales of a being that watched over you while you slept, you never knew that this being had an infatuation with you and would one day visit you in your dreams.

★ warnings - Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, somnophilia ( kind of ig ), Jimin being obsessive, dirty talk, lotta praise, use of angel, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex ( don't be silly wrap your willy ), riding, not proof read, spelling mistakes ( i'm dyslexic )

Jimin had been watching you ever since he could remember. He would frequently stand in the dark shadows of your room, watching as you drifted into peaceful slumbers that he had granted to you. Sometimes, he even dared to venture into the deepest parts of your mind, into your dreams.

He never got too close, it wasn't his place to interfere in your dreams but from afar he would add his own touch to your dreams, add things that would make you smile, and he always kept the nightmares away.

That was his job, to protect you from all the things that could possibly hurt you, wether it was in a dream state or not,

One day though, he ventured too far. He came too close to you.

When you were younger your mother had told you stories of a being who watched over everyone as they slept, a being who protected people from their own minds horrors. She called him the sandman.

It was a comfort to you when you were a child but as you grew older it began to sound like an old wives tale and your belief in the sandman dimished to just a story your mother told you to help you sleep at night.

Until one cold night when you were older, tucked up in your bed as you drifted into an uneasy sleep. Pictures of dark figures haunted your mind that night, watching you from dark corners of your apartment, you had felt the world closing in on you but you were pulled out, stolen a way by what you thought was a guardian angel.

The images plaguing your mind were wiped away with one swipe of your guardian angels hand and were replaced by bright walls, soft carpeted floors and a window where the moon shone onto the silk bedspread. It was your childhood home, your safeplace where you could be free from the horrors of the world.

Your guardian angel laid you down and tucked you in, tender fingers brushed over the loose strands of hair covering your pale face, the gentleness felt so real. You knew you were in a dream but some part of you wished and prayed that this was real, that this was happening.

"I'll always be here to protect you, my angel." The voice sounded distant. You felt a pair of soft lips press against your forehead and as you opened your eyes you were met with the sight of your dreary bedroom back in your lonely apartment, you were alone but you could still feel the ghost like feeling of soft lips on your temple.

You knew then, the sandman was not just a story from you were little. He was real and you knew, he was always watching over you.

The subway was full but what did you expect? Coming home this late at night it was bound to be full of drunkards and business men on their way home from their late working jobs.

And then there was you, coming home from a horrific blind date that your friend had set you up on. You thought this one would be different but once again, you were wrong.

You had at least expected to get something out of the date. Maybe you would bring the guy home, you'd fool around and then in the morning he would leave like nothing had ever happened but no, your friend had set you up with some low class lawyer who couldn't take his eyes off of your waitress's ass.

So, you had make up an excuse to leave early and now here you were, tugging down your low cut dress to hide your ass from peering drunkards, you were not that desperate.

The train ride home felt like hours long but eventually you were trudging up the lobby stairs to your shitty one bedroom apartment.

You kicked off your shoes as soon as you were inside and headed straight to your bedroom, well not before leaving a small bowl of milk by your living room window for the stray cat that visited every night.

After changing into your night clothes you laid on your bed, legs spread and laptop at the ready. If some blind date wasn't going to satisfy you, you were sure going to satisfy yourself.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfecr vidoe, pressing play and slipping your hands into your pants. The sound of moans and groans filled your room and you pumped one finger in and out of you slowly..

But it wasn't enough even as you neared your orgasm you felt a pit in your stomach and it wasn't the good kind. Your ending was not a happy one and with an exsaperated sigh you shut down your laptop and burried under duvet, core still throbbing with an unfinished arrival.

You tossed and turned in your bed, peaceful sleep was so far but eventually your mind went blank and you were shrouded by darkness, sleeping at last.

Jimin thought you looked so angelic as you slept, he couldn't help but sit beside you, hand running down the curves of your hip.

He had watched you struggle to reach your climax but he was here now, Jimin knew that he was the only one who could satisfy your needs. He was the only one who could look after you and it pained him to see that you felt the need to chase after men who would never be what you needed.

You stirred in your sleep when his hands reached the waistline of your trousers, your eyes fluttering open to be greeted with a smiling Jimin, his eyes crinkling upwards.

Launching backwards caused him to land on his knees on your lumpy matress, hand coming forward to caress your cheek.

"Hey, don't be scared, It's me, just trying to look after you, angel." His touch felt so familiar, so comforting and so right. His fingers snuck into your panties, dancing over your wet folds "Told you i would always look after you, didn't I?"

With widened eyes, you finally recognised the face in front of you, you didn't know his name but you knew that this was the man, or being, who had saved you from that terrible nightmare years ago. The one who had soothed you back to sleep with a simple kiss, the man whose hands were now rubbing gently and your delicate clit.

Slowly, you relaxed under his fingers "There you go, you remember now, don't you?" Jimin grinned, he knew you felt safe with him, he could tell by the way you shuddered at his touch and the way you didn't fight to move his hand, you were enjoying this.

"How does that feel?" He questioned, fingers speeding up to rub circular patterns on your clit as his free hand rubbed the side of your face.

"Feels so good.." You muttered, the question of asking his name hanging off of your tongue.

"Jimin." The man in question answered.

His face moved closer to yours, lips trapping yours in a sweet kiss. He tasted oddly like you expected the night would taste, you couldn't fully describe it but it felt like a thousand stars were dancing on your lips that caused your mind to go hazy.

With his teeth enveloping your bottom lip with a small nip, your back arched, stomach swirling with butterflies. You squirmed under Jimin's touch.

"Uh uh, stay still for me, angel." The once soothing grip on your hip was now replaced by Jimin's firm grip, holding your hip in place to stop you from squirming "Don't cum just yet, ok."

You whined aloud when his fingers slipped out of your panties, leaving you feeling awfully cold and tense without the release you were so close to, it made him chuckle to see how desperate he made you feel.

He crawled on top of you. His midnight hair fell over his face covering those dark eyes that you swore were full of stars glinting in the moon light from your window, with one swift motion he had grabbed your wrist and moved it over to his erection, he moved your hand to rub over his pants.

"You feel that?" He let out a soft sigh at your touch "That's all for you, all for my angel." His words made you weak and you fumbled to undo the buttons of his jeans, the zipper slipping out of your hands.

A sweet laughter filled your ears, the dark haired boy moved to pin your wrists above your head, thumb rubbing at the soft skin. His free hand pulled down his own zipper in one swift motion, pulling his pants down and throwing them to some forgotten corner of your room. Then, he did the same with his shirt and then your clothes were thrown away.

"Please, need you." He stroked the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit, teasing you before his hands laced into yours and his hips thrust to bury himself deep inside of you with a small hiss.

You shuffled underneath him. He was bigger than you expected and your walls strechted to accomodate his size. It took you a moment but his slow thrusts soon helped you to adjust.

His lips met yours again, he moaned into your mouth, tongue swiping at your lower lip.

Your mouth fell open in a soft moan as he gripped your hips "Been waiting to fuck you for so long." Jimin mumbled almost breathlessly.

His thrusts were painfully slow and you pulled away from his lips, head falling backwards onto your pillow "Too slow, faster, please Jimin, please."

You felt the tip of his cock nudge at your g-spot, his lips curving to a smile that you felt on your, his tongue darting out to lick a small stripe up to his ear where he whispered "So desperate for me," his hips snapped forward, pushing your legs up to your chest allowed his thrusts to speed up considerably "No one else can fuck you like this, can they?" His jaw clenched.

Your lack of an answer must have annoyed him because he delivered a harsh slap to your ass that caused you to whine "You're the only one who can fuck me like this," your back arched as he continuesly hit your g-spot.

"That's it," Jimin reached down to between your legs, rubbing at your clit again. Your core clenched around him, eyes watering. You could feel that so familiar knot begin to build up in your stomach and clearly Jimin sensed it too "You close, angel? cum for me, c'mon."

Your body trembled as your orgasm washed over, fingers tangling into Jimin's hair, biting down hard on your bottom lip. You were surprised that you didn't draw blood.

Jimin's thrusts started to falter and it was apparent that he was also close and soon enough he spilt his seed inside of you, his head dropping into the crook of your neck with a shaky breath "Fuck." He muttered.

For a while you both stayed there, wrapped in each others arms until you felt your eyelids become heavy, you let out a yawn and Jimin rose from his position.

Jimin grabbed your bed covers, tucking them up beneath chin, he stroked your hair from your face and for the second time in your life, pressed his lips against the temple of your head.

"I will always look after you," he mumbled to your sleeping form "my angel." and with that.. he was gone

You woke up from your dream state with the feeling of his lips still on your forehead just like before.

Jimin was gone for now but you knew, you would see him again.

#bts fic #bts #bts x reader #bts fan fiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts imagines #joonsy2k💌 #park jimin #jimin #park jimin fic #jimin fic #jimin imagine #park jimin imagine #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #fanfic #fan fic requests #fanfiction #fan fiction

[guqwrvte]

⨽ title: cherry balm

⨽ summary: you start using a new lip balm and jimin loves the taste.

⨽ pairing: jimin x reader

⨽ genre: fluff, established relationship

⨽ warnings: kissing

⨽ word count: 891

⨽ a/n: if you cringe towards the end forgive me. writing kissing scenes is a struggle for me lol.

There was a soft smile on Jimin's face as he watched you move around his kitchen. 

"Where do you keep your big bowls again?" You asked as you closed another cupboard. 

"In the bottom cupboard to your left," he said, and you hummed in response before opening it and taking out a bowl. 

He loved days like this. Days where'd you decide to come to his place and spend the night. 

"What're you making?" he asked as you began to set the ingredients on the counter. 

"Chocolate chip cookies," you told him. "I don't think I've made them for you before."

"You haven't," he said, getting up from the bar stool and making his way to the island. "Do you want me to help with anything?"

"Remember what happened the last time you lent me a hand?" You asked, pouring flour into a measuring cup. 

The last time you were here, you made cupcakes. 

What started off as playfully putting flour on each other's noses and cheeks turned into you being covered in flour. 

"I don't want to clean up a mess like that again..." he chuckled. "I promise this time I'm going to behave."

"I'll let you help me put them into trays," you smiled, causing him to playfully pout. 

"Please?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

"I won't be able to move properly like this, Jimin," you huffed, trying to get the man off you. "I said you can help me put them in the trays. I'll even let you try the batter."

He only hummed in response before burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

One thing Jimin loved about you was your love for vanilla. It was your favourite scent and flavour. 

The majority of the baked goods you made were vanilla, and almost everything you used smelled like vanilla. You shampoo, your body wash, your perfumes, everything. 

Jimin's favourite was your lip balm. God, how he loved the Oh So Heavenly vanilla lip balm you used. 

"Do you want a chocolate chip?" You asked, popping one into your mouth and humming at the taste. 

Jimin lifted his head and nodded, opening his mouth and saying: "Ah."

You smiled before popping two into his mouth. "You know you could learn to make these if you just focused on what I was doing. So you don't always have to wait for me to come over for you to have something baked."

"Even if I learnt... I don't think they'd taste as good as yours," he sighed, letting go of you. 

"You'll be using the same recipe, so they'd definitely taste like mine," you said. "Here, you can taste the batter and tell me how it is."

You handed Jimin a teaspoon of the batter. "Please tell me if it's too sweet."

When Jimin put the teaspoon in his mouth, his eyes widened at the taste. "If this is how the batter tastes like this, I can't wait for the cookies."

"Is it too sweet or not?" You asked, taking the spoon and tossing it in the sink. 

"It tastes just fine to me," he smiled, giving you a quick kiss. 

"Don't kiss me when you have batter on your lips," you whined, licking your lips. 

"I can't see my lips," he chuckled, licking his lips to get the batter off. 

Jimin's face turned in confusion as he licked his lips again. 

Something was different, and he couldn't put his finger on it. 

"It's off," you told him, walking to the oven to get the tray. 

"Baby," he said, and you hummed. "Can you kiss me again?"

"In the kitchen?" you asked with a frown, placing the tray on the counter. 

"Relax," Jimin told you, knowing how you felt about being intimate in the kitchen. You were okay with hugs and pecks but nothing more. "I'm just asking for a kiss. Nothing more."

"Fine," you huffed before walking to him and kissing him again. 

Jimin's hands made their way around your waist and pulled you closer when your lips landed on his again. 

They were still sweet with the taste of chocolate from the chocolate chip batter. But instead of your sweet bubble balm, he could faintly taste something new. He wasn't sure what flavour this was he loved it. 

Jimin suddenly lifted you up onto the counter, causing you to gasp. With your lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. 

He stood between your legs, a hand in your hair as you continued to kiss him. 

"You changed your lip balm," he breathed when you eventually pulled away, your bodies still close. 

"Yeah," you whispered, catching your breath. "I couldn't find another vanilla bubble balm, so I had to get something else. Does it taste weird?"

"Not at all," he told you. "What flavour is it?"

You unconsciously licked your bottom lip. "I think it's cherry."

"Cherry?" he asked, lips brushing against yours, and you hummed in response. "Keep using it for a while."

And his lips were pressed against yours again. He wasn't sure if it was because he was different compared to what he was used to, but the taste of your lips was almost intoxicating. 

He couldn't think about anything other than how he really hoped you'd use this cherry balm for a while. 

#park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin drabble #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin fluff #park jimin drabble #bts jimn #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts drabble #park jimin fluff #park jimin fanfic #bts scenarios #park jimin fic #jimin #jimin smut

[axigailxo]

Pretty Like You | PJM (2)

part two: parties and pilates

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub! jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.8k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised. mention of “unaliving” in this chapter.

ch summary. where oc convinces jimin to go to a frat party in an attempt to break him out of his shell

**this is part 2 of my series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | <-previous | next ->

“And then despite it all, she asked if I wanted to talk, can you believe it?”

It’s been a couple of days since the incident at the art room, and Jimin can’t stop ranting about it like it’s new news. He still hasn’t texted you, and it’s not like he could since he doesn’t even have your number. He could get it from you in class, but thats a little hard when he’s on a streak of skipping.

After you suggested to help him embark on a self love journey, Jimin has been so damn confused. He doesn’t know whether to jump at the opportunity, rot away in embarrassment that you read his journal, or be slightly offended that you’d suggest help when he thinks he’s just fine. Kind of.

All options are tempting, nonetheless.

Daisy, Jimin’s cat that is currently victim to listening about what happened for the hundredth time, lifts up off her soft body and saunters out of his room. What? She’s fed up.

Jimin, who is suffering from her rude and sudden exit, huffs as he debates whether he should follow up about that whole thing with you. Because despite all his options, he’s leaning more towards just avoiding you at all costs and pretending that situation never even happened.

Except he’ll remember. It’ll haunt him and his thoughts every night until he finally just addresses it.

And so that’s why he should go to class today. Maybe. Jimin squints his eyes as he contemplates and considers, ultimately deciding that coffee is the first step that should be taken. Especially since it’s way too early to have a crisis, that can wait for later. Per usual.

Making his way to his Keurig, he pops a peppermint mocha flavored pod into the top compartment followed by a little water in another compartment until he’s clicking a button to brew it.

“So now you like me,” Jimin scoffs as Daisy rubs against his ankle, excited for Jimin to give her breakfast.

Commanding to the manipulation of the feline, Jimin grabs a can of cat food out of a cupboard, internally scolding himself for being nice and buying her the expensive kind again.

Although, Jimin can’t blame Daisy for being fed up with all his predicaments. He would be too. However spilling to Daisy is much more acceptable than telling it all to his human best friend, Taehyung.

Jimin has already thought about the fact that if he spends time with you, whether it be for a self love journey or not, that’d be breaking some sort of bro code with Tae.

You’re Taehyung’s crush, and Jimin respects that. Plus it’s not like Taehyung has to worry, you’re out of Jimin’s league anyway.

However that hard on be got the other night still baffles him. He’s narrowed it down to being that you’re just attractive and he’s just a gross horny man. But not even that sounds right.

Jimin has thought about inviting Taehyung to every outing you may have together, but he can’t. How in hell would he explain to his best friend that the whole reason he’s seeing you is so that he can learn to accept himself and flaunt that feminine side of him? Let alone explain to him that you read his journal full of how much he envies and adores you at the same time. He can’t. More specifically, he won’t. Taehyung doesn’t need to meet that side of him, Jimin thinks. It’s for the better.

Jimin ponders for a second, and he hates himself for pouring his coffee into a travel cup and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He figures since he’s already keeping a secret from Tae, one more shouldn’t hurt. Plus he can’t avoid you forever. There’s really only one thing to do now.

“Eat up Daisy, I’ll be back after class.”

“Jimin? Hey!”

Standing in line at the campus’s cafe, Jimin washes over in a cold sweat as the loud call of his name attracts the attention of almost everyone near. He came here to get an additional caffeine boost before class and more importantly stall from talking to you, but it’s just his luck that you’d be here too.

“Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, eyes on the ground the second you get closer.

He’s never seen you so up-close before. He wonders if your skin has always looked so smooth.

He wishes his skin were as smooth.

“I was gonna call to ask about your no shows in class but I completely forgot to give you my number the last time we talked.”

Jimin finds this incredibly new and odd. Just a few days ago he hated you without knowing you and now you’re talking to him like a friend. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Here,” you say as you hand him your phone, a new contact page open and ready for him to fill out. “That way we can talk out of school, plus I found multiple super-helpful self esteem websites that you might li—“

“Y/N,” Jimin halts your enthusiasm. Again, way too early in the morning for this. “Can we not talk about it in such a public place?”

His tone is hushed and embarrassed, trying not to let the several eyes on them to hear that he’s struggling with self esteem. God this is so much more depressing than Jimin initially thought it’d be.

“Of course, yeah no my bad.” You rush your words, retracting your hand down before Jimin grabs the phone from you, typing his number.

“I dont expect you to waste time on me. Just text when you have absolutely nothing else to do. This isn’t important enough to occupy your schedule.”

Immediately, you frown at his words. Sure this is important. And contrary to his request, you already cleared something off of your schedule for him.

“First off, this is important. I won’t have you taking down on yourself anymore.”

Jimin so badly wants to ask why, but he won’t because that’s rude and you don’t deserve anymore rudeness from him. Not after what you read in the art room.

“Secondly, I already cancelled pilates for you. I have something else fun planned for us.”

Jimin can’t help his sudden snicker.

“What?” You ask, slightly offended.

“Nothing, it’s just funny you take pilates. Of course you do.”

You wanted to carry on with being offended, but you felt a pang of accomplishment upon getting him to laugh. Progress, you think.

“Yeah yeah,” you dismiss as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, trailing back out of the cafe. “Laugh all you want but just know that this ass didn’t grow itself!”

You: u, me, frat party tonight at 9.

Sat on the hard seats of the lecture hall, Jimin’s eyes go wide as he reads your reply to his text.

The second you sauntered out of the cafe, you were quick to text Jimin in hopes to break the tension between you two— which technically isn’t tension at all given Jimin is the only one who finds your new friendship odd. Well him and the rest of the students who saw you two talking together.

Jimin had asked what you had planned, and when you replied with frat party, he felt physically ill.

Jimin: absolutely not. sorry.

You: hear me out, it’s not even a big party

You: it’s very discreet and there’s only gonna be a couple people

Jimin locks eyes with you from across the room and mouths “no” with an adamant shake of his head. You roll your eyes before your thumbs get back to texting him.

You: we can pregame before we go so u can loosen up

You: if you’re with me, there’s nothing to worry about

Jimin wants to be offended. He most definitely does not need you at his rescue. The intent however was a little sweet. God Jimin is reminded exactly why he despised you— you’re perfect.

Jimin: i’ll think about it. that’s not a yes.

He pretends he doesn’t notice the little happy dance you do in your seat, nor the squeal of excitement you let out even though he didn’t give a definite answer.

Jimin starts to smile, but when he looks to his left he sees someone else who’s smiling at you and it vanishes. Taehyung. Completely gawking at you, Jimin fights that weird feeling that suddenly engulfs him. Maybe it’s the fact he’s hiding his new friendship with you from Tae.

Either that or somewhere in his subconscious, he doesn’t like how Tae is smiling at you.

“God dude, isn’t she so cute.” Tae whispers, completely oblivious to why you’re dancing in you’re seat.

Jimin trails his gaze to his lap as a bitter mood takes hold of him.

“Yeah… definitely.”

Jimin is in a rut.

Even though he’s still not certain about going to that party, finding a potential outfit never hurt anyone. Moments after he got home he was already sucked into his closet by the magnetic pull of all the great clothes he has— even though he knows himself well enough to understand he will end up changing into his “boy clothes” no matter what he ends up choosing.

He slips on a black, oversized distressed sweater. The seams are ripped in just the right places, leaving a fraction of his chest, his belly, and a dash of his waist to be visible beneath the shredded fabric. The back showcases a fair amount of skin as well.

This one, Jimin thinks to himself, isn’t so feminine. It’s doable. Maybe.

He wants to pair it with a skirt but that would only be a waste of time because if he can’t even leave his apartment in a skirt to check the mailbox, he sure as hell will not be wearing it to a frat party of all places.

He grabs a pair of black chinos that he thrifted not so long ago, letting it rest low on his waist. He pulls the look together with black combat boots and a dainty necklace that he tucks beneath the sweater. It makes him feel pretty despite the fact he’s the only one aware it’s on him.

He steps back to absorb the outfit in the mirror, and he feels good. It’s a combination of both masculine and feminine and it’s definitely testing the waters but Jimin knows his night won’t be enjoyable in the least if he wears a baggy hoodie or tee. He likes what he has on, even if the frat boys will give him shit for it. Which they definitely will.

He hears Daisy meow across the room, and upon directed his gaze to her his eyes settle on the makeup bag tucked into the far back corner of his desk.

He’s tempted, he is. But he can’t. He’s not ready yet.

Just as he begins to walk towards his desk, only enticing himself further, a knock on his door is heard and he takes that as a sign from god herself that he should skip the makeup.

With a sigh, he heads to the door.

“Knock… Knock… Knock!”

“Just a minute! For fuck’s sake.”

Irritated at the swat team-like announcement, Jimin swings the door open to reveal none other than Jessica Rabbit?

“You didn’t tell me it was a costume party!” Jimin complains as he steps aside, gesturing you to come in.

Both hands holding a bottle of E&J, you let yourself in and place the bottle on his countertop.

“Oh yeah, it’s a costume party.”

“It’s not even halloween,” Jimin states the obvious as he instinctively heads for two glasses out of his cupboard.

“It’s to make up for last year. There was a big game the day of halloween so none of the guys were in a party mentality.”

Party Mentality?

Jimin can’t believe he’s hearing about frat news from you, who is in his apartment dressed like Jessica Rabbit and is downing a shot straight from the bottle. What has his life come to.

You notice him staring so you apologize as you offer him the bottle to pour.

“Figured we’d pregame like I said. Also we gotta figure out a costume for you. Ooh what about a slutty artist or something.”

Jimin swears you make him lose brain cells. Sliding a now-filled glass toward you, he takes a large gulp of his own.

“Slutty artist?” He thinks out loud. “I’m fine with what I have on.”

Jimin counts down the seconds until you praise his bold sweater choice, but he can feel the alcohol rise back up when you say the opposite.

“In all honestly I thought that was a sleep shirt. We’re putting you in something else.”

You navigate yourself straight to what you assume is him bedroom, and Jimin nearly falls flat on his face chasing after you.

This may be a bit embarrassing for Jimin to admit to himself, but he’s never had a girl in his room before. It’s intimate, he thinks. Having someone inside a room that has witnessed every one of his breakdowns, outfit changes, alone time moments, etcetera. Jimin cringes as memories from the other night come back to him.

“Cute room,” you tell him as you look around, admiring the fairy lights and album covers displayed. Jimin was always big on music. Maybe posters were too far given his age, but he didn’t care. He never thought someone else would ever see them.

Although, Tae has been to Jimin’s place before. He knows about the posters and fairy lights. Though he never once questioned it or even talked about it. Only when he called that one poster of Ariana Grande hot. That’s what Jimin likes about Tae, he never questions him. But it’s not like Jimin gives him much to wonder about. He’s completely masked to the eyes of his best friend.

“This,” you start, dramatic tone and all, “this is gorg.” You hold out his favorite black skirt, and it’s lightening quick how fast he snatches it from you.

“No.” He tells you, cheeks getting hot. He’s embarrassed to say the least. He knows you know about his self esteem issues, but you have yet to discover his fondness for feminine clothing. But you have now.

“What? You’re embarrassed I found a skirt? If it’s socially acceptable for women to wear sweats, then it should be acceptable for men to wear skirts.”

Someone who gets it, Jimin thinks. This is the first time he’s ever felt understood when it comes to this, and he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“But skirt or no skirt, I think it’s important that you feel sexy tonight.”

“And why is that?” Jimin plays along. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as you continue to look through his wardrobe.

“Because halloween parties exist solely for people to feel sexy all night.”

“It’s not halloween,” Jimin argues again, earning a shirt thrown at his face. Giggling, he holds it out in front of him.

You stand in front of his closet with a look of excitement on your face. His reaction disappoints you, however.

“Y/N, no. I can’t wear this out.”

“Just try it on.”

He knew this was part of your plan to get him to gain a little confidence and even convince him to leave the house in something he feels good in, but Jimin is adamant. He cannot wear this.

It’s a fitted baseball tee, extremely cropped and a shade of pale pink. Jimin cannot leave the house like this, despite how good it makes him feel deep down.

Reluctant and a tad shy, Jimin removes his sweatshirt from his body as he replaces it with what you threw at him. In the short moment he was bare, you might’ve stole a glance at his figure. His body is perfect, you think. Slim waist with faint yet toned abs and a noticeable amount of muscle on his arms. You take another sip of the drink that has yet to leave your hand.

“I look stupid.”

“You look sexy.”

The compliment was unexpected and was more than enough to have Jimin’s eyes widen. He breaks eye contact because how could he not, and he self consciously wraps an arm around his stomach.

More so his lap.

“I don’t know,” he says faintly, mumbling over his speech. “I think it’s a bit much.”

“Change to grey sweats. You can tell people you’re a 60’s athlete, they dressed like this back in the day you know.”

Yeah right, tell a bunch of actual scary frat boy athletes that’s he’s mocking their style from the 60’s.

His brows furrow when you step closer to him, reclining down and reaching for the skirt he had snatched from you. You grab one of his wrists, placing the bunched up material into his hand. His cheeks are on fire, his heartbeat picking up.

“Try it on,” you whisper. “For me.”

And fuck. Jimin is fully erect. He physically cannot bring himself to stand let alone change in front of you. He pushes your hand away, never wanting to disappear so badly.

“Another time. You already got me to wear this tee, baby steps.”

Disappointed, you think he’s right. You can’t beg him to gain confidence to wear an entire outfit like this on the first day of his journey. It takes time, and luck for Jimin you’re very patient.

“Another time,” you repeat softly.

Jimin has been to a function with very little people before. He knows what a small little get together looks like. This party— it isn’t that.

“You said a couple people!” He shouts over the blairing music as you pull him through the front hall and to the packed kitchen.

He has no clue who’s house this is and he hasn’t seen a single normal person. Everyone is either drunk, high, or the worst: a frat. He shivers in discomfort before you bring a shot glass to his lips.

“Guess word spread and more people came, no biggie.”

He downs the shot of what turns out to be tequila, wincing as he coughs out a reply.

“Huge biggie.” He looks around the crowded house after a bystander drunkenly bumps into him and slurs an incoherent apology.

This was a mistake.

“Y/N, what is the point of me being here? This isn’t making me feel good about myself in the least, this isn’t my environment.”

You take another shot before quickly grabbing a lime and placing it between Jimin’s plump lips, and before he can register what you’re doing, your lips are already on his as you suck from the lime. Nipping the fruit with your teeth you pull it out and drop it into the sink, grin wide as Jimin turns fire hydrant red.

That shouldn’t count as a kiss, but you just sort-of-kissed Jimin. His mouth is dry, heartbeat in his stomach, and he is hyper alert on the way his knees are subtly shaking.

“Ease up Jimin, it’s gonna be a long night.”

He didn’t know it then but that’s the last time he’d be seeing you until the end of the party. He sauntered off to a random couch that was unoccupied for the most part, only some random (and gross) couple having a full blown make out session on the opposite side.

He made sure to keep his cup filled the whole night as that’s the only thing keeping him from walking straight out the door and back into the comfort of anything that’s not this party.

He’s spotted Tae a few times, who is dressed as Jack from the titanic, but Tae hasn’t noticed him yet which is probably because his rather different fashion approach and the fact he’s at a frat party. If anything that should be a reason Tae spots him since he’s the odd one out, Jimin thinks. Then again it is a costume party and no one look normal per-say. Nor is Tae the sharpest tool in the shed.

He also thanks the universe for not letting Tae notice you and Jimin arrive together.

He’s been glancing at you for a while now, the way you sway your hips to the rap song playing on the surround sound speakers. The way your skin is glowing even under the dim, groggy lights of the house. He watches the way smoke exits your mouth as Tae places a blunt between your perfect lips. He looks away when Tae also places a hand on your waist, dancing with you so intimately that it pains Jimin to see.

He knows he’ll be hearing all about this from Tae. You’re his favorite person, he’s probably over the moon about dancing with you right now.

“Jimin?” Speaking of the devil.

Jimin waves awkwardly as Tae whispers something to you and proceeds to walk towards his direction. You go off to dance with a frat guy who’s been waiting all night to have your attention. Jimin finds him pathetic.

“What are you doing here? You never come to these kinds of things.”

The music is loud but that’s nothing compared to how deep and confident Tae’s voice is. Despite Jimin’s desire to be more feminine, there are some masculine traits he wishes to have. A deeper voice is one of them. Not Tae’s level of deep, but deeper than what his currently is.

“A friend forced me to,” he admits, not naming names because how could he.

“Oh you have friends?” The younger man teases, earning a grumpy eye roll from Jimin. He takes another swig out of his cup.

Jimin remembers what he’s wearing and wonders why his best friend hasn’t said anything about it yet. He almost wants to point it out so it doesn’t awkwardly go unsaid and leaves Tae to catch on to his secret need for femininity.

“Like my costume?” Jimin asks, masking the fact that this is actually just a random shirt he’s had in his wardrobe and not a costume.

Tae gives him a quick once over, not lingering his eyes on the top for long.

“Oh what are you supposed to be?”

He definitely thought that wasn’t a costume and instead a normal outfit. Jimin cringes, hating you right now more than ever for making him show up in this. But he also loves you for providing him with the save he’s about to use on Tae.

“I’m a 60’s athlete. They used to dress like this you know.”

Taehyung hums, genuinely convinced.

“Wah that’s clever. I thought that was yours for a sec.”

Jimin hates himself for what he’s about to say.

“Why on earth would I own a pink crop top, that’s ridiculous.”

They laugh it off, and Jimin feels a gut wrenching pang in his stomach. That sentence wasn’t made for him, and it made him a liar and a hypocrite to his own desire.

He needs to go now before he says even more self damaging nonsense.

“Hey Tae, do you think you can get me a blunt?” Jimin asks in hopes to excuse his friend and, well, get high.

“Is this coming from the same person that said smoking isn’t good for you?”

Jimin remembers when he said that but he’s far too drained to be defensive or right. He shrugs as he admits to his hypocrisy.

“Yeah well so are frat parties but here I am. Cough one up, I know you have some.”

Tae stands up to reach in his front pocket, pulling out a steep tin that reveals 3 joints. He hands one to Jimin, telling him a brief “I’ll be back” before vanishing to find you again.

Something told Jimin to stay at the party despite how badly he wanted to go. He thought about how it may make you sad if he were to just leave, then he ridded that idea because why on earth would that make you sad. Nevertheless, he glanced outside to see if the crowd was acceptable to join. It wasn’t.

Deciding to not smoke with a bunch of frat guys, he goes the alternative route and heads for the hallway to secure an empty room. When he succeeds, he closes the door behind him and props the window open as he lights the tip of his joint.

He doesn’t smoke often, barely at all, but he needed this. As the smoke entered into his mouth he inhaled it eagerly, head rolling back as he slowly blows it all back out. This feels good, he thinks. The atmosphere on the other hand still could be better.

Jimin laughs to himself. Smoking weed at a frat party you invited him to. The world is funny that way, he nods to himself. Almost as funny as how you’re all he can think about right now.

He doesn’t know what it is. It’s not hate. For sure not love. He’s just thinking about you. Perhaps he misses your company? Or the way your skirts never reveal too much but just enough to drive him crazy.

The way your pouty lips move when you talk.

Your soft skin.

Your silky voice.

The way you look in that Jessica Rabbit costume you wore tonight.

Jimin is painfully erect, and without even noticing his hand has been palming himself desperately this entire time, blunt being delicately held in the other hand, occasionally being brought up for more puffs to fuel what he’s doing right now.

“Fuck Y/N, yes.”

He unties his sweats. One more rough drag and he kills the blunt on the rim of the windowsill, both hands focusing on himself now. One hand tugging his waistband down, the other guiding himself out. And all he can think about is how sexy you are.

He gets carried away, going so fast on himself that he doesn’t hear or see the door open. He’s high beyond belief, god only knows what Taehyung had laced in that blunt, and so when he sees you he swears his imagination is just very vivid.

Until his conscience registers and he almost squeals as he lunges back in shock of the situation.

Quickly you run up to him just in time to pull his entire body back and preventing him from falling out the window. You’re breathing heavy, half because of what you saw moments before and partially because you just saved his life.

“Fuck Jimin, be careful.”

And how fucking peculiar it is that you’re not addressing his cock that is out in the open between the two of you.

Jimin can’t speak. He almost literally died from being caught jerking himself to you while being high out his mind.

What a fucking legacy he’d have left.

After catching his breath he frantically goes to put himself away but his hand is stopped by yours.

“You know people sneak into rooms at parties to have sex with each other, not to do themselves.”

His cheeks flush red.

“Only freaks do that.”

Jimin has wanted to before, but he officially wants to unalive himself. How pathetic he is, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m really high right now and I thought I locked the—“

He cuts himself off when you guide his hand back onto himself.

“You’re not gonna ask me why I came in here?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“Why?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, very slowly putting his own hand into motion against himself.

“Because I’m a freak too.”

Your words came out in a faint whisper but Jimin’s senses are heightened and he hears it like a megaphone in his ears. Your tits are practically spilling out your tiny red tube dress as you lean to help him stroke himself. A shiver cascades down his whole body, an unintentional yet hesitant whimper rumbling off his throat.

You giggle, then abruptly you stand. You lean down and peck him on his frozen, plump lips.

“Have a good night Jimin, I’ll be in contact for our next power move.” You walk towards the door. “Masturbating is a good way to show yourself love, kudos to you kid.”

Jimin’s hand is glued to his stiff cock, frozenly just keeping it there as he stares at you with his mouth agape.

“I’ll lock this on my way out, by all means finish and do not fall out any windows.”

And just like that you open the door only a couple inches and squeeze out to give him privacy. He’s left in the same spot, still in absolute shock.

You’re perfect.

You’re beautiful, and apparently so fucking sexy in sexual situations. It takes only one more stroke and one more thought of you for Jimin to reach the finish line, cum dropping down his hand and shaft as he fucks into his fist.

He breathes jaggedly until he’s drained of all energy and collapses on the bed.

To his shock, he’s not freaking out. He’s actually smiling. Then again that could easily be the weed talking. What did taehyung put in that anyway?

Jimin’s smile dissipates as an ugly thought sends a cold chill throughout him.

You’re his best friend’s crush. You’re Taehyung's. And he just betrayed him. Jimin hates how the universe works sometimes. When one thing goes well, the whole world goes to shit.

The world is funny that way.

ply pt 2???? im sorry for how long it took luvies, last year was so intense. i hope you all are still here to read😿 run this uppppp cuties!! til next time luvs🤭❤️

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39 @mawwnsterr @zadkielr @iamjimintrash @chansbaybygirl @canarystwin @dearsullix @polyparkj @mannymalfoy @jmincore @kyglover @coralmusicblaze @midnightangel13 @jm-jkfics @lovelyflower02 @xcherrywaltz

soooo many of u guys who asked to be in the taglist changed your usernames so unfortunately i couldn't tag u☹️hopefully this found u!🫶🏻

(for anyone else who'd like to be in the taglist pls reply to this post <3)

#park jimin smut #park jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #sub!jimin #enemies to lovers #jimin enemies to lovers #jimin jealousy au #jimin college au #jimin x reader #jimin x you #park jimin x reader #jimin series #bts fic #park jimin fic #jimin fic #bts scenario #femboy!jimin #feminine!jimin #bts college au #subbmissive jimin #bottom jimin #jimin fanfic #self love au #bts #dom!reader #bangtan #bangtan smut #bangtan fluff #pretty like you

[hamsterclaw]

Anywhere but here

You wake from a traumatic injury to find everything around you isn't the same.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Nurse Jimin, smut, angst

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, traumatic injury, hospitals, memory loss

When you wake, it’s like you’ve been reset to factory settings. You’re not a robot, but there was a you before, and now there’s a you after.

The accident cut your life into halves, and that’s the reality that you’ve been dealt. 

The people around you are nameless faces apart from your family. Your parents, your younger sister and a man you don’t know but he says he knows you.

You can’t imagine what it’s like for them to lose the woman that was the old you and pick up the new you, metalwork in your thigh and a scar along the back of your head that they gave you an uneven choppy haircut to fix.

You don’t have the headspace to try and remember the names of everyone else who cares for you.

There’s the slim woman with a ponytail and kind eyes who always smiles cheerfully when she greets you.

There’s the stern looking older woman who never smiles but has gentle hands.

And then there’s the young guy who looks like he belongs in a magazine who you find a little intimidating, to be honest.

The brain injury means you take longer to process, sometimes you know what you want to say but the words won’t come. It’s annoying but you’re assured it will get better.

More pressing is the frame on your leg from where you broke your femur in multiple places. It took you a while to get used to trying to get around on crutches without help, because there was no way you were going to ask the young guy to help you to the bathroom. 

You don’t think there’s anything left of your dignity but you’ve got some pride still.

You’re sitting awkwardly on your bed, listening to the man you don’t know but who seems to know you, trying to shift positions because your leg is singing a chorus of pain, when the young male nurse walks into the room wheeling a portable blood pressure monitor.

‘Time for some observations,’ he says, politely.

You take the opportunity to move into the chair and hold out your arm.

The nurse frowns a little. ‘Your blood pressure and heart rate are up. Are you in pain?’

‘A bit,’ you admit, an understatement. 

‘I’ll get you pain relief,’ he says.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he comes back with the meds, another fifteen minutes after that before you can draw a breath.

The man who you don’t know but you’re told you used to love is telling you about people you don’t know, and it’s not nearly distracting enough.

When he leaves you want to cry with relief.

The door to your room opens, the nurse walks in. He checks on the IV that’s running, you hold out your arm because that’s the routine.

As he disconnects the drip, he turns to you. 

‘There’s a call bell,’ he points out. ‘If you’re in pain don’t wait, just call and one of us will come.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. You’re wrung out, emotionally exhausted, physically stretched, and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and be alone.

You’re never physically alone in hospital, there’s no fucking privacy, and somehow you feel lonely anyway.

***

The calendar on the wall orientates you to the day and month, and you’re not so bad that you can’t remember the year.

It’s your birthday today they say, another year older even though you’ve gone nothing but backwards since the accident.

Your family bring you cake, fluffy slippers, and love that makes you feel warm. The man, you know he’s called Taemin, that you were about to marry him, why do you think of him as ‘the man’ in your head?

He calls you sweetheart and you think he means it less and less every day.

Today he kisses you, lips on yours and you weren’t expecting it, weren’t ready.

He pulls away, a flicker in his eyes that looks like disappointment that you see before he can hide it.

You want to say that it’s not fair, that you can’t be expected to be the person you were before, but the words don’t come.

You stammer an apology, make it worse.

You only feel relief when he leaves.

Lately they’ve been letting you wheel yourself down to the restaurant, out to the front of the hospital. 

It’s tiring, but it’s nice to be out of your room. 

You press the call bell, and the male nurse comes in. 

He looks rushed, busy, but he’s already here so you might as well ask.

‘Can I borrow a wheelchair to go downstairs?’

He says, ‘yes, of course. It’ll take me a while because it’s quite busy at the moment, but I’ll try and bring one up when I can.’

You thank him and settle in by the window to wait.

The late afternoon sun turns into early dusk, and he doesn’t come back.

You’re getting ready to manoeuvre yourself back into bed when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s the male nurse, dressed in his street clothes instead of scrubs. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It got so busy, I completely forgot.’

You look at the wheelchair he’s handling.

‘Would you still like to go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re worried you sound desperate but you’ve been cooped up in your room all day and you want to go out even if you don’t get to see daylight.

He helps you into the chair. The ID badge tucked under his jacket says ‘Jimin.’

You try to commit it to what remains of your memory. 

‘Jimin,’ you say, hoping that saying it will make it stick. 

‘Y/N,’ he replies, giving you a smile that makes his eyes scrunch up.

‘Were you on your way home?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘Thank you for this,’ you say. You put your hand on his arm, and he moves it away so quickly it’s hard not to feel stung.

‘Sorry,’ you say, putting your hands in your lap.

He’s quiet as he pushes you to the lifts.

‘I can push myself,’ you tell him. ‘You should go home, it’s past your shift.’

‘I’m heading down anyway,’ he replies, very politely.

You sneak a glance at his profile as the lift descends. 

He’s pretty, even fourteen hours into a thirteen hour shift. His nose is straight, lips full, and his skin glows like it’s lit from within.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirrored wall. Your uneven hair that you’re still growing out makes you grimace.

You look down at your lap quickly. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You force a smile. ‘I know the docs saved my life, but they ruined my hair,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it.

Jimin’s quiet again.

‘I was joking,’ you say, quickly. ‘I’m grateful for everything.’

Thankfully, the lift doors open.

‘Good night,’ you say, smiling at him.

He asks,’will you be ok?’

‘Yes,’ you say. Wild horses couldn’t drag any other answer from you.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then he nods and turns to leave.

***

Physical therapists are demons in disguise, you think disgruntledly to yourself as today’s therapist tries to encourage you to get out of the chair.

Your thigh is screaming in pain, you’re tired and dizzy and sweating from exertion.

As soon as the therapist leaves, you press your call bell and a nurse arrives.

It’s not someone you’ve met before, you know they’ve been short staffed lately.

His ID badge says Matsu. 

You ask for pain relief.

He says, firmly, ‘you shouldn’t ask for pain relief unless the pain is bad. The last thing you need is an opiate addiction.’

You’ve never been denied pain relief before.

You feel a wave of shame.

Is he right? Are you addicted? Does it matter?

The pain’s bad though, your stomach’s churning and clenching.

‘The pain is bad,’ you say, dignity be damned, pleading.

‘I’ll check on you in an hour and if you’re still in pain I can give you some then,’ he says.

He’s out the door before you can formulate a reply.

You sit very still, try to distract yourself. The pattern on the ceiling’s swirling, you’re concentrating so hard.

The door opens, the male nurse called Jimin comes in, and you bite your lip so hard you taste metal on your tongue.

He’s saying something, but you can’t hear it over the rush of blood in your ears.

He comes closer, leans over you, voice firmer now. 

You can hear your name.

You gaze up into his face, and he looks so kind, and concerned, the tears start trickling down your face.

‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘I’m in pain.’

Jimin leaves and comes back, hangs an IV on the drip stand above your head, connects it up and opens the port.

The cold trickle through your veins makes you shiver but soon enough relief comes, so sweet and welcoming you start crying again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you realise Jimin’s still in your room, typing notes into the computer. 

He says, ‘don’t let it get that bad next time.’

His voice is quiet, neutral, but you can’t help the flash of anger.

‘I asked for the painkillers, and the nurse told me to hold out as he didn’t want me to be addicted,’ you reply, sharp. 

You can hear the tone of your voice as it comes out, and you hate it. The thing that you resent most about the constant pain is the way it’s draining away your generosity, your indulgence, your humour. 

You can’t stand yourself.

Jimin, instead of snapping back, somehow manages to reply with a kindness that makes you feel even worse.

‘I’m sorry the nurse said that,’ he says, sounding regretful. ‘Please know you can ask for pain meds anytime.’

You’re still crying, indulging in your moment of self-pity, wallowing in it. 

God, you hate yourself.

The only thing you hate more is the pain.

***

You’re going for another trip out, you’ve started spending more time outside now that the weather’s better.

You’re waiting to be let out of the double doors to the ward when the nurse, Jimin, passes by.

‘There’s a hairdresser in the hospital,’ he tells you. ‘They’re open now, and they didn’t have any customers when I checked.’

You look at him, considering.

‘Since you said you didn’t like your hair,’ he adds.

You smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll check it out.’

