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— 🌙 박지민 ! | jimin day 2023

Passage | MYG x PJM

Pairing: Captain!Yoongi x Dracula!Jimin Genre: horror, supernatural, angst, smut, Dracula!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: Bisexual!Yoongi and Bisexual!Jimin; all the usual stuff with vampires - biting, feeding/drinking, mentions of blood, shifting (bats!), telepathy/mesmerizing, dream projection, turning; missing crew members presumed dead; creeping sense of dread/growing madness; is the narrator unreliable or just willfully obtuse?; mentions of seasickness/illness; mentions/discussions of death; infidelity; kissing; dry humping; anal fingering; anal sex; wet & messy; major character death at the end (don’t worry, they immediately become undead!) Word Count: 12.4K Disclaimers: NSWF, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me Summary: For several years, Min Yoongi and the crew of the Magpie have sailed the perilous waters of the Pacific, surviving treacherous waves and other deadly threats in order to deliver goods to the West. Now, on his final voyage as captain, Yoongi is about to face a danger like none he’s ever seen before - and he may find it too tempting to resist. 

🦇Written for the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween collab for @vyduan 🦇

A/N: Surprise, Vy! Not only did I participate in the exchange, but I wrote this treat for you! I decided to do an epistolary Dracula fic based loosely on that Demeter movie that came out earlier this year, despite a) never having written an epistolary fic before, b) not having read Dracula in ages, and c) not having seen the Demeter movie. Should be great, right? 😬 Anyway, Happy Halloween! 🎃

This is very different from anything I’ve ever written. Please be kind! 😆Also, I feel like I need to preface this - I don’t know anything about sailing besides what I furiously Googled for this story, so I have left a lot of things about the ship rather vague to let y’all’s imaginations fill in the details. The time period is also vague - Dracula’s set in the 1890s, so let’s call this late 1800s/early 1900s. Basically, don’t think about anything too hard, just go with the flow and enjoy! ✌️

Thank you @minttangerines for beta’ing! Your advice and support always means so much to me 💜

************************************************************************

My dearest love,

Today I set sail for America. I am hopeful that this trip will be a fairly short one, if the waters are kind and the winds on our side. As I write this, the crew are busy loading the goods we will be trading once we reach the shores - rice, cotton, grains, so many barrels and crates that I pray the ship is not too weighed down to sail swiftly. 

I have traversed this route countless times by now, but this trip is slightly different. In addition to our usual wares, we also have a traveler on board. It is most unusual for sure, but this man, Park Jimin-ssi, is apparently in need of immediate transport to the west and unable to wait for the next passenger ship to depart from Busan. Somehow, he has convinced my boss to not only allow him on board, but he has also given him the captain’s quarters, my quarters, which he has quickly filled with countless cases of luggage. Knowing my boss, I’m sure it was money that persuaded him to agree. 

I only wish I had been asked first, instead of being told I would be sleeping in the crew’s quarters. Some of them snore like demons. 

Yet I will endure their ghastly noises, beloved. Because with this trip, I will finally have enough money to pay off my debts and be released from this dreadful ship that always takes me too far away from you. And with the money leftover, we will be able to purchase that lot of land we found near the mountains. I am already dreaming of our future, my heart - I can hear the laughter of our little ones as they run about the house that we shall build together. But more than that, I am simply dreaming of holding you in my arms again. 

It may seem like folly, but I shall endeavor to write to you frequently while this ship carries me further and further from where my heart lies. Once I reach port, I will send the letters back with the next ship leaving. And then after a few days in San Francisco, I shall speed back to you with the quickness of the sea gods themselves, and deliver on every promise that I make here to you. 

Wait for me, my love. Our future will be here soon. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

My darling love,

The first three days have passed in the blink of an eye and we are now on open waters, with Busan completely out of sight. Thus far, this trip is just like every other before it, the rhythm of the daily routine settling into place like a well-worn machine, crew snapping to every task with an energy that I only pray that they can maintain as time drifts on. 

While the men have fallen back into their usual comradery, their shouts a delightful cacophony that echoes up and down the deck, there has been a marked silence from the captain’s quarters. Our sole traveler kept to himself the first two days, sealed away in his room, not even answering when our cook Seokjin knocked to bring him his meals. But when the sun dipped below the horizon yesterday, he emerged, begging forgiveness for ignoring our attempts at engaging him. He informed me that he suffers from a debilitating seasickness that only abates at night, so he must sleep during the day or else be violently ill. 

I will try to describe him for you, but I fear that my meager words will not suffice. Park Jimin-ssi is not much taller than I am, with a frame not too dissimilar from my own. He dresses in the Western style, wearing suits in rich colors that have been tailored perfectly to fit his slender frame, shrouding himself from the chill of the night air in capes of the finest velvet. He is exceedingly pale, nearly as luminous as the moon herself, with dark hair that frames a handsome face. Truly, he resembles nothing less than an angel who has stepped out of the frame of one of those paintings you love so much, my heart. One might think it rather odd that he chooses to cover himself in fabrics of the darkest reds and purples instead of the purest white. Ah, but I suppose that’s just my lack of appreciation for the finer things, as you are always saying. 

Maybe during this trip, I will bend his ear for some fashion advice, and then show up at your door in a few weeks’ time cloaked in the finest suit the tailors in America have to offer. Wouldn’t that be a surprise!

I will take my leave now, as it is nearly time for dinner. I will write you again soon. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Treasured one,

Again the sun rises. It does not seem right to be sailing away from it, nor from you, and yet here I am. I must continuously remind myself of what lies ahead of us, and not dwell on the rest.

Park Jimin-ssi graciously invited me to join him for a drink after the evening meal last night. You would probably enjoy the way he has made himself at home in my former room. It hardly looks like a captain’s quarters anymore, stuffed with so many pieces of luxurious furniture that it more resembles a pleasure vessel used by the old princes of the west - what I think they now call ‘yachts.’  A full wall has been turned into an open wardrobe, from which he chooses his suits each day. 

The whisky that he offered me was the finest I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking. I can still taste the smoky spices on my tongue as I write this letter. I can’t imagine it’s something I could afford now, but perhaps one day, when we have something to celebrate, I will buy us a bottle, my love. I know that you claim most whisky to be vile, but I think this was sweet enough that even you would like it. 

Of course, it’s not as sweet as you.

I only had one glass, but it was enough to set my head spinning a little as Jimin-ssi and I spoke. He’s a very charming fellow, and I think that perhaps even if I had been sober, he still would’ve been able to draw conversation out of me - a feat which you of all people know is not easy to do! He has a warm air about him, and a kind smile, as well.

Listen to me, talking like you and your sister do whenever I bring Hoseok with me for a visit. Yes, I know how the two of you fawn over his dashing good looks! I don’t mind, beloved, for while he may have your eye, I know I have your heart.

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Precious one,

I wonder how your day was today. I hope it was a good one, filled with nothing but joy. Mine was the same as yesterday, and the day before. Which is not a complaint, to be sure - another unremarkable day passing is always a good thing when you’re a sailor. 

Hoseok has even noted that if we continue to have favorable winds like we’ve had so far, we might be able to knock a day off of our expected travel time. His calculations as sailing master have never let me down, so if he says it’s possible, then I believe it is. Wouldn’t that be a lovely treat? 

In any case, I am in high spirits as we continue our journey across the sea. The crew remains full of cheer as well. I heard several of them singing like songbirds as they set about their duties this morning, and though the lyrics they sang were a bit bawdy, the overall mood of the ship was light and gay all the while. Maybe tomorrow I will ask them to teach me the words, so that I may join in. 

We shall see. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

*****

Yoongi finishes signing his name, then folds the letter into his writing journal and tucks the book into his coat’s inner pocket. He leans against the bulwark of the ship, staring out at the never-changing horizon. What he’d give to see shore right now.

The moon dips behind a passing cloud, and a shiver passes through Yoongi as a cold breeze kicks up. He draws his coat about him tighter before he discovers he’s not alone. 

“Good evening, Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi intones politely, nodding at the other man. 

“Good evening, Captain,” Jimin replies. He’s draped in a black velvet cloak tonight, the luscious material wrapped around his lithe frame as he joins Yoongi, resting his hands on the side of the ship. “I hope I’m finding you well.” 