You look at your reflection in the mirror of the elevator on the way down, and impulsively, decide to visit the hospital hairdresser.

It takes you a bit of back and forth to find it, you’re sweaty and frazzled by the time you press on the buzzer.

A woman with bright orange streaks in her hair answers. She gives you a once over, then smiles, kind.

‘You must be Y/N? Jimin said you might come.’

You’re surprised. ‘You know Jimin?’

‘Honey,’ she says, taking the handles of your wheelchair and pushing you in front of one of the mirrors, ‘everyone knows Jimin. He’s a sweetheart.’

‘He’s easy on the eyes too,’ agrees another woman, smirking. The tag on her chest says ‘Suzie’.

‘Jimim said those neurosurgeons did a number on your hair,’ the first woman says. She winks at you. ‘Lucky for you I’m an expert on cleaning up after them.’

You’re startled into a laugh. 

Her smile brightens. ‘You’re so pretty! And you’ll look even better when we’re done.’

An hour later, you find yourself in the lifts on the way back to your ward.

You can’t stop staring at yourself in the mirrors.

Is this what you used to look like? You’ve seen a few pictures of you. Taemin’s lockscreen is a picture of you and him on a beach, but you don’t think you look exactly the way you looked before. 

Rhonda, the hairdresser who greeted you at the door, had waved you away when you tried to pay her, saying all patients got their haircuts on the house.

You’re waiting to be let back into the ward when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Jimin, smiling at you so broadly you blink a little at how pretty he looks.

‘You went! Your hair looks beautiful,’ he says.

You look at him searchingly but he seems perfectly sincere.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. You give him a half-smile. ‘They like you a lot down there.’

Jimin laughs. ‘That’s because I let them do whatever they want to my hair.’

He rakes a hand through his hair to illustrate, and you notice he’s got a new undercut beneath the blonde curtain of his hair.

‘Pretty,’ you say, admiring.

Jimin glances at you. ‘Just like you,’ he replies.

You laugh, because he can’t possibly be serious. ‘Please, in this old thing?’

You pluck at a fold in your hospital gown, and Jimin says, deadpan, ‘the green specks in the fabric really complement your eyes.’

You laugh again.

Jimin asks, ‘Need a push back to your room?’

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I can do it.’

Jimin nods. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

It’s only when you get back to your room that you realise that your conversation with Jimin, short as it was, is the first real conversation you’ve had in a long time.

***

Taemin’s looking at you very seriously, and a sudden flash of intuition tells you what he’s going to say before he says it.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he tells you.

You concentrate hard on the hand he’s put on top of yours. 

Was his touch ever familiar to you? All you feel is detached.

You search his face, the curve of his brow, the line of his jaw. He’s attractive even now, but did you ever really love him the way he said you did?

It’s only been a few months since the accident. 

Did he ever really love you if he’s this keen to move on without you?

The tears come as a surprise.

He looks alarmed now, as the wetness spills from your eyes, down your cheeks.

You know it’s unfair for you two to be in limbo like this, especially when you don’t think the old you is ever coming back.

It’s just the new you, the now and forever you left.

You assure him you’re fine, that it’s the right thing to do. 

He tells you he’ll pack up your things and deliver them to your parents’ house.

You tell him to throw everything away.

What use do you have for the trappings of a life you can’t remember?

It seems like hours before you gather yourself together enough to go back to your solitary room.

You put yourself to bed because you think you’ve had enough of today, and you can only hope tomorrow will be better.

***

It’s Halloween, and you’re amusing yourself with the thought that you don’t even need a costume this year to look frightening.

You’ve had another operation, your leg’s healing well enough that the surgeons have taken the frame off, leaving a collection of red scars and a leg you don’t trust without the external metalwork.

Without the scaffolding that held you upright for months.

Your hair’s grown out, the scar across the side and back of your head is covered but if you run your fingers along your scalp you can still feel it. 

The doctors tell you that you’ll be home before Christmas.

You refrain from telling them you can’t remember a home apart from this hospital bed.

Nobody likes a killjoy.

You glance up as someone knocks on your door.

It’s Jimin, a satin cape over his scrubs, plastic fangs peeking out between his lips.

‘Are you here for my blood?’ you ask.

It’s a joke you wouldn’t have been quick enough to make a month ago.

Jimin frowns at you. ‘Where’s your costume?’

You gesture to your leg. ‘I’m the Tin Man,’ you tell him.

‘You are pretty heartless,’ Jimin agrees.

You snort. ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you supposed to be caring?’

Jimin says, ‘I do care. There’s going to be fireworks later, I got permission to take you to the park if you want.’

You can’t believe your ears. ‘The park? As in, out of the hospital? Do you mean the car park?’

Jimin smiles. ‘I mean the park next to the hospital. An actual park.’

‘When?’ you ask, guarded, not letting yourself get excited, worried he’s going to tell you it’s a joke.

‘I clock off at eight, I’ll take you then.’

You know how hard he works, you’ve been on this ward for months and you think he’s been here almost as much as you have. And you literally live here.

You want to ask why he’d spend his precious time off with you but god help you, you want to go to the park more.

You haven’t been off hospital grounds since you were admitted, a mangled mess of broken bone and blood.

Jimin’s looking at you. ‘If you don’t want to —-‘

‘I want to!’ you say, so quickly you startle both of you.

He’s still eyeing you carefully, so you say, ‘I just feel bad taking up your time off.’

‘It won’t be long. I don’t live far from the hospital anyway,’ Jimin says. 

He smiles, and he looks so kind you feel like crying. ‘So are we going?’

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘Yes I’d love to.’

***

You feel an unfamiliar fluttering of butterflies in your stomach as you wait by the entrance to your ward for Jimin to finish handing over his patients.

Jimin hurries up to you. He looks a little tired, but he smiles kindly at you. ‘Ready?’

He’s dressed in his street clothes, a plain t-shirt, a hoodie and jeans, and you catch yourself thinking how pretty he looks, even in casual clothes, tired after a long shift.

Shit.

Do you have a crush on him?

At least you don’t have to think about him having a crush on you, you think ruefully. All he’s seen of you are your dumb jokes which you can’t even blame on your brain injury, your hideously scarred leg and your terrible post neurosurgery haircut.

You think you’re good.

Jimin takes the handles of your wheelchair as you leave out the main entrance of the hospital.

‘Thanks for taking me out on your own time,’ you say, wishing you could see his face.

‘It’s not a problem at all,’ Jimin tells you. ‘Like I said, I live close.’

You feel lighter the further you get from the hospital, the fluttering in your stomach getting stronger. 

Is this what happiness feels like? Excitement? 

Jimin parks you by the side of the lake.

‘I’ve got some time off after this, anyway,’ he says.

‘Yeah? Going skiing?’

Jimin looks at you, bemused.

‘Sorry,’ you say, apologetic. 

Your injuries are from a skiing accident. At least that’s what you were told. You sure as hell can’t remember it.

You want to say something else, but you’re distracted by the sudden eruption of fireworks, over the lake. 

A starburst of metals burning in the sky.

You don’t realise you’re laughing until you notice the way Jimin’s looking at you.

His face gleams red and orange in the light reflected off the lake. 

He’s beautiful.

You stop, self-conscious. 

‘Don’t,’ Jimin says. ‘Don’t hide it on account of me, you look so happy.’

A shower of purple falls gently, and it’s so pretty you could cry.

You could keep watching forever.

‘I haven’t seen your fiance in a while,’ remarks Jimin.

Distracted, you say, ‘we broke up.’

Jimin looks at you sharply, you feel the need to explain.

‘He said he couldn’t do it anymore,’ you tell him. You shrug. ‘It’s ok. I know I’m different to how I was before.’

Jimin says, casual, ‘What a dick move.’

You’re startled into a laugh. ‘Isn’t it? But I don’t have any feelings for him either, not now anyway. It would have been a farce.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jimin says. ‘If you’re committed in health ——‘

‘I don’t know how committed we were,’ you say quietly. ‘I can’t remember a damn thing about us.’

You’re both quiet for a moment.

You ask, to break the silence, ‘what are you doing with your time off?’

‘I’m going travelling,’ Jimin says. He looks at you sideways. ‘I’m going to Tuscany with friends.’

You’re excited for him. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Tuscany,’ you say. ‘You’ll have to show me pictures when you get back.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Of course. But at the rate you’re healing you might not even be on the ward when I get back.’

You hadn’t even considered this. 

‘I’ll be gone three weeks,’ Jimin says, gently. 

‘Well, send me a postcard,’ you say, laughingly. ‘You know where I live.’

‘Deal,’ Jimin says, offering his hand. You shake, as the lights rain down around you, burning bright in the dark.

***

You’re struggling at physical therapy today, more so than usual. Your breathing’s heavier, and it feels like you’re fighting through mud. 

Your physical therapist, Mara, finally stops you, just as you’re about to ask for a break.

‘Are you feeling ok?’ she asks, concerned. 

‘I’m fine,’ you grit out. ‘I can do more.’

‘I think we should stop.’

You just have enough consciousness left to hear her calling for help as your vision goes dark.

The padded mat is cool under your cheek.

You hear rapid footsteps, voices, and then, nothing at all.

***

You lose two and a half days before they allow you to wake. 

First and most pressing, the tube in your throat that it hurts to swallow around, pushing air into your lungs. Breathing for you. 

The line in your neck, the stitches holding it in that itch, madly. 

You would scratch it but your hand’s tethered with the weight of a probe on your finger, another line in the back of it. 

The tube in your nose, hooked up to a pump. 

The catheter between your legs, attached to a bag hooked carelessly on the side of the bed. 

You’re in intensive care. 

When your breathing tube comes out, a cough and a splutter, you ask what happened. 

It turns out you had a wound infection that made you septic. You’d collapsed after a physical therapy session. 

If you hadn’t already lost half your life to the skiing accident, you’d mourn the loss of the last few days. As it is, all you can do is what you’ve been doing. 

Try to move on. 

Your muscles, painstakingly built up through months of physical therapy, have weakened even though you’ve only been asleep for two days and change. 

Breathing becomes an exercise in endurance that you’ll never take for granted again. 

The lines come out, one by one, and then, at the end of your first week, you’re finally line free, untethered again. 

Just your battered body for company. 

Sohee, the older nurse with gentle hands, coaxes you through your bad days. 

You think of Jimin, more than once, sunstreaked and golden in the fields of Tuscany. 

You hope that wherever he is, he’s having the time of his life. 

Your family, initially terrified by your deterioration, are now talking about where you’ll live when you get discharged. 

Trying to help you get over the setback from your sepsis. 

You’re trying not to let your discomfort show on your face as Matsu tries for the third time to draw blood from your abused veins. 

He buries the needle, deep, and you bite your lip at the throbbing that results. 

The door opens, and you look up, grateful for the distraction. 

It’s Jimin. 

He’s tanned, and glowing with good health, and he stands out like an angel in these four walls that have been your home for months.  

‘Jimin!’ you say, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

‘Y/N,’ he says, with such warmth there’s a glow in your chest. 

You flinch as Matsu moves the needle in your arm, and Jimin’s face darkens. 

‘Hey, Matsu, I can take over.’ 

The tone of his voice brooks no argument. 

Matsu nods, and Jimin takes his tray from his as he leaves. 

‘I had a little jaunt to the ICU whilst you were gone,’ you say, lightly. ‘It’s not as nice as Tuscany, but it was a change of scenery at least.’ 

Jimin smiles. ‘I heard. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.’ 

His hand is warm on your arm as he prepares to draw blood. 

‘They did a number on my veins,’ you say. 

Jimin hums. ‘I know,’ he tells you. He’s gentle, thumb pressing on your skin as he searches for a vein. 

‘There goes my life of being a junkie,’ you say dramatically. ‘I wouldn’t be able to find a place to shoot up.’ 

Jimin says. ‘Tuscany was lovely. You should go someday.’ 

‘Yeah?’ you ask, interested. ‘Tell me more. Where did you stay? What did you do?’ 

You feel the prick as Jimin draws blood, and he says, quietly. ‘I’m in, you can relax, ok? I’ll be done in a minute.’ 

You close your eyes as Jimin tells you about the vineyard where he and his friends stayed. His voice is low, melodic, and he distracts you so well you barely realise when he’s done. 

He places a plaster on your hand, thumb smoothing the edges. 

His touch calms you in a way you haven’t felt in weeks. 

You turn to him. ‘Thanks Jimin.’ 

‘I’ve been doing this for years,’ he says. 

‘Not just for this,’ you say, gesturing to the plaster. ‘Thanks for the company.’ 

‘Apparently you like it so much you got septic so you’d still be here when I got back,’ Jimin says, grinning at you, easy. 

You laugh. ‘One day, when I get out of here, I’m going to make you breakfast, and the best coffee you’ve ever had.’ 

Jimin snorts. ‘Can you even cook?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ you admit. 

You both laugh. 

‘Well, I look forward to it anyway,’ Jimin says. He gets up, holding up the vial he’s just drawn from you. ‘I should get this labelled up and sent off.’ 

You’re still smiling long after he’s left the room. 

***

It’s Christmas day. 

Your family are visiting, they’ve even brought in turkey, your favourite roast potatoes which you used to love, and you haven’t had such a good day in a long time. 

You’re still in your Christmas pyjamas, looking out the window after they left, when there’s a knock on your door. 

Jimin steps in, slightly bemused at the collection of food and presents you’ve been bequeathed. 

‘I know you don’t know who you were before, but you’re very loved,’ he observes. 

You’re oddly touched. 

‘They left me a tonne of food, have you eaten?’ you ask. 

Jimin smiles. ‘I’ve been eating all day, all the staff working today have brought in things for Christmas lunch.’ 

He pauses. ‘And dinner.’ 

He laughs. ‘We’re all set until the end of the year, I think.’ 

‘Dessert?’ you offer. ‘It’s my mum’s sticky toffee pudding, I won’t be able to finish it.’ 

Jimin considers the container you show him. ‘I can heat it up and we can share it?’ 

‘Deal.’ 

Jimin disappears with your container and comes back with two bowls and two spoons. 

You eye the tiny gummy snowman candy he’s placed on top of your helping. 

Jimin sees your expression, laughs. ‘They’re good. Sohee gave me a whole bag of them.’ 

He perches next to your window, and you eat in silence. 

‘There’s a big tree in the main hospital, do you want to go and visit it after this?’ Jimin asks. 

You nod. ‘Also, I got you a present.’ 

You rummage in your pile of presents for the gold box your sister helped you get. 

Jimin accepts, looking shyly at you. ‘You shouldn’t have got me anything,’ he says. 

‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect special treatment,’ you tease. ‘I know you save the best treats for Mrs Kim in room 12 anyway.’ 

Jimin laughs. ‘May I?’ 

He unwraps the box, and a moment later is staring at the gold Christmas bauble ensconced in delicate tissue paper.

He runs his thumb over the design etched in the glass. ‘The tree of love,’ he says. 

You smile. ‘When you came back after your holiday, you looked so happy and recharged, and I thought this would remind you of it.’ 

Jimin smiles back at you so bright and pretty he’s blinding. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’ 

He puts it carefully back in the box. ‘The tree I was going to show you isn’t as beautiful as this, but shall we go now, anyway?’ 

‘Sure.’

You grab your crutches. 

‘I can get a wheelchair if you want –’ Jimin offers. 

‘It’s my Christmas present to myself,’ you tell him. ‘I’m not going to use a wheelchair again.’ 

Jimin looks at you for a long moment. 

When he opens his mouth, his words aren’t what you expected. 

‘I guess I could carry you, if the worst happened,’ he says lightly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Lead the way, Park, I’m fine on my crutches.’ 

Two lifts and a walk across the link corridor later, you find yourself standing in front of the giant Douglas fir in the front foyer of the hospital. 

It’s huge, at least 20 feet tall, and covered in blues and silvers. 

You sigh. ‘It smells so good.’ 

You catch Jimin looking at you. 

‘It reminded me of you when I saw it,’ he says. 

‘Does it also have a bad leg?’ you ask, teasing. 

‘I used to go hiking with my family, every weekend,’ Jimin tells you. He’s looking up, away from you, at the star on the top of the tree. ‘This tree reminds me of that.’ 

He turns to you. ‘My dad used to do a bit of woodworking, and his favourite type of wood was Douglas fir. You can paint it easily so it can be any colour you want, and at its core it’s light and strong. Look after it, and it lasts a lifetime.’ 

You’re trying to think about how this relates to you when Jimin says, ‘You’re rebuilding your life, painting yourself different, but you’re the same person at your core. You’re one of the strongest people I know.’ 

You don’t realise you’re crying until he reaches out, gently, to wipe your cheek. 

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Jimin asks. 

‘I don’t know what I believe in now,’ you say, honestly. 

‘I never did,’ Jimin says. ‘I wanted to leave nursing for a long time. I actually put in my notice last year.’ 

You’re surprised to hear it. From what you’ve seen, Jimin loves his job. He’s damned good at it. 

‘I was on one of my last shifts when you were brought in,’ Jimin says. He’s looking at you now, an expression on his face that makes your heart skip several beats. 

‘Seeing you pick up the pieces after you had something so devastating happen to you —-’ he breaks off, throat working as he swallows. 

‘It made me realise how much I love my job,’ he says. ‘I think I was meant to do this. I’m good at it.’ 

‘You’re great at it,’ you say, earnest. 

Jimin reaches out and puts his hand over where yours is braced over your crutch. 

‘Here’s to next Christmas, when all this is behind you,’ he says. 

You don’t know what to say, so you grasp his hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Jimin.’ 

‘Merry Christmas, Y/N.’ 

You stand there, hand in hand, admiring the sparkly tree, enjoying the relative lull in activity in the normally crowded hospital foyer this Christmas night, until your legs start to give out, and then Jimin walks you back to your room. 

***

You’re in your room, just back from physical therapy, when Sohee walks in. ‘We need your help,’ she says, brisk. 

You look up, curious. 

‘It’s Jimin’s birthday, and the tradition here is that if you work here and it’s your birthday, you get slimed.’ 

You’re incredulous. You can’t imagine anyone would ever dare to slime Sohee, with her perfectly starched uniforms and her stern demeanor. 

‘Park manages to evade us every year, but this year, he has a weakness,’ Sohee continues. 

She looks right at you. ‘You.’ 

You splutter. ‘Me? How am I Jimin’s weakness?’ 

‘He likes you,’ Sohee says, matter of fact. ‘He’d never act on it, not whilst you’re in his care, but he likes you, and this year, Park Jimin’s going to get what’s coming to him.’ 

‘What’s in it for me?’ you ask, nonchalant. 

‘I’ll get the catering staff to give you an extra helping on Sunday roast day,’ says Sohee, like she’d been expecting you to ask exactly that.

‘I don’t want to hurt Jimin,’ you say. 

Sohee rolls her eyes. ‘No one wants to hurt Jimin. But he’s the quickest out of all of us, and he’s slimed us all over the years, and no one can catch him.’ 

‘Come on,’ Sohee wheedles. ‘You’ll be discharged next week anyway.’ 

You sigh. ‘What do I have to do?’ 

***

You shift nervously in your chair as you wait for Jimin to respond to the call bell Sohee activated before she left. 

He knocks on your door and enters, a smile already on his face. ‘Are you ok, Y/N?’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ you start. 

Jimin’s two steps away when the door bursts open, and Sohee, Matsu and the other nurse, Alice, rush in. 

Jimin looks at them, then you, and steps in front of you quickly. ‘Ok, ok, you can slime me,’ he says, hands out. ‘Just don’t get anything on Y/N.’ 

Jimin stands perfectly still as Sohee and Matsu unceremoniously dump buckets of green and purple slime over his head. 

You don’t miss how the slime makes his scrubs top mould to his torso. 

Jimin turns, slips, and you reach out to stop him from falling. 

You lose your balance and Jimin, trying to stop you from falling, slides to put his body under yours as you end up in a heap on the floor. 

Jimin’s looking at you, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you ok?’ 

He looks so ridiculous, covered in green and purple slime, that you can’t help but laugh. 

A moment later, he’s laughing too. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him. 

He’s still smiling. ‘I can’t believe you helped them,’ he complains. He shifts a little, and suddenly you’re very aware of the hardness of his torso under you, how his thighs strain against his scrubs bottoms. 

‘I’ll leave you kids to clean up,’ Sohee says, not unkindly, ushering Matsu and Alice out of your room. ‘Happy birthday Jiminie!’ 

Jimin helps you get up. ‘Be careful, it’s slippery,’ he says, holding your arm. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. 

He wipes his hand on his thigh, then brushes a streak of slime off your cheek. ‘I’ll get cleaned up, then I’ll come back and clean the room, ok? Can you get cleaned up on your own?’ 

You nod. His hand is still against your cheek. 

You’re thinking about what Sohee said about Jimin liking you. Is she right? 

Jimin pulls his hand away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth. 

‘See you in a bit,’ he tells you. 

***

You take one last look back at the room you’ve spent the last few months in whilst you’ve been recovering from your injury. 

You came in, in pieces, and now you’re walking out, changed in ways you can’t even fathom. 

Your dad and mum are in the car with your things, you’ll be staying with them for a while until you learn to live independently again. 

You’ve said your thank you’s and goodbyes. To Sohee, who made good on her promise to get the catering staff to give you extra roast potatoes on Sunday. To Matsu, who you’ve seen grow in compassion since the initial days when he wouldn’t give you pain meds. To Mrs Kim who was constantly saying how much you reminded her of her daughter. 

To Jimin, who dropped by after his shift yesterday and gave you his number. He’d told you to call him and it’d seemed like he meant it. 

You close the door behind you and see Jimin, rushing down the corridor. 

‘I was worried I’d missed you,’ he says. 

‘You’re not even at work today,’ you remind him. 

‘I live close. Besides, I couldn’t not say goodbye on your last day.’ 

Jimin smiles. ‘Ready to face the big bad world again?’ 

You smile back. ‘All my monsters are in there,’ you say, gesturing to the empty room behind you. 

‘We should meet up,’ Jimin says. ‘You owe me a breakfast and the best coffee I’ve ever had.’ 

‘We can meet up,’ you say. ‘Anywhere but here.’ 

You reach out, and enclose him in a hug. 

‘I’ll see you soon, ok?’ 

He holds you a moment longer, then lets go. 

‘Yeah.’ 

You walk down to the ward doors, press the button to let yourself out. 

You give Jimin one last wave, and then, you’re out. 

***

You’re watching TV with your parents after dinner, when the news comes on. 

‘Hey, that’s your hospital,’ you dad says. 

You watch, interest piqued as the newscaster reports on upcoming nursing strikes. 

‘They should strike,’ you say. ‘They’re underpaid and underappreciated.’ 

Later, in your room, you’re looking at the number Jimin saved on your phone. 

It’s been two weeks since you left the hospital, and you’ve not got in touch with him. 

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, but you’re worried about what things will be like, now that you’re out of the hospital. 

You think of the news report you saw, and you make a decision. 

***

It’s the first time you’ve really been out since you left the hospital. You’ve been with your mum to the store, round the corner to the park, but you haven’t made any longer trips than that. 

Your leg’s completely healed, you don’t even need crutches anymore, but some days there’s still an ache deep in your bones. 

You get headaches but they’re nowhere near as bad as they were. 

You hear the chanting, the sound of a hundred conversations, as you walk over to where there’s a crowd gathered, picketing in support of the nursing strike. 

Every face is unfamiliar, and you’re starting to wonder if it was wise to come and support the strikes when you see him. 

He’s dressed casually like the other times you’ve seen him in off-duty clothes, his hair styled back, holding a placard that says, ‘Safe staffing saves lives’. 

Like he senses your eyes on him, he turns, and your eyes meet. 

In an instant, he’s making his way through the crowd, to you. 

He stops a step in front of you. 

‘Is it really you?’ he asks. 

You smile.

Jimin wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as a group of people push past. 

‘What are you doing here?’ he scolds. ‘You shouldn’t be in a crowd like this —’ 

You put your hand against his cheek, and he stills. 

He moves his head, closer, so close your lips touch. 

You’ve wanted this for so long, and this new version of you takes what she wants. 

You kiss. 

Jimin makes a soft noise, deep in his throat, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as your lips meet again. 

By the time you come up for air, you feel flushed, giddy, your heart pounding a million miles a minute in your chest. 

Jimin presses another soft kiss on your cheek before he pulls away. 

‘I’m so glad you came,’ he says. 

***

Jimin’s shucking his shirt over his head in the quiet of his bedroom, only the moonlight to show you the beauty of his form. 

He gathers you back into his arms like he couldn’t stand even that short time apart without touching you. You don’t think he’s stopped touching you at all since you met him at the picket line. 

You’re not complaining. 

Jimin pulls you closer so your lips meet again. His lips are soft, full, pressing against yours firmly. 

He doesn’t shy away, so you don’t either. 

He tugs your top over your head, litters your breasts with kisses, tugs the cups of your bra down so he can get better access. 

He laves your nipples with his tongue, like he enjoys the sounds you make as he sucks on your flesh. 

You can feel his hardness against your centre as he strokes his tongue and hands over your skin. 

You reach down to touch him, and Jimin grunts as you curl your fingers around his cock.

‘We don’t have to—’ 

‘I want it,’ you tell him, lips against his skin, hand on his ass. 

‘I want to give it to you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, are you sure?’ 

You’ve never been surer of anything in your life. 

Jimin rolls a condom onto himself, hissing a little. He positions himself above you, and you move to make room for him between your thighs. 

He nudges in a little, gentle as he’s always been with you, and the stretch is so good you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. 

Jimin presses his face to yours. ‘Tell me to stop if —’

‘Don’t stop,’ you say. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’ 

Jimin seals his lips to yours as he drives the rest of himself into you. He stops when he’s all the way in, stills. 

He lifts his head to look at your face. ‘Are you – is this ok?’ 

You smile, breathlessly. ‘Can’t you tell, Jimin?’ 

Jimin groans as you clench around him. 

‘You’re so wet. Fuck —’ 

He moves, and your eyes close with the pleasure of it. 

‘Fuck, Jimin —’ 

He moves again, and you cry out as he rocks his hips against yours. 

It’s overwhelming, the weight of him against you, the way his skin gleams with sweat in the moonlight, the soft whines he makes on every thrust. The feel of him inside you. 

It’s his voice that eventually tips you over the edge. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he vows against your ear. ‘I can’t believe you’re here —’ 

You cry his name as you come, and he keeps going, seeking his own release now, gentle even when he’s taut with need. 

He kisses you again, grinds hard, deep, and then he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to ever let you go. 

***

You can hear Jimin moving in his bedroom, and sure enough, he emerges, shirtless, hair mussed from your fingers through it. 

You admire the beautiful lines of his cut torso as he walks towards you. 

‘Who knew you were packing all this under those blue scrubs?’ you ask, teasing. 

Jimin smiles, pulls you into a hug. ‘What are you doing in my kitchen?’ 

‘Making you breakfast,’ you tell him. ‘A promise is a promise.’ 

Jimin leans down to kiss your neck, and you shiver at the touch of his lips. 

‘Later,’ he tells you. ‘I’ll make us breakfast later. Come back to bed.’ 

He grasps your hand, and you follow him back to his bedroom. 

You have no idea where this is going, but you figure this is a hell of a good start to the rest of your life. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

#park jimin fic #park jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut

[oddinary4bts]

I want to be with you | pjm

☆summary : moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

☆pairing: Park Jimin x female reader

☆rating: 18+

☆genre: strangers (fan) to friends to lovers, idol!au; fluff, some slight angst, smut

☆warnings: cheating ex, mention of a parent dying, asshole jimin for a few moments, a tiny little bit of jealousy, alcohol consumption, throwing up (jimin and reader both be messy but they have other qualities I swear), explicit stuff: oral sex (female receiving), edging, fingering, badly written dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it babes), slightly dom! jimin, a little bit of spanking??, reader is shy and awkward and might give you a little bit of secondhand embarrassment, sad love confession

☆word count: 32.5k words (the funny thing is I edited to take out some stuff and ended up having a longer word count lmao)

☆a/n: Wow, I am so excited to finally share this with you. Before you read, I just want to warn you that English is not my first language, and I also have slight dyslexia. So, if there are any typos, feel free to tell me so I can edit them out! I hope you will all enjoy <3 (I have read it so many times that I hate it now but, yeahhh hopefully it doesn’t suck). Also, I usually exclusively write badass characters, and I tried to make the reader a softie sooo sorry if I failed hahahaha

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

1 month ago

               Moving days had always been excruciating to you. Long and exhausting, and you’d always dread the moment you’d have to drag all the boxes up to your new living place. Even more so today, as you were finally moving to Seoul, after months of planning the whole ordeal.

Seoul had been a dream to you, ever since you had been little. It was hard to figure out why – maybe it was the culture, or the clash South Korea was to your home country. To get out of your comfort zone and just step into a whole new world… it had been an exciting promise, really.

Or maybe home had just never really felt like home.

Yet there was something bittersweet, about Seoul. You had visited twice, in the past – the first time just on a trip, and the second when you had roamed around the city in search of a place to move to last February. Your mother had recommended this apartment, in a posh building that had seemed just a little overpriced for you. You had fallen in love with it, the moment you had seen the view from the spacious living room. You had known you had found a home for yourself as the Seoul skyline had come into view, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

It had been a future home for you and your ex, and maybe that was really the cause of the bittersweet feeling Seoul brought to you. Indeed, you had been supposed to move here with Collin, but he had decided to stay back, and to not follow you in your dreams. You hadn’t been selfish enough to beg him to come – God knew Collin had his own dreams back home. To build a home, get married and have a plethora of children to fill the empty rooms of his home with laughter and joy.

Something you had never really wanted for yourself. So, you had parted ways, a month before you were set to leave, and you had spent that month putting everything in order, selling the stuff you couldn’t bring along. It had made you feel as if the old you was dead, and you were leaving her behind, in the cemetery that was your hometown.

Not a place you thought one would want to raise children in.

You hmphed as you balanced a large box on your hip, eyes scanning the hall of your building as you walked towards the elevator. You didn’t know what the box was filled with, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself mentally. Heavy boxes were a danger to one’s back, and you were already straining from the effort of holding onto it. But maybe that was because you had been a little greedy, adding a smaller cardboard container above that big one. The small box stood precariously on top – goddamn, had you put books in there? – and you eyed it from the corner of your eyes as you neared the elevator of the complex your new apartment was in. The smaller box started to slip, and you quickly put a hand on top of it to keep it from crashing to the ground.

You doubted it held something fragile, but you still didn’t want to risk breaking something.

Moving days were a pain in the ass indeed. Especially considering that your family hadn’t been able to travel to South Korea to help you move. It was you, all alone, and you had already done so many trips in the elevator that you knew it by heart now – from the fingerprints that someone had left behind on the inside of the door to the coffee stain on the carpet of it.

Or so you hoped it was a coffee stain.

The keys that you held in your hand under the box jingled as you reached forward, heavy box threatening to slip out of your reach, index finger pointed towards the button to call the elevator.

You sighed in relief as the sign over said elevator lit up, indicating that your little maneuver had been a success. You straightened, and a bead of sweat formed on your brow. The box really was too heavy. 

You watched the number over the elevator change as it came up from the basement, before stopping on the ground level, doors sliding open.

Sometimes, you wondered if faith existed. If there was a bigger plan to the universe, something written for you already that you couldn’t really escape from. It was the thought that crossed your mind as the doors finished moving, and a dark-haired boy – man – stared at you as you just stood there, mouth falling open.

See, there were a few things you liked about Korea. K-pop being one of those. And you had been a BTS fan for a long time now, part of the army that was their fanbase, and maybe that had contributed to your will to move to Seoul.

Actually, you fully knew it was one of the reasons.

But, nothing had prepared you for this moment. The moment an idol appeared in front of you, as if conjured by your deepest most secret desires. An angel, standing in the elevator, black hood on along with a matching mask.

It was the eyes though, that you recognized. You had spent so many hours looking at pictures of those eyes – really, you had never seen eyes such as his. And that gaze was now boring into yours, as if peering right to your soul, and you found you couldn’t quite move.

And who were you to blame, Park Jimin had always been your bias. Had been the reason why you had gotten into K-pop in the first place.

Jimin’s eyes skimmed over your figure for a moment, gaze landing on your keys.

On the goddamn Chimmy keychain that dangled from your hand, bright yellow that could have caught anyone’s eyes.

When his gaze moved back up to your face, you gulped, feeling very naked. Not that you were naked at all, but to have your bias standing in front of you like that… it rendered you completely unable to process what was happening.

“Are you getting in?” he asked in English, and there was a strain to his voice. As if it was threatening to fall into annoyance, but he didn’t want to let it go there just yet.

Your cheeks flushed bright red as your gaze dropped to the floor, embarrassment winning the war against your will to gaze at him until your eyes would fall out of your head.

You nodded, and you took two steps forward. Two steps were all that it took for you to step into the same elevator as Park Jimin. And it was surreal. He had always been just a picture or a video on the other side of a screen, except that one time you had gone to a concert. But right now, he was standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, eyes staring straight ahead. As if not even wanting to acknowledge your presence.

You stood awkwardly, arm starting to shake from the weight of the boxes. You glanced at the floor levels, and your eyes slightly widened as you noticed your floor was already lit up.

Was Park Jimin really your neighbor?

The elevator shot up, and the first acceleration had your arm straining to keep holding the box up, gravity threatening to win against your weak muscles.

You let go of the smaller container on top, using your chin to hold it in place as your other arm joined the one holding the whole thing. Your muscles sighed in relief, though you knew it would be short-lived.

You maybe should have worked out more when you were back home.

The metal jail in which you were encased was silent, apart from the humming it emitted as it moved up. And it really did feel like a jail, with the cold atmosphere that radiated from the man next to you. It was hard to ignore the harsh look on the small part of his features you could see, but you did your best not to look at him, as your prison passed all the floors until it finally reached the very top. The floor where only two apartments stood, on each side of the hallway, and really, how in hell could Park Jimin be your neighbor?

Your arms – plural this time – started shaking again as the elevator came to a halt, and it seemed like it took a small eternity before the doors slid open. Feeling the need to get away from Jimin, and from the ice you really didn’t want to acknowledge surrounding him, you quickly stepped out, moving towards your door. And maybe it was the rush in your steps, and the fact that your arms really were losing the fight against gravity, but the boxes seemed suddenly twice as heavy. Clutching to them proved to be useless, and the top container slid, wrecking the balance of the lower box at the same time.

You cursed as the two boxes fell to the carpeted floor, the cardboard of the larger one bending until a part of it ripped, revealing its precious treasure.

Your collection of BTS albums spilled from it, as if they were liquid, and your cheeks turned even darker as you immediately bent down, moving to pick them up before Jimin could see. A stupid thing to do, because he was standing right behind you, and the mess you had made took almost half of the hallway’s width.

With shaky hands, you tried putting the albums back into the box they had escaped from, but it only made it rip further. You stopped moving altogether as a pair of jeans-clothed legs stepped over the mess, and your eyes moved up, heart beating out of your chest.

Jimin didn’t once look in your direction as he moved towards his door – right in front of yours – putting in the code to unlock it. As the lock came undone, electronic whirring filling the awkward silence, he finally deigned to glance your way.

A hard look painted his features, and the judgment in his eyes slapped you across the face as your eyes met for a short moment. He seemed … somehow disgusted by you, as if the fact that you were Army made him want to get away from you as soon as he could. And you understood it, to a certain extent. He was famous after all, and he probably had had his share of crazy fans in the past.

That didn’t stop your heart from feeling as if it was being crushed in your chest, as if his fist had closed around it and he was about to rip it from your ribcage.

Jimin looked away as the lock finally finished moving, opening his door in a swift motion before stepping inside, not once looking back at you, kneeling there in the middle of the hallway.

When he disappeared from view, you let out a shuddering breath, your gaze falling back to the mess on the floor. You wondered when your vision had turned blurry, and it took you a moment to realize there were tears in your eyes.

You doubted you had ever felt as embarrassed as you were feeling right now.

You blinked the tears away, putting the albums in a neat pile before picking them up. It really did seem like gravity wanted to win the whole war, because the pile threatened to scatter to the ground again, but you managed to make it to your door without another accident. You had left it unlocked, and you pushed the door open with your shoulder, leaving the pile next to the wardrobe. You then went back into the hallway to gather the small container and the cardboard remnants of the traitorous box that had dared spill your secrets at the worst moment possible.

Well, the Chimmy keychain had been a traitor in and of itself too.

You moved into your apartment, kicking your shoes off by the door to put slippers on. You didn’t even look at the albums once, not wanting to deal with the shame that they still held and promised to be holding on to for a while. You left the small box and your keys on the island of the kitchen, which was the first room of the apartment, before tearing the broken package into smaller pieces you could fit in your recycling bin. You then moved through the space that was now yours, until you reached the living room, and the wide glass windows on the wall showed that same setting sun you had fallen in love with the first time you had come here.

You plopped yourself down on the black leather couch, sighing deeply as you ran a hand on your face, trying to shake the embarrassment away. And even if you knew it was early morning back home, you grabbed your phone, calling your mom on Facetime without an ounce of hesitation.

You looked at yourself on the phone screen for a time, as your living room filled ringing, until your mom finally picked up. From what you could see of her surroundings, she was on set.

“Hi sweetie”, the gentle voice of your mother said through the speakers of the phone. “How was moving day?”

“Mom, why did you recommend this apartment building again?” you asked, ignoring your mother’s question. “You did not tell me BTS would be my neighbors.”

Your mother didn’t reply as she moved away from the lights of the set, clearly searching for a calmer environment so you could speak privately. You glanced away from your phone, eyes once again sliding to the setting sun outside the windows.            

“I didn’t know that BTS lived in that complex”, your mother finally replied as she seemed to find a place she judged calm enough. “I just knew it had the reputation to be very safe and private, and with your dad and I being who we are, I just figured it be best for you.”

Here’s to having a famous mother and an extremely filthy rich dad.

“Park Jimin lives next door.” You put a hand over your face as your cheeks burned red. “Mom, he seemed so disgusted when he saw my merch.”

“He helped you move?”

You shook your head, hand falling back into your lap. “No, I dropped a box in front of him and all my albums came out of it. He just scowled at it before going to his place.”

The smile that had first lit up your mother’s face slowly dwindled away. If someone knew how obsessed with Park Jimin you had once been, it was her.

“Oh”, she let out. “Maybe he was just surprised.”

“No, mom, I swear.” You gulped. “He was disgusted.”

Your mother chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you’re making it seem worse than it was. Besides, you met Park Jimin!”

The last sentence was said on a giddy tone, but it didn’t reach you at all. No, it just made you feel worse.

“Mom, I didn’t even say a word to him, I was way too shy.”

“My daughter, shy?” Your mother shook her head, even though you were very much so a shy person. “Again, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re saying.”

You sighed loudly, nibbling at the dry skin of your bottom lip. “Well, it was.”

 “Sarah, we need you on set”, a voice said in the distance on the other side of the line, barely even audible to you. You watched as your mother looked away from her phone, and it took a few seconds before her eyes trailed back to it.

“Listen, sweetie, I have to go. But why don’t you go introduce yourself properly to him? After all, you’re neighbors.”

“Mom what? I’m not in one of your movies, I won’t do that.”

Sarah pursed her lips, before once again glancing away from the phone. “Well then, have you finished moving already?”

You shook your head no. “I still have a few boxes to move up.”

“You should have hired a moving company to help you”, your mother said reproachfully.

“Shipping everything here was already expensive enough”, you pointed out. “It’s fine, I’m almost done.”

“Alright sweetie.” There was a silence as a soft smile slowly spread on your mother’s lips. “I can’t wait to come visit you after we wrap up this movie.”

“I can’t wait either”, you replied, and you swallowed down the lump that had threatened to form in your throat. “It’s going to be weird to live in a city where I know no one.”

“All the more reasons to go introduce yourself to Park Jimin”, your mom said teasingly, winking at you.

“Mom, no!” Though this time you did let out a small laugh.

The smile on your mother’s lips turned into a fond one. “I love you, sweetie. Take care of you.”

“Will do, mom, I love you too.”

You hung up, and your eyes trailed back to the windows. The sun had disappeared under the horizon, the light turning blue as dusk settled over the city. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up.

After all, you still had boxes to move.

***

 Present day

                The screaming of children had you wincing in pain, a headache threatening to win over your senses. Especially as the screaming melted into crying, and a teary-eyed and red-faced child stopped in front of you, tugging on your hand so you’d look down.

Your first week as an elementary school teacher had proven to be a complete disaster. At least you had just taught a few classes the whole week – as the English teacher, you didn’t have a full schedule. But goddamn couldn’t you wait until the day was over and you’d be sipping wine back home.

It had taken you a few days to finish moving in, after that embarrassing first day. And it had taken you only a few more days to realize just how much of an asshole Park Jimin was. How much of an even worse neighbor he was.

Really, he had woken you up in the middle of the night more than once with loud music, and sometimes when you got out of your own place, you had to refrain from gagging at the smell of the trash he left just outside of his door.

You had even brought it down once because you were afraid liquid would seep through the plastic bag and stain the carpet of the hallway. Of course Jimin hadn’t thanked you for it. Indeed, he usually pretended that you didn’t exist, barely even looking your way when you moved passed each other in the hallway in front of your homes. And when he did look at you, it was always with that same condescending and arrogant look on his face, as if he thought himself to be so much better than you.

A month ago, you might have said that he was, but now that you knew who he really was, you knew that he was rotten to the core.

Well, you maybe were being too harsh on him. Ignoring you didn’t really make him an asshole, but you had a hard time dealing with the loud music at night, especially considering it happened at least four times a week.

One would have thought that the walls of the complex would have been sound-proofed better than they actually were, but no, when he had his music on it pretty much felt as if you were standing right in the middle of his apartment.

“Teacher Y/l/n”, the child said through her sobs, and you snapped back to the present, bending down to be at a level with the child.

“What is going on?” you asked, voice as gentle as you could manage to make it through the storm of children raging around you.

The little girl mumbled something that you didn’t quite understand. Your Korean wasn’t perfect yet, and you had found that children often chewed on their syllables in a way that left you grasping for comprehension. And though you were an English teacher, you knew that most of the kids didn’t speak enough of the language to be able to talk to you. So, you always did your best with your Korean, but you knew you’d need a few weeks to adjust.

“Why don’t we go sit over there?” you said in reply, pointing to where bean bags were arranged in a circle, with a few plush toys scattered around them. “Then you can explain to me.”

You should have known better than to put all of your attention on the same kid, because by the time you had sat the little girl and handed her a teddy bear, the sound of glass breaking had you spin your head around.

A guilty round-faced boy came into view, as he looked down at the glass surrounding him. You wanted to curse loudly, but you forced yourself to smile before moving towards him.

You helped the boy to move away from the glass, as the other students looked at you curiously, all of them a little startled from the accident. It led to the room falling silent for the first time in what seemed hours, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you cleaned the mess up.

Maybe you never should have let the children have a free period, but you had felt generous as it was the last period of the week. A mistake you weren’t going to repeat.

In the relative calmness that followed the storm, you were able to have the children sit in the bean bags, along with the little girl whose sadness seemed to be long forgotten as she played with her teddy bear. You read a story to them, in English of course, until the class finally ended and their main teacher came to gather the children. The older lady would bring them back to their own class, where they’d get their school bags before their parents came to pick them up.

You were cleaning the mess left in the classroom when your colleague Chaeyoung appeared in the doorway, a tired smile on her lips.

“How was the first week?” she asked, as you straightened from where you had been kneeling on the floor, picking up the plush toys so you could put them back in the box where you had first taken them.

“The first years were a challenge to end the week with, but other than that it was great”, you replied, though your voice was filled with exhaustion.

Chaeyoung chuckled, nodding her head knowingly. “As cute as they are, they really are a challenge.”

You couldn’t agree more.

“Anyway, I was here to tell you that some of the other teachers are going to get drinks, if you want to join”, Chaeyoung said.

Thinking about going out with people you had known for just a few days made you feel even more tired inside, but you found you didn’t really have it in you to say no. After all, you had been pretty much alone for a month now, except for the week your mother had come to visit you. You needed a little socialization, especially if you wanted to make friends here.

“Sure, I’ll come”, you agreed, and the smile that lit up Chaeyoung’s face was entirely worth it.

Chaeyoung probably was the colleague that was the closest in age to you, and she also was the one who had tried making you feel the most welcomed ever since you had started working there. The friendliness with which the girl carried herself really made her easily approachable, and you knew you’d be good friends in no time.

Chaeyoung also was the only one that hadn’t acted as if the fact that your mother was a famous actress was a big deal. It had made you appreciate the girl even more.

Later that evening, after drinks, which had mostly been eating more than drinking, you found yourself in a cab on the way back home. The school for which you worked was fairly close to where you lived, but your colleagues had insisted on going to a bar that was farther away, enough for you to dread the walk home. So, getting a cab it had been, and you looked at Seoul’s streets as the car made its way towards your apartment complex.