Yoongi nods. “Was your evening meal satisfactory tonight?” He knows that Seokjin’s been doing his best to cope with an unexpected passenger - one accustomed to the finest meals, not the standard grub that Yoongi and his men are resigned to eating. 

“Yes, thank you. Please let your cook know that I appreciate his work. I’m sure my presence has disrupted things quite a bit for him,” Jimin says, like he’s reading Yoongi’s mind. He has a knack for doing that, Yoongi’s found. 

“I’ll let him know. But please, do not worry yourself about the crew. They’re good men, they all know how to roll with the punches.” Yoongi pauses. “But do let me know if any of them bother you or do anything to make your time on the ship unpleasant.” 

The clouds disappear as Jimin smiles. For a moment, Yoongi has the strangest sense of déjà vu. There’s something so familiar about the way Jimin looks at him, face glowing in the soft moonlight, that it makes his stomach twist slightly, knotting up with a feeling he knows but can’t quite name. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light, bringing to mind a different moment, a different person looking at him with the same expression. 

Whatever it is, it fades as Jimin turns away, clearing his throat slightly. Yoongi blinks, feeling his face heat, knowing he was staring at the other man. A silence settles over the two of them, not uncomfortable, but deep as the ocean itself. So vast that Yoongi startles a little when the other man finally speaks again.

“Did I see you writing in a journal as I approached, Captain?” 

“Ah, no, that was a letter that I was writing. To my fiancée.” 

“Oh, you’re to be married? Congratulations.” Jimin inclines his head slightly. “May I ask her name?” His dark eyes peer inquisitively into Yoongi’s. 

“Young-sook. Her name is Young-sook.” Before he knows it, Yoongi is telling Jimin everything - how they met, when he proposed, how patient she’s been all these years while he’s been at sea, how once he returns to Korea, he’s finally going to marry her. It all comes out quickly, effortlessly, as though Jimin were pulling it out of him by a string - but he hadn’t asked for more than her name. 

He feels then that he’s said too much about himself. “Do you have someone waiting for you? Perhaps in America?” 

Jimin rests his weight on his elbows, eyes focused on the gentle swell of the waves bouncing off the bow of the ship. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he answers. “No. I am afraid that I do not have anyone, in America or Korea or anywhere else. Not anymore.” 

There’s an obvious shift in the man’s countenance as he speaks. It’s like another cloud has obscured the moon. Yoongi suddenly misses the glow. He regrets asking, and rushes to apologize. “I’m sorry, Jimin-ssi, I do not mean to pry.” 

“No, it’s all right. It’s only polite to ask.” Jimin draws his cape closer around himself. “I did have someone once. A long time ago. But I was traveling, and a band of… thieves ransacked my home, stealing some of my family’s fortunes. They - they left no one alive.” His hand passes over his face as Yoongi stares steadfastly into the sea. “We were not married, but near enough. More than, actually - I felt like I lost a part of myself that day.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi repeats, knowing that those words from a near stranger likely offer cold comfort. But all he can offer is his condolences.

“They say time heals all wounds,” Jimin says, tone hushed. He shakes his head. “If that is true, then I wonder how many more lifetimes I must endure before my scars finally fade.” 

He speaks like a poet, Yoongi thinks. Such beauty to his words, as exaggerated as they may be. When he catches Jimin’s gaze, he’s struck by the immense sadness shrouding his eyes. Yoongi hums, unsure of what to say, and is relieved when the other man sighs and draws himself upright. 

“I apologize, Captain - you did not ask for any of that.” Inhaling deeply, he smiles. “I think I’ve had more than enough fresh air for the evening. I shall retire to my quarters, and leave you to your watch.” 

Yoongi bows his head. “Thank you for the company, Jimin-ssi. As always, I have enjoyed our time together.” 

Something flashes in Jimin’s eyes and Yoongi feels that uncanny sense of recognition again - but then just as quickly, it’s gone. And so is Jimin, leaving Yoongi standing in the gentle salt spray from the waters below, wondering if perhaps he’s had a little too much himself. Sea air plays tricks on the mind. Ancient tales told of sailors who would leap into the ocean, lured by sirens singing promises of love and lust, only to find nothing waiting for them but talons and teeth. 