The radio was on, volume tuned down as the driver hadn’t turned it back up after having asked you where you lived. Yet, the volume was high enough for you to recognize the BTS song that was playing, and you almost felt like rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

Though you refrained from doing so, because it didn’t sit right with you to start hating the whole group just because Jimin was an arrogant piece of shit. Instead, you bobbed along to the music, mouthing the lyrics, as your condominium finally came into view.

You paid the cab as it stopped in front of the building, thanking the driver before getting out and walking the short distance to the gate, and then to the doors proper. You walked in, the bright hall and its high ceilings a stark contrast with the darkness outside, though you barely acknowledged it as you made your way to the elevator.

Mind a little fuzzed up by the alcohol, you called for the elevator, waiting in front of the doors patiently. You grabbed your phone in the tote bag on your shoulder, opening your text messages to reply to the text Chaeyoung had sent you, before switching apps to Instagram, scrolling through it mindlessly.

It took you a few seconds to realize that the elevator was still in the basement. What was taking so long?

The basement held a parking lot, and a wide gym you had visited a couple of times so far, though you had never really been an athletic person. You had been surprised at the amount of famous people you had seen there though, but luckily enough you hadn’t run into Jimin once.

You wondered if he would have looked even more disgusted by the sight of you sweating.

Putting your phone back where you had taken it, you made to move away, deciding that you’d take the stairs instead of the elevator since it really didn’t seem like it was coming. As you were about to take the first step away, you heard it start moving, and you turned back towards it, sighing in relief. You really hadn’t felt like climbing up the nine floors.

Nothing could have really prepared you to the sight that fell upon your eyes when the doors slid open. It was almost a parallel to that first time you had seen Jimin there, though this time Jimin had an arm thrown around the shoulders of Jeong Hoseok, and he was clearly drunk out of his mind.

You stepped in, bowing to Hoseok as your eyes slid to Jimin, and to the not-so subtle stain on the front of his shirt.

From the smell of it, you were pretty sure Jimin had thrown up on himself. And really, the sour stench made you scrunch up your nose in disgust, right as Hoseok apologized for it.

“Oh”, you let out. “It’s okay.”

At the sound of your voice, Jimin opened his eyes, glassy gaze moving to find yours. You expected his features to have that same disgusted scowl he always reserved for you, but his brows fell, as if he was ashamed, or perhaps sad.

It was so human you found you had to look away.

“I didn’t know you speak Korean”, Jimin mumbled, speech definitely slurred by the alcohol.

You froze, not expecting him to talk to you directly, until your gaze slid to him again.

He was still looking at you, but his face was unreadable. Until a lazy smile broke on his lips as he turned towards Hoseok, who had his arm wrapped around Jimin’s waist to keep him up.

 “She’s the new neighbor I told you about”, Jimin said, and Hoseok glanced at you.

Jimin had talked about you?

The elevator slowed down as it reached your floor, the deceleration making Jimin stumble forward. Hoseok held onto him, and Jimin once again looked at you.

“Where is your boyfriend?”

The doors slid open as you just looked back at him, feeling completely dumbfounded. What the hell was he talking about?

You remained silent, as Hoseok tried making Jimin walk out of the elevator, but the man stayed stubbornly in place. “Wait, hyung.”

You didn’t wait, walking around Jimin and Hoseok to get out, moving towards your door as your cheeks burned red. You felt way too embarrassed to stay there. 

What boyfriend was Jimin talking about?

Jimin followed you, though he would have probably fallen right to the floor had Hoseok not been there. Yet, the two men were slower, and your pace turned even faster as you headed for your home.

“See, that’s what I said, she doesn’t speak”, Jimin continued, and he let out a bitter chuckle. “Army fucking hates us now.”

“Jimin-ah, let’s just get you to bed”, Hoseok gently said, mouthing an apology to you as you turned back to look at them.              

Why the hell would Jimin think that Army hated BTS?

“I just fucking hate this”, Jimin spat, pushing Hoseok away.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly moved towards your door, mind still not processing what was going on. Not wanting to witness Jimin in that state either. And as you were pressing in the code to unlock the door, the unmistakable sound of someone retching had you glancing back towards Hoseok and Jimin.

Jimin was folded in half, hand on the wall to keep standing as he was throwing up, right on the carpet of the hallway. The sound made you shiver, but luckily enough you weren’t one to get sick when someone else was.

No, you had always been the mom friend in the friend groups you had had back home. Except when you happened to be the one to black out, as it usually came before throwing up for you.

“I am so sorry about this”, Hoseok apologized once again, right as he stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do anymore.

Indeed, his face had gone a shade paler, and you wondered if he was about to be sick too.

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked, unable to keep the venom from seeping into your words.

No, you rather had a lot of accumulated rage against Jimin, and seeing him like that just made you even angrier. And you didn’t know what your question really was about. It almost was rhetorical – you knew he was drunk – but maybe your mind had gone to the behaviour that had been his since you had met him.

“He drank too much.”

Obviously.

You nodded slowly, nose scrunching up in disgust as the stench reached you. Jimin retched a little more, and you looked away, feeling a little dizzy yourself. You only looked back towards them once Jimin had straightened up.

He was looking at you already when your eyes met his, and you watched as a tear rolled down his cheek, one that he dried angrily before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck”, he let out and your lips stretched into a thin line at the unexpected curse.

“Let’s get you home”, Hoseok said, glancing between Jimin and you. He then added, fixating his eyes on you, “I’ll come back to clean.”

“I can take care of it. Just get him in bed and make sure he drinks some water.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me, you know”, Jimin mumbled, and you weren’t quite sure if the words were directed at you or at Hoseok.

It didn’t really matter though, because Hoseok thanked you, grabbing Jimin by the wrist and pulling him to his door. He pressed in the code, thanking you once again before pulling Jimin inside.

“You know”, Jimin said as he resisted following his friend. “I don’t even know her name.”

Hoseok had a stern voice as he replied, “Jimin-ah, just get in.”

You watched as the door shut behind the two young men, and then your eyes slid to the mess Jimin had caused. You shivered in disgust, not really wanting to be the one to clean that. But you had said you would, so you got into your apartment, moving to find the cleaning supplies you’d need to wash it all, and to make sure it didn’t stain the carpet.

What the hell was wrong with Park Jimin?

You walked back out, aiming for the puddle of vomit that was slowly seeping into the carpet. The smell was enough to make you gag, as you put on gloves and started picking up as much as you could to put it in the plastic bag.

It wasn’t so different than cleaning up after a kid had retched, and you did everything in you not to think about the fact that Park Jimin had been the source of that mess. That you had seen him at a low point, and that he, for one, hadn’t seemed to hate you.

No, he had just looked terribly sad.

Your thoughts traveled back to the words he had uttered, skimming over the fact that he had mentioned you having a boyfriend. Stopping on that fact, in all truth. Had a boy come over to her place while you were gone for him to think that? You doubted it – no stranger could have gone past the security downstairs.

What had he meant, then?

You sighed as you finished picking up most of what hadn’t yet seeped in the carpet, before moving to actually cleaning the whole thing, eyes watering a little from the small gags you weren’t able to keep in.

 Also, Jimin had mentioned Army hating them. You assumed he had meant BTS, but why the hell would he think that Army hated BTS now? Maybe it was because you had indulged into alcohol a little too, but it took a moment for your brain to formulate an answer.

The hiatus, or whatever that break could really be called. The video had come out a few weeks ago, a couple of days after you had moved in… Did Jimin really think that Army hated them for that?

You scoffed, because really he was annoying and you couldn’t help yourself. Even as you were starting to understand him, to understand the human being behind the idol, though you didn’t really know him all that much yet. One thing was for sure: understanding him didn’t justify his actions, especially considering you had never done anything to piss him off.

Unless the fact that you were Army was enough to piss him off indeed. Which came as a surprise to you, because Jimin had the reputation to be easy of approach. Clearly, people had been wrong about him, or it really was just you he hated.

It made you stop cleaning the mess, as the thought slowly formed in your head, rendering you far too sad to be cleaning.

The door to Jimin’s apartment opened, and you turned your head towards it, half-expecting Jimin to step out and be the arrogant prick you had gotten to know in the last few weeks. Instead, Hoseok stepped out, and he pressed his lips into a thin line as your eyes met.

“You really didn’t have to clean, I could have taken care of it”, he said, eyes looking over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him gently.

You sat back on your heels, glancing at the wet spot on the carpet. “It’s okay, it’s not all different from cleaning after the kids I teach to.”

Hoseok had a friendly smile playing on his lips when you looked back at him.

Looking the perfect picture of the person he projected in videos and pictures. Being exactly what you had first expected Jimin to be like.

“Well, it’s very nice of you”, he added. His gaze trailed to the plastic bag next to you. “I’ll bring that in the trash downstairs.”

The corner of your lips spread into a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”

He shrugged his shoulders, before once again glancing at Jimin’s door. “I’m sorry about him, by the way.”

You wet your lips, your eyes once again going to the mess. Or rather to what was left of it. “What’s wrong with him?” you reiterated your previous question, finding you didn’t have the courage to look at Hoseok for his reply.

Though he remained silent for a moment, and you wondered if he was debating telling you the truth. And maybe he only chose to be honest because you were currently cleaning his friend’s mess, something you really didn’t have to do after all.

“He’s been having a couple of rough weeks”, Hoseok admitted, then added quickly as if afraid you’d think Jimin was indulging a little too much, “The alcohol doesn’t really have something to do with it though.”

You found you couldn’t stop the bitter chuckle that fell from your lips. It was a small awkward sound, and you wondered if Hoseok could see you blushing.

For god’s sake, were you actually talking to Hobi?

Hoseok seemed taken aback by your chuckle, maybe not expecting it from someone Jimin had said to be Army. He buried his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet a little, as if he too was feeling a little awkward.

“I’m sorry he’s not been doing great”, you eventually chose to say, as the silence had started stretching to the point of discomfort. “I…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to add.

“Oh, he’ll get over it soon”, Hoseok said, the certainty in his voice so clear it made you want to believe it.

Yet a part of you wasn’t able to believe it at all.

“I hope so”, you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Because perhaps normal Park Jimin wouldn’t be such a shit neighbor.

There was another silence, during which you busied yourself by finishing cleaning up, before throwing away everything in the plastic bag and tying it up. You pushed up to your feet, fully conscious that Hoseok was watching you carefully, as if expecting you to say more. And though he was a lot easier to talk to than your neighbor, you had nothing else to say about Jimin.

You exchanged an awkward look, and you scraped your throat, gaze dropping to the floor. “I… really like your new song”, you finally said. “The grunge vibe is really great.”

Hoseok was beaming once you met his gaze again. “See, I told him you didn’t hate us.”

You blushed a little. “Oh?”

“Well.” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “He mentioned you are a fan, and all.”

“He thinks I hate you?” There was genuine surprise in your voice.

“He is convinced Army in general does, yeah.”

There was another silence, one that felt quite a lot heavier.

“He is not taking that whole break thing well, is he?”

Hoseok’s face fell serious, his eyes unreadable. “He’s the one that’s taking it the hardest, let’s say.”

So, you had been right about it. And that small part of you that didn’t already dislike Jimin seemed to swell a little, pushing the negative emotions back.

“I’m sorry”, you said, unsure what you were apologizing for, and the negative emotions swerved back in.

You were sorry for what, exactly? For being Army, and the very cause of Jimin’s guilt? Or for not really feeling sorry for him at all? Because even if you knew that he was not doing great, most of you was still angered at the thought of him. At the perspective that he’d wake you up in the middle of the night again in the next few days, and that he’d look down on you like you were just a mere speck of dust.

Feeling guilty for taking a break didn’t really give him the right to be an asshole. And maybe you were a bad person for being unable to really feel bad for him, but at least you were honest to yourself about it.

Hoseok didn’t really speak to you much after that, as if sensing your discomfort. He instead wished you good night, grabbing the plastic bag from where you had left it. You didn’t move back to your apartment right away, eyes lost in a vague spot on the wall, and Hoseok’s voice had you looking towards where he was standing, waiting for the elevator to come.

“Don’t be too harsh on him”, he said. “And don’t take it personally, if he’s acting weird around you.”

Your pursed your lips. “Easier said than done.”

“I know…” Hoseok looked down at his feet, laughing lightly. “I know”, he repeated. “He’ll come around.”

“What makes you so sure of it?” you asked.

He had a knowing smile on his lips when he gazed back at you, right as the elevator dinged behind him. “Because he asked for your name until he passed out in his bed.”

 ***

               The summer air was heavy with humidity as you walked back to your apartment, grocery bags in hand. The dark clouds up ahead promised of rainfall and storm, though for now the cement of the road was completely dry, and it almost still seemed as if it was fuming with heat, creating a mirage in the distance like one would see in the desert. Cars drove slowly in the street, as if their tires were melting, sticking to the ground and keeping them from moving at their normal pace, and really, the heat felt as if it was pressing down on everyone and everything. The worst part was that it only seemed to be getting worse by the second.

You couldn’t wait for the rain to fall, releasing the atmosphere of the heaviness that clung to it. You just hoped you’d be back home by then.

You hurried, because you didn’t really want to risk being stuck in the rain, but it seemed the universe had other plans for you. The clouds opened up as you could see your condominium in the distance, showering you so thoroughly that by the time you reached the door, you were drenched from your toes to the top of your head.

Maybe you should have gone to the grocery store in the complex. But you had been avoiding it since the end of last week, afraid you’d run into Jimin.

You hadn’t seen him since Friday night. He hadn’t given any signs of life either, his apartment remaining dead silent, to your dismay. Or maybe he had just been so hungover it was taking him a few days to recover. From the state that he had been in, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

Dripping water on the marble floor of the hall, you walked towards the elevator, bowing to the security. The man bowed to you too, but he remained silent. You knew he greeted most of everyone else, but you didn’t really mind.

You were a foreigner after all.

Hoseok’s words had turned in your head, ever since he had said them, right before he had left. You didn’t really know what to make of it. Jimin had been asking for your name… Part of you didn’t want it to mean anything, because really you didn’t want to think that the Park Jimin had an interest in you, even if it was just about knowing your name. Though the other part, the smaller anxious part of you that felt sorry for him… it wanted to know if his curiosity was about more than just knowing your name. You knew it was the remnants of the fan in you speaking, but sometimes, when you didn’t really pay attention, that part of you became louder, threatening to blossom into a flower that’d throw a shadow on the resentment you wanted to keep towards him.

You didn’t even know why you wanted to hold on to that resentment. Perhaps it was just your way of protecting yourself from him, because God knew that Park Jimin was dangerous. Beautiful, yes, but the same kind of beautiful a poisonous plant was made of, luxurious with life but able to end you all the same.

The doors to the elevator slid open, and you were relieved to see that it was fully empty. You walked in, pressing on your floor before standing to the side, eyes falling to the coffee stain on the carpet. Your thoughts provided you with an image you didn’t want to picture – Jimin, bending over to throw up in that spot.

Had he been the source of the stain on the carpet, as he had been close to stain the carpet next to your apartments? You shuddered at the thought and focused on the numbers changing over the elevator door as you went up to the very last level, trying to shake the image out of your mind.

The elevator decelerated, and the doors slid open slowly. You were about to walk out when you noticed the figure standing there.

Of course Jimin had to be there when you were drenched in rain water.

You exchanged a long look, or it just felt like an eternity because you were gazing into the eyes of Park Jimin. His face held no expression whatsoever, as if he was too tired to even muster up the usual scowl he reserved for you. And really, he did look tired, dark circles under his eyes indicating that he probably hadn’t slept much in the last two days.

Or maybe the hangover was just taking its toll on him.

The moment stretched, and you found you had to look away. Your gaze dropped to the floor, and you were about to say something – what you didn’t know – when the doors started closing, and Jimin held up an arm to keep them from doing so.

“You might want to get out before I go in”, he said, and his voice was lazily arrogant, as if he wanted for it to be cocky but exhaustion kept it from reaching its attended goal.

You rolled your eyes, nodding before taking a step forward. He was standing in the middle of the way, and your whole body started burning as you realized you had stepped closer to him. You only then looked up, meeting his empty gaze. He looked as if he was clenching his jaw, and that, more than anything, made you see red.

“You might want to get out of my way”, you said, your voice colder than his had been. Not arrogant, but maybe a little condescending.

Scratch that, it had been fully condescending.

It seemed to catch him off guard, because his eyes slightly widened and he blinked once, slowly.

“So, you finally talk”, he said, and there was the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Not the kind of smirk that might make you feel warm and fluffy inside. It rather only fueled your anger.

“I talked on Friday too, but maybe you were too fucked out to realize?” Your words were coated in honey, the poisonous kind, and you wondered where you had found the courage to speak to him like that.

Especially as his arm was still outstretched, and it almost felt as if you were frozen in place, a statue of that moment before a hug.

“Oh no, I do remember.” He smirked full on, then, and it made his eyes seem cold in some way.

Cold and sad.

“Weren’t you the one to clean up after me?” he asked, tilting his head by a few degrees to the side.

“I didn’t want the hallway to smell like you did”, you said, shrugging your shoulders. “It had nothing to do with you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. “It rather felt as if you were eager to have a role to play in my life.”

Your mouth fell open, but you had nothing to say to that.

“Is that why you moved next door too?” he asked, and he sounded so full of himself you wanted to slap him.

Unfortunately, your courage was running out, and red flushed your cheeks.

“I didn’t know you lived next door until the day I moved in”, you admitted, and your voice didn’t sound half as confident as it did a moment earlier.

That seemed to take him aback. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell you?”

There he was again with the boyfriend thing.

“What boyfriend are you talking about?” you enquired, glancing to your right as he let his arm fall.

He cocked an eyebrow, letting out a bitter chuckle. “The one I met when you visited the apartment a few months ago?”

Of all the things you had expected him to say, admitting that he had met Collin wasn’t one of those. Why had your ex never told you?

“You met Collin?”

It was a rhetorical and useless question, but your lips had formulated it before you had been able to stop it. And Jimin didn’t answer it, as if he too knew that it was rhetorical.

“He decided to stay back home”, you admitted, hating that you were giving Jimin this tiny piece of information about you. Because it made your heart ache a little at the thought that you could have been building a life for yourself back home, if you hadn’t chosen to move to the other side of the globe.

“Is that code word for saying he dumped you?”

Jimin’s voice had taken on an even icier tone, so far away from the friendliness his idol self projected whenever he was on camera. It hurt some deep part of you, that stupid tiny part that still wanted to believe he wasn’t a total prick.

“It was a mutual decision”, you muttered, looking down at the floor.

He stayed silent, right as you started blinking away tears. You would be damned if one of them slipped on your cheek when Jimin was standing right there in front of you.

“Isn’t that what we all say when we get dumped?” he asked, and surprisingly his tone held nothing of the bite it did before. He just sounded tired, in a genuine kind of way that made him seem terribly human.

It made you look up to meet his gaze, yet you remained silent. You had no words to say to that, no clever turn of phrase, because you didn’t want to lie to his face, had always hated lying, and you didn’t want to tell him he was right either. You didn’t think you’d be able to stand the vulnerability the truth held.

He already had enough power over you.

“Anyway”, he said once the silence had stretched for a few more seconds. His lips pressed in a thin line, and your eyes dropped to his mouth. “I’m sorry about Friday.”

The last thing you had expected him to do was apologize, and you just looked at him for a moment, completely baffled. And right when awkwardness filled the air, you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s whatever, I would have done it for anyone.”

A weak attempt at trying to regain the advantage in the conversation, though it seemed to fail miserably.

He stepped aside, to finally let you pass, and you started moving, almost gulping as you felt the heaviness of his gaze on your profile. Once you had walked a few feet down the hallway, you glanced over your shoulder, that foolish part of you that wanted to believe he wasn’t all bad winning over your rationality.

He was still looking at you, and your breath caught in your throat.

“You never told me your name”, Jimin said, voice so low you would have thought he hadn’t spoken hadn’t you seen his lips move.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked.

He looked down, eyes seeming to get lost into a void, a void you could tell was haunting his mind.

“Never mind”, he said.

You felt bad, for a moment, as you watched him get into the elevator.

The foolish part of you won.

“Y/n”, you said, right as the doors started closing.

He met your gaze, eyes a little round, as if startled you had given in to him. Though he didn’t have time to speak before the doors fully shut, completely hiding him from your view.

 ***

              The week passed in a blur, and you didn’t get to see Jimin again, except once in the distance at the grocery store of the condominium. He had locked gaze with you, bowed his head a little and then he had disappeared from view, and you hadn’t really searched for him.

The fact he had acknowledged you existed didn’t have to mean anything at all.

Friday night came, and you found yourself accepting Chaeyoung’s invite to go clubbing, the young woman’s enthusiasm making you feel a little more extroverted than you usually were.

As a matter of fact, you had avoided clubs like the plague back home, but maybe that was just because your mom was famous, and people tended to recognize you too. Here, you had found that even though lots of people were aware of your mom’s existence, few were those that connected the dots between you two. So, you were willing to risk it and go out, because at 24 you had still never stepped foot in a club.

Chaeyoung came over at your place to get ready, and you were unsure why you had suggested it. Realized it probably had been a mistake once you remembered that Chaeyoung had no idea how rich you were.

Indeed, the girl’s eyes had been wide ever since you had gotten home, and she avoided touching something as if scared she’d break it.

“You can sit, you know”, you said, as you were yourself sat in front of one of the vanities in your dressing room.

Chaeyoung let out a nervous chuckle. “Why didn’t you mention you live in Nine One before?” she blurted, and you knew the question had been on the girl’s lips for a while now.

You shrugged. “It didn’t seem like it mattered all that much”, you replied. You met Chaeyoung’s eyes in the mirror. “Sorry.”

Chaeyoung laughed lightly, a pretty sound that resembled a melody of some sort. “No need to apologize, I’m just jealous.” She winked at you in the mirror, and you giggled along with her.

It was crazy that you had become friends after only two weeks of knowing each other. Before you could reply, your phone started ringing, and your gaze fell to it.

You felt as if your blood had turned to ice in your veins as you saw Collin’s name on the lit-up screen. It still had the heart emoji you had put next to it, back when you were together. Strangely enough, you hadn’t found the strength to put it away yet.

“Who’s that?” Chaeyoung enquired with a gentle voice, as if sensing your uneasiness.

There was no point in beating around the bush, so you replied, “My ex.”

Chaeyoung pursed her lips, nostrils flaring as if she was disgusted. “Ew.”

It made you laugh just a little, but you weren’t quite sure the joy of it had reached your eyes.

Why the hell would Collin be calling you? Wasn’t it the middle of the night back where you had come from?

“I… will take this”, you said, hesitant.

Chaeyoung nodded, looking away from you and the ringing device. “As long as you spill the tea after.”

You stifled a laugh, a real one this time, before grabbing your phone. You accepted the call, bringing the device to your ear as you got up to walk away, needing a little privacy for the conversation, whatever it might hold.

Collin’s tired voice on the other side of the line had your heart aching dully in your chest.

“Hey”, he said.

A simple word, but it was an echo of the word that had started your whole relationship. A small hey from the cute boy at the coffee shop, when you had just been seventeen and too young to see the danger in his eyes.

Or maybe you had been the dangerous one, with your dreams of leaving the country and never looking back.

“What’s up?” you asked, feeling slightly strange at having to speak English. You hadn’t spoken English since you had talked to your parents the weekend before.

You were adjusting to the Korean life far more than you had first thought you were.

“I…” Collin trailed off, and there was a silence that had you wonder what he might be thinking about.

That had you wonder what his next words might hold, and that had you beating yourself up for the hope that seeped into your mind.

“I have something to confess”, he finally finished, and this time he didn’t wait before continuing. “I’m dating someone new, and she… she’s giving birth right now.”

You were standing in the middle of the hallway leading to your bedroom, left foot in the middle of the air, but you froze in the middle of your step.

For one, you hadn’t known Collin was dating someone new, and for second… she was giving birth?

It was such a strange situation that your heart forgot to ache, as you put your foot down next to the other.

“What?” you said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“We were together for a long time, so I wanted you to hear it from me.”

His words were filled with an information you couldn’t quite grasp. As if he was telling you something you already knew, but couldn’t grasp the meaning of. It was like listening to someone speaking another language. Knowing that the sounds they were sewing together had a meaning, but the meaning was just a little out of reach.

“You wanted to tell me your new girlfriend is giving birth?” you asked, and your voice was filled with laughter. The maniacal kind, the one that you usually let out when you were deeply hurt.

Yet there was no pain in you, only astonishment.

“Everything indicates that I’m the father, Y/n”, Collin admitted, with the gentlest voice, as if he was comforting a small hurt child.

It was like the world had stopped turning, only to start going backwards. Like crashing into a brick wall going eighty miles per hour, and looking at the aftermath, at the mess left behind that wasn’t quite human anymore.

It was horrifying, really. Because it meant so much, so much so that your brain didn’t want to understand. Maybe to try to preserve you from destruction, because it promised to be too grand, like the final scene of a horror movie, filled with gore and fear and despair.

“We broke up two months ago”, was what your brain could come up with.

Refusing to do the maths just yet, just trying to ease your body into the truth slowly, gently.

“I know”, Collin let out, and he sounded sad. Sad and guilty and everything in between. “It happened last October.”

Your memory was empty of all the souvenirs it had once held, as you tried to reach for what had happened in October.

“You remember when you told me that you were actually going to move to Korea?” Collin asked, and there was a strain to his voice, one you recognized all too well.

He had spoken the same way when his father had died, and you had held his sobbing form until the early hours of the morning, until he had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of his grief.

“It killed me, and I saw Harper and… it just happened”, he continued.

You let out a bitter chuckle, now, as the first emotion to rise from the hole in your chest surprisingly was anger. The kind of anger only a wounded soul could come up with.

“Just happened?” you repeated. “What, you walked in and your dick fell into her pussy?”

Harper had always been a source of conflict, in your whole relationship. She had been his childhood best friend, but she had been soon-to-be married for almost two years now, the wedding date having been pushed back twice because of the pandemic.

Clearly, your relationship hadn’t been the only one to die on the shore of your dreams to move to Korea, if Harper was now dating Collin.

Collin stayed silent and really, maybe you didn’t have anything to tell each other anymore. But the anger inside of you wasn’t quite done yet.

“That’s why you chose to stay, didn’t you?” you asked. “Because you put a baby in her belly, and she offered you what you’ve always wanted.”

Collin sniffled on the other side of the line. “I wanted that with you, you know. Until you decided to leave. What was I supposed to do, come with you?”

You full-on laughed this time, but there was no happiness behind the sound at all. Just a whole abyss you were afraid you’d fall into if you gazed at it for too long. “Yes, like we had planned. We even got an apartment together, remember?”

Collin echoed your own laugh with a chuckle, something between choking and scoffing. “That apartment was never mine, you signed the papers and didn’t even ask me to sign too.”

He was right. And for all you had known back then, not wanting to have him on the papers had been a good decision. You had been right, as if your past self had known about the chaos that was to come.

“Listen, thank you for telling me, Collin, but I have a friend that’s waiting for me and I really don’t have anything to say to you”, you said, voice coated in ice.

You hoped you could shape the ice into a dagger, and stab it into his heart.

“Y/n, I just wanted you to learn from me, I assumed…”

You hung up. Hung up on him and on the whole relationship you had shared, as if it had never mattered. And maybe that was it. Maybe he never should have mattered at all, because you were bound to part ways anyway.

He was bound to be a lesson in your life, as you had been bound to emigrate to Korea. Call it faith or whatever.

***

             Learning that your ex-boyfriend of six years and a half cheated on you proved to be quite a motivation to get plastered, even if Chaeyoung seemed concerned at first. A few shots of tequila in, the girl loosened up, and she stopped seeing the darkness in your eyes. Or so you hoped, because you didn’t want to have to face it just yet.

You wanted to surf the crescent of the wave until the last moment possible, when it pummeled into you and swallowed you whole. You weren’t quite sure you’d ever really get out of it if you allowed yourself to feel the emotions that you could glimpse at, down that black hole where your heart used to be.

So, it was in that state of mind that you partied, drinking until your mind went numb, and then some more until your body went numb too and all you could feel was the sway of the booming music in the club.

There were no thoughts in your head, just the music and the alcohol, and for now, it was all you needed. You knew you’d come to face the emotions one day, but not today.

Today you’d party and celebrate until the night ended. And you did just that, even when Chaeyoung started showing signs of exhaustion, and started mentioning going home. Even when Chaeyoung called a taxi, and you tried to down a few more shots before the car would come.

You only stopped when your friend forced you into the taxi, gave the address to the driver and told you to call her if you needed her. As much as you would have wanted for her to stay with you, Chaeyoung had her mother to take care of back home, from what she had already told you. So, you drunkenly waved at your friend from the taxi’s window, and when she disappeared out of sight, you let the darkness engulfed you.

The taxi driver did the polite thing and let you cry in peace, though the tears mostly rolled down your cheeks silently. The pain in your chest was far too grand for the kind that’d shake your body with sobs. As if all your muscles were too exhausted, and only the tears seemed to be able to well up in your eyes.

It was surprising, how little you cried. And you stopped crying, even before you got to the condominium. No, your eyes were dry as the desert as you reached home, and you didn’t even know how you managed to pay the driver before getting out and stumbling to the doors.

You didn’t know either how you managed to get to the elevator that led to your floor, the one where you had met Park Jimin. And you cursed loudly, in English, once you saw that the elevator was out.

This night couldn’t get any worse.

You dragged your feet towards the staircase, head turning so much you were afraid you’d be sick. It made you think of Jimin, who had been just like you a week ago. That made you giggle, in that silly kind of way only alcohol could muster out of someone, and you stumbled a little as you reached the door to the staircase. You pushed it open, quite a lot more forcefully than you needed to, and this time you flew, feet not touching the ground until you fell, hands coming in front of your face at the last moment.

You laughed again then, because you were way too inebriated to feel anything. You scrambled up to your feet, swaying a little more than you had before, head spinning faster and faster for each second that passed.

You started the trek up to your floor, not really feeling how your heart beat loudly from the exhaustion. No, the alcohol was numbing that too and really, you’d give anything to stay in that state of bliss that accompanied the intoxication.

You surprisingly reached the ninth floor without another incident, and you pushed open the door that led to your hallway, before stumbling towards the door of your home, hands searching your purse for your keys.

There was no chance in hell your drunk mind would remember the passcode you had to dial to get in.

With a successful little “there you go!”, you fished out your keys, right as you reached your door. You fumbled with the keys for a moment, as you tried to get them into the keyhole. It took you quite a few attempts, and it led to you giggling a little again.

It seemed the ride home had made you a lot drunker than you had been back at the club.

You finally managed to steady your hand enough to get the key in, resting your head against the door. The key seemed to get stuck, and you let out a curse under your breath, as you tried turning it in the lock.

The lock didn’t budge. However, the door did, and you stumbled forward. Your fall was cut short by hands on your shoulders, that held you up just for a moment until you found footing again.

It took you a moment to look up, mind miles away from the man standing in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked.

You furrowed your brows. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow. “Your apartment was on the other side of the hallway, last I checked.” He glanced over your head. “Still is.”

You shut your eyes, as everything seemed to be moving. Even Jimin’s eyes didn’t seem to be stable in his face.

“The elevator was out”, you said as an explanation. You cracked an eye open, only to see the scowl on Jimin’s face.

The one you had started to hate more and more every day, until you loathed it. So much so that just the sight of it had anger flaring up in your chest. You had no inhibition left to refrain from telling him to go fuck himself after all.

“Do you know”, you started, a hiccup interrupting your words. “Do you know how disappointing it is to meet your favourite idol and have them be a dick to you?”

Jimin remained silent, but the expression died on his face, right as he glanced down at your keys, that had somehow stayed in your hands during the whole ordeal.

You had gotten rid of the Chimmy keychain the day before you had started working at the elementary school, and it clearly didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I had always dreamed of meeting you someday. Of meeting BTS”, you continued, shutting your eyes again, willing the world to stop turning so fast around your head. “Hobi was fine but you, Park Jimin, are a fucking asshole.”

He still didn’t say anything, right as you started feeling your insides churning.

Of course you were going to be sick right after having told him your truth.

And maybe you blacked out for a moment because next thing you remembered was being huddled over a toilet, retching everything you had drunk that night – well, what you hadn’t absorbed yet. It set your throat on fire, and cold beads of sweat rolled down your temples, along with tears, those tears that always came with throwing up.

And then there was another blank space between this moment and the next, and your mind focused back in as someone was gently wiping your face with a cool cloth. You startled back, arms rising up in front of you, in a poor attempt of defense.

“What’s going on?” you asked, and tears stung at your eyes again.

“I’m just taking your make-up off”, Jimin said, hands raised to show he was not a threat. “You can finish doing it if you want.”

You started crying then, for real. It was the last thing you remembered that night, and everything went black.

***

                 You had never thought your head could possibly hurt that much. Yet it pounded with a terrible headache as you slowly woke up, body feeling all too warm for your own good. And then the dehydration hit, and you cracked an eye open, trying to find something you could drink.

There was a glass of water next to your head, on a night table, and you grabbed it, downing it as if you had been parched for years. You then rested your head back on the pillow, sighing at the soft silk of it, and you dozed off.

You couldn’t tell how much longer you had slept. Once you woke up again, the headache had lessened a bit, but it was still throbbing at your temples. You knew you’d need a full day to recover from the amount of alcohol you had ingested last night. Maybe even the whole weekend.

That thought led you to another, far more painful one. Collin and his girlfriend. And his baby, and the fact that he had cheated on you, and hid it from you for months.

You sighed, heavily and maybe a little shakily too, as your heart hurt in your chest. Somehow, the tears didn’t come though, and you managed to open your eyes.

It took a moment for your gaze to adjust to the scene surrounding you. A little eternity, even. Or maybe it just wasn’t adjusting because of the unfamiliar scene.

You blinked a few times, willing your bedroom to appear to your vision, but the dark sheets stayed the same, along with the mounted TV on the wall in front of you. You only then pushed yourself up, sitting in the bed as you scanned your surroundings.

You definitely weren’t in your bedroom. Neither were you in your apartment. There were discarded items of clothing on the floor – a black pair of jeans at the foot of the mattress, two t-shirts by the window, under the dark curtains, and enough lonely socks to form a whole army of them. It was the picture on top of the dresser whose middle drawer was pulled open that caught your gaze the most though.

All the BTS members smiled at you from their spot on the dresser, looking like a little family. It was a polaroid picture, and really it was far enough for you to wonder how you’d managed to be able to tell that those were the BTS members. Then again, you had been a fan of them for years now, and could recognize them from their shadows, so maybe being able to recognize their familiar traits in the distance wasn’t too far fetched.

Your mind went blank, as you tried to remember the events of last night. All you could remember was waving goodbye to Chaeyoung, before the taxi had driven you home.

Well, clearly it hadn’t quite driven you home, because this was not your room at all.

You looked down at yourself, and at the black sheet that was pooling around your waist. You were wearing an oversized purple sweater, one you had only seen behind the screen of your phone before.

How the fuck had you managed to get to Jimin’s bedroom? And more importantly, why were you dressed in his clothes?

You pulled the sheets off from you, sighing in relief as you noticed you were wearing joggers. Then the sudden realization that he had probably been the one to change you into those clothes had your heart stopping in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Knowing how you were when you usually blacked out with alcohol, there wasn’t a high chance you had been the one to change your clothes.

You looked around, only then noticing the folded clothes next to the BTS picture on the dresser. You recognized the colors from the outfit you had been wearing the night before, and you got up from the bed, stepping around the mattress to get to your clothes.

You couldn’t help but take a good look at the picture, heart filling with endearment at how adorable it was. At how happy they all looked, frozen into eternity in that little square of memory. From the looks of it, the picture had been taken on a camping trip, and it made you smile a little to think that they had gone on camping trips together, without ever sharing those to the public.

You wondered how much they had done without sharing it to the public too. It was like realizing that all of them were complete human beings, and that they weren’t confined to the screen of your phone. It had been a thing to know it before, but you were now fully realizing it. They all had their own lives, with ups and downs like every other person on the surface of the planet.

It made their hiatus – it wasn’t really a break though, wasn’t it? – all the more understandable.

With one last look at the picture, you grabbed your clothes. The door of the bedroom was shut, and you contemplated getting changed right there because there was no way you’d bring Jimin’s clothes into your own home. You weren’t quite sure you wanted your life to be mixed with his in such a personal way.

Excluding the fact that you had slept in his bed, that is.

You changed out of his clothes and into your own, wincing a little at the smell of spilled alcohol on your top. It made your stomach churn, but it was completely empty, and it saved you the embarrassment of throwing up in the middle of his bedroom.

Though you had a sudden flashback of throwing up the night before. You doubted you had been at home, if you had ended up in his room after all.

Your purse laid on the dresser too, and you grabbed it, looking through its contents to make sure everything was in there. Your cards and keys were there, and so was your phone, though it was dead and had probably been for a while now.

Once you had made sure you had collected all your belongings, you walked towards the door, taking a deep sigh before reaching for the knob. You turned it gently, trying not to make any noise. Before getting out, you threw one last look at the purple sweater you had been wearing, longing for the feeling of its soft fabric on your skin. You pushed the thought away, and then tiptoed soundlessly out of the room, or as silently as your hungover self could manage.

It proved to be useless, because Jimin’s apartment was shaped like yours, and the hallway outside of his bedroom led you to the living room, where he was currently sprawled on the couch, playing some videogame.

He paused it as soon as you came into view, eyes sweeping over your figure once before meeting yours.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, and he sounded genuine.

You had no idea what you looked like, but from how you felt you knew you probably looked like hell.

“Good”, you replied, feeling awkward standing there. “Did you…” you trailed off, glancing at the couch, and at the blanket and pillow that were resting on one side of it. “You slept on the couch?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yes.”

There was a long silence as you scanned his apartment, surprised to see just how alike it was to yours. Though Jimin’s furniture was mostly darker than yours, except for the couch, which was in a lighter shade of gray. It felt like you had stepped into an alternate universe to the one you usually lived in.

“What happened last night?” you then asked, because visibly he was the only one who could answer that question, as your memories were still failing you.

He pursed his lips in an apologetic expression that had a hint of a smile in there. “You were pretty wasted.”

You nodded, pulling at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I mean… apart from that?”

He smiled a little then, and you watched it as if it was alien on his features. “You tried unlocking my door and when I opened you called me an asshole. And then you got sick”, he said that motioning in the general direction of the front door, “so I pulled you to the bathroom.”

As he spoke, you had tiny little flashes from last night – just images your eyes remembered they had seen, but it was a silent track, and you winced as he recalled the events of last night.

And really there had been more than you had thought. Apparently, you had thrown up for a while, then asked for food, then thrown up some more. Once you had started passing out on the couch, he had taken your make-up off, which had woken you up. You had then started crying, and told him everything about Collin, and you had fallen asleep on the couch, before he had carried you to his room. He admitted he had been the one to change you – promising he hadn’t looked though, right as his cheeks turned pink – and it made you want to disappear through the floor.

Park Jimin had seen you almost entirely naked. Most of all, Park Jimin had taken care of you when you had been so drunk you barely could pass as a human being. You didn’t know what to make of that.

“I am so sorry for all that”, you apologized when he was done, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

He laughed again then, and his lips broke into a grin. That smile sent your mind into a frenzy your hangover self couldn’t deal with.

“It’s okay”, he reassured you. “You clearly needed someone, I’m glad I could be there for you.”

His smile died down as he said the last words, and your gaze dropped to the ground, eyes following the lines in the hardwood floor.

“I’m sorry for calling you an asshole”, you added.

You saw him shrug from the corner of your eyes. “I honestly think it was well-deserved.”

That made you chuckle a little, and you looked up, though you didn’t find any reply to that. You exchanged an awkward look, until Jimin motioned towards the kitchen.

“I got hangover soup for you, if you want to eat that before heading home.”

There was an invitation behind those words. Maybe even a truce, to the hostility that you had shared ever since you’d met. And really, the Jimin in front of you right now was nothing like the one you had come to know in the last month. He rather was the idol you had admired all those years, and you didn’t know what had caused the switch. Though you weren’t stupid, and you were pretty sure your vulnerability had made him feel guilty, and maybe that was his way of apologizing. He had even admitted to being in the wrong, hadn’t he?

Perhaps that was the reason why you found yourself saying yes.

 ***

            Eating proved to help ease the throbbing in your head, as did the ibuprofen Jimin had gotten for you. He had also made you drink plenty of water, as you had conversed about the weather and your work, both avoiding the subject of last night.

You were still very much so embarrassed, and you’d rather pretend it had never happened.

Jimin made it easier, as he was being quite friendlier than you had ever seen him – in person, that is – and it healed some part of the fan in you that had been hurt repeatedly by his actions, whether you had wanted to admit it to yourself or not.

Talking to him also helped ease the pain you had felt the night before, the thought of Collin somehow infrequent when Jimin was looking at you, listening to what you had to say.

There was a shadow, in Jimin’s eyes. That no amount of smiling and laughing could chase away. Every time you’d see the cloud pass in his gaze, you’d be reminded of just how human he was. How real he was. As if you’d always seen him as some sort of god, and were just now realizing that he was just like you.

A little more famous, yes, but just like anyone else.

It was a thought that hit you in the chest, whenever you thought about it. And you had thought about it quite a couple of times since you had met Jimin that first time, but mostly in the last week or two. Ever since you had seen him so drunk he had looked like he was going to die.

Maybe he had been feeling that way too. And now, he had seen you at your lowest too, and your heart warmed a little in your chest each time you remembered that he had taken care of you. He could have easily brought you back home – it wasn’t like the walk was a long one – but he had instead taken care of you. Listened to what drunk you had had to say, and comforted you, apparently. Not that you really could recall the events of last night, but you sometimes did have flashes of his eyes holding yours, with a soft expression that made you wonder about who that Jimin was.

Because he wasn’t the same as the one you’d gotten to know ever since moving to Korea, and neither was he the one that was sitting in front of you right now, talking about things that didn’t really matter, trivial conversation aimed to fill a silence that threatened to fall into awkwardness the moment you stopped talking.

After all, it wasn’t like you were friends. Neighbors, yes, who had both seen the other at their lowest, but just neighbors, nonetheless. He made it easy, though. He made talking easy, in a way you couldn’t quite understand yet. And you weren’t quite sure you’d grasp the meaning of it someday, but you were glad for it.

God knew how awkward you could get when you were in an uncomfortable situation.

“Thank you, for last night”, you said as he walked you to his door once you were done eating.

“No problem”, he replied, flashing a grin at you.

It didn’t quite exactly reach his eyes, but you liked to tell yourself it did.

“I’ll try not doing something like that again”, you added, cheeks flushing red as your eyes dropped to the floor.

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “Really, I didn’t mind. It was great to hang out with you, even if you were drunk.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened. Park Jimin, saying it had been great to hang out with you? Surely you were just stuck in a dream. One hell of a good dream, but a dream nonetheless.

“Well, I’m probably more fun when I’m sober and…” you trailed off, as your thoughts produced their first image of Collin ever since you had started eating that hangover soup – who knew hangover soup was so good?

Jimin had a gentle smile on his lips once you met his gaze again. “We all have our lows. After you cleaning up after me last week, it was the least I could do.”

The corners of your lips itched to stretch into a smile, and your heart started racing in your chest as he glanced at your lips. “Well”, you let out, gulping.

His smile turned into a knowing smirk as his eyes fell to the ground. Who had thought you’d get a tiny taste of the flirty Park Jimin on that hangover Saturday morning? Because clearly that smirk meant nothing good.

“I’ll let you head home”, he said after a moment, eyes moving back up to your face.

You almost startled as you noticed the shadows had cleared up, and his eyes were lit up with a spark of mischief.

You nodded, glancing at the door. You didn’t move, and Jimin cocked an eyebrow, hands burrowing in the pockets of his dark sweater.

“I…” you started, then your heart stuttered in your chest so bad you thought you were going to have an anxiety attack.

You took a deep breath, right as he scanned your features curiously. And then you decided to hell with your anxiety, and you formulated the question that was on your mind.

Jimin just looked at you, unblinkingly, right as the clouds moved back in his eyes.

“I don’t think we should”, he replied, before adding quickly, “Not that you’re not fun to be around. I just… I don’t think you want to be around me right now.”

There it was. A little piece of the truth that made Jimin who he was. You took it gently, tucking it in a safe corner of your mind.

“The least I can do to repay you for last night is cook some meal for you”, you said, shrugging.

Your heart was still beating out of your chest, but now that the invitation was out there, you felt as if you were relieved of the weight that was pressing down on you, weight brought on by your embarrassment about last night.

He held your gaze for a moment, before nodding curtly. “Okay.” He wet his lips, sighing once. “I’ll think about it. If you want, we can exchange phone numbers, and I’ll let you know?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath to ease the wild beats of your heart. “My phone is dead, but…”

He had his phone in his hands before you had even said your second word. “No worries, put your number in mine.”

He unlocked it, handing the cellphone to you. Your fingers brushed as you grabbed it, and for a moment you were stuck in a cheesy movie, and you could almost hear the music starting to play in the background.

For God’s sake, just the slight touch of his fingers against yours had made fireworks blow up in your mind. You really needed to get yourself in check, if you wanted to try to be friends with him.

You put in your number, before handing his phone back to him. This time, your fingers didn’t touch, and it almost disappointed you.

That scared you to no ends. Who were you to think you were worth Park Jimin’s friendship anyway?

 ***

                 If there was one thing you hadn’t expected from giving your phone number to the Park Jimin, it was how much of a texter he was. Indeed, there hadn’t been a single day he hadn’t texted you since Saturday, sending you memes he found funny or asking you about your day.

It made your heart do somersaults in your chest each time, even as you tried to calm it down. To remind it that you were just yourself, and that he was so much more than you. That you weren’t part of the same universe, other than that of being neighbors.

Maybe you were just being pessimistic, but you had to protect your heart somehow, right?

You highly doubted it really worked though. Because when you rode the elevator together with him on Wednesday evening, Jimin blabbered on and on about something you found you couldn’t really listen to, yet your heart seemed to be in synch with every word he said.

Not only was he a texter, but he was a talker too. You didn’t mind it one bit. No, it was so much more than that cold silence he had offered you for a month.

You wondered what he had been doing, in the last few days. Because the air around him didn’t seem quite as heavy as it had been before, and though there were still shadows in his eyes, you could see the sun peeking through the clouds. Sometimes they even scattered away, as if strong winds had pulled their heaviness away from him.

It was truly beautiful to see.

“What about you?” Jimin suddenly asked.

You zoned back in, glancing at him and blinking once as the doors slid open. “Uh?” you let out.

He laughed, heartily, head throwing back like you had seen him do so many times behind the screen of your phone. The real thing didn’t compare to it – no, it was so much more, like you had just been blessed by a rare phenomenon, one you knew you’d come to cherish.

“You weren’t listening to a word I said, weren’t you?”

The duality of Park Jimin confused you deeply. How could he have gone from ice itself to that warm smiley boy?

“Sorry, I’ve had a long day”, you lied.

No, it wasn’t the long day that was playing with your mind. It rather was him that clouded your thoughts, him and the fragrance of his cologne.

You hadn’t thought someone could smell so good before you’d stood in that elevator with him on a random Wednesday evening.

He pursed his lips in a sympathetic smile as you walked out of the elevator, aiming for your respective doors. “Well, I told you I wasn’t doing much tonight, and asked about you.”

Was that an invitation, hidden behind his words?

“Oh”, you let out. “I have leftover pasta from last night, so I’m probably just going to eat that and then chill.”

He nodded, that same soft smile still adorning his lips. “Sounds yummy.”

You really didn’t know where you found the courage to say that, but you said, “I have enough for two, if you want.”

He squinted his eyes a little, as if suspicious, before nodding once. “I need to take a shower, but I can come over in fifteen minutes.”

The sentence was said like a question, and you chuckled. For what you didn’t know.

“Sure, I’ll take a shower too.”

He nodded his head, grinning a little before dialing the code to his apartment. “Then see you soon.”

It’s strange, how friendship sometimes blossoms from the least expected place. Like a flower growing out of a crack in cement, or like the first weed piercing the blanket of snow after a long winter. Your friendship with Jimin felt just like that – him having been the cement you had somehow cracked open, that night you had broken down in front of him.

Just as you had had to finally let Collin go, Jimin had walked into your life, filling a hole that had threatened to swallow you whole for a time. You had never realized just how much you had wanted to find a way to make it work with Collin, until you had learned about Harper and him and their baby. In some deep dark corner of you, you had thought Collin would follow you, someday. The realization that he wouldn’t, on that Friday night, had been like a wake-up call you had desperately needed. That, and the unexpected friendship you and Jimin shared.

After that night he came over to eat pasta, you started to hang out frequently. He even invited you to the party for the release of Hoseok’s new album, though you had had to refuse. You didn’t really do parties like that. And maybe if you and Jimin had been friends for longer than 24h, you would have said yes, but you hadn’t been.

Yet, even though you hadn’t gone, he had come over to your place after. You were lucky you only taught two afternoon classes on Friday, because otherwise you would have been completely dead the next day. But everything had gone alright, and Jimin had apologized profusely for coming over so late, and he had offered getting ice cream together as an apology.

You had done that quite a lot, at the beginning. Finding reasons to hang out again, that is. Until you had stopped asking the other, just knocking on the other’s door whenever you felt like hanging out.

Slowly but surely, Jimin weaved its way into the tapestry that was your life, so thoroughly that you couldn’t imagine it without him now. Though you both never crossed that line between friendship and more, and really you were thankful for it.

You definitely weren’t ready to get involved in a relationship anyway.

And you had been right, about him becoming a better neighbor. Indeed, as the shadows in his eyes became infrequent whenever you were around, Jimin stopped acting like he had at first, the loud music becoming a rare occurrence with you usually being present. He also kept his apartment clean and organized, saying he didn’t want you to see the filth he had lived in for a couple of months. It was endearing, in some way, though you usually helped him with the cleaning, because he always helped you with yours. And he had stopped leaving his trash outside his door, preventing the hallway from taking a sour odor you really didn’t wish to smell ever again.

One late September evening, you found yourself cuddled on Jimin’s couch, holding a pillow tight to your chest as you were watching a lame horror movie. Hoseok was sprawled on the carpet, and Jimin had mentioned another one of his friends – Sungwoon – coming over later, though you hadn’t met him yet. It was strange, as he was one of Jimin’s closest friends, but then again you rarely hung out with other people.

That was a lie. You hung out with Chaeyoung and her girlfriend plenty, but that was only because Chaeyoung found way too many excuses for you to hang out together. She had mentioned the terms “double date” more than once, and each time you had glared at your friend until she had apologized. Though clearly Chaeyoung was set on one thing and one thing only – make sure you forgot everything about Collin, and it seemed she believed getting together with Jimin would be the key to that.

Perhaps it was weird, but you had promised yourself you weren’t going to indulge into the drug that Park Jimin was. And so far you hadn’t been tempted – Jimin was just an overall really friendly person, underneath that cold persona he had sported at the beginning, and he had helped you when you were at a low point. 

One thing was for sure: you were aware of him, all the time. Because Jimin shone in every room he stepped in, and it was hard to look away from him. To ignore the heady scent of his fragrance, even as it made your body react in a way you always pushed away to the far back of your mind.

You blamed it on the fact that you were a woman and he, a man. It was bound to make you feel something once in a while. Not forgetting the fact that he was goddamn Park Jimin.

You scoffed and Jimin threw you a questioning glance. You slightly shook your head, to indicate that you were alright, before focusing back on the TV. Jimin didn’t say anything either, and you watched the movie for a while, without glancing at each other again. A rectangle of light near the floor also had you realizing that Hoseok wasn’t paying attention to the movie at all, instead scrolling on Instagram.

The music swelled, catching your attention, and the end of the movie flashed before your eyes, all the main characters dying one by one at the hand of a crazy ventriloquist doll, whose tongue got longer and longer with each person it killed. It was terrifyingly captivating, and you found you couldn’t look away, even if the movie was over all not the scary movie you had expected it’d be.

Once the credits started rolling on the screen, and the pumping of the blood in your veins finally slowed back down, you all moved towards the kitchen, in the hope that you’d find a wine bottle in the fridge. Which you did, and you were halfway through your first glass when Sungwoon arrived, and luckily enough the young man had brought refills for the coffers – beer and makgeolli.

And so you drank, alcohol flowing freely between you all. You found yourself attracted by Sungwoon’s gravity, and you stood close to him, while Jimin and Hoseok talked about their current projects at the kitchen table. In any other situation, you would have been uncomfortable – you barely even were comfortable with Hoseok, even though he was Jimin’s friend you had spent the most time with – but Sungwoon had a calm aura surrounding him, and you quite enjoyed it. Or maybe it was because Jimin was in the vicinity of you, and you always felt comfortable around him.

“So, your mom is a famous actress, right?” Sungwoon asked as he was leaning against the island in Jimin’s kitchen. One of his arms was folded on his chest, while the other held up the beer he was currently drinking, though you could see the bottle was almost empty.

You nodded, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, you probably wouldn’t have found anything to reply, but you found yourself saying, “It’s not as impressive as it seems”.

Sungwoon chuckled, and you gazed at his smile. At the plump lips that he wet with a dart of his tongue, and that glistened in the light as he spoke again. “Right. And yet you found yourself escaping to the other side of the world.”

It was said on a teasing tone, and though your thoughts threatened to diverge towards Collin, you stopped their course before they reached destination. “I’ve always wanted to get out of my comfort zone.”

“I hope it worked.” His words were accompanied by the upward curve of his lips, and your eyes dipped to them again. His mouth reminded you of another’s mouth, and you found your gaze trailing toward where Jimin and Hoseok were sitting, at the kitchen table.

Jimin caught your eyes, his expression softening into one you hadn’t really seen on his features before. Blood rushed to your cheeks, for a reason you didn’t quite know, and you resumed your attention on Sungwoon.

“Trust me, it did.” And even though Jimin wasn’t in your line of sight anymore, he had invaded your thoughts as you had spoken the truth.

Sungwoon maintained the conversation for a while longer, as you were all too aware of Jimin’s presence in the room. You liked to tell yourself that it was reciprocated, because each time you glanced at him, he was already looking. Until he and Hoseok got up from their spot at the table, making their way to Sungwoon and you.

“Do you two want to go to Taehyung’s party?” Jimin asked as he stopped next to you.

Right, he had talked to you about that party a while ago, and you had said you’d rather stay home, which Jimin had agreed to. But that was before Hoseok had decided to come hang out with you before heading to the party. It seemed the frenzy that inhabited the young man had slowly infected Jimin, because he had an expectant look in his eyes, his lips forming a small begging pout.

You chuckled, blushing, as you avoided his pleading features. “I already told you I don’t really do parties like that.”

Sungwoon let out a small teasing tsk. “Didn’t you say you like getting out of your comfort zone?”

You were about to reply that hanging out with celebrities all the time was already enough getting out of your comfort zone when Jimin gently nudged you with his elbow.

“She’ll say yes, she can’t resist me.”

His words had sounded… somewhat possessive. As if he knew you better than anyone in the world, even though your friendship was fairly new. It struck you, just how little time mattered when you developed a true relationship with someone, no matter how platonic it was.

The worst part of it all was that he was right, in some sort of way. You found it hard to say no to him, but then again you were pretty sure most of the human population would find it hard to say no to Park Jimin.

“Well, I’m getting tired”, you lied, because in truth the alcohol had woken you up more than you had thought it possible, even if you hadn’t touched the makgeolli yet.

Jimin had a devilish smirk on his lips once you finally looked back at him again. “In that case let’s just go for an hour or two and then come home.”

Hoseok and Sungwoon’s gazes moved from Jimin to you, awaiting your reply.

“You say that, and then it’ll be seven am and you’ll be begging me to stay longer.”

He snorted. “I’d never beg you for anything, you know that.”

Immediately, his features once again softened into that small pout of his, and you punched him in the shoulder. 

“Asshole.”

He massaged the spot you had hit, shrugging a little. “I’ll make you some kimchi if we go.”

It was even harder to say no when the perspective of him making you kimchi was on the table. 

“The one you made in Run BTS?”

He nodded.

“I hate you.”

“Is that code word for yes?”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile was tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe. Figure it out.”

His expression turned puzzled, and you stole a quick look towards Sungwoon and Hoseok, who both had that same puzzled expression on their features, though it was mixed with awe. What for, you didn’t know.

“I will call a cab, then,” Jimin said, the end of his sentence going a little higher, as if it was a question more than a statement.

You nodded once, and relief flooded his gaze as he pulled out his phone. Next thing you knew, you were sitting between Jimin and Sungwoon on the backseat of the cab as you were making your way to Taehyung’s party, regretting your decision just a little. Not enough to want to head home, though.

One thing you hadn’t expected about Kim Taehyung was how weirdly extroverted he was. Not quite extroverted, but ready to throw a party in the comfort of his own place at any moment whatsoever. His parties were coveted by the celebrity scene of Seoul, though not many people were usually invited. No, Taehyung still had an intimate aura surrounding him, like he was a mystery no one could really quite decipher, and so intimate parties were more his thing.

Those parties came like a cycle, once every month if they weren’t too busy, and were usually attended by the members of BTS and a couple of other artists from Hybe. He had even started inviting the members of Blackpink and his Wooga squad, though that had been before you had started attending the parties.

In all truth, you had only gone to one, and you were still uncertain if it had been real or a product of your imagination. A lucid dream, if you will.

Tonight proved to be different, though you were taken aback by the crowd in Taehyung’s living room, illuminated by only a string of red LED lights. Jazz music was playing over the speakers in one corner, and people were mingling around, no inhibition left behind.

It was a good thing no cameras were allowed in, otherwise you were pretty sure the whole Korean entertainment industry would have gone through so much drama it would have crumbled to the ground.

A champagne fountain was in the corner of the room, glasses precariously piled one on top of the others. People stayed away from it, a man in a black tux giving the drink to the partiers, in a clear attempt to avoid an accident.

You slid your gaze to Jimin once you’d taken the room in, your eyes a little wide. Sungwoon and Hoseok had already disappeared into the crowd.

“You didn’t tell me there would be so many people”, you said through gritted teeth, right as you felt your anxiety spike through the roof.

Jimin had a sheepish look on his face, and he didn’t hold your gaze, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I honestly had no idea.” He pursed his lips, before nibbling on the bottom one. “We can head home if you want.”

Perhaps it was because you had already drunk enough for your mind to be clouded with alcohol, or maybe it was the apologetic expression on Jimin’s features, but you said, “Let’s stay for an hour and then leave”.

The sheepish expression melted into a smile. “Do you want me to get you champagne?”

Before you could reply, Hoseok came back, two glasses in hands. He handed them to you, and you thanked him, bowing your head, though you weren’t quite sure you felt like drinking more than you already had. You had never been that much of a heavy drinker after all.

“Tae says he’ll play the trumpet soon”, he informed you, right as he glanced over his shoulder.

Jimin took a sip of his glass, then seemed to reconsider his decision as he threw it back and downed it in one long gulp. You handed yours to him as he looked at you. He shook his head no, motioning for you to drink up. You scrunched up your nose, because quite frankly you had never liked champagne, but you downed the glass nonetheless.

Here’s to not getting plastered.

You scrunched up your nose in disgust as your throat burned with the bubbles of the golden liquid, and Jimin let out a childish laugh that had your heart melting in your chest. You glared at him, and he winked.

“Now let’s go party.”

You were about to say no when the music turned to an upbeat tempo, and he grabbed your hand to pull you into the crowd. You held onto the champagne flute for dear life as he led you to the middle of the living room, and when he turned around and started dancing, you just stood there awkwardly.

That made Jimin giggle harder, and he hid his face behind his hand as he laughed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You glared at him, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You know I don’t really dance in public.”

He grabbed the glass from your hand, and your eyes widened in surprise as he disappeared. You tried watching him through the crowd, but you were too small to see over the heads of the people surrounding you.

“Where’s Jimin?” a male voice said in your ear, startling you from its proximity.

It was Sungwoon.

“I don’t know”, you admitted. “I think he went to bring our glasses back to the pyramid.”

Sungwoon glanced in that direction, nodding once. “He’s heading back this way.”

You tried to catch a glimpse of your friend, but it proved to be useless.

“Do you like to dance?” Sungwoon asked, leaning closer again to speak in your ear, and your cheeks flushed red as his warm breath hit your ear and the smell of his cologne met your nose.

Clearly Jimin wasn’t the only man in the world that smelled too damn good for your sanity.

“Not really”, you admitted, and you wringed your hands together. “Not at all, actually.”

Before Sungwoon could say anything, Jimin reappeared. “What are you two doing?” he asked, and there was a slight strain to his voice.

Sungwoon straightened, stepping away from you. “Just talking.”

Jimin nodded, tight-lipped smile adorning his lips. You chuckled at the look on his face, and he stared you up and down, a sassy fist resting on his hip.

“What’s got you laughing?” he asked.

You tilted your head to the side. You. This whole situation, the champagne and the music. “Nothing.”

Jimin clearly didn’t believe you, as he stepped closer. “Well then, why don’t you dance for me?”

It was the way he said those last two words, so innocently and yet they were coated with velvet. It made you gasp a little, mouth falling open as you tried to find a smart-ass comment to reply, but came up short.

You didn’t have to glance to the side to realize Sungwoon was gone.

“I don’t dance”, you replied, blushing.

He smirked then, his eyes taking on a darkened shade in the red lights of the room. “I’ll show you.”

And he did. He did show you, with his hands guiding your hips as he pulled you against him, your backside flush against him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the overall sensual atmosphere that had taken over Taehyung’s apartment, but you didn’t want to move away. Wanted to press yourself further into the solid wall that was Jimin behind you.

It was wrong, yet it felt oh so right.

You moved in unison for a while, as if you had done it many times before. As if grinding on Jimin was a common occurrence to you, the girl that had never grinded on anyone before. Jimin kept speaking in your ear, tone still friendly even with the proximity, as if the dance meant nothing.

And though you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t, you found your heart didn’t really want to believe it.

“See, you’re not so bad”, Jimin encouraged you, hot breath tickling the side of your face.

You snorted, trying not to think about his hands guiding your hips. “You’re doing all the work.”

He chuckled, before spinning you around. His hands still were on your hips, but the movement had somehow put a little distance between you, enough so that you didn’t feel uncomfortable with his proximity.

Scratch that, you felt uncomfortable with how far he suddenly was.

“Give yourself some credit, Y/n”, he said with a light chuckle. “You’re a natural.”

You knew that you in fact were anything but a natural, but you still offered him a lopsided smile. He replied with a grin of his own, one that held nothing but that friendly warmth that had been inhabiting him since the night you had broken down at his place.

You wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t tried getting into his apartment, that day. You were almost convinced you wouldn’t be friends now. You liked to tell yourself he’d have warm up to you still, but there was no way to know, and it wasn’t a parallel universe you wished to live in.

“I think Tae’s going to play the trumpet now”, Jimin said, and he let go of your hips as the music stopped.

You almost wished he hadn’t, but then again it was better for your sanity that way.

“He is so random”, you mumbled and you watched Tae as he stepped on the couch, indeed holding his trumpet.

Jimin laughed, nodding eagerly. “He is. That’s why we love him.”

You glanced at Jimin then, and it endeared you, how he looked at Tae. With a small warm smile, eyes creased at the corners with the fondness they held. It struck you then – that was how he had been looking at you earlier.

With fondness, and maybe even a little surprise. As if he hadn’t expected to be looking at you like that one day.

You truly had changed, hadn’t you? From strangers to close friends... it was the most beautiful thing in life.

Taehyung started playing the trumpet, catching your attention, and you watched the show as he free-styled some jazz music – all jazz music felt free-styled to you. He stopped once in a while, to take a breath or to let out a giggle at someone’s comment or cheer, his boxy smile on display whenever he looked at the crowd of his friends.

You found yourself gazing at Jimin, too. He wasn’t looking at you, or whenever you looked he turned his head away, as if pretending he hadn’t been looking in the first place. It was cute, and so like Jimin that you found yourself giggling a little, blush creeping on your cheeks, the fifth time you almost caught him looking.

He leaned closer to you, a crease appearing between his brows. “What are you giggling about?”

You. Your thoughts had followed that train earlier, and this time they won. “About you.”

He squinted his eyes, a pout forming on his lips. “What?”

You shushed him, nodding towards Taehyung. “It’s impolite to talk during a show”, you whispered, and he glared at you, though the corners of his lips were tugging upwards.

“Sorry, sorry.”

It just made you smile wider than you already were, as your eyes trailed back to Taehyung.

Soon enough, the young man finished is little performance, in a fit of laughter that was mostly shared by his Wooga squad, as they had been the closest to him. Whatever they had been joking about seemed to be quite funny, and you felt your heart warm in your chest.

It often did, when you saw just how happy your favourite idols were, in their natural habitat. Indeed, it was quite hard to forget you had been a big BTS fan, and really, you just wished all of them would be happy.

They were, though they were humans, and they too had their up-and-downs. You knew that more than anything, now.

It was well past 2 am when you and Jimin stumbled back home, and you didn’t even have to talk about it for you to follow Jimin into his apartment. You settled on the couch, minds still buzzing with the afterglow of the revelry the night had entailed.

You often did that – sleep overs, that is. You hadn’t stepped into his room since the dreaded night though, and you usually slept on the couch. Most times he stayed with you, though you both slept at an extremity of the couch, far enough not to touch.

So you settled on your sides, cozying up in blankets Jimin had fished in his room, and you leaned your head against the couch as Jimin looked at his phone.

The glow of the screen caressed his features gently, high-lighting the red his cheeks had taken after the alcohol had fully reached his system. He was pouting a little, as he often did when he focused on something, and it took him a moment to realize you were staring at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked once his eyes finally met yours.

You almost said that you had never been more okay in your life, but it felt like it was a lie. You had been feeling like that for weeks now, all thanks to the friendship he offered you.

“I told you we’d be coming home late”, you said as you held in a yawn.

He pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. “You said 7 am, and it’s not even 3 am yet.”

You chuckled. “I’m surprised I enjoyed the party that much”, you admitted, face falling serious as your eyes lost their focus on him, images of the night coming back to your mind. “Taehyung is really good at throwing parties.”

“The best”, Jimin agreed. “He even got you to dance to That That.”

You laughed, and then winced. “That was embarrassing.”

He echoed your laugh with one of his own, giggling and childish and really too cute for your own good. “I have to agree that Jungkook stole the show.”

“Doesn’t he always?” you asked, sighing dramatically.

Jimin nodded, and this time you stayed silent, as he looked at his phone again. Until a mischievous smirk moved on his lips, and you only understood why when the song started playing.

He shot to his feet, holding out a hand to pull you to a stand too.

“What are you doing?” you asked, brows knitting together as you grabbed his hand carefully.

“If you dance it now, you’d be the one stealing the show.”

You barked out a laugh that was anything but lady-like as he pulled you up. “Bitch, you’re the better dancer here.”

He shrugged again. “I won’t be dancing.”

And as if he wanted to convince you that he indeed wouldn’t, he sat back on the couch, manspreading just a little too much. Which had your eyes looking down at his lap, and you would have gouged your eyeballs out for the treachery to your heart that it was.

“That’s not fair”, you said, cheeks burning. “I won’t dance for you.”

“Then say goodbye to your kimchi.” He crossed his arm on his chest, one eyebrow cocked sassily.

“I hate you”, you mumbled, right as the chorus of the song came around.

You folded though, and you danced to the choreography, missing the beat by a little. You didn’t really care, as Jimin just started laughing, and you followed him, stopping in the middle of the dance.

“Aishi, that’s embarrassing”, you whined, hiding your face in your hands.

You heard the rustle of clothes, and you froze as Jimin gently grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He was standing close, though the only part of him that was touching you was his palms.

Until his lips pressed against yours, and your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, and Jimin looked at you with that same startled look on his face.

“What did you just do?” you asked, heart beating out of your chest.

He wet his lips, and his features turned apologetic. “I kissed you.”

Now, there were many moments you could point out as having shaped your life. The moment you had decided to move to Korea, that last call with Collin, the moment Jimin had opened his door to you and you had stepped into his apartment, into his life. The day you had graduated college, and before that, the day you had graduated high school. Small moments – big moments, maybe – that had formed the mosaic of your past, and shaped you into being who you were today, into being where you were today. And maybe that was it: they had been slowly forming the mosaic of this moment with Jimin, if you chose to let him in.

And just like the sun hitting the mosaic at the perfect angle, you knew you couldn’t step away.

“Do it again”, you said, breathlessly, and a hundred emotions seemed to move in Jimin’s gaze before he grabbed your face, pulling you into the kiss.

You exploded with colors, bright and warm like an early fall afternoon, and you kissed him back, your hands resting flat against his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart under your right palm. Your left hand slid up to the nape of his neck as one of his moved to your waist, pulling you ever so closer, right as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

Park Jimin was definitely the best kiss you had ever had in your life. As if all the ones before him had been amateurs, and he was a professional in the arts of love. And maybe he was, or he just had far more experience than you did. Or perhaps it was just that you had been waiting for him all this time, and he for you.

Jimin gently bit at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to soothe the ache as a breathy sound fell from your mouth, only to be swallowed by his. It seemed to do something to him, that sound, because next thing you knew he was pulling you closer to the couch.

He sat as soon as the back of his legs hit the furniture, once again manspreading, and this time you climbed on the throne that was his lap, straddling him. You joined your lips again, sealing the deal. Because that was what it felt like – as if you were making a deal with the devil.

Jimin was too good to be true, and too good to be yours.

The thought sparked some sense in your lust-filled mind, and you pulled away, breathing heavily as your gaze met his. He looked startled, lips a little swollen by the ministration of your mouth against his. By the fact you had been kissing, lost in the moment, just a few seconds ago.

Your hands were on his shoulders, and you pushed yourself away, until you were standing and there finally was a healthy distance between you.

“I…” you breathed and your eyes fell to his mouth, before going back to his gaze. To the shadows that were now moving in front of the sun, and you wished you could take it back.

Take the last two minutes back, and forget that you had ever kissed.

“I should go home”, you muttered.

He didn’t try to stop you. Didn’t even say anything, as if he was struck dumb by what you had just done. Maybe you were too, and maybe that explained the panic that was slowly settling into your blood, into your entire being.

What had you just done?

 ***

                 It had been a few weeks, since Taehyung’s party, and whatever had happened after that. You had tried not to think about it, had pretended it had never happened… and so had Jimin. He had shown up on your doorstep the next morning, with hangover soup, and he hadn’t mentioned anything. Had only offered you a warm friendly smile as you had just stared at him for a moment, until he had joked about you looking like a fish out of water, and that had been that.

You hadn’t mentioned it once, falling back into your usual friendship, with a safe distance that felt a little wider now. Probably because at night you still somehow remembered how little distance there had been between you, on his couch, and how much of his body you had been touching. Not that you had touched a lot… it just felt like you had.

Fortunately, it was easy, to be friends with Jimin. Had been for a while now, and you would forever be thankful that it still was after the little bump in the road that you had encountered. Though you sometimes caught the shadows in his eyes, clouds that you had imagined had scattered away after you had grown closer…

They never lingered. He smiled, and they left, as his gaze turned warm with that same fondness and friendliness and overall kind light that they always held. You liked to tell yourself that you knew enough to be able to tell if it was faked, but in reality, you couldn’t really. Maybe you just wanted to believe it to be the truth.

You had shattered the mosaic of you, as you had stepped away that night, but it was hard to convince yourself that you hadn’t done the right thing. He was Park Jimin, and you were no one. No one compared to him, and compared to the people that were part of his day-to-day life. You doubted there was a universe out there where it made sense for you and him to be together like that. And really, your friendship was enough for you, and you were perfectly happy and content keeping it the way that it was. It was a different mosaic, one that held more blues and lilacs and yellows, but they formed a work of art still worth looking at, for all the missing red that it held.

October came with chill winds and bright leaves, the color of autumn creating a beautiful landscape of their own. Jimin invited you to Busan, for the concert that was long awaited by Army. He had everything arranged for you so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything, everything down to the hotel room and the food that you’d eat. You were thankful for it, even though you could have easily paid for it all. It showed just how good of a friend Jimin was. He even organized a dinner with his family and some of the members, two days after the concert, saying that he wanted his family to meet you, as you were the person he spent the most time with now.

You were excited, for the dinner. Anxious, but excited nonetheless, as you couldn’t wait to see Jimin in the most natural setting that was his. Because Seoul never really felt natural with him. It rather was surreal, painted in a light you had never thought you’d see.

Hoseok and Jin ended up being the two only members to come to the dinner, and you sat with them, as Jimin helped his mother in the kitchen even though she had insisted she didn’t need any help. His father was supposed to come later, and it was unclear if his brother would be able to make it. It didn’t dim Jimin’s joy though, and he beamed as he moved around the kitchen with his mother.

His mother had been sweet, as Jimin had introduced you to the older lady when you had arrived at his childhood home. You could see that Jimin had her smile, though it seemed the woman’s smile was rarer than her son’s. Or maybe she was just cautious around you.

It reminded you that you were a foreigner, and that there was more than just a single world between you and Jimin. Not only was he an idol, but he was Korean, and you weren’t. It was simple, but you truly didn’t belong to the same universe. And you were okay with it – you had more stories to tell each other, from your respective universes. From your respective mosaics, that met at the edges in those shades of lilac and blue and yellow. It just wasn’t made to become one mosaic. You were two individual pieces, and it was to remain like that.

Yet, you couldn’t help but gaze at him, every once in a while. Each time you caught him already looking at you, and he offered you a cute grin, the one that had his eyes crinkling at the corners. It made your heart stutter in your chest, just a little, and you cursed at it, repeatedly.

It didn’t matter that Park Jimin had kissed you, once. You were just friends, and you hated that you sometimes felt like that about him. Like what you didn’t know… you just knew that you shouldn’t be feeling anything at all. Because he was Jimin, yes, but mostly because of Collin.

You weren’t ready to dive into anything right now. Doubted you’d ever be ready, after having been broken like you had been.

“Y/n!” Hoseok called your name, and you blinked a few times, focusing on reality. On the conversation the two men had been having, though you hadn’t listened to a single word of it.

“Uh?” you let out.

Jin had a smirk on his lips. “See, I told you.”

You furrowed your brows as they exchanged a knowing look. “What are you two going on about?”

Hoseok shrugged, running a hand through his hair. His hand then landed on the table, and your eyes dipped to the painted nails that adorned his fingers, before going back to his face.

“You two are weird”, you muttered, and then blushed as you realized what you had said. Though they just laughed, and you sighed in relief.

A little tiny part of you still felt really uncomfortable around BTS. Even if you had met all the members on more than one occasion. To be fair, Jin was the one you knew the less, but it helped that Hoseok was the one you were closest to. Besides Jimin, obviously. Yet you wouldn’t even dare call Hoseok a friend. He was just an acquaintance, at best.

“Why don’t you go help Jimin?” Jin asked, and he let out one of his iconic laughs as Hoseok punched him in the shoulder.

Your eyes trailed to Jimin, and you could see he was talking with his mother. Whatever they were talking about, it looked to be way too personal for you to want to step in.

“I…” you let out.

“You’re going to make her uncomfortable”, Hoseok said, chuckling. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

“Shut it, you agree with me anyway.” Jin punctuated his words with a small wink, that left you even more confused than you already were.

“What is going on?” you asked, cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment.

“We were saying that… Ow!” Jin yelped.

Hoseok had kicked him under the table. Yet it didn’t deter Jin, just made his shit-eating grin grow wider.

“What do you think about Jimin?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he folded his arms on his chest.

If you hadn’t already been blushing, you were pretty sure you’d have turn beet red. Scratch that – you were pretty sure your blush had deepened so much you had turned purple.

“What…” you let out. “I…” You threw a look toward the man in question, who was still very much so engaged in a conversation with his mother, unaware of what was happening just a few meters away.

“You don’t have to reply”, Hoseok told you gently, offering you salvation.

Maybe you were stupid for not accepting it. “He’s a good friend.”

Jin’s grin faded into a knowing smile. “Friend?”

You gulped under his inquisitive gaze. “Why do you want to know?” you asked with a small voice.

“Because.” He glared at Hoseok as the young man threw him a warning glance. “You two have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t really deny that, so you just remained silent.

“They are neighbors, of course they have”, Hoseok replied instead.

Jin chuckled, finally nodding his head. “Right. Still, they might need help over there.”

“Just go yourself”, Hoseok said, rolling his eyes before laughing. “Leave Y/n alone.”

It was sweet, how Hoseok was trying to get Jin off your back, but you did actually feel like Jimin might need some rescuing from his mother.

Indeed, even if his back was turned to you, and his moon tattoo was the only thing you could really see, you could tell he had stiffened. And maybe it was wrong for you to feel like interrupting, but you just wanted to help your friend, right?

“It’s okay, I can ask if they need any help”, you said, pushing up to your feet.

Hoseok and Jin looked at you, the latter failing at keeping the shit-eating grin in. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it mostly was because you were embarrassed.

Embarrassed and anxious, and probably still blushing like crazy.

You walked towards the kitchen, taking a deep breath to calm down, and to also push away the thoughts that were intrusively taking over your mind.

You weren’t stupid, and you were very much so aware of what Jin had been implying. And though Jin was right, to have a doubt about you and Jimin, he also was wrong. Because you were just you, and nothing more.

“I’m serious, Jimin-ie.” His mother’s words drifted to you, as Jin and Hoseok’s voices slowly faded in the background. “You shouldn’t be dating someone like her.”

You stopped, eyes widening.

“We are not dating, eoma.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head. “We are just friends.”

It sounded bitter, so bitter you felt your heart clenching in your chest.

“Good, then. I’m sure she is sweet, but you shouldn’t be with someone…” Jimin’s mother trailed off, as her eyes met yours over Jimin’s shoulder. Her face changed, turning from that cold stern look she had been sporting a fraction of a second ago to a warm smile that even reached her eyes, making them crinkle in that same way Jimin’s eyes crinkled.

Jimin looked over his shoulder, not quite meeting your gaze, before looking back at his mother.

“Please don’t tell me what to do with my life.”

His voice was low, barely above a whisper, really, but you had moved closer, your steps carrying you even when your heart had stopped a few meters away. You forced your face to melt into a smile, and you really hoped it reached your eyes.

“Do you need any help with the food?” you asked, as you stopped next to Jimin. You didn’t look at him, instead focusing on his mother.

The woman slightly tilted her head to the side, before glancing at the array of food on the kitchen counter. “I’ve got it covered, thank you for offering, dear.”

You nodded, finally risking a glance at Jimin. He hadn’t looked away from his mother, and his profile was set in a harsh expression, one you recognized as the one he had offered you in those first few weeks after you had moved. It was almost startling, to see it on his pretty features right now, but you didn’t shy away from it.

He was right, you were just friends. Even though a part of you hurt at the thought that his mother wouldn’t approve of you, it didn’t change the fact that you were just friends. Had become friends by a weird twist of fate, that was true, but it was nothing more than that.

Yet, to have two people questioning you about the relationship that you shared in less than five minutes… it was scary. And it threatened the peaceful friendliness that you had been sharing since that kiss. Threatening to push it off the edge of a cliff, and you weren’t quite sure the fall would be for the better.

Jimin’s jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking under his skin, and as his mother turned, you brushed your hand against the tight fist that was hanging at his side, in an attempt to calm him down. To your surprise, his fist loosened, and half a beat later he brushed your hand too.

It brought you back to that kiss, and you pulled your hand away instinctively. He only then glanced at you, and you gulped at the sight of the shadows in his eyes. He looked troubled, haunted even, and even though he wasn’t clenching his jaw anymore, his lips were pulled into a straight line.

You breathed in, shakily, and tried to offer him a reassuring smile. You weren’t quite sure you had succeeded, even as the corners of his lips slightly tugged upwards too. The shadows didn’t really leave his gaze, and you found you couldn’t hold his eyes anymore.

Maybe that made you a coward.

 ***

                 You sighed as you took in the thin mat Jimin’s mother had placed on the floor of his father’s office, for you to sleep on. You had thanked the woman profusely still, even though a part of you was angered, at the thought that she had said what she had said to Jimin. You had tried to let it go, had tried to let go what Jin had said too, but some part of you had been struggling, grasping onto the last thread of the conversation, refusing to let it fall into silence.

Perhaps it was because Jimin’s attitude had changed, after that. He hadn’t quite smiled as he usually did, had barely joked around with his family and friends. He had instead brooded in a corner, and even Hoseok and Jin hadn’t been able to shake him out of the dark state of mind that had taken over him.

You felt guilty. Though you hadn’t quite been the culprit, hadn’t you? Except for that night when you had kissed him and imagined you could share something more than friendship…

You had been fools, the two of you.

“Y/n”, Jimin said from the doorway, and you spun around, slightly startled.

He was beautiful, in the simple pajamas he had brought for the trip. He still was wearing his earrings, and they dangled from his ears as he leaned against the doorframe, hands in the pocket of his pants.

“Hey”, you let out, eyes shying from his, falling to the floor.

An awkward silence moved around you, filling the already warm room with an uncomfortable heat that pressed down on you.

“I have to apologize”, Jimin murmured, and your eyes shot to his face.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“For thinking that this dinner was a good idea.”

You didn’t like the way a sharp pain cut through your heart. Hated it, loathed it, and wished it had never reached your heart.

“The dinner was fine”, you said with a small voice.

Jimin chuckled, and it once again sounded bitter. “I know you heard what my mother said.” He scoffed a little then, before adding, “I know Jin-hyung also said something to you. He kept apologizing for it, when they left. He thought that was the reason why I’ve been upset.”

You were stuck in silence, even though you wanted to say something, anything, to reassure him. It felt as if the shadows in Jimin’s eyes were slowly taking over the whole place surrounding you.

“It wasn’t, if you were wondering”, he said after a moment, finally meeting your gaze again. Holding it was the hardest thing you had ever had to do.

“What’s wrong, Jimin?” you asked. Your voice was tiny, so tiny you wanted to disappear through the floor.

He clenched his jaw, lips pressing into a thin line, much like they had earlier. “We should have talked, about that night.”

You wanted to pretend you didn’t know what he was talking about, but it would have been useless.

“It didn’t mean anything”, you whispered.

He breathed in, his shoulders moving up a little, before falling back down into their previous position. A little lower, maybe.  It made him look defeated, and oh so tired.

“I know.” He shut his eyes, sighing once again. “I’m sorry it happened.”

Your heart squeezed a little more in your chest, making it hard for you to breathe. “It’s okay, Jimin, I never was angry at you. We were both just drunk.”

He nodded, slowly, eyes still closed. “Yeah.”

The silence that fell around you then was different. Colder, and you found yourself shivering despite the previous heat.

“Well”, he let out, pushing up from the doorframe, his eyelids finally fluttering open. “I’ll let you go to bed.”

He made to turn away, and you found yourself blinking back tears. “We’re good, right?”

You didn’t know why you had asked. Only knew that fear had taken a hold of you, much like it had in a parallel night to this one, when Collin had broken up with you. Maybe you were looking for reassurance, or maybe you were just afraid to face the truth.

Because it did feel like there was a finality in the way Jimin was carrying himself.

“Of course”, he said, nodding slowly once again. “Of course we are.”

“Good”, you quickly said, scanning his features, trying to get him to look at you, because you knew his eyes never lied. “I’m glad we are.”

“Me too”, he whispered.

But he hadn’t met your gaze.

He hadn’t met your gaze.

 ***

               Waking up the next morning felt wrong, as if the sun had risen in the west instead of the east. As if rain was going up instead of down, and as if the stars had gone black. It was strange, to have the grief of losing Collin hitting you that hard, so long after the events. It had been months, now, yet it was just hitting you how alone you felt.

You refused to think that it had something to do with your conversation with Jimin last night. You had just stated a simple truth, one that you had to learn to live with. But why did it feel like such a lie, then?

Maybe because it was, and the night you had kissed had changed everything. You had been a fool to believe it hadn’t affected your friendship. You were pretty sure it had ruined it, like the final scene of a movie, where the main character dies for no other purpose than shocking the watcher. It had put a finality, to you, and to a story that could have been beautiful.

You got up from the sleeping mat, feeling as if you were being crushed under the weight of your heart.

“Good morning, Y/n”, a voice said from the doorframe.

You turned around, slower than you had the night before, in that same setting. Except this time, it wasn’t Jimin, but his mother.

“Jimin wanted me to tell you that he had to go back to Seoul early, but he’s had a car come to get you.”

Really, the world was spinning off its axis now. Because the friend you had known in the last few months would have never left you behind, no matter the reason.

“Thank you for letting me know”, you said, eyes falling to a spot on the floor.

“There is some breakfast for you”, his mother said, unaware of the way your heart was breaking, “if you’d like to eat before leaving.”

Now, the perspective of eating a breakfast cooked by Jimin’s mother reassured you, somehow. Maybe because the woman’s food was outstanding, as you had been able to see for yourself the night before.

You nodded, offering the woman a small smile. “That sounds lovely.”

The older lady smiled back, before indicating that she’d be waiting in the kitchen. And that was how you found yourself sitting in front of her, over more food than you’d ever be able to eat so early in the morning, though everything looked delicious.

It was awkward, to be sitting there, when some part of you was aching at the thought of Jimin. His mother offered you a light conversation, asking questions about where you were from, and what you did for a living. Nothing really intrusive, and really, if she hadn’t told anything to Jimin last night, you would have even thought she liked you.

You weren’t stupid, though, and you could hear the disapproving silence that stretched between the woman’s sentences.

“And how did you meet Jimin?” she suddenly asked, after having sipped on her tea. “He never really told me anything other than that time you visited the condominium.”

You froze, food halfway to your mouth. “What?”

The lady smiled, letting out a small chuckle. “He mentioned you, last February. Said a pretty girl and her boyfriend were going to move in next door.”

Silence. That was all that your mind was able to produce after the lady’s revelation. It seemed to dim her light mood because her smile fell, and a worried creased appeared between her brows.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

You shook out of your trance, putting down the food in the plate in front of you. “No”, you murmured, eyes falling down a second after the food.

You hadn’t known. Jimin had never mentioned… that he had seen you, too, the day he had met Collin. You had barely ever spoken about it, Collin a foreign territory when it came to conversation between you. But he had admitted he had seen Collin, in that hallway between your apartments.

Why hadn’t he told you? How had you been so close to him, back then, without even knowing?

You doubted you’d ever be able to be close to him without knowing again. You were too… aware of him now that you had gotten to know him. Now that you knew his lips molded yours perfectly…

“He didn’t tell me”, you finally admitted, as Jimin’s mother still was looking at you pointedly.

Said a pretty girl and her boyfriend were going to move next door.

“Oh”, his mother let out. “But you have gotten close, haven’t you?”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. You nodded, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. “We have. Couldn’t imagine my life without him now.”

Your words hung heavily, in the air between you and his mother. You wished you hadn’t spoken them, knowing that the lady disapproved of you, together. Not that you ever would be.

“He said the same thing”, his mother admitted. “I’m glad to know he has such a good friend living next door.”

Good friend. It hurt just a little more, to hear the woman calling you that, even if you had been trying to convince yourself about it for a while.

To convince yourself? Your heart stopped in your chest, only to begin again on an erratic beat, one that had you thinking you were going to die on the spot. Of course, you were developing feelings for Jimin.

You were a damn fool.

“Thank you”, you said, eyes getting lost in the space between you and her. You didn’t really know what you were thanking her for, not as the shock of the truth was still ringing through you.

Not when you for once failed at lying to yourself, like you’d been doing for so long.

It had never been about Collin. Had always been about Jimin, and the person that he was. The idol that he was. It had been about the fact that some dirty dark corner of your mind felt… inadequate, in his light. Felt like you were tainting him, with your ordinary self. He deserved someone like him, someone that shone, with purity and kindness and everything in between.

Someone whose smile could lit up the whole room. Someone who always had kind words for the people surrounding them, and who knew how to make light of any situation. Someone that was struggling with their own shadows, but never let them affect those surrounding them.

You weren’t quite sure you could be that person. Were actually quite convinced you weren’t that person at all. That, more than anything, made you realize that maybe, maybe your friendship had always been meant to end, in one way or another. And perhaps, perhaps it was better to put a stop to it before you went too far.

Why, then, did it feel like you had gone too far already?

Because, you told yourself. Because he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and he’s all I’ve been able to think about since then.

You had been wrong, for telling him that the kiss hadn’t meant anything. It had meant the whole world to you, had shown you a mosaic of you you had cherished, for those few seconds before you had shattered it. You had been the one to pull away, and to declare it to be a mistake.

Maybe, in some parallel universe, you wouldn’t have, and you’d be together now. It was a different mosaic, one you felt as if you were looking at through some tainted glass, but maybe you had made a mistake. Knowing Jimin, he had probably decided not to mention anything to respect your decision.

To not make you feel more uncomfortable than he had clearly believed you had been. It was stupid, really, because you hadn’t been uncomfortable, kissing him.

You had felt like you were coming home after a long day of work, to the coziness of the arms of the person you were meant to love.

A pretty girl and her boyfriend.

***

              Three raps, on his door.

Knock knock knock.