At least Yoongi would never make such a mistake. 

**********

Sweetest one,

I had the most unusual dream last night. 

I was back in my childhood home, in my bed, though I was a man, not a boy. Rain lashed the windows so loudly that I was startled awake - but a vision clung to me of a figure shrouded in darkness. A dream within a dream, it would seem. As I lay in my bed, I heard a voice calling to me. It was the most melodious voice, dripping so with honey that I could not help but step from my bed to follow it. 

I wandered the hallway for what felt like hours or days, in that strange way that time seems to expand when one is traversing Morpheus’s realm, until I reached the window at the end. The rain still fell, but now lightning lit the sky, and as I gazed through the glass panes, I realized the shadow from my dream-within-a-dream was hovering just on the other side. As I watched in terror, frozen to the spot, the shadow shifted, taking on the shape of a person, with two red bulbs burning where its eyes would be. 

“Yoongi,” it called, a soothing timbre belying the fiery blaze, “Yoongi, you must let me in.” 

And that is when I awoke, covered in sweat, clutching my blanket like a shield. 

I am not the type to examine one’s dreams too deeply, as you know, my dear - I feel my time is better served attending to the pressing matters of the day rather than the reveries of the night. Whatever meaning lies within this haunting vision is beyond my comprehension. 

Yet I cannot shake the image of those red eyes, staring at me as if they mean to pierce my soul. 

It is close enough to dawn now that I might as well rise and start my morning. I shall work hard and try to tire myself enough to sleep soundly tonight. 

And perhaps if I am lucky, I will see you in my dreams tonight. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

My beautiful love,

It is with a heavy heart that I report that today’s normal routine was shattered by the disappearance of a crew member. Young Jeon Jungkook, who was one of the most talented riggers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with, did not appear for morning watch as usual. He was not found in the crew’s quarters nor in the kitchen, where he has been known to steal an extra bite or two between watches. After a thorough examination of the ship turned up nothing, we determined he must have fallen overboard sometime during the night. 

As the captain, I bear the burden of the duty to write another letter this afternoon, to his parents back in Busan. I would not admit this to my crew, but I shall tell you, my dear heart, that this loss has shaken me a bit. There are certain dangers you accept when you choose to work on a ship, and it is not uncommon for a crew member to perish in such a manner occasionally. But young Jeon was steady of both hand and foot, climbing the sails easily like a cat scales the high boughs of a tree. I cannot fathom him losing his balance, either on the top mast or on the deck. Yet I suppose he was merely mortal, and we mortals all lose our way now and again. 

Jimin-ssi was rather curious about the incident, asking many questions about what we thought may have happened to poor Jungkook. I can understand this, for if I were a passenger, I too would seek reassurance that I was not in any danger of becoming lost myself. I did my best to assuage his fears, but I could not lie, and told him of the various perils that we face on our journey. He took it all in stride, and thanked me for my honesty.

Despite this tragedy, we continue ever onward, bound for America. I remain hopeful for a safe arrival in just a few weeks’ time. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

My one true love,

I write to you from the deck, where I am enjoying the most beautiful sunset. It is strange to think that just yesterday, there was such loss, and yet today dawned anew. The ship still glides along towards our destination. Life goes on. 

I hope that does not make me sound callous, dear one. I simply mean to say that, no matter what grief we may bear, time does not stop. We must carry it with us as we go, and learn to live with the weight. 

I only wish that I did not speak from experience. 

But enough of my mauldin musings. There has been some unexpected joy on this journey. Although I have only just met him, Jimin-ssi has become something of a friend to me. It has been such a relief to have someone to confide in during this trip, with all of the disconcerting occurrences that have happened. While you could argue that I have been confiding in you, my dear, with these letters, those have sadly been one-sided conversations (through no fault of your own, loveliest - I am the one who let himself become trapped in this life, not you). 

As much as I admire my crew’s dedication to their work, they do not make for the most interesting companions, I am afraid to say. But fortunately I have my new acquaintance. If you should ever meet Jimin-ssi, I think you should find him just as interesting, dearest. From the stories he tells as we drink together - he is very generous with his liquor - he’s traveled the entire world around and back many times. One should wonder how he has visited so many foreign lands in so short a time! For he has not told me his age, but he looks to be perhaps a little younger than me. 