You had gone straight to his place, after coming home from Busan. It had been strange, to ride that car alone without him, especially as he had been the one to drive you to the city where he had grown up. He had been all you had been able to think about, for the hours between the two cities.

You were anxious, standing there in front of his place. Like you didn’t belong there, even if you had been in that exact spot many times before. It brought you back to that first time you had been there, struggling to get in thinking that it was your own home.

It took you a long time, standing there, to realize that he wasn’t going to open. So long your eyes fell down to the floor, and trailed to the place where you had cleaned his vomit, months ago.

A whole world ago.

You wished you could go back to that moment. Well, not exactly to the moment you’d been cleaning up after him, but to the days that had followed. You were pretty sure that, more than anything, had been the spark of your friendship. Otherwise, you doubted Jimin would have chosen to take care of you, that night you had stumbled in his home. God knew you would have never become friends if you hadn’t.

It took you an even longer time to give up standing there. To blink away the tears that had slowly brimmed your gaze, and to head home. Accepting your defeat.

It took you a few more days, to realize Jimin was gone. Had probably not even gone back to his place once, crashing at one of his friends’ instead. You could have texted Hoseok, to ask, but you chose not to.

As you had chosen to never contact Collin again, after he had called to tell you about Harper.

In those few days, that shone with Jimin’s absence, you found the children at work to be just a little harder to deal with, just a little harder to talk to. You found that the end of your days was just a little harsher to live through, especially as you rode that elevator where you had first met him. That felt so empty now that he was gone, though that stain on the carpet hadn’t moved. As if to say the world hadn’t changed, at all.

As if to say you were the only thing that had changed in this universe. You didn’t know if it was reassuring, or if it was making you feel worse. All you knew was that your nights were haunted with images of him, even though your days were empty with his reality.

It was like he had turned into a ghost.

“You should come with us”, Chaeyoung said from the doorframe of your class, startling you out of your thoughts.

She had invited you to hang out in Hongdae, along with her girlfriend and some of her other friends, later that night. You hadn’t decided if you were going to go yet, as if doing an activity other than work felt wrong.

Some part of you knew that it was because you were afraid to not be home when Jimin was going to come. Because you were convinced he’d come back. If there was one thing you knew about him, it was that no matter what, he’d always find his way to you.

Like that first moment you had stepped in the same elevator as him, and like the many times you had run into each other after that. He was bound to come home at some point, and you didn’t want to risk being away.

But it had been a few days, and he hadn’t come home. Or if he had, you had been at work, and you had missed him. Which you refused to believe had happened, because you refused to believe he was truly gone from your life.

Yet you hadn’t been able to text him, no matter how many times you had started writing him a text. You had written enough texts you could probably compose a poem with them all, but your story didn’t feel like poetry.

It rather felt like some broken pieces of ceramic, that could have been arranged into that mosaic you had glanced at, for a time, as you had kissed. Pieces of ceramic that had been lost in those few days of him being a ghost.

“I need to go home, but I can meet you there later?” you finally replied, glancing at your friend.

You hated the concerned look on Chaeyoung’s features, but you forced yourself to smile, trying to reassure the girl. Trying to convince her that everything was alright.

“As long as you don’t bail…” Chaeyoung trailed off, walking in to help you pick up the few toys that were still scattered around the floor. “I don’t know what happened, Y/n, but you look exhausted.”

You sighed. There was no way you’d be able to convince Chaeyoung you were fine.

“I am. I’ve been for a few days.”

“What happened?” the girl quickly asked, and the concern on her features doubled up.

You sighed, standing up from the place where you had been kneeling. You glanced around the room, trying to find the courage to speak the words that had been haunting you, but you couldn’t find it.

“I haven’t been sleeping well”, you instead chose to say.

Chaeyoung had a no-bullshit look on her face once you finally met her gaze. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t insist, instead shrugging her shoulders and offering you a reassuring smile.

“Well, if you think that getting out of the house for a time would help, I’d be happy to do something more laid back than walking around Hongdae.”

“Don’t cancel your plans for me”, you said, shaking your head as your eyes widened a little.

The last thing you wanted was for more people to be aware that you weren’t doing fine.

“My friends wouldn’t mind, they like you”, Chaeyoung replied, shrugging her shoulders again. “But if you feel like staying home, that is okay too.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly. “Thanks, Chaeyoung.” And you really were thankful, because you weren’t quite sure you’d be able to go out.

Were willing to try to get ready, but wanted to be able to bail if you needed to.

Even as you were getting ready, two hours later, sitting in front of the large mirror of your vanity, you still weren’t sure you were going to go. Putting some make-up on felt good, though, as it permitted you to focus on something other than the treacherous thoughts that always led back to Jimin.

To the whole world that was between you now, not because of who you were, but because it felt like the distance between you wasn’t one that could be crossed.

You had just finished applying blush to your cheeks when your doorbell rang, and you froze. Because you knew, then, that the distance had finally become smaller. Still big enough for your heart to ache, but at least the wait was over.

Because, who else would it be but Jimin? Only Chaeyoung knew where you lived, and the girl was currently at a restaurant with her girlfriend and her other friends.

You almost dropped the brush you were holding as you put it down, hands starting to shake as you pushed up to your feet. You left your phone face down on the vanity, before jogging to the door. Hating that you had chosen the room the farthest from your door for your dressing room.

It felt like an eternity, before you reached that door, and you were a little breathless when you threw it open.

Jimin stood there, hands buried in the pockets of his coat, hair a little tousled, as if he’d just tried to tame it, but failed to do so. He was wearing earrings, as he most always did, and the light caught on the silver of them as he looked up to meet your gaze. He too had dark circles under his eyes, ones that you had just hidden on your own face.

“Jimin”, you breathed.

His eyes were still haunted by those shadows, and they went a little wide as you held his gaze.

“Y/n.”

He said your name with a softness that made you feel weak all of a sudden, and you were pretty sure tears were welling up in your eyes.

“You’re an idiot”, you said, and you let out a small chuckle. “Where have you been?”

He swallowed, his Adam apple bobbing up and down.

“I needed time to think”, he replied.

You fell silent, as he looked at a spot over your shoulder, before letting his gaze drop to the floor. It took him a moment before meeting your eyes again, and you felt like dying at the sight of the dark clouds in his gaze.

“I… figured”, you murmured, gulping. “That’s why I didn’t text you.”

“Can I come in?” 

You nodded, stepping aside. He walked in, and you breathed in the smell of his cologne before gently closing the door behind him.

“I was… getting ready”, you told him, feeling suddenly very awkward.

At least you had successfully blinked the tears away.

“We can sit in my dressing room?”

Jimin nodded, though he hadn’t met your gaze since he had stepped into your home. He followed you, silent as a mute, and sat in front of the second vanity in the room.

The one in front of which Chaeyoung had gotten ready, all those months ago, the night you had gone clubbing. The night you had stumbled into Jimin’s apartment as if it was your own. The night that had started it all, come to think of it.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked as you sat back where you had been a moment earlier.

Not feeling like lying, you let the truth come out. “Nowhere.” You paused, as a puzzled expression took over his features. “Now that you’re here”, you specified, and his lips spread into a thin line.

It looked like anything but a smile.

“You can still go, if you want”, he said, before chewing on the dry skin of his bottom lip.

You shook your head no. “I’ve missed you, Jimin. I’d rather stay with you.”

He looked so sad, as you spoke the words. And then it hit you, that he maybe didn’t want to be with you.

Maybe he was there to end your relationship, once and for all.

“I…” he fell silent, his eyes falling to the scattered brushes and make-up items on the vanity. “I missed you too.”

There were some tears in your eyes again, damn you.

“Where were you?” you breathed, eyes not moving from his features.

Engraving them in your memory, and in the mosaic of you.

“I’ve been staying with Hobi-hyung”, he admitted. “I’ve been thinking, about us.”

You audibly gulped this time.

“So have I”, you whispered, and he met your gaze.

“I don’t think we’re good, Y/n”, he declared, after a short silence that lasted for an eternity.

It broke your heart, and you found you couldn’t fight the tears now.

“Oh…”

He just watched you, for a time, as a few tears escaped your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, as if the sight of those tears on your cheeks was so foreign to him, as if they were a concept he had never understood in school.

“I talked to your mother, before leaving Busan”, you told him.

He remained silent, eyes never leaving yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me you saw me too, the day you met Collin?”

He didn’t move, for a time. Even looked as if he had stopped breathing. But then he let out a small broken sound – a chuckle, maybe.

“Because you would have thought me to be crazy.”

You dried your tears with the back of your hand. “Why would I have?”

He chuckled again, and this time it sounded a little realer. His eyes took on a distant expression, as he focused on the memories of that moment months ago. “Because you were standing with your back to me, in the kitchen. I was in the hallway, and all I could see was your hair. And then you turned to look at your boyfriend, and when I saw your face, I was just struck dumb.”

You didn’t even know when that had happened. Hadn’t seen him at all, standing there. And you were the one to be struck dumb now, at his confession. At the way his words echoed in your head until you felt drunk with them.

“I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and then you smiled at him and I assumed you were taken”, he continued. His eyes had met yours again, and you could see the truth they were shining with. “I felt strange, for a moment, and then Collin turned. He saw me, and he walked to the door, and shut it.”

A pretty girl and her boyfriend.

You remembered that. You had asked why Collin had shut the door, and he had just walked to you and kissed your forehead, before telling you to focus on what the realtor was saying.

“So, I went home”, he added. “And then when I saw you in the elevator, that day you were moving in, I assumed Collin was around. I felt awkward, because I thought he hated me.”

So, that was what it had been. It had never been about the Chimmy keychain or the mess of BTS albums, like you had believed at first. He had just thought you belonged to someone and hadn’t wanted to intrude in your relationship.

“And then I just felt uncomfortable around you, and I was a dick to you and I’m sorry I was. But when you tried getting into my apartment, and you told me what had happened, I just…”

He shrugged, and you only then noticed the silver brimming his gaze.

“I didn’t want to let you go, I guess. And you were fun to be with, so I tried to keep you around.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, as tears rolled freely down your face. He looked at them, before meeting your gaze again.

“I don’t know when I fell in love with you”, he continued, and tears moved on his cheeks too. “I think I’ve always known I’d fall for you, and then one day I realized the feelings were already there. I knew you had recently come out of a relationship, so I didn’t say anything. But that night, I just lost it… Seeing you chat with Sungwoon, seeing him flirt with you, I just hated it.”

Sungwoon had been flirting with you? It hit you then: it was jealousy, that had made Jimin act the way that he had, those few weeks ago.

“And when we kissed, and you left, I thought ‘that is it, your friendship with her is over’”, he admitted, chuckling sadly again. “So, I decided to pretend nothing had happened, and when you did the same thing, I assumed we’d just never talk about it again, and I’d do everything I could to prevent it from happening again.”

You really had been fools.

“Eoma told me she could see the love in my eyes, while we were cooking, and that I was making a mistake, to fall in love with you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you choked on a sob.

“And maybe I should have told her then”, he added, getting up from his spot to come closer to you, grabbing your hands. “I’ve sacrificed so much to be where I am. I’ve sacrificed friendships and relationships and my own health.” He paused, as if he didn’t want you to be associated with all those shadows in his life. And you were glad he had, because his next words destroyed everything in you, only to build it anew. “I’m not willing to sacrifice you too.”

You got up, letting out a small sad laugh as Jimin smiled.

“I am in love with you, Y/n”, he breathed. “And I want to be with you.”

You blinked away a fresh wave of tears, and he let go of one of your hands, to wipe the tears from your face.

“I thought you were coming here to tell me we were done”, you admitted, and another tear rolled down his cheek.

He chuckled. “I thought so too. But you had to start crying and make me weak.”

His eyes were full of emotions you couldn’t quite interpret, yet you knew they echoed those in your own heart.

“I’ve been weak for you for so long”, you whispered, as you leaned in the hand he had kept against your face.

He laughed, just a little, as you reached to dry his cheek from the lone tear.

“I’ve been weak for you before I even met you.”

He laughed again, and the sound was healing, really.

“You were my bias, you know?” you let out. “But then when I met you, I started hating you, because I thought you were an entitled prick.”

He pursed his lips, holding in a smile.

“And then you took care of me that night, and you were just so friendly I thought you were a completely different person.”

You smiled softly at the memory, and at the warmth that it raised in you.

“You started talking to me, more, and you were so friendly and bubbly. I felt like I was in heaven, for a moment, and you helped me through the grief of Collin, and of him and his new family.”

You thought about it for a time, eyes falling to his neck as you lost your focus on his features.

“I think I saw you like my own little family, for a long time, because you were filling a hole in my chest. And then you started being more, and I started looking for you in every room I was in.”

Maybe you had already been in love with him, then.

“And when we kissed, I felt like it was meant to be”, you said. “Like you were the one I was meant to find. And I guess guilt crept in, about Collin, and I know it’s stupid, but I felt guilty, and I left.”

And it was true. Your thoughts hadn’t gone to Collin, but your body hadn’t recognized Jimin to be the body it was used to, back then, and it had made panic kick in.

“I regret leaving then”, you admitted. “I wish I hadn’t, and I wish I had stayed with you.”

You breathed in and out shakily, as the truth kept flowing out of your mouth.

“I want to be with you too. I’m afraid, because you are you and I am me and there is so many worlds between us.”

He grabbed your face then, ever so gently. Eyes gazing into yours with so much love and adoration you felt as if you could die right then, and die happy.

“I don’t care about any worlds between us”, he whispered. “I just want you.”

“I’ve fallen in love with you, Jimin”, you breathed, and he pressed his lips against yours.

It was terribly soft, that first kiss after the one weeks ago. Like he was scared to make you run again, and he just wanted to get a last taste of you. Without hurting you, like the way one graze their fingers against a flower. Ever so gently, lest the petals be spoiled.

But you weren’t a flower, and you didn’t want to be treated as such. Wanted the desperation that you had been drowning in for the last few days to finally flow out of you. So, you put the feelings in the kiss, letting your lips mesh with his harder, and he breathed out, his hands falling to your waist, pulling you closer.

He tasted salty, from the tears that had been rolling on his cheeks. He tasted of honey, too, a sweet taste that you knew you’d come to love more than anything. And his hands on your waist were warm, hot, and they pulled you ever so closer, until all of your body was pressed against all of his.

You snaked your hands between you, moving to unbutton his coat. He helped you, pulling away for half a second, just enough time to let the coat fall to the floor.

When his lips crashed on yours again, the rhythm of the kiss changed, becoming frantic, as if the desperation had hit him too, and he needed to feel you.

A breathy sound fell from your lips as his tongue met yours, and he made you turn your back towards the wall, pushing you back until your ass hit the vanity. He pulled you up on top of it, and you spread your legs to make space for him, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him back into the kiss.

It was heated, that kiss, so heated you thought you were about to burst into flames. Into flames and fireworks and softness, as if it was more the afterglow than the explosion. And it felt like that – like that feeling of awe fireworks leave in one’s heart.

As he kissed you, hands roaming along your thighs, along your waist, you found yourself seeing that mosaic again. The one you had thought you were seeing through tainted glass. Only this time, the mosaic took form in your universe, a sight so beautiful your soul felt full, like it was incomplete until you an Jimin had finally chosen each other. It was beautiful, really, with reds and oranges and purples, along with the blues and lilacs and yellows your friendship had consisted of.

It was so much more than whatever you had had with Collin. Collin had been in your life for a long time, yes, but your soul had never been his, the way that it was Jimin’s.

Jimin moved from your lips to your neck, as you were still clutching his collar. You let it go, fingers moving to run through his hair, pulling at it. He bit your neck, then, gently, but hard enough to elicit a soft moan from your mouth.

He went crazy at the sound. Hands moving underneath your shirt, caressing the skin of your waist, before moving up to your breasts. Heat pooled between your legs as he grinded into you, and you could feel his own arousal against you, the friction making you see stars.

You hadn’t had sex in a long time and perhaps that, more than the feeling of him against you, had you pull away slightly.

“Jimin”, you breathed.

He looked up from your neck, eyes glassy with lust, lips glossy and red and swollen from your ministrations. He seemed slightly scared for a time, until you grabbed his face and pecked his lips once.

That seemed to reassure him, and a soft smile lit up his features.

“Y/n”, he breathed, too, and you felt your heart swell in your chest, with the feelings that you had for him.

“I…” you trailed off, looking between his two eyes. Gazing at the love that was warming them, taking it in and making it yours.

He was yours, and you were his.

“Can we take our time?” you asked, gently. “I haven’t…”

His eyes widened slightly, and he made to pull away, though you kept him from getting too far by wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked.

Laughter burst out of you. “What?”

He wasn’t smiling, and he just looked confused.

He was truly adorable.

“I just haven’t had sex in a long time”, you admitted.

And it was true. Even before you and Collin had broken up, you hadn’t really gotten physical. Since…

You didn’t let your heart ache, as you realized he hadn’t really gotten intimate with you again, after October. After he had cheated with Harper.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, concern moving in his gaze.

He must have been able to read the feelings on your face.

You nodded. “I am.” You paused, glancing down at his mouth. “Please kiss me again.”

His tongue darted out, to wet his lips. “I won’t be able to go slow, if you tell me stuff like that.”

You didn’t know where your confidence came from, but you let a smirk grow on your lips. “Oh, Jimin-ie… We have all night in front of us, you better take your time.”

A smirk grew on his own lips, as his eyes grew ten times darker. But still they shone from within, with a light you hoped would never leave. “You’re lucky I’ve got a great stamina.”

You snorted, and then blushed as embarrassment raised in your chest at how awkward the sound had been. Until Jimin pecked your nose, the flirtatiousness melting into soft warmth.

“You are so cute”, he breathed against your lips, before kissing you again.

The gentleness of the action made you blush even more, though you fled from the feeling behind it, biting at his lips.

He was goddamn Park Jimin, and you were just you.

The insecurity that it brought to you menaced to shatter the mosaic again, but he chased it away as he kissed you, with more heat than you thought you could handle, until your body caved in to his touch. It was easy then, to let your thoughts dissolve into nothingness, especially as he grinded into you again, and the length of his erection brushed against your clit.

You moaned, a full noise that sounded far too obscene. He swallowed it, his tongue diving in your mouth to meet yours, establishing a rhythm that promised to be a sweet treat to your body.

Your hands pulled at the hem of his shirt, even as you didn’t remember having slid them underneath it, needing to feel the warmth of his skin. He pulled away from the kiss, to take off the piece of clothing, and it met his coat on the floor as your eyes fell to his ‘Never mind’ tattoo. Your fingers gently ran over it, and your heart beat quicker in your chest.

You had never thought you’d be touching his tattoos so intimately one day. Would have called crazy whoever would have said that you were meant to be there, in that mosaic of you.

Your phone chose that moment to start buzzing next to you, startling you. Both your gazes fell to the device, and you stayed still for a time. Until you grabbed the phone, breathing raggedly as you noticed that it was Chaeyoung. You didn’t feel like picking up the call, so you sent your friend to voicemail.

“Let me just text her”, you mumbled, as Jimin’s gaze burned on your face.

He nodded, his hands remaining on your waist as you unlocked your phone, and informed Chaeyoung that you were busy with Jimin, and that you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.

It was worth the shit-eating smirk that was on Jimin’s lips when you looked up.

“Busy, mmh?” he said, gaze heavy with lust and desire as he looked down at the little space between you.

You nodded, feeling a wave of confidence again. “Maybe we should actually get to work though.” You bit your lip, looking at Jimin through your eyelashes, in a way that you hoped was attractive.

It made you feel awkward, though it seemed to work on Jimin, because he swiftly pulled your shirt off, and you hoped he couldn’t tell the blush on your cheeks was from being embarrassed. Luckily enough for you, his eyes had dropped to your chest, and at the black lacy bralette you were wearing.

“Fuck”, he breathed out. He looked up, meeting your gaze. “You’re so beautiful.”

Now, you felt very shy. Too shy to have him looking at you still, so you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss again. He kissed you sweetly, with his pretty swollen lips, grinding into you for one last time before he stepped back.

“Now, let’s get you out of these pants.”

You gulped, nodding yes because you were pretty sure your voice would have failed you. Jimin unbuttoned your pants, though he didn’t make to pull them down your legs yet. Instead, he let his hand move between your legs, fingers grazing at you through the fabric.

“You’re so hot”, he said, breathing hard.

You whined, as he pressed on your clit, skilled fingers finding it right away.

He smirked, then, male pride evident in his gaze at the sounds he was already coaxing out of you, before pulling your pants down your legs. He gazed at your clothed pussy, only your black panties separating you from his hungry eyes, and you wondered if he could already see the wetness pooling there.

You doubted you had ever been wet like that before, and you had barely even started.

Before moving closer to you again, Jimin unbuckled his belt, eyes boring through yours with an intensity you had never seen in their depths. It made the hotness between your legs burn achily.

His jeans fell to the ground, though he kept his underwear on. He stepped out of the fabric pooling around his ankles, and then moved back between your legs. You blushed as he grabbed your chin to make you look up.

You had been gazing at the imprint of his hard dick.

“Eyes up here, baby”, he said, smirking, before stealing another kiss, one that led to him pushing his erection against you again.

It felt better, now that less fabric laid between you, though it wasn’t enough. You wanted all of him, lest you’d go crazy. Jimin seemed to understand it, because one of his hands found its way between your legs, and he ran his fingers on your clothed pussy, and on the wetness that was seeping through your panties.

“Fuck, Y/n”, he growled, and really, his voice was so low it sounded animalistic. “You’re so fucking wet already.”

“Please”, you breathed, and he smirked.

Smirked and pulled away, eyes going down to your clothed self again.

“I want to taste you.”

“Do it”, you murmured, as he was already kneeling down.

He didn’t wait, didn’t take his time. He pulled your panties to the side, tongue lapping at your entrance, collecting your juices. You moaned, loudly, and your head threw back as your eyes fell shut. One of your hands moved to your breast, pinching at your erect nipple through the fabric, as Jimin started working on you.

If there was one thing that was true about Jimin, it was that he knew how to use his tongue. Indeed, he skillfully found your clit, pressing small circles on it, and before you could even realize it, he slid a finger inside of you, curling it to find that sweet spot that made you see stars.

You moaned, louder, one of your hands moving to his hair, as he established a quick rhythm that had your legs shaking with sensitivity. Soon enough, he buried another of his fingers inside of you, spreading you wide open, and you clenched your walls against him.

You wanted more, and you couldn’t keep your body from telling him.

He sucked on your clit, moaning against you, and this time your pussy clenched by itself, walls holding him tightly inside.

“Fuck”, he said against you, pulling away just enough to look up at you.

You met his gaze, your own half-lidded eyes lost in the bliss of the pleasure he was giving you, and he smirked, lips shining from your wetness, before diving right back in.

Whatever he had been doing before wasn’t even half of what he could do, because this time, his tongue pressed hard against you, moving quickly, eliciting obscene moans from you, sounds tangled with his name as he inched you closer and closer to your orgasm.

And right when it was about to hit, your walls already pulsing against him, Jimin pulled away, leaving you empty. Empty and aching with the denied orgasm.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to take your time?” he asked, teasingly, once your eyes opened to glare at him.

“Fuck”, was all you could mutter back.

Jimin pressed his lips against yours, and you sucked on his bottom lip, moaning at the taste of yourself that still was lingering on his mouth. His fingers were digging in your hips, the pain a slight warning at the back of your mind.

Though you threw the warning away, because it felt way too damn good. His digits didn’t linger there for long, moving up to rid you of your bralette, and his mouth fell to your breast, sucking on it as you moaned again. He looked up, continuing his ministrations against your erect nipple, and you met his gaze, your pussy clenching around nothing. Maybe Jimin could tell, because his fingers found their way back to your pussy, and soon enough he had taken off your panties, fingers pumping in and out of you so quickly you could feel yourself withering away.

You knew you’d be nothing once the orgasm would hit. So, you grabbed onto him, right as he moved his face up and buried it in your neck. You breathed your pleasure in the shell of his ears as his fingers moved in and out, wet pornographic sounds filling the whole room.

“You’re so fucking wet”, he said again, but you barely were able to register it.

You wanted to say yes, but all that you could let out was a broken sound as your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, leaving you to shake with the waves of pleasure that moved through you.

Jimin worked you through the orgasm, thumb moving against your clit as his fingers curled inside of you, and you blinked back tears to look at him, though his face was hung low, forehead against your shoulder. Once he had milked the last of your orgasm from you, he looked up, meeting your gaze.

He looked a little crazed, as if he was in pain, and you understood why as your hand found its way to his dick, palming him through the fabric of his underwear.

He was so hard it had to be painful.

“I want to taste you too”, you murmured, too fucked out to be embarrassed with your words.

He kissed you, wildly, before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “Later”, he said, and he breathed it out like a promise. “For now I just want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name again.”

You hadn’t been aware you were screaming his name in the first place, but you didn’t have time to say it before he pulled you to your feet, turning you around until he had you bending over the vanity. You watched him take off his underwear in the mirror, your pussy still pulsing a little. Next thing you knew he was burying himself inside of you, so hard your thighs hit the vanity, and you screamed a moan, right as he groaned.

He was bigger than you had expected, and the stretching burned, though he remained still, to give you time to adjust. Or maybe just that had been enough to bring him close to the edge, and he had to refrain from moving otherwise he’d come.

His hands were on your hips, and you risked another look in the mirror, knowing fully well he was already looking at you.

Seeing Park Jimin, right there, impaling you, almost was enough to make you come again.

“Don’t clench around me like that”, he grunted, and he sounded as if he was in pain.

His eyes fell shut, and he started moving inside of you, ever so slowly. Slowly inching out, until he pushed all the way in again. You moaned, and his fingers tightened on your skin, before one of his hands loosened its grip, to gently run against the skin of your back.

“I don’t want to hurt you”, he murmured.

Your words finally found you again. “You’re not hurting me.”

His eyes flashed open at the sound of your voice, and you found you couldn’t hold his gaze. Not when he was fucking into you as slowly as he was.

“How do you like it?” he asked, and he bent over to press a kiss on the back of your shoulder before straightening again.

It made you feel warm inside, a feeling that cut through the lust you were drowning in, only to disappear as he started pounding into you.

“Fast?” he asked, before slowing down. “Or like this?”

When you remained silent, Jimin slapped your ass, and you moaned his name.

“As much as I love hearing you say my name like that, you haven’t answered my question, haven’t you?”

You whimpered as he slapped your ass again. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for your skin to tingle with the sting. “I want you to feel good”, you replied.

He stilled inside of you. “Look at me.”

You hadn’t even realized you had shut your eyes. 

His gaze was soft when you met it. “No matter how we do it, I’ll feel good inside your tight pussy.”

It was crass, how he said the words, and it only turned you on even more.

“Then fuck me, Jimin”, you said, because really you couldn’t look at him any longer.

And so he did, pounding inside of you until he had you seeing stars, a second orgasm threatening to push you over the edge. You kept it in, knowing you’d be too ruined if you came again, especially as you were already turning sore. You wanted him to feel good before you’d let yourself go like that again.

His balls slapped against your clit as he fucked you, a strange music resonating in the room, and you held onto the sides of your vanity as he pushed harder and harder, your tits resting flat against the brushes and make-up items on the furniture. You could barely feel them there, your whole focus solely on the space between your legs, and the way he was moving inside of you, stretching you.

“You feel so good”, he praised you, and you moaned your agreement, which had him chuckling.

It felt so normal, so casual, that your heart swelled in your chest, tears moving in your gaze.

“I love you”, you breathed, unable to stop the words before they had moved out of your mouth.

He stopped pounding into you then, meeting your gaze, his own eyes creasing at the corners with fondness and love. “Y/n…”

You held his gaze for a time, until you found you couldn’t anymore. Your eyes fell shut, and you wondered if it was tears that were filling the space under your lids.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, gently, once again bending to kiss your shoulder.

“You feel so good”, you said, echoing his previous words.

He hadn’t moved from your shoulder when he spoke again. “You look in pain.”

You weren’t in pain, honestly. You were just overwhelmed with your feelings for him, and you were too much of a coward to meet his gaze.

“I am not”, you promised. “Can we move to my room?”

The question felt appropriate, aimed to make him drop his concern. And it worked, as he pulled away, leaving you empty, and he pulled you up, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kissed the side of your neck.

You shivered, tilting your head to the side, allowing him to move up your skin until he was sucking on the spot bellow your ear.

“I love you too”, he murmured against you, before kissing the hickey he had just created on your skin.

Another piece of the mosaic that was yours.

You turned in his arms, then, pressing your lips against his, kissing him until you felt so drunk with him you couldn’t even remember your own name. He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, lips still pressed against yours.

He took a few unsteady steps towards the exit of the room, before stopping as he chuckled in the kiss. The sound was sweet and innocent even though you were butt-naked and had just been fucking like there was no tomorrow. It made you love him even more, and you wrapped your arms around his neck tighter to hold him close to you.

You never wanted to be away from him again.

He pulled away from your lips, to look over your shoulder. “As much as I love kissing you, I’ll have to look where I’m going or we’ll both end up on the floor.”

You laughed then, an airy sound that didn’t even seem like it belonged to you. As he walked, you pressed your lips against the spot where his neck met his shoulder, his earring tickling your face as you sucked on the skin, giving him a hickey in return for the one he had just put on your own skin.

He hissed, hands tightening their grip on your ass, as he finally reached your room. He carried you to your bed, putting you down before straightening. You looked up at him, then, eyes full of love and desire. He grabbed your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your skin gently, before bending down to press a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Why don’t you make place for me, mmh?” he asked against your lips, before straightening and motioning to the pillows on the other side of the bed.

You obeyed, and soon enough Jimin was hovering over you, one hand holding him up as he kneeled between your legs, his erection resting against your pelvis.

“You are so beautiful”, he murmured again, and it sounded like a prayer, like you were the god to his religion.

It made you feel shy again, and your eyes shut, instinctively.

He brushed your cheek with his knuckles, ever so gently, coaxing you to open your eyes. Only you didn’t, your insecurity meeting you full force.

How could you be having sex with Park Jimin? You were no one and…

“Look at me, Y/n”, he said, murmuring the words against your lips.

He was so close you could feel his mouth moving against yours.

“You’re intimidating to look at”, you replied, truthfully.

That made him move away, far enough for his breath to be a ghost on your skin, barely even warm from the distance.

“What?” he let out.

“Why me?” you asked, then, as you truly wondered. It was hard to believe someone like Jimin wanted to be with someone like you.

“Y/n…” he breathed, and he pecked your forehead, a sweet act that was purely done out of his love for you.

A pretty girl and her boyfriend.

“Because to me, you’re the prettiest girl in the world. The only one I see, the only one I want, and the one I want to spend my life with.” He pecked your nose then, before pulling away again. “You’re the one I am in love with, and no girl will ever compare to you.” He pecked your lips. “No one can ever compare to you.”

You are the mosaic of my soul. 

It was the confirmation that you had needed, and your insecurity slowly dwindled away, replaced by the warmth he brought to your heart.

You made love then, gaze lost in each other’s, in the stars Jimin’s eyes held and the love you shared. The shadows had long left Jimin’s gaze, and they were shining, glowing with pure love and happiness, and desire. So much desire you truly felt like the prettiest girl in the world. 

You hoped his shadows and clouds would never come back. Promised yourself you wouldn’t let them come back, whatever it took.

Jimin moved slowly, inside of you, until you reached another orgasm, one that took its origin in that pure feeling you shared, an orgasm that had him toppling over the edge too, spilling inside of you.

And he stayed there, for a long time, gazing into your eyes. He had long gone soft when he pulled out, his seed spilling from you. He stayed close, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks and lips, until you were giggling and blushing.

“You are adorable”, he said, and you moved your hands to his ribs… tickling him.

He yelped, pulling away from you. “Traitor”, he said, between two laughs.

It made you laugh a little more, as he sat on the side of your bed.

It was a strange sight to see. A naked Park Jimin, in your bedroom. In the place where no one but you had ever been before. The place where no one but you two would be from now on.

You turned, lying on your belly, as you looked up at him. His eyes trailed on your body appreciatingly, landing on your ass.

“I knew you had a nice ass but, fuck, the real sight is much better than what I had anticipated”, he said, teasingly, before slapping your ass for emphasis and getting up.

“Hey!” you let out, laughing as he took a single step away, and your eyes fell to his own ass. “You’re one to talk, with the dump truck you’re carrying around.”

Jimin spun around, eyes wide as he met your gaze. You burst out laughing at the same time, and you felt warm and happy and complete.

There was no more beautiful feeling in this world.

“Come, let’s get cleaned up”, he said, offering you a hand to help you stand up.

Grabbing his extended hand felt like a promise. It felt like you had just finished making the mosaic of you, and you were finally ready to gaze at the whole piece of art.

It was a promise, that you’d be together, from now on until the end.

I want to be with you.

Jimin’s words echoed in your mind.

I want to be with you too.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

AAAH. Thank you for reading me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed building the story for these two. It was fun, though the beginning was excruciating to write. Hopefully it didn’t feel like that to read it!!

Let me know what you thought of the fic! Feedback is always appreciated, and a good source of motivation for writing more stories like that ;). I might also start a taglist so let me know if you want to be added to that!

Anyways, love you lots, thank you again for reading me <3

#park jimin #park jimin fanfic #park jimin smut #park jimin fluff #park jimin angst #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fic #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #bts pjm #pjm x reader #i want to be with you

[dollfacerecs]

— park ⋆ ji ⋆ min

pjm fic recommendation list by clover. 🍀 ↓

♡ = smut ; ♤ = angst ; ♧ = fluff ; ♕ = favorite

main list

♢ rage ; ♡ || one-shot (part of a series) — by @hamsterclaw

⇝ cop!jimin, hobbyist!reader // reader is so hot in this. so bratty n not afraid to speak her mind. jimin as well OOOOF. the fact he didn’t care to learn all that shit but kept going to see you lets go.

♢ when the camellia blooms ; ♤ || ? — by @tanniesjeom

⇝ hanahaki disease, unrequited love // i put the question mark cause i can’t find the first part anymore but part 2 can be read as a stand-alone so? oh well. sad. heartbreaking. just angst. it’s also been a whileeee since i read this

♢ faded love ; ♤ || one-shot — by @jamaisjoons

⇝ shitty marriage, cheater!jimin // again, read this years ago but i remember the development of jimin hating the counseling appointments and meeting you for an hour but slowly looking forward to them just for you to start giving up just good ole angst.

♢ horizon ; ♡, ♤ || one-shot — by @hamsterclaw

⇝ dystopia, sexworker!reader // beware, mentions of violent clients! jimin making sure to be gentle w u :(( running away w u :(((

♢ heartburn ; ♤ || completed — by @jiminrings

⇝ cheater!jimin, wedding season // this is more like emotional cheating but yes jiminrings has done it again. the way they write angst and the things they come up with im just… so obsessed w them like.

♢ pending…

#park jimin #park jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #park jimin x reader #bts jimin #jimin #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #park jimin smut #park jimin angst #park jimin fic #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fic #bts #bts fic #bts fics #jimin au #park jimin au #bts x reader #bts au #jimin fanfic #🍀📁.jiminrec #cloverrecs #clover rec #minors dni #park jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #park jimin imagine

[eoieopda]

menace (pjm) — pt. ii

“Be careful with that lip,” he warned in a thick voice dropped low, “Pout like that again, and I might bite it.”

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 2/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Word Count: 6.5K Content: (General) Seokjin’s younger sister AU; fuck buddies that hate each other; reader is AFAB & queer; surprise cameo by my current dream girl. (SMUT | 18+) this part is written in sort of an omniscient POV; brat-tamer!Jimin & brat!Reader; oral sex (m); manhandling; spanking; slight degradation & spit kink; unprotected sex (p in v); safe word in place (unused). A/N: Absolutely re-worked a shit ton of this part after “Smoke Sprite” dropped because I needed this cameo to happen 😵‍💫 I'm gonna put the tags in the comments this time because Tumblr has been shitty about them lately, lol.

Immediately after Jimin left you in that green room, dangling off a ledge, you did your best to bury that blush on your cheeks in pressed powder. The lip balm he was wearing when he kissed your temple caused that powder to cling where you didn’t want it, and it left you with two options:

You could uproot the flawless base you’d created prior to his unwelcome arrival, spend time you didn’t have destroying evidence. Alternatively, you could pretend not to notice the faint lip print shining in a shade just slightly darker than the rest of your face. Even if it was more or less invisible to the naked eye, it was a flashing, neon sign to you.

And just like that, his unanticipated crumb of affection made sense. So, you grabbed a makeup wipe from the travel-sized package you brought with you and set back to work.

That motherfucker.

When you’d gathered yourself to the best of your ability, you glanced in the mirror. Still a bit flushed, still a bit shaky, but still deadly. Any other loner you'd run into wouldn’t stand a chance; and though your primary goal was paying off the orgasm debt Jimin had defaulted on, it didn’t hurt to consider how far up a wall it would drive him to watch you weigh your options.

You wouldn’t chalk it up to jealousy, the way Jimin reacted when he saw you convert strangers into acolytes. From where you were standing, that telltale clench of his jaw wasn’t precipitated by your habit of looking at anyone but him. More than anything, his problem likely had to do with the fact that it was you people were staring at — not him. The name of the game was desirability, after all; and Jimin seemed to really fucking hate it whenever you pulled ahead — collected more merit badges in the form of phone numbers.

Of course, he might not have hated it as much if you didn’t love rubbing his nose in it to the extent you did.

Upon walking out into the club’s private bar, the first face you caught sight of was that of your brother. Judging by the way he was sputtering, Seokjin was witnessing your weather-inappropriate outfit for the first time — and he was not handling it well. You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him and the burnt-red tips of his ears a second glance. If you did, he’d be launching himself over bar stools to force you into his winter coat.

Worse, knowing how reactionary he was when it came to you, it was safe to assume that he’d enucleate every wandering eye he found fixated on you. That wouldn’t bode well for the stranger seated at the center of the bar, whose whiskey-warm gaze in your direction was an invitation in and of itself.

Coincidence or kismet, it didn’t matter — the only open spot at the bar happened to be right next to her, whoever she was. She grabbed her clutch off the bar top in front of that unoccupied stool as soon as she saw you headed her way. Despite the distance, you could see the smirk working its way across her lips; and the nearly imperceptible dimple she’d unearthed in doing so.

Target acquired.

When you finally reached her, it was difficult to tell whether the slight tremble in your knees was due to the discomfort of your heels, or the sharp cut of her jaw jutting out beyond the razored edge of her hair. Pretending that it was neither, rather than both, you gestured to the open seat with a coquettish smile, “Saving this for someone?”

The stranger’s voice was deeper than you expected from someone as petite; it left your whole hopeless body vibrating.

“My Valentine,” she said with a dreamy sigh, and it sounded like a song. Mirroring the movement of your finger, she pointed nonchalantly to the stool, silently telling you to claim it. “Lucky for me, I think I found them.”

“Lucky for them,” you corrected, sliding into your seat and title simultaneously. Now with your elbow resting against the bar, you propped your chin up on the heel of your hand and narrowed your eyes thoughtfully. “If only they knew your name.”

The same finger that guided you to your spot raised to flag down the bartender. What else can it do? Killing two birds with one stone, she told the bartender which tab to put your drink on: “Hwang Soyoon —”

“Someak, please.”

“— but naekko works, too.”

It might’ve been the cheesiest line you’d ever heard, but goddamn, was it effective. You accepted your drink with a quick bow of your head, then even more quickly, you took a swig to calm the heat threatening to burn through your cheeks. Once the butterflies in your stomach were sufficiently drowned in alcohol, you set your glass back down on a coaster and picked up Soyoon’s hand in its place.

“You this smooth on the dance floor?” you asked as you tilted your head in the direction of your destination.

In lieu of a verbal response, she got to her feet and, with another smirk, she helped you to yours.

Two drinks and no small amount of shameless, wholly observable flirting later, you and your prize stumbled off the dance floor to reclaim your seats at the bar. Soyoon’s arm likely would’ve remained draped around your shoulders whether your heels hurt or not; but you had no qualms about playing it up, playing right into her hands.

Tragically, with you deposited safely on a bar stool, Soyoon’s hands slipped away — but not before her fingertips slid slowly down the length of your spine, leaving you to tingle hopelessly in her wake. Oh, for fuck’s sake, was it really that easy to get to you?

She ducked down and came in close so you could hear her over the music. “I’m headed for the restroom,” she said, “Don’t run away, yeah?”

Eyes wide and twinkling, you nodded obediently — albeit more enthusiastically than you wanted to let on — and you felt a small crack form in your nonchalant façade. Never were much good with a poker face, huh? Unable to cover it, the corners of your mouth automatically curved downward as she turned away. They didn’t stay there for long.

Several meters away, now unobstructed without Soyoon in front of you, stood Park Jimin. To put it mildly, he was incensed, angst radiating off of him like a smoke signal. His stony gaze pinned you where you sat; and those eyes narrowed further, flashing a shade darker when you raised both middle fingers. They were near to black when you used those neatly manicured fingertips to push the corners of your mouth into a shit-eating grin.

“Smile, fucker!” You mouthed.

Jimin, now positively glowering, held up his own middle fingers in response. This time, he didn’t imitate your smug antics. The look on his face was a bullet, hitting you hard in the chest and causing your body to clench on instinct, and your stomach to flip with anticipation. Oh, you were going to get it for this.

So, you figured, why not push that thorn a little further into his side?

Without stopping to think twice, you rose again to your feet. God, these fucking heels. You swallowed down the pain emanating from the balls of your feet and strutted up to him like it didn’t ache to do so. Unfortunately, none of the heads you turned in the process would suffice.

By the time you were halfway to his small, circular table, Jimin had already looked away. Drink held up to his lips, he sipped and stared coolly off into the crowd. Like you weren’t there, like you weren’t worthy of ongoing attention.

Liar.

He continued looking everywhere else when you slipped in beside him — when you flicked your hair over your shoulder and grazed his in the process — when you failed to conceal the pout beginning to form on your face.

This motherfucker.

Even as you glared up at him, Jimin ignored you. With a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight from one leg to the other.

You played this game with him constantly but in reverse, allowing him to feel like he was invisible, like you couldn’t be bothered to register his presence. With that ego of his, you knew it stung — and you knew exactly how childish it was to hate the taste of your own medicine.

“You know, it’s rude to leer,” you breezed, “Worse, the optics are a bit… predatory, don’t you think? Weird, lone male shooting daggers at a couple of sapphics?”

He took another sip of his drink, set the glass down, and tilted his head to flutter his eyelashes at you. His tone was dripping in feigned innocence when he replied, “Would the optics be better if I left a pretty girl alone at a bar? What if I did it just to throw myself at someone else?”

You didn’t know why you felt the need to defend yourself, but you did; rushing headlong, right into the pitfall, “I didn’t leave anyone — she went to the restroom.”

Jimin smirked and nodded once over your shoulder, “Well, she’s back now.”

You quickly turned your head to see what he did: Soyoon rolling her eyes while you froze and Jimin waved at her with a frighteningly accurate imitation of friendliness. She was gone again in the blink of an eye, slipping off towards the door, before you could even dream of catching up to her.

Shit. Why were you like this?

“Poor baby,” he cooed with the world’s most patronizing frown. “Gonna pout some more?”

Already cutting your losses, you plastered on a saccharine smile, “Of course not.” Your fingertips whispered over his forearm as you leaned into his ear. With a voice that dripped dark and sweet like honey, you quoted him and watched his pupils blow, “I’m going to make you cry.”

Jimin grabbed his glass and tossed back the liquor that remained without flinching. Then, he leaned down, lips damn near touching your ear, and snapped, “Get your shit and meet me outside in ten minutes. If you’re late, you’re walking.”

You exhaled a laugh through your nose and raised an eyebrow, “Who said I wanted to leave with you?”

With how closely he was standing to you, Jimin had completely shielded you from the throng of people standing nearby. Cloaked in low light, his hand ducked under the hem of your dress so he could scrape his thumb nail over the spot he’d marked earlier with your own wetness.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he whispered darkly with eyes fixated on your mouth. He licked his lips, then emphasized each word: “Ten — minutes.”

Jimin disappeared and left you to stand there with a wildfire tearing through your insides. You waited until you knew he was gone to let go of the breath you’d unintentionally been holding, now a shaky gasp that died as soon as it hit the air.

It took you less than three minutes to race off to the green room and gather your coat, purse, and regrettably large makeup bag. Despite that fact, you made a point to stand a few meters from the club’s exit for what remained of your ten minutes. You stared down at your watch, still aflame, and watched the seconds tick by; smirking as you allowed one extra minute to slip away.

Eleven minutes after you’d parted ways, you slipped past Seokjin and out the back door to find Jimin leaning impatiently against his car with his arms crossed.

“Brave of you,” His tone was light, but his eyes were anything but. “You gonna be like this all night?”

You cocked your head to the side the way he’d done earlier. “I’m not sure what you mean, Park,” you said with your blinking eyes sweet enough to cause a cavity. “You gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me with these?”

He watched you raise your encumbered hands like your cosmetics were made of bricks, and let out a long-suffering groan. Jimin knew you were full of shit; you were the last person who ever needed — or wanted — his help. You were just an unmitigated pain in his ass, always. But he clearly had places to be and people to ruin, and your brattish behavior was once again interfering with well-laid plans.

When he crossed over to you, his footsteps kicked up a cloud of dirt that swirled in weak pirouettes around his ankles. In no time at all, he grabbed the bags you pretended to struggle with and carried them just as easily as you could’ve, if you deigned to lift a finger. He shot you a look that broadcasted: I’m only doing this to get your ass moving.

You giggled meanly as he dealt with your burden and sauntered off to the front seat of his SUV. It took a bit of effort to balance yourself on your fucking heels as you slid onto to leather, but you were immediately grateful to be off your feet again. Once you’d settled, you glanced down and realized how far the hem of your dress had shifted in the process.

In any other circumstance, you’d fix it, cover the dangerous expanse of your exposed, upper thigh. Now, though, you opted not to do a damn thing about it. Instead, you did what came naturally: you made it worse.

With a contented sigh, you kicked off your pumps and rested your feet on his dashboard, bare legs stretched out ahead until they crossed at the ankles. If your brother were here, he’d tell you that you were being rude; and in anyone else’s car, Seokjin would be right. Still, you knew it ate at Jimin whenever you did whatever improper thing you wanted.

You knew the way his cock twitched when he watched you not give a fuck; when you suckered him into doing menial tasks, like tucking your belongings into the backseat of his car. He’d never say so and you’d never ask, but there was no other explanation you could think of for why he gave in. Punctuating your thought, he slammed the back door and made his way to the driver’s seat.

Jimin slid into the spot next to you and immediately clocked the way the skirt of your dress had hitched up. He stared for a moment longer than he likely meant to, then his eyes trailed down your legs to find your bare feet resting on his dashboard.

“Were you raised by wolves?” He waved his hand at your legs with annoyance that only grew alongside your smirk. “Seriously, you’re a fucking animal.”

You let your head roll to your shoulder as you leaned over the center console. “Oh, you cut me, Park.” You teased and poked out your bottom lip out in a put-upon pout.

Adding injury to insult, you threw your hand up to your forehead in your best imitation of his usual theatrics — then, you let it drop. The back of your hand collided with his bicep as it fell; and it remained there long enough for him to reach out and grab it. His fingers encircled your wrist easily, doubling over and gripping hard.

“Be careful with that lip,” he warned in a thick voice dropped low, “Pout like that again, and I might bite it.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to try. To the contrary, Jimin let go of your wrist and pushed your hand off him so he could slide the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered without turning over, leaving you to wonder if it was going to start at all.

He scoffed, “See? Told you that if you weren’t here in ten minutes, you’d be walking.”

To both of your surprise, you exhaled a laugh — a genuine one, no less — at his little joke. It caught him off guard and caused him to chuckle, too, for just a moment before he stopped abruptly and muttered, “Shut up. I’m concentrating.”

“Like I’ve never heard you say that before.”

You rolled your eyes and then your neck to lean your head against the seat rest. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shoot you an indignant look; but as usual, you ignored it. “Should I just leave then?”

When his exasperation briefly flickered over to confusion, you gestured out the window to a taxi parked nearby. If you ditched him now, you’d be home in five minutes instead of however long this was going to take.

“Patience,” Jimin growled as he wiggled the key and turned it again. “If you could — just once — stop bitching and wait —” The engine roared to life with one last turn of the key. “— you could wipe that miserable look off your face.”

You turned in your seat, genuinely offended, as he pulled out onto the street. “I look miserable?” You laughed hotly, “You look like a kicked puppy every time I see you.”

Jimin’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. “Did you ever think about the timing of that?” He fired back. “You think it’s a coincidence that I look like this whenever I’m confronted with that?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he did remove one hand to point it right at your face, which featured wild eyes and gritted teeth.

“I swear to God, it’s like you were designed in a lab somewhere for the sole purpose of sapping my will to live. How the fuck else does a person end up being this much of a nightmare?” Jimin was nearly shouting now. As his voice raised, so did your heart rate — so did your chest as you heaved forceful, angry breaths.

Though the heat of your seething bodies was starting to steam up the windows, you could still see the shadow of your tiny house approaching quickly from the middle distance. Throwing your arm out, you pointed to the driveway he was about to rocket past and snarled, “Fucking brake!”

Jimin begrudgingly did as you said. Your bodies both lurched forwards. Your seat belt gripped you the same way his arm had earlier, but when you crashed backwards, your back was flush to your seat instead of his chest. Just as suddenly as he’s braked, he whipped his car into your driveway and came dangerously close to your garage door before throwing the gear shift to park.

“You absolute fucking menace!” You smacked his bicep again, harder now, “Are you trying to forfeit my security deposit? Why don’t you just open my wallet a burn every won you find?”

With a grunt, you threw off your seat belt and let the end of it smack against the plastic molding as it returned to its resting place. He did the same, in the same manner you had, but went ahead to criticize you for your roughness.

“I only give a shit about the dents you’re so dead-set on making in my car,” Jimin spat. Turning abruptly to you, his hand darted out, dipped under your left leg, and prompted you to pull your feet down from his dashboard. “Your rental means dick to me.”

You rolled your eyes for the hundredth time that night as you slipped out of your seat, grabbed your heels, and slammed his passenger door shut behind you. Shoving your clenched fist into your coat pocket, you gripped your keys and pulled them out as if you were wielding a knife. Rage still simmering, you stomped barefoot up to your doorstep just to fumble with the lock on your front door.

As you struggled, the key slipped from your fingers and clattered down against the concrete patch below. That pin dropped from the grenade and exploded through the quiet. As you stared down dejectedly at it, your tiny growl came out like a whine.

Before you could snatch it off the ground, Jimin swooped in. “Give it here, crybaby,” he said while shooting you an exasperated look. With ease, he jammed the key into the lock, turned it, and shoved the door open.

The inner doorknob smashed against the wall of your foyer, and you rounded on him immediately. Jimin raised one finger in your face, and it stopped your shout before it could fly out at him. He stared straight ahead of him, positively seething, “If you mention your security deposit again, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

Beyond fed up, you huffed once more and stomped off over the threshold. You didn’t give a shit if he followed you.

As you tore down the hallway to your bedroom, you didn’t bother switching on any of the lights you passed. You were too busy throwing down your shoes and wrestling out of your jacket; leaving a trail of outerwear behind you as you went. Entirely incapable of caring that you’d created an obstacle course for the boy mere steps away.

Jimin staggered along after you, dodging the various items of clothing you’d left scattered across the hardwood. His jacket and shoes clattered to the ground on top of yours, thudding heavy like his pulse in his ears. Twin tornados as usual, you left a path of total destruction in your wake — every single time.

When he finally reached your bedroom, Jimin was panting. You were sitting and seething on the edge of your bed, trying desperately — and failing — to reach the zipper on the back of your dress. True to form, he leaned against the wall and watched you with quiet amusement but offered no aid.

Truthfully, he liked the idea of you wearing that stupid little number while he fucked you; he’d been marinating in that little fantasy all night. Unlike every other person in that club, Jimin didn’t have to imagine the curve of your ass underneath that red satin. He didn’t have to dream about kissing at your thighs the way the edge of that fabric did when you danced, or sunk down onto a bar stool and crossed one leg over the other.

No, Jimin had no quarrel with that dress — he felt equal to it, rather than robbed by it. He’d been everywhere it had and then some, a million times or more.

As he watched your frustration build, he wondered if you’d give up soon. His dick was swelling uncomfortably against his chinos, and he was beginning to lose his already limited patience. So, apparently, were you. Reaching behind your back, you gripped the sides of your dress in both fists and pulled — hard. You gasped as if it’d hurt you, but Jimin knew it would take much more than that.

There was the unmistakable sound of plastic breaking, and then the familiar look of triumph on your face as you stood. Your dress slipped off you like water and dropped dead in a pool of red at your feet. The mangled zipper was somehow still attached, but its teeth had been pried open. Jimin tried not to look impressed — your ever-present ego didn’t need to be bolstered.

You stepped out of the halo around your ankles and kicked it carelessly aside, vowing silently to replace the zipper tomorrow. You lifted your head, breathing hard, and locked eyes with Jimin. The sight of him standing there, doing fuck all, forced an indignant groan out of your parted lips.

“Why —” You hissed, “Are you still dressed?”

Jimin shrugged noncommittally, knowing full well it would enrage you. “Figured you had a knack for zippers,” He murmured innocently, “Was thinking you could handle mine.”

He was goading you, and you knew it, and you still took the bait. He wanted your animalistic hands clawing desperately at him, and to an extent, he’d get them. But he should have been more careful with what he wished for because he wasn’t ready for you.

You closed the distance between you and pushed the center of his chest — not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough for the unexpected force to knock his head back against the wall. You were on one tonight, and for once, he didn’t bite back at you. The look in his eyes admitted that he enjoyed this side of you; that he wanted to see what came of it.

You wasted no time dropping to your knees in front of him and flicking open his belt buckle. Once you had proper access, nimble fingers undid the top button of his slacks, exposing his zipper. You were half-tempted to rip it the way you’d ripped your own — to teach him a lesson — but you didn’t. You inhaled slowly, and exhaled more so.

As sluggishly as you could, you tugged the zipper down. Your knuckle brushed against the side of his cock as it pressed eagerly against the fabric of his trousers and underlying boxer briefs; it twitched at the brief contact. Even more slowly, you slid your fingers through belt loops on either side of his hips and tugged. With the pressure of his pants alleviated, you heard him sigh softly overhead.

It was so stupidly easy to get him hard like this. And on the off chance it wasn’t this easy for everyone, you were an expert at making him like this. You leaned towards the tip, and as you did, you looked up at him from under your lashes. His cock jerked in response, begging for attention you were still refusing to pay it.

You had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Without breaking eye contact, you let your tongue slide out from between your lips. As chastely as a thing like it could be done, you ran it over the tip of his clothed cock, fabric already dampened by pre-cum before your saliva could stain it.

“Fucking touch it already,” Jimin snarled from above you.

You smirked, bumping your chin against the side of him but childishly refusing to put your mouth back on him.

“You begging, Park? Is that what that was?” You pressed up higher on your knees so that his length rested against the center of your throat. If your hypothesis panned out, the vibration of your voice alone might kill him. “If you’re going to beg, you should use your manners.”

He groaned exactly as you predicted he would, letting his eyes screw shut — half blissed, half vexed. With them still closed, his hand reached out and carded gently through the hair at the crown of your head; uncharacteristically soft until he grabbed a handful. The sting at your scalp caused your eyes to water, and your head to tilt back.

Now with half-lidded eyes, Jimin watched the column of your exposed throat bob as he used his free hand to push down the waistband of his briefs — the last barrier between his cock and your mouth. He wanted you full of him if that’s what it took to finally shut you up.

Your index finger traced the vein running along the underside of his length, dragged out another involuntary twitch that burned him up inside. You then switched to your thumb as you went gliding back the way you’d come, and when you finally reached the base of him, your hand teased his balls. Left without words to hurl at you, all Jimin could do was swallow a groan and grip your soft strands tighter.

It was a drag-out fight to keep his eyes open, but he had to if he wanted to watch you kneel in front of him as if you were praying. So perfectly obscene; he’d die a thousand times before you finally took him in your mouth.

You spat in the palm of your hand — unexpectedly crude for a princess like you — and then you began working the length of his dick with alternating pressure. As your small, soft hand pumped him, your mouth surprised him. When you enveloped one of his balls with your mouth, he keened and allowed his eyes to flutter shut again.

As far as Jimin was concerned, there was one use for that bratty mouth, and this was it.

After too few moments massaging his balls with your mouth, you tragically pulled back. The interruption in contact caused him to crack his eyes open and peer desperately back down at you. Under a curtain of dark lashes, your gaze rose to meet his — and then, without warning, you spat directly on his cock. Involuntarily, Jimin’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way as he watched the trail of saliva connect your bottom lip to him.

Oh, fuck you.

Your tongue swirled expertly over his tip while your hand worked over the base of his cock. Try as you might, you’d never fit all of him in your mouth at once — at least, you were sure Jimin assumed so. You hallowed out your cheeks and bobbed your head along as you took more and more of him; earning shuddered moans as you did.

Every now and then, he’d pull at your hair and roll his hips forward, fuck himself a little further into your mouth. You’d feign a whimper as if he was pushing you to your limit, and you let him think so. The sick sound of you pretending to struggle was dragging him close to the edge, but Jimin had no idea what his undoing would truly be:

Smirking to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the back of his thighs to anchor yourself. Undoubtedly confused, you felt him tense in the moment before you pushed further, further, further. Blinking away tears, you noted the way his eyes sparked when his tip slid past your soft palate and touched the back of your throat. They screwed shut as soon you caught him staring and swallowed.

“Ohh, fuck!”

The words sputtered out of Jimin’s mouth the same way his cum shot down the back of your throat. Tensed fingers twisted in your hair as his hips jerked helplessly against the heat of your wide-open mouth. Unable to process any part of what you’d just done to him, he couldn’t seem to get any air in his lungs either — somehow, you’d broken his brain, and his body didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

You pressed against the front of his thighs as you leaned away from him, eyes still locked. Then, you lifted the back of your hand to your mouth — twisted in some devilish grin — and wiped the spit that had dribbled down your chin.

You little fucking demon.

Jimin hated it when you finished him off during the first round; and you knew it. It infuriated him to no end when you spent him like that — right out of the gate — because he’d have to wait to retaliate. You were well aware of that fact, too. Goddamn menace.

As blissed out as he was with his cock shoved down your throat, he was bubbling over with exasperation in the aftermath. “What the fuck was that?” He panted.

Jimin had so many questions, but he wouldn’t ask you anything further. Who does that? Who planted that idea in your head? Who had you been practicing on, and why hadn’t it been him?

The impish glint in your eyes didn’t dissipate when you shrugged noncommittally — just as he’d done to you, mere minutes before you’d successfully scrambled his brains. Because there was nothing you loved more than weaponizing his own words against him, you sighed with a frown, “Was thinking you could handle me. Nobody busts that fast, though. D’you think you should see a specialist about that?”

Instant gratification came when his arms hooked under your arms and lifted you abruptly from your feet to your knees. So, maybe there was one thing you loved more than firing his bullshit back at him. You tried not to let the excitement show on your face when he spun you around, left you staring down at your bed while you dripped with anticipation.

“Shut your mouth,” Jimin demanded while he took your arms hostage behind you. Evidence of his returning arousal was pressed flush against the small of your back, stoking the fire building in your core. “And lay down on your stomach.”

For once, you did what he said without putting up a fight. Despite the scowl on your face, there was a hurricane inside you that left your mind dizzy, and your panties soaked. Falling into place atop your duvet, you stretched your arms up and under the coolness of your pillows with a sigh. The soft fabric against your cheek and naked chest nearly had you in a trance.

It was a hard slap on your ass that brought you back to the present moment; and ravenous hands tugging down your underwear that kept you there. Your pleasured cries filled every space between his words and his swift smacks, but they went ignored; dead and buried in the fibers of your bedding.

“Why is it —” His warm palm collided with your doughy flesh again and you whimpered, though you tried to swallow it. “— that you look your best — ” He kept his hand still to dull the sting, only to dig blunt fingertips into your ass cheek. “— with your face buried in your pillows?”

You turned to putty in his hands every time he played so roughly with your skin, left little keepsakes behind to remind you where he’d been. If you hadn’t encouraged him to mark you, you suspected he wouldn’t. To his credit, Jimin was much gentler before you stopped letting him be; and as time passed — to your surprise — turning you on seemed to factor heavily into his own arousal.

Not inclined to waste any more time, he leaned over your reddened, stinging backside and grabbed the hands you’d stowed away under your pillows. Though he took care not to ring out your shoulders, he nipped cruelly at one with his teeth as he encircled your wrists with his fingers and jerked them down behind your back. He held them in place with his left hand and brought his right hand expectantly to your mouth.

Jimin didn’t have to say a word for you to hear him, loud and clear. You spit into his hand and, within seconds and without speaking, he pulled away again. In your peripheral vision, you watched in a daze as he pumped his fist back and forth to spread your saliva down his length, rolling his wrist as he worked the tip, bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

Selfishly, albeit predictably, he was more fixated on himself than you – and it drove you mad. You knew better, but you still interjected: “If you’re not going to fuck me, can you get out of my house?”

“Really sealed your fate with that one,” Jimin laughed dryly before smacking his hand down on your ass. As he gripped, he spread your cheeks apart, though his knees on either side of your legs kept you from moving. “Remember to say boksunga when you can no longer handle the consequences of your own actions.”

With that brief reference to your safe word — the one neither of you had used since it was chosen several months ago — he lined himself up at your spit-slicked entrance. The feeling of his tip at your slit caused you to swallow hard; and knowing what was coming next made your stomach flip. Your lips parted in the anticipation of a gasp.

The pressure of him driving himself into you — slowly and conscientiously, but to the hilt, nonetheless — was all but blinding. You needed him to move for you to acclimate to his size, but he stayed torturously still, leaving your shocked walls struggling to adjust. With your legs pinned together the way they were, you felt every vein, every slight curve — but what you still didn’t feel was movement.

“Move, Park,” you hissed through gritted teeth. The stretch brought on by his girth threatened to split you clean in half, no matter how many times he’d entered you before. It was difficult to breathe apart from gasping.

He responded in your own words, mocking the tone you’d taken with him not ten minutes earlier. “Are you begging? If you’re going to beg, you should really use your manners.”

“P-Park, I swear to God —”

He leaned down to your ear and somehow — though you’d have thought it impossible — his cock buried deeper inside of you. One wrong move, and you could kiss your cervix goodbye. In every way that mattered, you were trapped.

“There’s gotta be a please rolling around in that space between your ears,” He teased in a low voice that broke you.

Your swallowed pride burned on its way down. “Please,” you begged, “Please move. I need you to move.”

Satisfied that he’d snuffed out the fight in you, Jimin acquiesced. As he pulled away from your ear, he rolled back — tantalizing but, as you quickly learned, a false front. He pushed back in just as deeply as the first time without ever pulling out completely. The curve of his cock ground against your g-spot; the hands gripping hard at your captured wrists did nothing to stabilize you as you shuddered.

“Is that all it takes to make you go quiet?” His laugh struck harder than his hips did when they snapped forward. “Shit — if that’s the case, then why do I ever stop fucking you?”

Every time his pelvis collided with the flesh of your ass, the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the electrified air of your bedroom. It was all unholy, but still, you begged God that he’d never stop. He was wrong, though – you were anything but quiet.

To the contrary, you were on the brink of babbling as your cunt gushed around him. With each thrust into your wet heat, Jimin shook another useless thought loose; sent you out of your mind over him.

You’d devolved into a muttering fool by the time your orgasm crept up from the pit of your stomach. When it finally crashed over you, you sensed that it was compensating for the one you’d been denied earlier. Every sensation seemed doubled, and twice as hard to fight.

You screamed as you came — a sound Jimin had never heard from you before — and he was entirely unprepared for it. You came undone around him with a half-sob and forced his release in tandem with yours, cunt squeezing him so tightly that his vision started to blur.

And when the firefight was over, you were both silent. Fucked stupid, neither of you were capable of speech, let alone critical thought.

It was funny, you thought as you re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere, that the only peace you’d ever known with Jimin came immediately after you did.

#trashlibrary #bts #bts fic #bts smut #pjm #park jimin #jimin #park jimin smut #jimin smut #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #park jimin x you #jimin x you #park jimin x y/n #jimin x y/n #park jimin fic #jimin fic #re: menace #jade writes

[sailoryooons]

The Underneath | pjm

☾ Pairing: Monster!Jimin x reader (gender neutral)

☾ Summary: “Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” – Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil OR there is a monster under your bed and you've looked back at it for too long

☾ Word Count: 1,777

☾ Genre: Thriller, Horror in theory

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings:  Just general creep vibes. A lot of this happens in the complete dark so if you don’t like descriptions of total darkness or inability to see, this one is not for you. Mentions of being alone, themes of sadness/depression (though not heavy). Jimin is pretty creepy in speaks in an eerie manner and calls reader ‘it’ a lot and refers to himself as ‘Jimin’ in the third person. Overall it’s just a weird one. 

☾ Published: February 10, 2024

☾ A/N: Random creepy monster under the bed Jimin for this lovely Saturday morning. I actually was working on this last week when it was storming, which is why it’s giving the cheesy ‘It was a dark and storm night’ vibes lmfaooo. This Jimin is lowkey a little cute in my head cause he’s just this creepy lil monster under the bed who is like :/ I’m tired of you crying mf. This is for my fifth drable of the 100 Drabble Challenge and today I rolled for monster AU. Enjoy! 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Holy diver, you’ve been down too long in the midnight sea,” you hum, tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass pane. It’s cool to the touch, sending goosebumps down your arm. Your forehead presses against the window, feeling the damp condensation clinging to it as rain beats on the other side. “Oh, what’s becoming of me?” 

The tip tap of the rain matches the dappled shadows dancing across the room. The streetlight shining through the window is a weak glow, broken up by the shadow of your hand and the swaying tree branches as they bow under the wind. 

Wind batters the house. The home creaks under the pressure of the wind. A crack of lightning dazes you and your eyes flutter, blinking away bursts of colors and stars as you try to adjust to the darkness of your room again. The electricity flickers, a deep-bellied groan of thunder chasing the lightning.

“Gotta get away, Holy Diver.” 

You don’t know why that song. It’s the only thing that comes to you in the emptiness that slinks in on the heels of your sadness, a tune fit for thinking of nothing. Feeling nothing. Being nothing. 

You don’t even remember the first time you learned the Dio tune. 

“Like the eyes of a cat in the black and blue,” you mumble, the words catching over themselves as you become unfocused, vision blurring. You’re not really thinking of the song, but your lips move. They sound the words. 

Lightning flickers again. This time the power fails, the salt lamp in the corner of your room blinks off and the fan in the corner goes dead. The quiet presses in like a physical thing, smothering you as you lean away from the window, spooked by the darkness that floods both inside and outside. 

Spinning away from the window in your computer chair, your eyes scan the darkness. The furniture in your room takes on new forms. The lamp looks like something tall and vicious. The lumps of blankets and pillows on the bed look like bodies. The blank space under your bed looks like… something.

A mouth. A void. A thing. 

Still, the song plays in your mind, an empty cycle of words and music that you can’t shut off. “Something is coming for you, look out!”

The back of your neck begins to tingle as your gaze settles on the blank darkness under your bed. Slowly, you claw your way from the depths of an empty mind to acute awareness, blinking away the daze and focusing only on the gap between the floor and the bed.

Like always, a razor-thin awareness carves its way through you, an instinct that something is there. Licking your lips, you squint as though it can help you see in the cloying darkness. Your eyes tell you that nothing is there, but the goosebumps and pins and needles sensation slithering down your spine tells you otherwise. 

You don’t remember the first time you had the feeling that there was something under your bed. You just know it’s always happened, a preternatural awareness slipping into your mind and telling you to look. 

As a child, you were always too afraid to look. As an adult, you cannot help but look, seeking out whatever lies in the dark, searching for whatever it is that wants to be seen. 

There’s a hiss of sound. You cock your head. It isn’t enough sound to hear, exactly, but more like it’s the idea of a sound. Both a noise and nothing at all. 

“You can hide in the sun 'til you see the light.” The words drip from your mouth unaccounted for. You don’t know what makes you mumble them still. “Oh, we will pray it's alright.”

There is something on your bed. You know it like you know there is a storm outside. You know it like you know to breathe air or like to blink. 

Outside, the rain grows louder. There is no lightning to reveal what sits on your bed, but you stare nonetheless, trying to work out where it begins and ends. You think there is a shadow darker than others, but it’s hard to tell. 

It doesn’t occur to you not to be afraid. There is a buzzing in your head making fear temporarily unavailable, like a cellphone too far to be in service. 

“Why did it stop singing?” You sit straight in your chair. The voice comes from the direction of your bed, velvet soft and barely there. You strain to hear it over the pounding of the rain. “It has a lovely voice.” 

“I… forgot I was singing.”

“It forgets that it is making sound?”

The voice is both one voice and a hundred. It feels as though it echoes in your mind, smoke slipping into your ears and filling your senses. Your daze grows stronger, making your lashes flutter as the whispers skim over your mind and skin like a tangible thing. 

It fades after a moment, the silence following the sensation. You blink, staring into the darkness. You’re sure you can see a shadow sitting on your bed now, and though you can’t see eyes, you know it is looking at you. 

“I was sad.”

“Was? Is?”

“Was.” You think about it and realize that you aren’t sad anymore. The void that you felt only moments earlier is gone. “Yeah, I was sad. Now I’m not.”

“How does it feel?”

“Better.” 

“Good. It should be happy. I want it to be happy.” 

“What are you?” 

“Does it want to see my face?”

You hesitate. It isn’t fear that makes you pause. No, this thing has been in your room for as long as you can remember, though it’s never spoken to you before. You hesitate because you think you should be afraid and yet…

“I would like to, yes.” 

Lightning lances and you flinch. You only see the thing - a person - on your bed for a split second, but it’s enough to memorize some of his features. Dark grey hair, an angular face with delicate cheekbones, an elegant nose that’s rounded at the tip, sensual lips that look pillow-soft and rosy, and siren eyes that could look into your very soul.

It’s the eyes you remember. Sleepy. Seductive. Piercing. Eyes like that are what great poets write about, what musicians make songs about. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you even in the dark, pinning you to your computer chair, your instincts buzzing. 

You stare into the dark. The dark stares back, perhaps even more severely than before. 

His presence is oppressive, you realize. It’s a physical thing, like a blanket of nettle pressing against you both mentally and physically, an itch you can’t scratch. 

“You’re pretty,” you breathe.

“It may call me Jimin.”

“You can call me by my name. I’m not an it.” 

Though you cannot see the creature - Jimin - you get the sense he’s smiling as he asks, “You will give me your name freely to use? Names are so powerful.”

“Yes, I’d prefer you to call me by my name.” 

Jimin repeats your name back and the way he says it makes you shiver, rich chocolate dripping off of his tongue. Still, despite sitting in the dark and speaking with him in that hissing, purring voice of his, you’re not afraid, though… it feels like you could be. Like the fear is somewhere locked deep inside a mine, unable to find the path out. 

“Why are you so sad? You’re always so sad.” The way Jimin asks the questions makes you lean forward. His voice is a soft call, the rise and fall of the tone and the softness of the whisper alluring. “Jimin doesn’t like it when you’re sad.”

“I… feel very alone. People always leave me.”

He hums. “You’re never alone. You know that though, don’t you?” You nod, unsure if Jimin can see you with those sharp, keen eyes. “Jimin has always been here.”

“I… felt you.”

“And you were not afraid?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I feel like I should be.” 

Jimin hums and you can hear him move. The bed creeks as he shifts, though you cannot tell what he’s doing. The pressure of the air around you tightens and you think he might be walking toward you. 

“You never have to be afraid of Jimin.” You can smell damp clove and petrichor as he approaches. Like darkness. Like rain. “What if Jimin told you there was a place for you where you would never be sad?”

You hesitate. Jimin is somewhere right in front of you. His body doesn’t radiate heat so much as it radiates energy, an otherness about him that is unfamiliar to you. Perhaps like the static that comes with lightning or the pounding of your heart that comes with adrenaline. 

“I think I would like that.”

Cold fingers brush your hand. Jimin chuckles when you flinch and gasp. “No need to be afraid of Jimin. Come.”

Jimin tugs you. It’s gentle at first, but when you don’t move, too slow to catch up, it’s urgent. Worried. Hungry. Demanding. Jimin pulls you out of the seat, his grip turning to iron as he drags you across the room. 

Though you’ve told him yes, your body reacts differently. You dig your heels in and lean back, tugging your arm. Your thoughts tangle, trying to get your body to follow him the way your mind wants, but it feels like you’re pressing up against bones and muscles that are unfamiliar, like you can’t get them to work. Like they aren’t yours. 

You feel confused. Thoughts thick like cotton, you stumble after Jimin, legs locking and unlocking as you fight for the control to follow him. Jimin hums delightfully and pulls you to your knees, his hands on your shoulders as he giggles. 

“Jimin will protect you,” he whispers, his breath fanning your face. It’s cloying sweet, freezing you to the spot as your syrupy thoughts turn solid and realize it’s your instincts making you stop. The fear is there at the last moment, shattering through the dizziness to claim you. “No more sad!”

“Wait-”

“To the Underneath we go. It will be with Jimin forever.”

Jimin gives a brutal pull. You feel your body slam to the ground, thoughts splintering as your head hits the wooden floor. The last thing you remember is the drag of your heavy against the floor, the heavy pressure of static on your skin, and Jimin’s haunting voice singing in the dark. 

Like the eyes of a cat in the black and blue, something is coming for you, look out!

#jimin fic #park jimin fic #jimin bts fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #monster jimin #100 drabble challenge

[wildestdreamsblog]

When you found out they cheated on you

Pairing: Maknae line x Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, no one asked for this. I did this out of my own volition 😂 but this had been living in my mind rent free. I hope you enjoy!

Jimin

You angrily wiped your tears, shoving your things in your bag thoughtlessly. You didn’t care about the things you were leaving, didn’t care about the way you probably looked like an insane person, you didn’t care about anything but getting out of here as soon as possible.

Your movements were quick, going from one room to another in your haste to collect most of your things. You were about to go to the bathroom when the front door opened with a slam.

“Y/N! Baby!” Jimin’s voice was frantic as he called out for you, his legs carrying him to your shared room. The one you thought was filled with love and honesty, only for the memories to be sullied by him cheating on you.

You thought you were being irrational when you started suspecting that something was wrong, but you should have known that a woman’s intuition was almost never wrong. And God did you wish it was wrong because when you followed him from two cars behind and saw with your own eyes that he went to a exclusive hotel, only for him to come out hours later with a woman beside him, it broke you.

And when he kissed her, it destroyed you.

But nothing could have hurt more than the look in his eyes when he saw you from your car, his face telling you all you needed to know. And so you drove as fast as you could away from him and his lies.

But you guessed you could only run for so long before he caught up.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t even spare him a glance when he was desperately looking at you, his hand gripping your bag, attempting to stop you from packing your things.

“Baby, please. Please. Please talk to me, please,” he pleaded, tears falling from his eyes. He was out of his mind from the time he saw you looking at him from the parking lot as though you were disgusted by him. No. Not as though. You were disgusted.

You wrenched your bag away from his hold to no avail. And to your anger, you shoved your bag at him. If he wanted it so much, then you were going to leave it to him.

Fuck all your things.

Fuck him for breaking your heart.

He paled from your actions. You were always calm, always so gentle when it came to him that your sudden forceful actions displaced him. You were almost to the front door when he snapped out of his stupor, catching up to you. He caged you in his arms, pulling you so tight to him. Jimin was afraid that if he let you go, you’d leave and never come back.

“Let. Go.”

“No,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by him shoving his face on your hair, inhaling your scent in an attempt to calm the raging demons in him. “No. I’m sorry. I know I was wrong,” he said in a small voice that you almost jumped from how he screamed his confession next. “Something’s wrong with me! But please don’t leave me! I’ll fix it! I’ll fix us just please! Don’t leave.”

You didn’t know how, but you were able to wretched yourself away from him. You pushed him away, and in his emotional state, he fell to the floor.

Jimin looked pitiful. But you felt nothing but disgust when he touched you when before, you craved his touch.

Now you just felt dirty because of his touch.

“No. You disgust me,” you sobbed before leaving his house, and in turn, his life.

Taehyung

“Tae Tae! I’m home!” You sang as you entered your shared house. You came home early because you wanted to surprise him. You knew how much he hated being away from you, and he barely let you leave the house last week even though this was for your work. Your Taehyung pouted all the way to the airport, and even demanded cutely that you kissed him for five minutes before he even let you out of the car.

You frowned when you saw two, opened food container when you passed the kitchen. You thought innocently that he must have been hungry. And with a smile, you entered your bedroom, only to see your boyfriend sleeping. He looked peaceful and hot as he slumbered off, his shirt nowhere to be found and his hair tousled. He must not have shaved since you left, and you’d admit you loved seeing him like this.

With light steps, you sat on the bed beside him, brushing his midnight hair away from his handsome and princely face, before planting a kiss on his cheek.

He opened his eyes, anger swirling on them before he smiled at you. He looked like a child on a Christmas eve when he saw you. He sat up immediately and embraced you, smiling from ear to ear as he finally had you again in his arms.

“Taehyung! You’re squeezing me,” you complained in his ear, and yet despite that you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. He was warm, so pleasant to touch that you couldn’t help but rub his bareback, loving the way his muscles rippled.

“I miss you, princess,” his voice deeper from his sleep. “You’re not allowed to leave me again. I forbid it.”

You chuckled at your boyfriend’s silliness. You knew Taehyung was a bit clingy and possessive, but it never bothered you because at the end of the day, you knew his love for you was unparalleled.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious.”

“Fine, my prince. I’m not going to leave you that long again,” you said to appease him. You planted a kiss on his shoulder when you caught a reddish mark on his otherwise perfect skin. Did he scratch it? Was his allergy acting up?

“Promise me,” he demanded in a hard voice.

“I promi-“

The sound of something inside the bedroom’s bathroom suddenly made you look at that direction, your brows furrowed as you pushed him away gently. If you were confused that he gripped your wrist, you didn’t comment. But still, you smiled at him and walked closer to the bathroom. You wished you didn’t open it because what was inside destroyed how you looked at him, how you looked at the one you loved the most.

The woman in front of you looked down, shame creeping on her face. Her hair was wet, undeniable that she showered in your shower. Her arms were wrapped around her as though to protect herself. But you wouldn’t hurt her.

She wasn’t the one who made a commitment to you.

The man behind you did.

Slowly, you looked at Taehyung, his lips quivering in panic.

“So…” you started in a cold voice, one that could be mistaken for calm if not for the storm that was in your eyes. “You missed me that much that you fucked another girl?”

He flinched, your words bullet to his heart. “This was a mistake, princess-“

You scoffed when you heard him called you that.

“It was a mistake! One that should have never seen the light of the day if only you left!” He screamed at the woman behind you, vein popping out of his neck from anger. He stalked to her, shouting at the now terrified woman. “I told you to leave! Why did you stay!! Why are you here?!”

You couldn’t recognize the man beside you. He never once shouted at you, and now seeing him angry at someone he fucked was unbelievable. How could he blame her when it took two to tango?

You pushed him away from the cowering woman. If you were not a kind person, you wouldn’t do this. But you couldn’t just stand there and let him verbally attack someone when he was an accomplice too.

“Why are you still here?! I told you to leave! Leave!”

You looked behind you. And despite the hurt and hatred in your heart, this was something between the two of you. You quietly told the girl to leave because if she wouldn’t, Taehyung wouldn’t stop screaming.

And when she left, you felt his hand touch your cheek sweetly. “She’s gone now, my princess,” he whispered, hope in his eyes as he gazed at you. “She’s never coming back.”

You slapped his hand away from your face. “How many times did you cheat on me?”

Taehyung ran his hand through his hair, his breathing shallow and rapid. “I-It was only once. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t supposed to find out-“

“I don’t mean anything to you,” you whispered in realization. You flinched when he reached for you.

“You do! You mean the world to me!” He swore, visibly panicking when you wouldn’t let him touch you, when you kept on backing away from him as if he was dirty. “I-I was gonna propose. See?!” He hastily opened the drawer and retrieved a velvet box, in it was a ring he commissioned for you, something that was one of a kind. “We’re going to get married and all this will just be history.”

You were shaking your head before he could even finished. How did he think that you were still going to marry him after this?

Taehyung was certifiably insane.

“I’m never going to marry a cheater, Taehyung.”

And you ran to your car parked in his massive garage, eager to escape the man you thought loved you with all his heart. From the rearview mirror, you saw him running after your quickening car, never stopping until you passed the gate to his house.

You heard him screaming for your name.

Jungkook

“No! No no no no no! Fuck, love please!” He begged as he attempted to catch up to you.

You didn’t think that your innocent surprise to your boyfriend of four years would end in this: you running from him. You finished your work early that day, and he had been begging you to let him see you tonight that you finally decided to surprise him in his work this time.

But you were the one surprised.

You should have taken noticed of the way the staff looked at you when you asked them where he was. They all looked at you with pity and fright. They were terrified of what would happen to you and how the golden maknae would react. You were so naive that you were smiling as you opened the door to the studio, only to find him sitting, his legs spread wide as a girl you recognized was one of the dancers bobbed her head up and down on his length. His eyes were closed, his hands on her head as he used her. You didn’t know how long you stood there, why you were frozen, why you couldn’t react. Was it because you thought he loved you with all his heart? That you thought he was the person you could trust the most in this world? That he would never do this to you? That your four-year relationship meant something?

Was that why your heart felt like it was going to break into tiny, million pieces?

“Y/N! You’re here,” You suddenly heard a deep voice from behind you which awoken Jungkook from his lust. The one who called you was Namjoon who was smiling at you, until he saw what you were seeing.

“L-love,” he stuttered, his eyes widening. He pushed the woman away from him, tucking his length inside him but before he could even do that, you were running away from him. Your tears were falling freely from embarrassment and pain. Did anyone know this? Were you made a fool?

“Y/N! My love! Wait please!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as you ran to the elevator, pushing the buttons repeatedly, willing for it to go faster because if it didn’t, you’d end up facing something you couldn’t even begin to process. Jin and Suga walked out of Suga’s studio with confused look on their faces when they heard the clamor of their golden maknae screaming his lungs out. Jin looked at Namjoon for explanation, and when the leader quietly explained it to his hyung, Suga’s eyes went cold.

Heavens must have taken pity on you that the door opened just when he was about to reach you. But you should know, Jungkook was fast. He shoved his hand on the elevator, effectively stopping it from closing. His doe eyes looked lost and afraid when you slapped his hand away from you.

“How could you do this to me,” you said with venom in your voice. Even in your sadness, you were conscious of the eyes on you, specifically Namjoon, Jin, and Suga. “How could you do this to us?”

He shook his head, his lips quivering as you pushed him out of the elevator. “I-I’ll fix this for us. I’ll be better. I’m sorry-“

“No. You’re sorry because I caught you, Jungkook.”

And when he didn’t say anything, only looking at you with tears falling in his eyes, you knew what to do. With resolution in your heart, you slipped off the ring he gave you just last week when he asked you to be his wife.

Last week, he loved you.

And now, he cheated on you.

“I’m so glad we’re not married yet. Thank you for cheating on me this early,” you mumbled as you walked near him, holding his hand so you could drop the ring he gave you. You could almost laugh in pain when you remembered him being so shy and scared as he knelt down and asked for your hand. And now you saw him with a girl kneeling for him.

The irony, you thought.

Jungkook shook his head when you tried to give him the ring, and when he didn’t accept it back, you dropped it to his feet.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you said in a cold voice. You were going to enter the elevator again when you felt his tight grip on your arm.

“NO! YOU’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE ME OVER SOMETHING AS STUPID AS THIS! WE’RE GONNA GET THROUGH THI-“

“You’re hurting me!”

“No! You promised me you’re going to be mine. You said you loved me! Do you not love me despite of my mistake! You can’t leave-“

A sudden hand shoved him away from you. You gasped as you looked up at your unlikely savior, Yoongi.

“You okay?” He whispered as he looked at your tear-filled eyes. Your hesitance to nod was clear to him. He offered you a small, reassuring smile. “Go inside. I’ll take care of him.”

Jungkook attempted to step closer to you but Yoongi’s hand was steady on the maknae’s chest. “Yoongi hyung! What are you doing! I need her-“

“Stop it, Jungkook.”

“No! I’ll die if she leaves me!” You could hear his screams, terror in your eyes as he trashed against Yoongi that Namjoon and Jin had to help the rapper contain the strong man. The elevator door seemed to take forever to close. The way he looked at you with desperation in his eyes, the way he trashed and struggled against his hyungs who could barely restrain the distressed man was etched in your mind forever.

And even as the door closed, you could hear him scream for you.

“I’ll find you, love. And we’re going to get pass this. You’re going to love me again!”

#jimin x y/n #bts fic #yandere bts #park jimin x you #park jimin fic #jimin x you #jimin x reader #kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung yandere #taehyung x hoseok #yandere taehyung #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fic #yandere jungkook

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: Angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, Everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 15.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The abandoned industrial building rises without warning from the mist and fog. You could almost call in lonely. Although it has its comfort in its stillness, the same way that monsters that do not move do not instill fear. A foe vanquished but not forgotten.

The body. The dust. The puddle of blood by the door is more than enough evidence for plausible deniability. The faint splatter of it here and there like confetti left after a parade, or flower petals that fall in spring and pile up like snow.

Moonbyul stands in the doorway, like a pagan in a house of God. Out of place and out of mind. Dark coat unblemished by dust or blood. She doesn’t stoop to touch the ground or try and clean up the evidence from Jimin and Jin’s misbegotten hours here. She doesn’t think Hobi’s name, although she knows it.

God does she know it.

She’s poured over all the files that her men have collected about your pack for weeks now. Searching out weaknesses like a snake searches rabbit holes for soft fur and an easy meal. She’d spent the most time lingering over Tae’s file. The photos that shift from short hair to long, lipstick that she finds too pink and distasteful.

Red is better color.

She'd spent a long time pouring over Jin’s too because she’d needed to. Jimin and her cousins had been glossed over. She already knows enough about them to last a lifetime.

But only one file had given her paper cuts. Revenge on paper is not as sweet as it should be.

She doesn’t need to read that file anymore. Although she hears the words that the youth said so many months ago on repeat, you and Hobi in the coffee shop caught only on security camera. “I think I heard something I shouldn’t have”. As well as the ones that followed.

Contrary to popular belief, Moonbyul doesn’t like killing. She views it only as a necessity. She looks at the blood on the floor without any disgust. It’s been a long time since she’s cleaned up any alpha's mess, and she’s not going to start now.

She looks down at the blood and smiles. It’s a rare thing- seeing her smile. It’s different from her grin that bares her teeth. Sharped incisors changed and honed just before she’d been appointed the head of the moon family.

She remembers her mother's words when she’d looked at them in the mirror for the first time, She remembers that she could still taste the file they'd used to carve them. Metallic, like blood on her tongue.

“All the most dangerous alphas have fangs; you’ll need to learn to use them if you want to fill your father’s shoes.”

Familial death is more of a rite of passage than a time for mourning in the family. A time when power shifts and secrets get covered up or aired out. Like the moon waxing and waning.

Moonbyul hadn’t been born with fangs, the way alphas always are. Moonbyul hadn’t been born with a lot of things.

A smiling Moonbyul is either a happy or a bloodthirsty one. And a happy Moonbyul, when properly stroked- means they get privileges.

Privileges in their pack, amount to small little things most of the time. A night where they don’t have to take the heat inducers. A night where they can wear comfy sweats instead of the lingerie and stifling silk. But if they're extra sweet and good they get better things. A free evening where they can see their families as long as they come home before sunrise.

“Do you think he’s dead?” Solar is dressed as her clone today, with stockings pulled up her milky thighs flashing beneath the long hem. Extra extra cute in the way that she loops her arm into Moonbyuls and pouts. as if she's upset that her alpha is paying more attention to the murder than her.

She still smells faintly of sex, moonbyul, and her own ginger scent. Not like fresh cut- the kind that baked goods have around Christmas time.

Moonbyul smiles, rapping her long nails against where Solar's arm is curled around hers clinging to her as if her life depends on it. It does- Moonbyul and her both know it does. But Solar has always been a good pet. She’s never needed quite as much correction as Wheein who likes to know exactly where her cage ends and begins, or like Hyejin- who needs nearly as much combatting and careful maneuvering as their enemies.

She'd learned from Hyejin. Had never let the others have quite as much freedom or get used to challenging her. There's a reason why Hyejin had demanded to wear her mating mark and why Moonbyul had let her have it.

Omega's however sweet and however docile, still need a cage. Moonbyul's only ever tried to branch out of her tastes once, and she won't ever do it again. Disastrous as alphas are. They make piss-poor lovers and disobedient needy pets.

She sighs. Alphas and their messes.

In truth, the pack could use someone truly obedient, someone for whom being good is as easy as breathing to balance them out. The pack could use a good pup. The pack could use you.

Moonbyul burns in want, stewing in it ravenous. It’s not love, it’s not even really lust either. She’s never been an easily sated person. She’s always wanted too much, always finished the whole pint of ice cream in one sitting. She’s always wanted everything.