Of course, living on the seas has roughened my countenance a bit, all these wrinkles and aching joints making me feel like a halabeoji (yes, I have overheard you joking to your sister, beloved - but I do not disagree!), so he might very well be older and simply demonstrating the results of having lived a pampered existence. I do not know, but in any case, he has aided me in staving off the boredom that comes with endless nights on the open sea, and for that, I am grateful.

Though I will be even more grateful once I have returned to Korea and to you, my heart.

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Light of my life,

Did you ever wonder how different our lives would be if we’d never met that day at the shipyard? 

If you hadn’t followed your brother to his work that morning, bringing him the lunch he’d left at home - 

If I hadn’t just arrived back from another trading excursion, bone-weary and ready for a week’s nap - 

If either of us had been looking where we were going and not staring down at our feet - 

Where would we be now?

I am not normally given to contemplating possibilities, but of late I have found myself wondering about fate. Is everything predetermined? Has our love always been part of the plan, part of the paths we’ve walked?

Jimin-ssi laughed when I asked him these questions. Not unkindly, just amusedly. Said he was surprised to hear me ponder about such things - clearly he already knows me too well. But I suppose I am rather uncomplicated to understand. 

So I asked him, do you believe in fate? And he nodded. Of course. 

I do not want to believe in such a thing, I said. I want to think that I am the master of my own destiny. 

And he laughed again, eyes glimmering as he shook his head. You cannot control destiny, he informed me. Yes, you make your choices, you think you are acting on your own volition - but no, you’re just reacting to what fate has chosen for you. In the end, you will end up where you are meant to be. 

How do you know this? I couldn’t help but ask.

He smiled. When you have lived a life as long as mine, you learn. 

I am still trying to tease out the meaning behind his cryptic answer, dear heart. Sometimes he speaks as if he is older than the sea itself. What a curious man he is. 

I do not know where I would be had you not bumped into me on the dock that day. Perhaps I would still be on this damned ship, perhaps not, but of one thing I am certain - I would not know half the happiness that I know now without your love. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

My sweet love,

Are you missing me as much as I miss you? The hours have begun to drag and I find myself daydreaming frequently of your eyes, your smile, your kiss… ah, how I wish you were here right now, wrapping around me, holding me tight. I miss your touch, beloved. 

…

I had to stop writing for a moment in order to compose myself. Forgive me, dear one. I will be strong, and remember that when this is all over, we shall be together once again. 

The mood on the ship has lightened considerably. The men have even returned to their singing. I swear for a moment this evening that I could hear young Jungkook’s sweet tenor joining the others, calling down from the top sails, but of course it was just an echo of a memory. It is sad to think that we shall never hear his voice again. 

Jimin-ssi commented on the crew’s strong bond tonight. I explained that I hand-picked every member of the crew myself over the years, starting with Hoseok and Seokjin, as you know that we have been friends since we were teenagers. I do my best to treat them all with respect and they do the same for me. 

He said that we reminded him of his own friends, that they were once as close to him as family. Then he fell silent, and I said nothing, not wanting to press. But I believe that he is just as familiar with the heaviness of grief as I am. How I wish that we had something else in common.

Oh, I nearly forgot - Hoseok has asked me to pass along his salutations to your sister. Please be sure to tell her that he has mentioned her several times on this trip - I feel that she would be most pleased to hear this. Between you and me, I think he is very fond of her. I cannot recall the last time I’ve heard him talk about the same woman more than once (please keep that between us as well!). 

Dark clouds have begun to gather, blotting out the moon and making it difficult for me to write here on the deck, so I will end this letter now and retire to the crew’s quarters for the night. If only you were waiting in my bunk for me, darling - oh, but then I would not get any rest!

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

My dear heart,

Those clouds I spoke of last night did more than conceal the moon. I awoke at midnight from a clap of thunder and found that the poor night watch crew were dealing with a terrible storm. Between the lashing rain and the whipping wind, they struggled for hours to keep us on course. And though they succeeded in their task, we continue onwards to San Francisco minus another crew member. 

Do you remember Kim Namjoon, our boatswain? I