That’s why she’s smiling, because she’s about to get it.

She stands a little straighter, holding out her palm. “Why don’t we go see.” Moonbyul doesn’t turn to leave, however. She doesn't walk towards the body dumped at the back of the building, still bearing Jin's fingerprints. A single strand of hair would do it. She doesn’t make any move other than to reach into her pocket and take out a lighter.

She thinks of the family's assassins; The Bee, The Spider and The Wolf. She thinks of Park Jimin. The snake. Hopefully either dead or in the process of dying.

The body in the back of the building is another one of hers. She never thought that this would be the end of the Wolf, he'd always been one of their most reliable killers. Always showed up on time too, an exemplary employee. Not to be easily duped. She'll have to figure this out and pin down What did him in. But that will take time and energy, only one of which she has.

He was only supposed to wait in the wings and ensure that neither Park Jimin nor Kim Seokjin left this building alive, nothing more.

Sometimes things are just coincidences, sometimes if you're lucky- they're just bad luck.

This doesn't feel like bad luck, this feels like revenge.

Solar makes a noise in her throat, a questioning chirp. She really is trying to be her cutest right now. Moonbyul won’t reward her in a way that she likes, a way that she wants. Even songbirds still feel the itch to fly. Clipped wings and all.

She looks at the flame, sparking.

“Why won’t you just leave the evidence? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Solar is not as good as Hyejin at handling this sort of thing, not as experienced. But she’s currently handling other more important things. Things that need her finer touch.

Solar doesn’t understand why Moonbyuls going to light this place up like a fucking Christmas tree and do Seokjin’s dirty work for him. Solar is only a pup, and she’s been kept like that because Moonbyul likes pupish omegas.

She likes the innocence and obedience that people who weren't made for this kind of life have. So eager to please that they're willing to debase their souls. There is no greater sacrifice, no greater sign of love than someone willing to do anything for you.

This also happens to be why she likes you. Why she will have you. because neither Solar nor Wheein have ever been as good at this as you were. The perfect medium between sinful and pious. Cute even while killing.

And 5 is a prettier number than 4. 3 pups for her and Hyejin is a prettier number than 2. They need more than one for each.

Just one more pup, and then their collection will be complete. It took them so long to find the right one, so much trial and error. (Moonbyul despises errors. She's going to try and kill one before this is through)

She won’t let you slip through their grasp, not a second time. You should have never been Yoongi's.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to leave this as evidence? So that the FBI gets them all? We could just like- buy them off if they wanted to take her too-”

“Oh pup” she croons, half gentle. Flicking the lighter and letting it burn in front of her face before she tosses it The soil is so soaked through with gasoline that it lights as easily as a candle, slowly spreading from wall to wall and then- in the doorway, until the heat is too much and they have to move away.

“That wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?”

~-~

(Now, Namjoon)

Namjoon’s shirt is soaked so thoroughly with blood that it makes him cold. The hospital always feels cold, goosebumps rise like a mini mountain ranges on his arms. The hair pressed down where the blood has dried.

It’s not his first time covered in blood, but this time feels different.

He’s shivering, teeth clattering. His hands shake almost too bad to fill out the intake paperwork because he’d rather do it now than later. Park Jimin (registered, Kim) Alpha, weight 165 lbs (give or take a few). Blood type AB. No medications. No known allergies, no known prior conditions. No no no.

No.

Namjoon’s hands shake. He leaves Jimin’s ‘occupation’ blank.

Yoongi sits a few paces back, staring vacantly off into space. On the surface Namjoon would assume that he’s having no reaction and is feeling absolutely heartless about everything that's happened in the last 3 hours. But his breath becomes stuttered every few minutes, like he has to manually force himself to inhale and exhale. Like it’s taking all of Yoongi’s faculties to keep himself breathing and upright and not in a heap on the floor having a mental breakdown.

He kind of wishes Yoongi was crying and screaming instead. Then at least- Namjoon would feel like he had to be the strong one.

He can't get the feeling of stabbing Jimin out of his head, or the sound it it, the wet squelch of knife hitting skin.

Namjoon has cut into people thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times by now. But he’s only cut into someone he loves once, and god Namjoon never wants to do it again- won’t ever be able to touch warm prone flesh and hurt it, not after Minnie. Never again.

The pen in his hand weighs a million pounds. He contemplates asking for a piece of paper and writing out his resignation letter. he breathes in for 5 and out for 9, then sets it down on the clipboard and slides it across the counter for the nurse to take. Namjoon doesn’t hear her quiet tone asking him if he's alright and if there's anything she can do. just shakes his head on instinct.

There is a gaggle of nurses looking around the corner peering at Dr. Kim.

"Do you think he dresses like that outside of work hours?" "I never thought I'd be so attracted to jeans and a tee-shirt." Giggling in quiet voices.

It feels so strange, to hear people laughing while Jimin is dying. Namjoon almost wants to go bite their heads off and report them for poor bedside manner to the hospital manager.

This is Namjoon’s hospital. But Namjoon can’t find it in himself to smile or say thank you to the nurse when she tells him that the second she gets any news on Jimin, he'll be the first to know. He can’t say anything through the mountain of emotion in his throat.

If Namjoon’s love is a mountain, then his anguish is a river threatening to drown him. Yoongi smells like it- the line where water turns clear to brackish, Yoongi’s miserable scent has always smelled like the churning sea and now something that feels an awful lot like seasickness makes Namjoon sway on his feet.

Since he’s done with the paperwork, he promptly returns to Yoongi’s side and sits down. Only once he's sure he's stationary, does he pull a nearby wastebasket over between his knees to upend the contents of his stomach. It hits the top of old gauze pads crumpled up at the bottom and smelling like piss with a surprisingly violent sound, drawing the gaze of more than one person in the waiting room. At least it finally quiets the giggles.

Yoongi’s hand finds Namjoon’s knee, the hole in his jeans, The back of his ribs, stroking once twice. steady and hard the way that Namjoon likes. And Namjoon wishes he could snap at Yoongi. Wishes he didn’t curl into the touch. Wishes he was angrier. Wishes Jimin was perfectly alive and breathing and not going to-

Yoongi’s hand settles on the back of Namjoon’s neck, his throat, pulse hammering, thudding.

They’re just kids and Yoongi's hands are calloused. They've always been.

Deep down Namjoon still feels like he’s only 8 years old. Is just a kid and just starting to understand that the world isn’t all just papercuts and skinned knees; that it means something when people hurt. That it means something when you tell them you won’t let them hurt anymore.

He remembers promising Jimin something similar- a long time ago, the summer they all first met:

Namjoon remembers Jimin, standing in the apartment that wasn't theirs yet, after a movie night, the first movie night that the pack had ever had togeather (not totally togeather, becuase you and hobi hadn't been there yet but still).

It was the first time Namjoon had ever seen Jimin in something other than a designer sweater, sweats and a tee-shirt so ordinary that Namjoon was surprised it didn't make him look less intimidating. standing in the doorway waiting for Namjoon to notice him and look up from his medical journal.

"Yes Minnie? Did you need something?" jimin had shifted from foot to foot. looking up at jimin, a first slice of vulnerability in his eyes.

"Tae and Jungkook, they've got a bit of pain in them. I want to know what you intend to do with it." namjoon set his glasses to the side, the papers rustling as he forgets his reason.

"Make it better hopefully?" Namjoon had been struck with how oddly intense he'd been. Jimin had opened up with time and had gone sweet and trusting with the right amount of love. But he'd looked intimidating in his dark clothes and the wrinkle between his eyes like he was used to furrowing his eyebrows. A cute detail that Namjoon already wants to brush away. To touch. to cradle. To love.

He'll catalogue all of Park Jimin's cutest things in time. He'll treat love as a scavenger hunt, to find the softness in someone who tries so outwardly to be gruff and strong.

Namjoon's stained sleep clothes and promises felt all the more shabby in comparison.

"I need you to promise."

Namjoon had avoided it. Unwilling to meet his words with the same intensity. Jimin doesn't take chances with Jungkook and Tae. Tae's low laugh from the other room, Yoongi's matching grumble, overly fond already. Overly fond from the beginning.

"What about you? Doesn't everyone have pain?"

"Just promise."

"I promise to look after the three of you." Jimin had scoffed. Puffing up like a bird with too many feathers.

"I don't need looking after. Just them- when I go away for work."

"I know, but let me do it anyway." Smiling at the pretty alpha was so easy, so easy with the sounds of Jungkook and Jin's giggles in the other room. Laughter building itself into the walls around them.

"I promise not to hurt you or them. You have my word."

Namjoon lied, Namjoon lied back then and he didn't even know it. He upends his stomach again and Yoongi rubs down his spine.

“He’s not going to die Joon, he’s going to be fine.” Namjoon continues to empty his stomach, it’s pizza mostly, a bit of coffee, and a half-digested protein bar from this morning as well.

“Does hurting the people you love ever get easier?” Namjoon asks. Honesty, not anger in his tone.

Yoongi’s hair has gotten longer and hangs in his eyes. Yoongi never grew his hair out before you, always kept it in that short black sort of coconutty style. It makes him look older and all the more beautiful. Namjoon wonders if that’s why you like it; How regal it makes your mate look.

Yoongi has asked so much of Namjoon in the last few years, from leaving to coming back and bringing you. To hiding the mating mark and now this. Namjoon tells himself he should care more about Yoongi's lies and less about the fact that he just lied, period.

“No,” Yoongi grimaces. He always gets so quiet when things are bad, steady in that consistent way. He still hasn't stopped stroking Namjoon's back. Namjoon knows this is simply all Yoongi knows how to do, his first instinct is to love and not much else. “It was never easy.”

It’s not weird that they re-hash this now. Every time Namjoon learns more about how and why Yoongi left, he understands it more.

“I threw up too, just so you know- when I left, leaving you made me so sick that I hurled the second I got on that train. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” He blinks back wetness in his eyes, “I don't remember if I've ever told you that."

Namjoon nods. He can't remember right now either.

It’s been an hour or so now since Yoongi drove fast but steady steady steady to the hospital. Namjoon in the back while he stabilized Jimin in much the same fashion that you'd done earlier. The rest of the pack should be here soon. The three of you only lingered behind to clean up a bit and change your clothes, covered with blood and muck and who knows what else.

Yoongi sits like a statue and Namjoon can’t even look at him, can’t ask any questions or even start because he already feels like he’s yelling, and Namjoon hates yelling. This isn't isn’t exactly the most private venue for secrets that could land Jimin in jail.

Namjoon's still not entirely convinced that stabbing him was worth it. Namjoon’s brain is dizzy with terror. He’s still dizzy when he turns and sees you walking through the front doors to his hospital, Jin and Hobi trailing behind you.

He remembers the way you’d looked the day they’d gotten you checked out for the first time; how you’d run and pressed your face to his chest and buried your face there like just the sound of Namjoon's heart could make every demon and monster go away. For a moment, Namjoon thinks you might do the same thing. But your steps are measured, slow, and purposeful.

Namjoons eyes train on you, following you as you walk,

Yoongi stands, leaving Namjoon sitting with a cooling pail of vomit between his legs. he says something to you, to jin, but you don't pause, continuing until you're standing in front of him.

You don't say anything to him, just peer into the bucket and make a disgusted face down at it. Namjoon's teeth feel too sharp in his mouth with such a tense jaw.

Hoseok is on the phone, face gaunt and tired-looking. He must have drawn the short end of the stick and has the job of calling Jungkook and Tae and telling them what happened. They really shouldn’t drive themselves, but all Namjoon can reasonably do is restrain himself from cornering you and Jin and start demanding answers. 

He barely even turns to Jin when the omega goes up to the desk and asks if they can have a room, please. A private place for the pack to nurse their worries and not crowd the already-packed waiting room. Namjoon couldn’t name the nurse by name right now if he wanted to but he’s well known here and well-liked too. They give them one of the adjacent exam rooms to wait- Jimin’s surgery will take a few hours more, and there isn’t anything to do but wait.

Terrible terrible waiting, terrible terrible time. (You get a bucket when you want a drop and a drop when you want a deluge. Time only comes in two increments; too much or not enough.)

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes. 

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction. Staggering.

You’d taken precious seconds to change your blood stained clothes before following Namjoon. You all pulled on the first things you could get your hands on. Which is how you’ve ended up in your mate’s shirt and Jungkook’s jacket, and how Hoseok’s in one of Tae’s extra-large pink sleep shirts stained from hair dye underneath Namjoon’s puffer coat and a pair of jungkook's grey work out sweats. Jin had been a little bit more purposeful- his sweatpants match- his matching purple set.

Namjoon's shirt is dark from blood, the bloodstain drying crusty, sticking to his skin like glue.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful. He doesn't walk to the chairs no- he bee-lines it to you.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path. 

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of fear is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting.

You tremble but you do not move to avoid him when he corners you.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, inches away from low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again- harder before you get a chance to speak- to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. Namjoon holds your face the same way he held the knife- tenderly.

“I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, leaving you gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your shoulder and neck, You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His spiky silver hair hits your skin. Rough.

After a second, he opens them again. Nodding. And his scent loses its bitter edge. He guides you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. Your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat. 

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around you, a shield and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in, a half hearted scruff that feels a bit like an apology of his own.

Even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything. Especially with you. His anger will only make you afraid and although Namjoon cannot be expected to control his emotions all the time, you have no reason to fear him.

He's never going to hurt you. He promised.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. The plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin's on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you.

You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery. Every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm. the first few hours when it will go off twice and prompt examination of his vasculature and operation site as well as a fresh dose of blood thinners. The biggest danger going forward will be blood clots; one too large in jimin's arm could leave his hand with nerve damage, numb for good.

But for now, Namjoon looks down at you, yoongi, and jin sitting in the plastic chairs. Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I'll-"

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces." 

"You don't honestly expect me not to be angry that I had to stab jimin do you-"

"No, but don't yell at her. I have my limits."

"I wish I was one of those limits, but i'm clearly not since you insist on fucking over our pack-"

Jin turns, cutting them off from their argument with the true shock of his next words. You know that's what he's intending- but it sort of backfires. "Joonie, Don't get mad at Yoongi or her for this. Especially since I'm the one who shot Jimin. It was an accident."

You flinch, then put your head in your hands, namjoon's scent goes impossibly thick and angry for a second before he gets it under control. You physically watch Namjoon's hackles raise. watch Yoongi push back in his chair, leg jumping, running his hands through his hair looking from you to Jin, then back again.

"Jin, you should have kept that to yourself."

"What the fuck-"

Namjoon looks like he doesn't know weather to cry or laugh. "You don't just shoot someone on accident-"

Jin's got the best scoff, one worthy of music screens not just the quiet tomb of this room. Your relationship that's dying all around you. "You don't just stab someone on accident either and yet here we are-"

There are some secrets you take to the grave and others that you keep for too long, so long that they make a grave out of you. Keeping secrets is like keeping someone else's heart beating, you run out of blood eventually. 

You might vomit up the truth all over the hospital floor just like Namjoon did a few minutes ago. You feel sick and light-headed and sort of like you might have low blood sugar. namjoon's scent, angry alpha affects you more than you realize.

You start to teater, and their next biting words get extinguished when you almost fall out of the chair, nearly sliding to the floor before Namjoon catches you. One knee dully aches as he picks you up like you weigh nothing, ducking in close, real concern in his face, all his anger gone.

"Shit are you okay?"

"Pup?"

"Just got lightheaded-" Whatever it was, your lightheadedness will have to wait for another time. It's honestly probably just stress. Your heart feels like it's beating extra fast, extra hard.

Namjoon places you gently back in the chair and Yoongi touches your shoulder, the trio of their concerned faces that you swat away.

"We should wait for Hobi." You still owe him an explanation- for earlier and these aren't the kind of secrets you say more than you have to. A cup of water gets thrust into your hands and for once, they fall silent.

When Hobi comes in he’s mostly quiet holding his phone in his hand. Looking at you from across the room. His soulful eyes watching you, head tipping to the side in deference.

"Tae's in-" It takes him a second to gather his words. "Tae's in a fucking state. She was crying so hard that Jungkook had to call them an Uber. I just told her Jimin had been stabbed and nothing else because I didn't know what to tell her."

"That's probably for the best we don't have to-" your mate starts, but Namjoon cuts him off.

"No, no more secrets. Not between any of us."

Hoseok still has a hickey from you on the side of his neck, from you earlier. Jin's fingers skim down the one on your shoulder where a mirrored mark sits knocking you out of your Hobi-induced reverie, red and bruising from his mouth. Jin raises his eyebrow at you, but now is not the time to tell him about you and hobi.

"We've got like- maybe 30 minutes until they get here."

You swallow past a lump in your throat, readying yourself for it, “better make it quick then,” Namjoon waits, Seokjin is silent, watching you, gaze flickering from you to Hobi every few blinks. Yoongi holds onto your knee, sliding his palm down to your hand, your wrist. Finger digging into the sensitive scent gland there and rubbing comforting circles.

You swallow hard. “We’re all on each other's sides, right?”

“Of course,” Jin crosses his arms like he's offended you even had to ask. You bite back your retort. Namjoon nods, so does Hobi.

Your hair flops as you nod. But you still look to Yoongi to wait for permission. After a breath your mate nods and spreads his hands, giving you the floor.

If there’s one thing you know it’s that you can’t do this alone, you and Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Tae. You and Hobi. There is no separation here, not when it comes to your safety. Each of you cannot keep the rest safe on your own.

“I met Jimin a few months before I met Yoongi, I…Yoongi’s family-”

Yoongi resists the temptation to speak for about 10 seconds when you fall silent. You can sense the moment that the truth shifts, when it explodes at Yoongi’s tongue. Unbidden but frantic and relieving like it's taken Yoongi's whole being to keep all this in.

“My family, I've never liked calling them that. Blood means nothing to me, you guys, you guys were always my family more than them." The pack is silent but you lace your hands with his and nudge his thigh with yours, encouraging him to go on.

"My relatives run the largest network of organized crime on the East Coast, from Boston to Miami. Everything from racketeering to prostitution to production and distribution of pharmaceutical-grade opioids. cover ups, sale of illegal weapons, extorsion of political officials and blackmail. If you can think of a crime they do it. If you can think of a way to make money, they've got their hands in it. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t go home- why my parents-”

Yoongi breaks off, his voice going small and quiet. Wounds he doesn’t talk about- even to you.

“There’s maybe 200 of us now. I’ve got a lot of fucking aunts and uncles. We try to stay in our lanes, our cities, and deal only in our respective crimes. There's a lot of politics and a lot of people vying for control here and there, but only alphas are allowed to lead, omega's increases the bonds of power in other ways and beta's- You know how rare beta's are- in my family- i'm treated as second only to the family head. Being a beta offered me certain liberties. Other freedoms. Not only to avoid most of the violent stuff- but to leave and move around without asking for permission. It's like a get out of hell free card. Not everyone gets that."

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, “You mean they didn’t exactly expect you to go about popping heirs or advancing the family business through murder and ruining innocent people's lives. not like they expected with me."

Hoseok shrivels his nose, He looks from you to Yoongi- eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “hang on i thought- Are you guys trying to say you’re fucking related or-”

“Oh my god daisy-”

You splutter, “gross- No, we’re not fucking like- blood-related or anything.” You tap your chest. "I'm non family- brought in from the outside. Which means I was just about as valuable as piss to the aunts. In our world the only reason to mate or marry is for power- any other reason and your spouse is considered disposable." you cross your legs, admitting something you've kept to yourself, not a secret just a suspicion. "Geumjae never intended to keep me around forever."

Seokjin makes a strangled noise and Namjoon runs his hands through his hair, “Jesus Christ.”

Hobi raises his hands bare, “Sorry! You’re not doing a good job of explaining!”

"Well, if you just gave me a minute to get to the point-" Yoongi seems to shake himself, to put himself together. “Like she said- I'm not expected to partake in the family buisness, Only alphas are allotted that 'honor'." Yoongi puts the words in quotations and adds an eye roll for good measure.

"Mainly- I’m treated as some sort of glorified advice Column. People call and ask me things and I’m required to answer or else they’d hunt me down and drag me back. They bring me in to coordinate stuff because I'm a beta and I keep everyone calm and keep them from killing each other and shooting out their squabbles. I tried to keep you guys safe that’s why I left but-“

Jin’s hand goes to yours, nodding, because he understands. “But not why you stayed away.”

“No. It's not.” The pack's eyes naturally stray to you.

“The heads of houses report to the family head and she directs them to me if they need a beta's touch. Only she hasn't- the new Don hasn't asked anything of me since taking power. When the last one died- my grandparents- I left to help with the transition. But the new Don doesn't need me."

You flinch, you try to hide it but Yoongi turns, ferreting out that there's a secret there without you having to confess it. Your voice is darker than they’ve ever heard. "It's not that she doesn't need you- it's that she doesn't trust you."

Yoongi tries not to sound accusatory. "Her trust isn't something you should be after."

“It’s not- promise I just-” You pick at a stray thread on your pants.

The linoleum floor in front of you is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. "She shouldn't trust me either- and she knows it. Believe me she knows it."

Now it's Yoongi's turn to look at you. To pull himself to the edge of his chair to try and get in front of you. A wordless question that he dares not speak.

"Before you, I was already trying to do whatever I had to survive. including doing what everyone else did back in that hellhole and ask for help-"

Yoongi stands, to much energy and panic in his body to stay seated. “You didn’t." This is a fight and a confession you shouldn’t have In front of the rest of them.

You look up at Yoongi, eyes beseeching. He's quiet and you make your words as measured and soft as you can. "I asked your grandparents first- and then when she told me as long as I did what she said she'd get me out I-"

“She’s more dangerous than Geumjae, you can’t have honestly been trying to trade one captor for another."

The whole pack is silent, watching the two of you. Not really understanding. But Jin- Jin pursues his lips. You don't know how he knows but he does.

Yoongi’s face goes truly white. Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Shaking until he grabs the handles of your chair, knees to the ground, bowed in front of you. Letting your silence stew for a second.

Maybe it’s a terrible thing to blame it on her, you hadn’t fought not to kill. But back then it had really felt like your only way out, the only way to escape the ever-suffocating pressure of trying not to die.

“For what it’s worth, I had no idea what they meant to you when she made me help her kill them.”

Something shifts in Yoongi’s stature, from surprise and shock to resignation so quickly you almost miss it. A tense set to his jaw but a tight-lipped understanding as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips and he rests his forehead on your knees.

He's very careful in his words. Slow with them and intentional when he lifts his head and stands. You don't know if they're lies. “Just like my parents, just like all of us in the family, I knew their days were numbered anyway.” But you loved them once you want to say. You’re not sure why you want Yoongi to be angry at you.

“I won’t apologize, not for what I had to do to survive.”

Yoongi cradles your cheek. Something dark and conflicted in his eyes.

“I know, but I’d forgive you anyway, even if you did it out of anger.”

“And Jimin?” Namjoon asks, Yoongi's hand drops from your cheek. "How does he connect to all of that?"

“I met him first, I asked him.” You hesitate. This isn't your secret to tell and you don't even know all of it- like how jimin even became an assassin or started killing. you don't know his motives. It's one thing to confess your own sins, and another to talk about Jimin's to them without his say-so.

Jin darts forward, holding your hand in both of his, “Whatever we say in this room- I’d never dream of recording. I’m not on anyone’s side but ours.” Jin screws his eyes shut tight, willing you and Yoongi to believe him. "Even with the FBI thing."

Namjoon whirls. He doesn't have to ask before Jin's spilling it. telling the truth.

Jin is measured with his speech, but it's his turn. No more secrets, that's what you've all agreed. "I've been working with the FBI for the last 8 years. They approached me back before we met Joonie- because of my proximity to Yoongi. First as an informant, then an agent and now the head of the task force.

"I only did it because I figured out that being a part of them was the easiest way to keep Yoongi out of jail. As long as I could reasonably assume I was the only one trusted and close enough to keep an eye on him, I could keep all the truly damning evidence out of their hands."

Jin turns to you, resisting the urge to reach out to you for his own comfort, you're looking at him like he's got three heads, but he smiles down at you, that pup-soft smile that he saves just for you when you're both nesting.

"I kept your name off of the photocopies of the recipie you used to kill them. Don't worry, no one but us knows." You look at Jin with new eyes, not a double agent but not an enemy either. Somewhere in between. Your heart pulses, and you grip his hand back.

Yoongi pulls his hands through his hair, angry, his tone grave "Well there's your reason-"

Hobi has been so quiet you've honestly almost forgotten he was there. Elbows balanced on his knees and watching the three of you on trial for Namjoon. "Answer to what."

"You don't understand Jin, you don't understand the laws of the family much less the one you've broken."

"The reason why someone's trying to kill you, if anyone finds out that Y/n killed them- everyone connected to them is fair game."

"You mean-"

"We're all done, if anyone finds out, that's probably why the new head of house was trying to take Jin out- to tie up a loose end."

"Hang on, I'm getting confused again." Hobi runs his hands through his hair, and it fluffs up. "Jimin's what again?"

“Jimin is an assassin, I asked Jimin to kill my husband for me but he said no.” You pick at a strand of thread on your pants, unwilling to look up and meet any of their eyes, not Namjoon’s or Jin’s. “Met him back when we meant nothing to each other. He still feels guilty for not saving me. We talked it out a while ago. It’s okay- I did it myself eventually- didn’t need anyone’s help.”

You look up at Yoongi and he looks like he might want to laugh or cry and can't pick which. “I don’t know much else about Jimin other than that he kills for the family."

"They've got people for everything, a few assassin's they keep on retainer," Yoongi clarifies. "People that anyone can hire if you've got the money for it. There are a few names that the family puts on a no-kill list, Children, the pack mates of the ruling pack, the heads of houses and their immediate packmates. If anyone kills a person on the no-kill list- their life is forfeit. I'm on it by default. The pack mates of the beta are on it too, All of you are on it. No one should be trying to kill you."

Yoongi's never paid much attention to the list, the waxing and waning names and faces and photos. he's been on it since before he was born and with no intent to kill or harm anyone and put himself even potentially in harm's way, he's never sought it out.

Maybe if he had, things would go differently.

A cold rush of realization rushes over you. "That's why Jimin and Jin ended up there" You stand up, adrenaline in your hands. "She was hoping they'd take each other out so she wouldn't have to break family law to kill them."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Something about this doesn’t feel right- something about this isn’t normal.”

Hobi’s phone dings before you can hash it out anymore. He looks down in his lap. “They're here,” he’s up and out of the chair, heading out the door and into the hall so quickly that the rest of you have to chase after him. Namjoon tugs you to your feet, staring at Yoongi and Jin. "Was that enough?" you ask.

"We'll talk more later." is all he says. But he does lace his hands with yours and pull you after Hobi. Your legs are so short you have to take two steps for every one of theirs.

“I wish Tae and Kookie were here for that-“

"They should know” your mate agrees, keeping pace with you in the hallway, dropping back with you when Namjoon accidentally lets go in his haste to get through the door. You make eye contact with Yoongi when you turn. Your back to one of those push doors using your body weight to push through it.

You pause, waiting with Yoongi on the other side of them.

“If anyone tells her about Minnie- should be me.”

(You know exactly how you’ll do it, you’ll tell Tae the story of you just like this. You’ll tell it like a story, with author notes and playlists near the end. You’ll talk about Jimin just like this; all of the good parts and all of the bad all in one. So that she might truly understand that having a choice doesn't always mean you're free to do whats right.)

Yoongi nods, “I can tell Jungkook. I think if I do it gently, he won’t get shocked enough to have a seizure.”

You pause before the doors open, to have just a moment with the two of you, just you and him leaning against it. He shifts closer, not holding you, hands by his side but he's close enough that you could rest your head on his shoulder. You do rest your head on his shoulder. Just to hear his heartbeat thud sluggish and heaven-sent against your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” It feels like it’s been ages and ages since you’ve had a quiet moment with him like this. You resolve to have one, to make space for him when this is all over. A private date with just the two of you maybe. Whenever Jimin comes home. “To help with Jimin.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I killed your grandparents.”

“They weren’t good people,” Yoongi shrugs, you've never seen a sadder shrug. “I always knew that. They-” yoongi breaks off, stealing himself for a quiet confession. "I think they might have had a hand in killing my parent. She didn't like it- that they had so much power over me. Future of the family and all."

"You've never said-"

Yoongi pushes through the door, and a high pitched keening cuts off your next words. "Later."

You push through the door and Tae and Jungkook are already there. Entering through the outside doors with a puff of air into Namjoon and Jin's waiting arms. Namjoon holds Tae up as she wails and wails. Her cry high like a nightingale. Jungkook looks pale and shaky, settled under Hobi's shoulder clearly in shock.

You cut through them, ducking under Jin's outstretched arm and colliding with Tae before anyone else can join Namjoon in holding her. falling to little heap on the linoleum floor, just at the precipice of the long hallway that connects to the patient rooms and the nurse's stations to other surgical suites. Drawing countless stars, countless looks from passersby as Tae's sobs renew themselves, loud and broken.

You clinging to each other. Her arms around your shoulders, cradling your head like it's the last safe thing in the universe.

“Jimin,” her voice breaks, throat closing around nothing. Sobs wet and angry, hot tears dripping down her cheeks, big and unabated by hope. "Minnie- My Minnie-"

You cling back, getting your hands on her cheeks. “He’s gonna be fine, he’ll be alright- here- here let me help you up. We've got you Tae-”

Jungkook looks a bit better, a little bit less like he’s drowning. Jin reaches for him while you hold onto Tae. And JK’s nostrils flare, he steps back, looking Jin up and down. Tae clings to you on the floor of the hospital and you look up at them. At Jin and Jungkook, standing a pace apart. Jungkook's hands keep Jin from coming any closer.

“You smell like Jimin does when he comes home from his trips, you smell like gunpowder. And mucky-” Jungkook's voice breaks, "Jin? Why do you smell like blood?"

There are too many people around, too many people for something like this. You're just glad It’s a quiet omission, Jungkook’s scent is level and so is his breath.

Maybe you should give him a lot more credit. Yoongi might not have to tell him much.

Tae's tears hit your collarbones as she crushes you, sobbing loudly in your ear, immune to the string of sweet nothings that fall from your lips. Whispered against her temple.

To everyone else in the hallway, rushing in the late-night hum, you and Tae look just the way that you’d expect; Two girls clinging to each other, one tall and the other short. One an alpha and the other an omega.

The rest of the pack is so blinded by their concern and their terror that they don’t look up. They don’t look down the hall to see the figure standing there watching them. One second the hallway is empty of the dark figure and then next she's there- waiting for you.

Her pine and medicine scent is disguised by the smell of death that lingers here. Although more than 2 of the people there might recognize it if they had the patience to sniff it out. They're too distracted by Yoongi dragging Jungkook close and whispering in his ear to keep his voice down.

Moonbyul watches the scene from the end of the hall. Two coffees in her hands. One for her and one for you because she always assumes that you'll go with her when she asks. No matter what’s going on with your pack, Moonbyul is not the kind of person who you say no to. She’ll ask nicely for you to come one more time.

Or so she thought. Looking at you and Tae holding each other is giving her other ideas.

To love a man is something she's always been able to dismiss as a mistake. Little pups just don't know what they need and even less what they want. She'd been prepared to deal with you loving them, the alphas, on paper, even the admittedly pretty omega male currently in her cousin's arms.

But another woman? Even one like that?

Rage is not like other sorts of anger, it’s not like fire burning to take. Achieng to burn until all the heat has worked itself out. Rage is quiet, rage is darkness and a hunger that needs to consume. That will destroy even if you try to stop it.

It's one thing to know that you love a woman besides her, and another to see you peck kisses along her tearstained cheeks. The rage builds as she watches you cup that female alpha’s cheeks. She watches you brush her hair back from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears. She’s got honeyed skin and smudged lipstick (so inelegant) you wipe her tears away and kiss her cheek.

But what makes Moonbyul’s hands tighten into claws, her metal-tipped nails piercing the coffee cups and making them drip onto the ground, wet and hot, is the way you smile at her.

Moonbyul’s rage is like a tidal wave.

By the time the rest of the pack looks up, the hallway is empty except for a puddle of coffee on the linoleum floor and two discarded cups. One with red lipstick stains and the other without.

~-~

(18 hours later, Jimin)

Tae’s cheek is so soft. That’s the first thing that Jimin’s aware of as he wakes from surgery.

Coming out of general anesthesia feels like being a rickety buoy on the busy ocean. One second bobbing to the surface and the next crashing below the waves and taking on water. Sloshy. Everything feels sloshy.

He only feels her at first- not the hospital bed, not the scratchy sheets, Just the feeling of her cheek resting against the palm of his hand. Her gentle breath tickling his fingers in her sleep.

Jimin will always know the particular beat and cadence of Tae’s body. Would know it if the sun got snuffed out like a candle. Would know her breath anywhere because it’s the very fuel to Jimin’s soul, the very thing that sets the tempo to the heart monitor beating out a pleasant rhythm in the midafternoon hum.

Her skin is pillowy and sweet beneath Jimin’s flayed fingers, limp and cold to the touch because of the whole almost bleeding out thing. He doesn’t know it yet, but he's needed 9 units of blood in the past 24 hours. 4 right away, and 3 during the surgery where they removed the knife and stitched his arm together. And another two units just after.

Compared to his own body, Tae feels so warm.

At least Jimin can still feel his left hand. The doctors that stitched him back together must have done a bang-up job, Namjoon even more so. a lot of people can put an arm back together, a whole slew of them, but not many surgeons could stab someone carefully enough so as to not permanently injure them. There are only so many people that he would trust to stab him.

But Jimin trusts Namjoon with a whole lot more than just that.

When he opens his eyes (a task of herculean proportions) Namjoon isn’t there, it’s just Tae in one of those absurdly uncomfortable hospital chairs. She’s bent over his hospital bed in what must surely be an uncomfortable position to sleep in. Her back arched like invisible wings weigh her down. She slept like that, sprawled as close as she could get to Jimin without the nurses waking her up and telling her not to crowd him.

The smudged mascara on her cheeks flake like falling stars, little trails there were tears rendered it useless. Jimin wipes away a black droplet like he's banishing a ghost. She’s cried so much over the last 10 hours, most of her makeup gone and sporting a bit of 5 o’clock shadow too. The faint roughness that Jimin feels no more than once. Because to derive sensory pleasure from that feels…wrong.

He looks at the ceiling, wondering where the others are. He feels the edge of his body, the spot where the wound begins and the pain ends. Who knew gunshots and stab wounds could make you feel so sore? and tired too? Exhaustion pins his body to the bed like a butterfly to a corkboard.

A wire connected to his good hand tugs, But he ignores it in favor of cradling Tae's head and combing through the tangles in her hair. It's gotten so long now, just to her shoulders, but the bits feel so soft and gauzy against his fingertips. He wishes he could feel it forever. It’s much much better than the 5 o’clock shadow.

It takes a dozen passes for Tae to stir.

And then she startles awake, flinching into being. Fresh tears disrupt the mascara flecks as she beholds her soulmate and nearly tugs herself across his bed to get her hands on his face. To hold his cheeks.

To say that Tae has looked better would be accurate for jimin to say but the words would never grace Jimin’s lips. Not even close. Even with a crusty face and greasy hair- Tae looks gorgeous- so pretty that his heart pulses dangerously quickly. so quickly that jimin's suprised the nurses don't come by and check on him.

Maybe they haven’t given him enough opioids for his shoulder because for a second he feels his heartbeat ricochet through his whole body. To his fingers where he's touching her and back to his heart. Every echo and ripple Tae Tae Tae.

Tae bends over Jimin’s body. Her hands go to his face, fingers touching his smile, and thumbs pressed to his faint crow's feet and twinkling eyes. Clutching at him like he’s her lifeline (he is, a red string of fate that keeps her from drowning, always. She was stupid not to use it like an anchor).

“Pup told me.” She says, a note of finality in her voice, lower lip trembling, tears falling anew “told me you kept talking about me even when you were stabbed" she goes quiet, whispering the words like she's scared someone might be listening in.

"Pup told me everything."

Jimin’s eyes flick from her lips to her face, her body, everything. His hands are trembling, chest building with breaths until they’re heaving and the realization of just how much everything she must know hits him.

Tae knows Jimin well enough to know what a panic attack looks like- knows enough how to soothe it. Knows just to hold on and wait for it to pass. jimin's hands splay and flex, rubbing her skin once, twice, and then a third time in an effort to self-soothe.

"It's okay,"

"You mean you're not-" Jimin's heart monitor is going so wild that Tae has to tell him to calm down. Has to run her fingers up and down his scent glands on his neck, nipping at them to settle him. "You're not angry that I'm-"

That I'm a killer, that I'm a monster. That I've kept everything from you. Jimin readies himself, preparing himself for the speech he always knew he'd have to give. You don't understand, I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen this- I didn't I just. I never killed people who didn't deserve it- because I know that you'd hate that.

For the first time in their lives, Tae and Jimin are sitting across from each other- without a single secret to each of their consciousness. both of them free and perilously unmoored for it.

But there are no words that Tae needs when she looks up at him and smiles. Wetness at the corner of her eyes.

Seeing Jimin in the hospital bed had not felt like Patroclus and Achilles, it hadn't even felt like Orpheus and Eurydice. There was no roaring anguish. The kind that follows when people leave you too soon. Or the bitter vindication that happens when people leave at just the right time (it’s the worst when people leave like that. Either linger or make me miss you. Stay too long or leave me early. Either way is fine. I’ll feel more human if I’ve got longing or hatred to feel).

In truth seeing Jimin in the hospital bed, wires and hooks connected to him- keeping him alive and keeping him breathing, had felt like a second chance. She's not going to let something as simple as a secret spoil it.

Tae knows she should want to know more about Jimin's job as an assassin and should want to ask more questions (if not to understand her soulmate better, than for writing material). She Should be more revolted or disturbed or upset that her literal soulmate kills people for a living, but at the moment, all she can find in herself is just to be glad that Jimin is fucking alive.

It’s funny, how much your priorities can shift.

Jimin looks like he doesn't believe her. "Tae, you can't even kill spiders."

"Would you care?" Jimin falls silent. "Would you care if it was me in your position?"

Jimin swallows hard and winces. He doesn’t have to ask for a sip of water, because Tae has already gotten it for him by the time his good hand closes over his throat. His shoulder is bound so tightly in bandages that he can hardly shift it. Can't reach up to stop himself from spilling a bit of the water down his chin. Her nails (red polished and chipped) wipe away a drop on his lips.

(There's more that you weren't able to tell her just yet; a lot about you and Yoongi and Jin. You've decided to save the bulk of how Jimin ended up in the hospital bed until after Jimin woke up. Later when you can get her on her own you'll tell her. Probably after Jimin's discharged from the hospital. But the other secrets can wait for now).

It won’t really hit her until later. When she’s in her closet looking at all of her pretty things and designer clothes. Fingers toeing along the fine black cashmere sweaters, to the maroon dresses, to the scarlet ones, stopping just before she reaches the pink. The Dior, the Versache, the McQueen. It will only be then that she'll put two and two together and realize they were all paid for with blood money. With people’s lives.

It will bother her then; it doesn’t bother her right now. It will never bother her enough to think about leaving jimin.

How do you make the choice? What to condemn a loved one for? How do you pin down your line of intolerance when it's someone you love with your whole being? Can you decide at all or is it something that your soul chooses for you? The weight of one sin for another. what you're willing to go through.

They would have died anyway. Even if Jimin hadn't killed them, they had someone out there willing enough to pay for their death and they'd have died anyway she rationalizes. We're all going to die anyway.

Maybe it’s a silver lining that Tae no longer believes in the same kind of sin and wrongness that Jimin does. Doesn’t believe in God and heaven at all. Tae has always believed in soulmates more and believed in Jimin the most. More than any god or afterlife.

“I should be angry, anyone else probably would be but-” Tae turns her cheek into Jimin’s fingers, pressing her lips to his trigger finger. Eyes shining when she looks at him. “I’ve wasted too much of my life being angry at you, wasted too much of it feeling anything but love for you- Jimin- if you died, I-”

Jimin cradles Tae's cheek. “I’m sorry for Namjoon’s rut- for what I said. Didn’t mean it. Never mean it if I'm mean-” Jimin’s finger rubs across Tae’s lips, the wide part of his palm splayed across her jaw, and so much is said in that little touch. But they look at each other and laugh. "Not like Noodle."

It shocks a laugh out of Tae and she presses her temple to Jimin's jaw, feels his smile when the joint moves. She realizes that Jimin's still a little high. Probably too doped up on pain medicine to have this conversation but oh well.

“I never thought it would take you getting stabbed for me to realize it,” her lip trembles, “I don’t want to waste another second being angry with you.”

“I don’t want to waste another second with you either. Won't even sleep,” his eyelashes flutter, struggling to stay awake.

Tae pulls herself more firmly on top of the bed and Jimin shifts a little, wakes a little more when she slings a leg carefully over his hips. Being gentle, still conscious of his physical state. He uses his good arm to pull her up and up until She’s splayed across his lap.

Kissing Tae never loses its edge, it always feels like their first kiss, sweet and with that knotted bundle of anticipation. Jimin sits up into the kiss, sits up until his shoulder protests and he hisses into the kiss. "Don't strain yourself minnie-"

"Don't care just-" he pulls her hips snugly. After that words are sparse as they kiss, again and again, lips working together. Sloppy messy love kisses. Every breath tastes like love, every second of it. She giggles pulling apart for a second to get her breath, the heartbeat monitors in the corner going wild. Breath that washes over Jimin like a gust of spring air, cinnamon flower sweat, and heady. Tae’s kisses are better than a first sip of coffee or a breath of fresh air. (They’re better than living, just a little bit).

“If I was any less sore, I’d ask you to bite me right now.”

Tae grins, and it’s a special secret smile. “You said something like that to Pup too."

“I’m so lucky I get to be yours- don't want to waste the luck-" Tae shakes her head stubbornly pulling back.

"I don’t think that you should say you’re lucky. I’m so lucky that this person loved me, or I’m so lucky that I got to love them. Because when it comes down to it, love and luck are not the same thing. Love is not a single event, like winning the lottery, or finding a 100-dollar bill. Love is a choice and you have to choose it a thousand times. Every day you choose it. Luck is such a cop-out. It’s been really nice.”

“God, I hope I’m more than just nice.”

Tae smiles, “Shut up” She goes a little pale. “Actually don’t shut up with me like- ever. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.” She plays with Jimin’s hands, “Is that when either of us- whoever- goes first-“ Jimin’s grip goes knuckle tight on her waist, he's coming out of it, a little more lucid with every breath. Waking up more.

“When one of us dies- I don’t want to question if I ever loved you enough, I don't want to rely on just luck. I don’t want to think about the days that I could have gone for coffee with you or could have kissed you longer. I don’t want to think that I didn’t get exactly what I wanted and you didn’t get exactly what you wanted too.

"I want to give you one extra kiss every time so that you get twice as much as you would have gotten otherwise. I just want to think that it was nice, that every moment of it was nice- even when we fought, I want to look back on it and think ‘even the sad parts were nice and I got more than I thought I would.' No luck involved.”

She grins down at him, that same youthful grin she’s had her whole life, Jimin thinks of it sometimes- how many times she’s smiled this way and he hasn’t seen. How many more he will see.

“Also, y/n says that you’re allowed to mate me, but not marry me. She says my ring finger belongs to her.”

Jimin slides up the bed, flipping her over, supporting himself with his good hand, sending her sprawling and giggling. His growl is half hearted but promising. Tae laces her hand in his greasy blonde hair and it stays there.

It stays there.

~-~

The rest of Jimin’s hospital stay goes a bit like this:

There is a pair of suits outside the window, dark and imposing. plain clothes police officers watching and waiting like vultures. They’ve already taken statements from the pack but demand to hear from Park Jimin himself.

Lies from the source always taste the sweetest.

There is a story ironed out and penned in stolen moments, you curled up in one packmate's lap and transferred to another, "the pup" Jin had said, the youngest, was not taking her alpha's stabbing well. "She just needs a bit of soothing, sorry." The suits are charmed enough by two cuddling omega's that they don't notice your mouth pressed to their ears, like a game of cuddly murderous telephone.

The story gets ironed out easily, you’d all gone out for pizza, had come home to find Jimin bleeding in your kitchen.

“It’s pretty normal for Jimin to be reckless with his health. I’m not surprised he tried to come home and see if I could stitch him up himself. I'm a doctor at his hospital- Dr. Kim, pack alpha and head of neurosurgery. The knife- you should know I touched it on accident he wanted to remove it himself and I just had to stop him- I’m sorry- I should have known better I was just- so shaken.” Namjoon is a passable liar at best.

Jungkook has folded himself under your mate’s arm, and Jin’s too. He’s still vaguely shaking, bunny eyes wider than usual. In a little bit, Namjoon will drag him over to an empty exam room for a quick check-up. Just to make sure he isn't about to seize on the floor. Yoongi will go with him, Will tell him the truth about all of this then.

But what, with his comment earlier, you wouldn't be surprised if Jungkook has already figured it out on his own.

Jimin doesn’t even need to be coached into remembering it. The police don’t even think of not letting the pack see him, after seeing Tae’s teary eyes. A pretty girl is the best distraction, and the pack has two pretty girls that smell sour and need to tend to their alpha before the police get a chance too.

They’re impatient as they watch you and Tae fold yourself over Jimin’s barely aware body, more preoccupied with looking at your asses than they don’t see your lips moving against Jimin’s ear, mistaking your shaking for the racking sobs. And your quiet words for sweet nothings.

Hobi had barely leashed a growl, and resisted the urge to step in front of you and block you both from their sight.

The story is so easy and simple- a true case of Ockham’s razor. The simplest story with the least details is the most likely to be believed. the story Jimin tells the police goes like this;

Earlier yesterday, a crazy fan of the idol group he guards that must have followed him from his schedule with intent to learn his schedule and get closer to them. Her description is so ordinary that they’ll never find her because she doesn’t exist. Any person found will easily be made inculpable; either by alibi or honesty. Not that the law cares much about honesty, nor that any of you care about possibly implicating a stranger.

Love always did make people go to extremes, it's easily believable.

Nothing else matters. Besides keeping everyone safe. You're united against this.

Once they're gone, other promises get made:

“I want you to quit, this is too dangerous, if something like this happens to you again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We need to make sure we travel in pairs until we figure out what’s going on, why they're targeting Jimin and Jin.”

“I can ask some of my contacts-“

“You’ll do no such thing Yoongi.”

“Do you think we should be like- Armed? Just in case?”

“I don’t think more guns will solve anything but…Maybe.”

In a stolen moment, Namjoon corners you outside Jimin's hospital bedroom, he's holding three bags of takeout, not that Jimin will really be able to eat much of it. The opioids keep down his appetite. That doesn't meant the pack won't try to fuss. As it is, Jimin hasn't been interested in anything but kissing Tae and holding her hand. Pouting whenever the nurses make tae leave.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," Namjoon has always found apologies easy and has never had so much of an ego that it would get in the way of any of it.

"It's alright, between you and me, I think it was kind of justified." You'd probably yell at all of them if they convinced you to stab Yoongi or tae or any of them.

"No more secrets, okay? Promise me this is the last one." It's easy to promise Namjoon that, so easy. To let him scent you, rubbing his coffee liquor scent all over your shoulder.

(But it's not about the promises that you make, it's about the ones that you break.)

You sit out in the hallway the following morning, still in the same clothes and starting to feel a little bit filthy because of it. None of you have gone home yet. Hobi sits next to you and Jungkook's on the other side.

They’re just checking Jimin’s stitches again, and his hospital room just got a bit crowded. The prospect of checkout is maybe a day away. Tonight is the last you'll have to spend at the hospital.

It was also time to talk over Jimin’s opioid regimen, and the doctor had been nearly delighted when Namjoon had stepped up and taken the lead, reassuring the doctor under no uncertain terms that Namjoon would manage them. You can forgive him for thinking a little too much with his hindbrain. If Namjoon leaned any more into his instincts you'd be worried he was close to going into a rut again.

“Is this what it’s like when I’m in the hospital?” Jungkook asks, sucking on some skittles. It's more sugar than he should be allowed to have especially during a high-stress situation. But Jungkook’s taking the panic to get a little bit of freedom. You cast a glance at Tae, at Yoongi and Jin, standing by the door looking like he’s about ready to twitch out of his skin with the effort it's taking him to stand outside.

Jin had apologized- him and Namjoon both, and Jimin had accepted it instantly. "If I trust anyone to shoot and stab me- it's you two so-"

"But-" they'd argued, but eventually Jimin had turned a little scary, a little threatening. showing a hint maybe- of a persona they're all unused to but you're not. Jimin can be firm when he needs to be. A quick retort of-

"Forcing me to comfort you over something I'm not upset about is not the way to make me forgive you." Shut them up for good (or at least for now).

“Yeah, pretty much.” You hold out your hand for some skittles and he gives you a few. Hobi grimaces and reaches over to take the orange ones out of your palm. He knows you don’t like those. He replaces them with a few green ones.

"It’s fucking boring. I should get you guys like- a DS or something for Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Minnie or he’ll blow all his money on-“ You cringe at your words and Hobi flinches. Jungkook just chews on his candies, they smack against his teeth with a hard clinking sound.

There is still some of Jimin's blood under Hobi's fingernails. You see it when he reaches over to take your Skittles.

The next time Hobi moves to take your Skittles, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "Come on."

You lead Hoseok into the women's bathroom, underneath the curious eye of the nurses, all the stalls are empty so you pull him over to the counter.

“You’ve got some- stuff- under your nails- let me.” You rip a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them. You clean Hobi’s hands diligently and he lets you.

He stays quiet, Hobi's been quiet for the last day or so. He hasn't done more than whisper a few quiet words to Jimin and stay close. He didn't say anything during your secret confession yesterday. Didn't ask a single question and the silence bleeds now as you scrub the clean-smelling soap against his skin. Your anxiety builds, and you scrub a little harder. His fingers remain limp in your touch.

“Say something- say anything okay? I need to know that you’re not-” not angry with me. That you don't hate me- that you still love-.

Hobi pulls you against his shoulder in a single clean movement. His wet hands hit your stomach when he grabs your hips. Your nose brushing his throat, his nose skimming your hairline.

“I’m trying not to take too much energy from Jimin- trying not to- be a mess- because he's the only one who deserves the packs attention. I'm not even sure if I am a mess about it. Sure that sucked but-" he sighs, "you and I are kinda like- uniquely able to handle things like this cuz of-" he doesn't need to finish his sentence. Hoseok's lips brush your ear, lips touching your skin, and- he pulls back, smiling softly. It's a tired smile but there it is- soft and special and just for you.

“You’re taking things, remarkably well considering the last time we…”

“The last time we had to deal with something like this?”

You hum, scrubbing a paper towel hard over the ends of Hobi's hands. The white paper goes orange-red with dried blood. "Give it time. There’s still a few weeks for me to go crazy this time.”

But this time, you have a feeling that it will be different. Although Hobi was there the last time- and played an instrumental role in making sure you didn't literally fall apart. It's different now. Right now, your hands tangle on the counter, holding on, even though you try to clean his hands of blood. Holding on is more important, neither of you tries and pull away. You don't have the energy for shyness.

What's more intimate? Sex or murder?

He huffs a small frustrated sound and stoops to rest his forehead against your shoulder, leaning almost all of his weight on you. You take it.

“Maybe this time I’ll take a crack at going crazy.” You laugh, stopping your brushing and just settling for holding him. Hips resting against the counter. The two of you rest, just for a moment.

Your nose against the side of his face where his undercut presses to your skin, spiky. "Still have that train ticket?" Hobi humms, taking a deep greedy breath of your scent to steady himself.

You're not expecting him to pull back and kiss you, but his lips are dry but warm, faintly chapped but yours are too. Pressing soft but demanding against yours. Hobi kisses you just as sweetly as last time and you grip the front of his jacket.

No sooner has he heaved you up on the counter, fingers hooking under your thighs to kiss you stronger- than is the door clanging open and a nurse comes barreling in.

"Ugh- uhm." She's a little stunned, but you're already hopping down, faces flushed and apologizing for the inconvenience.

You don’t throw the bloody paper towels in the garbage, but the toilet, flushing them once, then twice, to make sure that they’re down. Mumbling one last apology before you exit the bathroom together.

Hobi doesn't let go of your hand. You wonder if this is what loving him is going to be like; making out in places you shouldn't, special secret stolen glances when you keep holding hands even around the pack and keep stealing kisses.

You wonder if the kissing will stretch to the cars- to the late night drives, if he'll hold your hand like this around every hairpin turn. If Hobi's going to make you a make out playlist later, full of songs that make him think of you, songs that match the cadence and pitch of your heart. You wonder if loving him will be like this, stolen innocence, like finding sea glass on the beach. There and pretty for the taking if you only look for it.

Your heart feels all warm and tight with it, swaddled. Protected as Hobi tugs you back into Jimin's hospital room. You can't wait to find out.

The next few hours look like this; Namjoon sitting on the foot of the bed his hand on Jimin’s knee, feasting on hospital food. Jungkook giggles, and nearly throws himself across Jimin’s lap so that the alpha can put his hands through his hair. Looks like more takeout, living off of it because no one wants hospital food and you can't go home and cook. You refuse to leave right now.

It looks like Tae smiling for the first time In what feels like years but has logically been only a few hours. Rubbing a hand across her jaw and wincing when she feels the stubble.

Her wince quiets the sounds of the pack happy. And you look up from your plate.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, always stupidly attuned to her and her needs, always watching and waiting.

“I need to freaking shave and I just- I haven’t had the chance to.” Tae lets out a tired sigh, the kind of deep frustration that comes with things that you have no choice but to do.

You take her hand from her chair and tug her up. Because this- this source of angst can be fixed.

“Here- come on,” A shaving razor gets found for her, Namjoon goes to the surgical ward to get the right kind. Sharp and medical and disposable along with a tiny tube of shaving gel. You drag her chair into the bathroom and make her sit while you do it. Lathering up her cheeks and tipping her head back. The whole pack a cacophony in the other room. The shock of skittles and other candies falling onto the floor. Muted words then soft laughter.

You drag the shaving razor up her chin, over her chubby cheeks. Your gentle touch, the soft scrapping of her hair against the blade a gentle accompaniment to the sounds of the pack passing the time until Jimin wants to go to sleep. Jungkook's phone plays a tictok loud, "Bunny- headphones, Minnie's trying to rest" Yoongi reminds him.

Jimin is struggling not to fall asleep, shifting to one side of the hospital bed just to get a better vantage point to look into the bathroom at Tae. Jimin cranes his neck.

Tae's face twitches, and underneath the white froth you see her reddening cheeks. “Stop looking at me.”

Jimin grins from the hospital bed, “Can’t help it, love you.”

“Love you too Minnie” She choruses back, and the pack joins her.

that night, namjoon and yoongi push three hospital cots togeather around jimin's bed and the pack piles in, sweet bodies and kissed cheaks, whiped down with sanitary towels, you end up tucked between tae and hobi, your cheek pressed to her back.

the following morning it becomes impossible to ignore both how purely filthy the 8 of you are and the fact that Jimin's doctors won't let him check out until tomorrow (and even then he'll have days of bedrest and won't be able to use his arm until he gets his stitches out.) You haven't been home in two days, no one can remember if you even locked the front door with how crazy leaving was.

It’s hard to convince Tae to go with you and leave Jimin's side. But she's less resistant when Yoongi reminds her that Jimin needs new clothes to go home in since all of his bloodstained clothing was discarded as medical waste.

“Honestly we should get like- to go bags full of a change of clothes for all of us when like, JK has his seizures,” Maybe it’s just because you’ve done overnights twice in the last week at the hospital- but the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one.

Jin drives you, Hobi, and Tae home in silence; no one tells Tae any of the other secrets yet. Tired as she is, almost falling asleep in the car. Waking with a start when you turn onto your street.

It's a little shocking. When you get home to a cold and quiet house. Jimin's blood has dried up into dark waxy puddles, on the kitchen table and the floor. There are fingerprints from someone, rusty and red on the doorframe. It's stark to see the evidence. To see a bit of it on the butcher block countertop all the terror and the color leached out of it in the grey afternoon light.

Tae is so stumbly that Hobi has to grab her twice just to keep her from walking into walls when he gets her inside. Noodles immediately yowl has you feeling terribly guilty, he circles your and Hobi's ankles. But you push at Hoseok's hands when he stoops to pick him up.

"Take Tae upstairs and shower with her, will you? I'll be up in a second, just gonna feed him and get some stuff together." She's blinking and looking at the bloodstains, eyes already looking glassy with fresh tears.

You need a second, a second in quiet, a second alone just to steady yourself. Jin comes in, dragging in a mountain of mail from your box, "I've got them, come on pups, grooming time."

Jin pecks a kiss along your forehead, "Come up the second you finish?"

You nod, "Just want to get some food first too- hungry."

Jin nods and makes to follow Hobi and Tae but pauses on the stairs. he looks like he wants to say something to you. Eyes full of something unreadable and warm. Unspoken words hover.

If he had to choose anyone, I'm glad he chose you.

But before he can get it out Tae calls from upstairs. "Jinnie? Can you grab one of my comfy sets from the closet down there before you come up?"

You stand, solemn in the kitchen, listening to the sound of them on the creaky stairs, the sound of their quiet voices. The creek of the house as they walk around upstairs.

"Here you go baby," you say, giving Noodles an extra spoonful of food. You know you left enough for him in his bowl and that he didn't suffer too badly. But still, his purring chirping is music to your ears. You pet over his back, his fluffy tail.

He's Still chubby, still good. You aren't too bad of a pet owner then.

There's the gun still there, sitting just to the left of Jimin's blood splatter on the seat of one of the dining room chairs. You're at eye level with it from where you crouch down to pet Noodle. It's the same one that you pulled out from under the bed when you found out he'd been shot. You should probably take it with you when you go back to the hospital, just to be sure.

"You got any secrets for me nu? Are you the long-lost prince of some cat kingdom?" Noodle chops down in response.

You go to the hallway closet to get a duffel bag, where the pack stores their larger bags and luggage.

"Hey!" Hobi calls from upstairs, muffled through the roar of the shower. There isn't much other noise in the house. The birds outside aren't chirping, probably because you haven't been home enough to fill their birdfeeder.

Probably.

"Yeah!?" You call back up, upending the duffel bag and sending a bit of loose change, some quarters and pennies scattering onto the floor. you stoop down to pick up a few of them, tossing them back into the closet with a metallic clang (to be dealt with later.)

“Can you grab Tae's phone charger? It should be by her computer.”

"Got it!" Tae's library room is much the same as it was when you left it, her computer is closed. The walls are green, the window dusty. You find it easily, the cord long and white, tangling in your hands.

You're not sure why your hair raises on the back of your neck.

Noodle stops his chomping.

The push of cold air startles you- the change of pressure in the house like a door being opened- the front door. The windows in the library room are leaky. You're used to being in here and feeling it, used to feeling that same draft every time one of your pack mates comes home.

You freeze where you stand.

The metallic jingle of the doorknob is so much softer than usual. You could almost convince yourself that you don't hear it, that you've made it up.

And then you hear it- Noodle's low hiss.

Call it a habit or a trained behavior but you still make your footsteps quiet everywhere you go. A thing learned from your years with Geumjae when you needed to be quiet to be safe and needed to make yourself as unobtrusive as possible to avoid pain. A vestigial survival instinct.

It serves you well now because no one in the house hears as you slide from Tae’s library through the pantry area, you don’t call out Tae’s name again, or Hobi’s. You don’t know exactly why you don’t.

Your house is an old house and you know every inch of it. You know this house that Yoongi’s built for you from the top of the eves to the shutters, from the windows up top to the ground floor and dusty half-finished basement. You know every creaky floorboard and which steps are the ones you skip when someone’s sleeping upstairs because it always sounds so high-pitched and it wakes Jimin up, light sleeper that he is.

You hear the subtle creek of the floorboards now, the small slide of heavy boots across the wide floorboards. A creak. Someone is about to ascend the stairs, up to where you can still hear Hobi and Tae talking softly. The shower off, they're probably just getting dressed.

Softly, you hear the sound of a heavy boot hitting something metallic, one of the pennies you dropped earlier and missed.

Jin might still be in the other room, that's what you tell yourself. You're just being paranoid. stupid paranoia you almost want to laugh. you're just jumpy from the last few days- that's all. Funny of you, to make it up.

The danger is all in your head.

Only it's not,

Because the first thing you see when you peek around the corner is the pitch-dark barrel of an extended gun.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

There are some parts in this chapter, some facts about yoongi's family that haven't been touched on since the very begining chapters or jimin's secret chapters and i repeated them just so that people get a bit of a refresher but some of it feels a little monotonous to write! i hope it's not too hard to get through.

in an ideal world i would have given myself an additional week to edit this chapter, it's not the most edited and because of that i feel like it got repetitive or arduous in places.

i'm also realizing that this is like, 9th longest bts fanfic in existence. look it up on ao3 if you don't believe me. i think giving people a refresher of the begining is fair. In terms of the harry potter series (it really is a shame that no one knows who wrote it) we're just into the 6th book in terms of word count if you need that for context.

on that same vein. moonbyuls brief rant that is implied to be transphobic and sorta is- is not a reflection of my views she's just...you know...the villain?

this chapter also literally went from 8k to 14k during editing what the fuck. i stayed up till 2 am to get this done two nights in a row. i have this little nagging voice in my head that says its stupid to care about something like this but i can't help it- i love this story so much. even if this isn't the best chapter.

when the m/c has her freak out in the room where she almost passes out- that is called adrenal fatigue and it's soemthing that i struggle with as someone with ptsd. you know the feeling when you go on a rollercoaster when all of your adrenaline unloads it's self all at once? if i go through that my body goes a little haywire like- dizziness, exhaustion, dysregulation, memory fog, all of it. i still like rollercoasters though so as long i like rest and drink alot of water it doesn't affect me too much.

it's really important that you notice that no one says moonbyuls name during the moment when they're talking about their secrets between namjoon, jin, hobi, yoongi, and the m/c. i'm not telling you why just PAY ATTENTION.

Every time i think about the proverb "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth." i think of the m/c and how thats her storyline with the family like- she really was like "either you love me or i'll kill all of you" and i think thats cute <3

In terms of why the last don and Beta killed Yoongi's parents- i think it's because yoongi's mother found out that she was pregnant with another beta and the don and beta didn't want to deal with such a divided power. They already had yoongi under their thumb and another possible successor would have over complicated things. Yoongi would have had a little sister, i don't know if he'll ever know thats why his parents where killed- he was between the ages of 16 and 18 when they died.

although this chapter was the least edited in terms of the most recent chapters- i will also say that there are two moments in this chapter- where i 'fuck up' and write things a certian way but heres the thing- they're not fuck ups and they're actually hints so! lets see if anyone notices!!

i'm gonna be honest with you guys the part where it goes "it stays there" left me fucking winded i can't even think about it too hard or else i get misty eyed.

i am catheterizing a lot of emotions writing this i am sorry it took so long to write, there is a reason why this update took a month and thats cuz yeah- my grandmother is dying. She's got cancer and She's 91 so they're not treating it. death is gonna be a /theme/ for me over the next couple of chapters, don't be surprised if I go off on a tangent or if it takes me a second between updates.

i wish i could write the m/c just a little dumber you know?

i wrote this series with the intent to write about people in realistic relationships- showing the moments they make mistakes, the moments they react too much or not enough, the way that trauma affects us all and how we handle it and love. it feels very full circle to have this chapter come out like- this is what bily is about you know? even though they'res alot of dialouge in it.

oh~ shits about to go down~

Mini-Playlist

Dominic fike- acai bowl (kinda hobi and the m/c's song for this chapter, they're going through it)

Hozier- Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) (this is literally bily's unoffical theme song at this point)

JID, Kenny Mason - Dance now (the beginning when moonbyul setting the industrial park on fire)

Frank sinatra- thats life (the song i picture playing at the end when tae and jimin are talking out their issues).

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[sunnebeam]

stolen kisses, pretty lies.

DRABBLE.

pairing: park jimin x reader / past jung hoseok x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl!), making a sex tape, creampie, revenge au, past character death, morally gray characters

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: my ult goal is to write a revenge au multichap with either ot7 x reader or multi-member x reader, but i'll make do with this cute lil drabble for now since i don't have the time yet ;) here ya go, a smutty drabble for mister j.m

Hoseok always used to say you were irresistible.

You suppose your late husband was right since the man behind you, the man who's painstakingly not your husband, won't stop trailing soft kisses on your neck.

The both of you are sitting naked on the edge of the bed, with you sitting on his lap. His hands are running up and down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake which he mistakes for excitement.

If only he knew they're for disgust.

"Is it recording?" he asks, his breath tickling your ear.

You nod in response, looking at the camera in front of you, eyeing the blinking red light and observing your mirrored selves on the small LCD screen.

"Good."

You can't believe this is happening. You can't believe you're about to record a sex tape with a man who's not your husband.

With the man who killed your husband.

With Park Jimin.

His hand slides down your body to your glistening core, checking to see if you're ready for him. Once he sees you're wet enough, he plants your feet on either side of his toned thighs, and spreads your legs all nice and wide for the camera.

"You're so pretty," he groans when he sees the shiny mess between your legs through the camera's screen. "And you smell so good. Like the day we met."

You remember that day. You wore your best clothes, put on your best makeup, and sprayed on your best perfume. Your mission was to impress, to seduce.

And needless to say, you succeeded.

"I can't believe you're mine," Jimin rambles on through your reminiscent thoughts. "You're mine, right, baby?"

No.

"Yes."

He teases your hole with his tip, smearing it with your slick. The sensation makes your head fall back onto his shoulder, but you hold back the moan that's threatening to escape.

"And I'm yours?"

No.

"Yes."

He slides inside slowly, dragging it out for the camera, before he eventually bottoms out. You can't hold back your moan anymore. Husband or not, the stretch feels deliciously good.

"I love you so much, baby," he grunts as he grips your hips and starts bouncing you up and down, gently and deeply, before you eventually pick up the pace.

Snaking a hand down between your spread legs, you play with your clit frantically, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub, all while your bouncing never stops. Jimin hums appreciatively when you clench around him just the way he likes.

You whimper, staring at the footage reflected in the camera's LCD. Your pussy lips are swollen, your nipples are pert, and your cunt is clenching. You have to admit, it's a pretty erotic sight.

If only you were with a different man.

"Say my name. Say it."

Hoseok.

"Jimin— oh! Oh!"

He's manhandling you now, foregoing any gentleness he showed earlier and just straight up fucking you on his hard cock. Your moans turn into screams, and when you eventually reach your peak and clench uncontrollably on his dick, his grunts grow louder.

"That's right, give it to me," he coaxes, fucking you through your orgasm and trying to reach his own.

It only takes a few more seconds before he spills inside you, his juices mixing with yours, and he groans into your neck. When he has nothing left to give you, he pulls out and spreads your pussy lips wide open, making sure the camera captures the moment his cum and yours dribble out.

"Fuck, that's hot," he groans.

It is, you're not gonna lie.

"Let me clean you up, baby," Jimin tells you, setting you down beside him on the bed before he gets up. "Oh, and turn off the camera, will you?"

You watch as he goes to the bathroom to get a towel. Your eyes flicker to the camera, then to the bathroom, then back to the camera again.

You don't turn it off.

After all, tonight's the night you've been waiting for.

Tonight's the night you'll tell him about the day you met — that you weren't an actual staff at the golf club he frequented, and that you didn't accidentally mess up his cleaning instructions. Tonight's the night you'll tell him it was all calculated — that you bumping into him again at the restaurant he loves and him finally asking you out on a date were all planned to the smallest detail.

Most important of all, tonight's the night you'll tell him the truth.

That you were the wife of the man he hit with his car one rainy night and ran off without calling an ambulance. That you were the wife of the man he left for dead on the side of the road and tried to cover it up with the authorities. That you were the wife of Jung Hoseok.

And tonight's the night you'll get his confession on camera.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#bts x reader #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #bts smut #park jimin smut #jimin smut #bts fic #park jimin fic #jimin fic #bts x you #park jimin x you #jimin x you #pjm x reader #pjm x you #pjm fic #pjm smut #cat.writes

[bts-hyperfixation]

Sensual Synthetics - Masterlist

Tired of your family getting on at you for not having a partner, you drunkenly lament to Taehyung. Your friend suggests you purchase an escort android through his favourite service. Tipsy beyond belief and truly fed up, you think it would be a great idea. Two weeks later your personalised J-1-min model android turns up at your door ready to serve and you find yourself wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

Prologue

Chapter one

Chapter two

Masterlist

#bts fic #bts smut #bts #kpop fic #kpop smut #jimin fic #jimin smut #android bts #park jimin smut #park jimin fic #Android jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #taehyung smut #bts imagines #jimin x y/n

[axigailxo]

Pretty Like You | PJM (1)

part one: mini-skirts and big problems

— in which park jimin desires nothing more than to be pretty like you.

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, eventual smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.2k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised

ch summary. an introduction into the crumbling life of park jimin and his cat, daisy.

**this is part 1 of my new series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | next->

It’s horrendous.

Implausible, even.

No human being should’ve looked that good on a Monday. But of course, like always, you did. You always do.

Jimin has drawn the conclusion that there’s no way you’re naturally that stunning and you go the extra mile to get ready every morning. And he thinks it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that you’d get up an extra hour or two earlier just to show up to a class that only lasts a little over an hour where you’re just sat behind a desk the whole time.

But then again, Jimin appreciates your attire. So much so that he was able to memorize it from this morning’s lecture.

A dainty black miniskirt with a cami and cardigan that Jimin may or may not have a replica of, and the sheerest shade of pantyhose to really capture that sex appeal you love. Jimin has noticed, by now, that you try to add at least one sexy article to every single outfit you wear. Jimin notices, and Jimin hates it.

He hates that you can dress sexily without the fear of being judged, whereas for Jimin, it’s not so easy.

Tossing another cropped tee into the mountain of clothes piling on the floor, Jimin’s huff is quick to turn into something of a strangled cry as he collapses to the ground, back against the side of his bed.

As if on cue, a furry figure of a cat peaks into the doorframe, walking in proudly like it owns the place. At this rate, it does considering it’s always there to ease Jimin during these troubling times.

Daisy takes care of Jimin, and on occasion, it’s the other way around.

Daisy, Jimin’s calico cat, nudges her soft head against his arm that’s lazily slumped down, encouraging him to pet her. When he does, her purrs rev up like an engine and the small gesture is enough to steal a slight twitch of a smile from the man.

However, it doesn’t stop the oncoming sob.

Tears fresh and emotion at its highest, Jimin stays sat on the ground wearing nothing but the repulsive baggy sweatpants that he forced himself to wear only because it’s better to pretend he likes dressing that way than wearing what he actually likes and getting judged.

Jimin, believe it or not, is a coward. His words. He hates that he can’t just put the damn skirt on. He hates how he can’t bring himself to leave his apartment in that cute cropped tee that he bought ages ago and still has never worn.

He hates how he’s such a pussy when it comes to this.

But it’s not just skepticism. Jimin knows there’s not a lot of nice people out there, especially not at his college campus. Don’t get Jimin started on all the homophobic and pitiful words that frat boys have thrown at him so far in the span of his first year. And that was when he was wearing his clothes that he believed were seven sizes too big and awfully plain.

His “boy” clothes.

Jimin knows that in today’s society, you’re labeled. Weather you want to be or not, every passing stranger is going to label you as what they see. And with said frat boys, the ones with a single brain cell, if they ever saw Jimin wearing the clothes that he has piled in front of him— he’d fit their accusations.

Jimin was raised by only his mother, who was raised by only her mother and a sister. Jimin has had absolutely no male figure in his life so it’s not bizarre that his demeanor is more feminine than most men.

But people at school aren’t so smart, or nice. Therefore, Jimin isn’t just a boy who was raised by a woman, to them— he was just gay. Jimin hates how his demeanor is what chooses his sexuality. Because, contrary to those frat boys’ belief, Jimin is straight.

He may not know a lot about himself at the ripe age of 21, but he knows for sure that he’s not into men. Being a teen and liking things that the world tells you is for girls definitely made Jimin question his own sexuality time to time, but after a couple nights out at a gay bar and a two extremely awkward hookups, Jimin knew men weren’t up his alley. Especially not when the thought of women is what gets him off every single time.

He just wants to wear a damn skirt and have a girlfriend, is that really so much to ask for?

Daisy was able to sneak her way onto Jimin’s lap, already half asleep despite Jimin’s occasional jolts when he sniffles for air.

“Thank you Daisy,” he whispers, his fading cry turning into a soft giggle when the feline looks up at him, eyes glinting with a look that Jimin knows by now.

“Or are you just being nice to me because you’re hungry?”

Daisy continues to nudge her head against his chest, confirming his accusation and enticing Jimin’s first real giggle.

“Okay,” Jimin says in an exhale, more in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Fine, let’s get you some food.”

The cat happily jumps off Jimin’s lap at the invitation, hurriedly exiting the bedroom and scurrying off to the kitchen before Jimin can even make it off the ground. When he does, he nearly trips on the mound of hopeless clothes, eyeing it over before trailing his vision to the standing mirror.

His eyes scan over his chest, down to his waist, and to his hips. He loves his shape, loves the way women’s clothing looks on him. It’s too bad no one will be able to appreciate it the way he does, though. It’s too bad he can’t show it off like he so badly wishes to.

Like how you do.

You get to dress in fitted clothing and show off your shape without an intense fear of getting judged or labeled. Jimin despises how blind you are to that advantage. He despises how badly he wishes he could be you for even a day.

Because for Jimin, he has to hide. Whereas for you, you’re allowed to be beautiful whenever you want.

Even on Mondays.

“What do you think, Daisy? Be honest.”

Peeling his eyes away from his reflection, he twists to show Daisy, who’s freshly awake from a nap, his outfit that he’s in love with.

A grumpy meow is all he gets before her eyes slowly shut again and Jimin scoffs in offense.

“Whatever, you just don’t have taste.”

Turning to face himself again, he bites back a smile as he snaps yet another mirror pic of himself, halting midway as he adjusts himself to sit on his knees. And it’s when the miniskirt rises up his thigh that he gets an idea.

Thigh highs.

A subtle gasp of excitement escapes the boy as he recklessly tosses his phone onto the bed— completely missing which makes him flinch in startle in response to the thud that followed. Navigating to his dresser, he ignores Daisy who clearly did not appreciate the sudden noise, and begins to dig in his scandalous drawer for the thigh high socks.

And yes, Jimin has something he calls his scandalous drawer. It’s for moments like these where he wants to add sex appeal to his outfit.

Kind of like how you do.

“There you are,” he murmurs under his breath as he takes hold of the long white fabrics. He doesn’t wait until he’s back in front of the mirror to put them on, sitting on the edge of his bed and hurriedly slipping the thigh high socks on.

Jimin just knows he looks good. He can feel it. He feels sexy, and he hasn’t even looked in the mirror yet. A miniskirt paired with thigh high socks and an open cardigan— no shirt.

And fuck does he feel good in it.

Not able to wait any longer he tiptoes to the mirror until he’s met with the figure he wishes the world could see.

Jimin loves his appearance, a lot. It’s just that the version he loves is only seen on rare occasions like this where he spontaneously decides to try his risky outfits on. No one else can or will see this version, and for that, Jimin’s self love is private. Almost invisible given how little he lets himself see it.

“Good call on the thigh highs,” he mumbles to himself, staring a little longer until he starts to notice all the imperfections. When he does, he’s quick to step away, landing himself back first onto his unmade bed that Daisy was way too content in.

“Move it, there’s room for both of us,” he tells her as she mopes over to the opposite side.

One hand behind his head, other on his stomach— toying with the ruffled hem of the skirt, Jimin stares at the ceiling as his nightly dose of thoughts kick in. And tonight, all he can really think about is how badly he wishes someone could see him. And if he’s lucky enough, earn a compliment or two. Maybe, if his luck was good, he’d be called pretty if someone saw him dressed like this.

But his luck has never been good.

It was his poor luck that made him be born into a rude and strict society. And he hates that. But what can he do? He’s just a person in this big world. He doesn’t believe his voice is loud enough for change. And even if it were, he’d still be too much of a coward to try.

It’s all one big tangled problem that he’s trapped in.

He’s only a freshman in college and he feels like the world is ending.

But does yours? Jimin wonders. For a long moment or two he ponders if you sometimes feel that way too. Of course it wouldn’t be for the same reason as him, but could there be something that weighs you down?

And if so, how the fuck do you mask it so easily with that bright smile of yours?

Maybe because you’re perfect, Jimin thinks.

So perfect that Jimin is laying on his bed wearing an outfit almost identical to the one you wore today all only because he thought it looked great on you. He wanted to feel great too.

He wanted to feel the way you probably do in such fragile clothing. Leaving absolutely nothing to imagination because that’s how brave you are. Jimin envies that. He wants that.

Bravery, of course— not you.

He wants to be brave enough to show some skin and go the whole day feeling good. Feeling confident and relieved. But that day won’t come, unfortunately. All he has is the privacy of his apartment to feel brave in these clothes.

But even when Jimin is hard on himself, that doesn’t stop him from wanting to just feel good sometimes.

And there’s no better way than this.

Somehow in the mix of his thought spiral his small fingers managed to drag his skirt up the length of his thigh, cold air traveling straight to his exposed tip.

He knew he wasn’t wearing underwear. He did that on purpose. Again, he wanted to feel good.

He wanted to feel sexy.

His fingers slide their way across his left thigh, getting higher and higher until his breathing is hitched and his bottom lip is raw.

But then he stops himself.

Quickly adjusting the skirt, he sits up with a sharp breath.

What was that?

It’s one thing to touch himself, he always does— everyone does. But he will not do such a thing with you fresh in mind. You already have some power over him. He won’t give you this as well. And It doesn’t matter if you know about it or not because he always will.

He already hates that he envies you so much, he will not envy you like this too.

You’re just an annoying, perfect, confident girl who has no idea how lucky she is. Jimin doesn’t envy that part. He just envies your fashion sense. That’s it.

All he needs is some sleep.

Hopefully when he wakes up, not only will his hard on be gone but so will you. Not a single thought of you will be in his mind from this point forward, Jimin declares to himself.

Let’s just hope you don’t find your way into his dreams.

Like always.

“Nice jacket.”

“You’re not funny.”

A subtle laugh escapes the man, playfully nudging Jimin which causes him to almost fall off the bench.

“Taehyung!” Jimin whines as he regains his balance on the tiny seat, crashing his hips into his friend’s on a mission to knock him down too.

He fails, earning another mischievous laugh from the man.

“Sorry. Now what were you saying you had to tell me?”

Sat in a corner table with Jimin’s one and only friend in their favorite campus cafe, Jimin sets his bag on the table and turns to face him.

“Hello to you too,” he scolds.

A boxy smile is given and before he can greet the fed up boy back he’s already talking.

“Last night,” Jimin begins, brows furrowed in half embarrassment half concentration. “Something weird happened.”

“Did Daisy catch you jerki—“

“Tae!” Jimin cuts him off in a whisper-shout, hoping no bystanders hear his unfiltered words.

“Joking. What happened last night?”

Jimin sighs as he tries to find his thoughts again. He had it all organized in his mind but his friend’s reckless banter has made it all the more scrambled and confusing.

To put it simply, Jimin doesn’t know how to tell his best friend that he thinks his crush made him hard last night.

Ah, yes. Kim Taehyung. His and Jimin’s friendship goes all the way back to freshman year of high school, also known as Jimin’s worse year ever. Endless bullying and his identity crisis at its peak, Jimin was so done with everyone and everything. That’s until one of the most popular boys in school took him under his wing.

Taehyung has been Jimin’s shield for almost five years now, defending him from every derogatory slur and glare from arrogant frat boys. And being a frat boy himself, Taehyung had most, if not all of those arrogant asshole’s respect. And with that being the case, they’d never disrespect Jimin in front of Taehyung.

And it’s nice having at least one friend to help him out, Jimin thinks.

The only underside is that his one friend has no clue about his secret and God only knows if he’d still accept Jimin if he did. And that he’s in the fraternity for fucks sake.

Also that he has a massive crush on you.

That may or may not be another reason Jimin doesn’t like you so much. You have the whole school wrapped around your finger, and unfortunately for Jimin, that includes his best friend.

“Hello? Earth to Jimin,” Taehyung tries to get the older boy’s attention.

Blinking himself back to space, he shakes his head as he discards where he was going with the conversation.

“I forgot.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did,” Jimin rolls his eye, snatching Taehyung’s coffee and taking an obnoxiously big sip to shift the attention away from what he originally had to say.

Taehyung doesn’t believe him, but he respects Jimin enough to not pry.

“Whatever. Just know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jimin shakes off.

And he knows that. Taehyung may be friends with all of those terrible guys who’ve made Jimin’s life hell, but he’s still good to him. Believe it or not Jimin has had many other issues that weren’t about his secret, and with each one Taehyung was the one who provided him a shoulder to cry on.

They’re close enough to joke about all the things Jimin gets bullied for. Like his jacket for example, it’s the same one he wears probably three days out of the week. It’s big and ugly but Jimin thinks it’s boyish so he wears it. Anything to hide. The frat boys still give him shit for it, though. But Taehyung loves it, and he thinks the hate it gets is so ridiculous that he himself teases Jimin about it occasionally. And Jimin finds it funny when it’s Taehyung who teases him, because he knows it’s coming from a place of close friendship. Unlike those other frat boys.

But despite how close they are, he knows he can’t talk about his secret, or you with Taehyung. That’s the one part of him he’d like to keep tucked away for as long as he can endure.

“Alright, well I’m gonna get going. I told Johnny I’d meet him at the dorms so we can get a session in before class.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” says Jimin as he rolls his eyes.

“So is sulking, lift your head up Minnie,” Taehyung massages at Jimin’s shoulder for a second or two before he gets up and grabs his stuff.

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re always sulking,” The younger man teases as Jimin swats his hand off of his shoulder. “We’ll talk later?”

Jimin hums in what Taehyung assumes is agreement, ruffling his hair before making his way over to the door of the cafe. A grumpy Jimin is left behind fixing his hair, gathering his stuff too so he can head to class early.

Nothing beats the stares he gets as many students still, to this day, wonder how on Earth Taehyung is friends with him. It’s fucked up, really, but Jimin is used to it.

He’s used to favoritism in the school, and Jimin groans as he realizes he’ll be seeing more of it for the next hour or so that he’ll be seeing you in class.

But he can’t seem to figure out if he’s more excited to see you than he is annoyed.

Jimin is furious.

Nothing new, except that this feeling of anger isn’t rooted from jealousy or insecurity— It’s because you rejected his kindness.

Jimin, like many, were eyeing your outfit. It’s dainty and may even be the prettiest shade of baby blue Jimin has ever seen. So when he forced himself to smile your way when you caught him staring, he did not expect an eye roll from you. But nonetheless, it happened, and Jimin hates you a little bit more now.

Jaw clenched and eyes piercing lasers into the big clock on the far wall of the lecture hall, Jimin counts down the seconds until he’s able to free himself from this torturous environment. Until he frees himself from you.

When the clock does hit the desired time, he’s the only student to stand up— earning him several stares which only makes him angrier, and with little to no more patience left he’s walking out the doors on a mission to channel this frustration.

Past the corridor and straight to the art room— also known as the room that’s almost always empty because why is there an art class in a writing school in the first place— Jimin slams his bag down on the first desk he sees and sits himself down.

Why couldn’t you prove him wrong?

Why couldn’t you just have smiled back?

You just had to roll your eyes when Jimin didn’t even like you in the first place. If he had it his way he would’ve snapped profanities the moment your eyes met. But he’s not a monster. He’s polite.

So polite that he smiled your way and now regrets it miserably.

Jimin can’t stand you now.

Grabbing a random notebook from his bag, he does what any angry writing major would do and begins to jot down all the many reasons he hates you, all in the form of scattered thoughts.

Conceited.

Privileged.

Spoiled.

All words that are used quite frequently in his paragraph of scribbled rage.

Beautiful.

Unique.

Mesmerizing.

All words that he hates to admit but must include because they’re the reason he hates you like he does.

Jimin goes on and on for a while writing nothing but blunt absurdities that are simple and cuts straight to the point, majority of them being repetitive I hate you’s. It’s not until he finds himself at the peak of frustration that it all boils down to an ache within him.

Jimin thinks about why you anger him so much. He thinks about that outfit he could’ve worn today if only he wasn’t so scared. Then, Jimin writes down every raw, painful feeling he has.

Why do you have to be so beautiful? Why can’t I be like you? I often wonder if you think about my predicament. I wonder if it ever crosses your mind that I’m even one percent envious of you. When I think about that, it hurts even more.

I wish you knew I was hurting because of you.

You don’t know me well. I hardly know you. But what I’m certain of is that you’re the most beautifully ignorant person I’ve ever come across and I do hope one day you’ll realize how blind you are.

You’re blind to your reality of easiness. It’s not easy for me. I can’t wear that shade that you do. Can’t wear a shirt so low cut like that either. Because for me, I’m expected to dress like someone I’m not.

This isn’t me.

And I think I may hate you most because I see the real me in you. That courageous being who doesn’t even think twice about breaking the rules of my gender; that’s the real me. Although I hate both versions of me because neither of them have helped me out of this suffocating barrier.

I want to be me.

I wish you weren’t you.

I want to be you.

A slam of a period is what concludes the built up momentum, pencil flying across the desk as he slouches back in his chair with an exhale. He skims over the words that are quite dark since he was applying significant pressure. He vaguely reads some words until he’s not in the mood to think about any of it anymore and closes the journal shut.

And although he didn’t reread that essay of his, the last sentence still can’t seem to leave his mind.

Even if it’s just for a moment, he wants to be you.

Racing down the long hall of the unnecessarily large school, his strides echo off the walls as his heartbeat is ten steps ahead of him.

He should’ve never written that journal, he thinks.

He should’ve never left it in class either.

The passing of two more doors is all it took until he was standing out of breath in the threshold of what he hoped would be an empty classroom, the journal that he was going to grab and go no longer being in the spot he had left it.

His heartbeat almost fails him, legs buckling as his thoughts falter.

He knows it’s you. He knows your figure. He also knows that you’re standing there, reading his journal full of absurd remarks about how he wishes he were you.

Jimin wants to die. He wants it all to just dissipate. But before the boy can erase what he just walked in on, you turn around.

Journal open in your hand, your eyebrows are furrowed and Jimin doesn’t know if he can withstand that look of genuine concern on your face.

He also doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad look.

“I’m not gay,” he helplessly throws his panicked words up.

Slightly less confident, having used up all his energy on those three words, he manages to follow up, “…if that’s what you’re thinking.”

And the giggle that escapes you despite what you just read, the cruel things he wrote about you even though you did absolutely nothing but be beautiful, Jimin notes how badly he’s fucked up.

“It’s not,” you respond, slowly closing the journal, eyes following.

It’s while you’re still looking down that you decide to ask your first question.

“Listen, Jimin,” you bring your eyes up, tone a little too concerned for his liking. “Do you want to talk?”

Talk.

“Those things you wrote, it’s just—“ you stop yourself. “I know you didn’t mean for anyone to read it but from what I saw I think you need someone to help you learn to be kinder to yourself.”

Jimin opens his mouth to talk only to close it when he realizes he doesn’t know how to respond.

“I know it’s none of my business and I’m sorry for reading, but I don’t want you to feel like that. Let me help you.”

Jimin feels like a villain in a movie. He feels like the worst possible character there could ever be. He feels like a bad person. Because there he was all this time, writing about how much he hates you for being you, and here you are now, asking him to accept your help seconds after you just read everything.

The world does not deserve someone like you, he thinks. He does not deserve someone like you.

But as much as he feels unworthy, he’s never been more excited at the opportunity to get to know you. To have you there beside him on this new journey of self love.

“Okay,” he accepts, voice quiet and still embarrassed.

“Okay,” you repeat, smile big and hope at its highest.

Okay.

~~~

a/n: part one of a new seriesss les mf goooo (i missed writing so much omg, hope y’all like this one im vry excited abt it 🥹) ALSO part 2 isn’t as confusing lmao, it’s always difficult to clearly start out a series :/ pero i promise it’ll make more sense along the road :)

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39

taglist = open, let me know if you’d like to be added <3

#park jimin smut #park jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #sub!jimin #enemies to lovers #jimin enemies to lovers #jimin jealousy au #jimin college au #jimin x reader #jimin x you #park jimin x reader #jimin series #bts fic #park jimin fic #jimin fic #bts scenario #femboy!jimin #feminine!jimin #bts college au #subbmissive jimin #bottom jimin #jimin fanfic #self love au #bts #dom!reader #bangtan #bangtan smut #bangtan fluff #pretty like you

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

❝ ʙɪɢ ꜰᴀɴ ❞

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

↣ rating :: 18+

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

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

↣ word count :: 3.8k

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

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

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

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

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

- be honest, jorja smith-

ｗｉｎｔｅｒ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Correct. Time is limited, after all."

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

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

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

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

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

The second thing was excuses.

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

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

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

"It is—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's only been for years. 

You've only just moved in with each other. 

You've only just started dating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," she frowned slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

#bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: inevitably yours #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fic #bts smut #jimin x oc #park jimin x oc #park jimin smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut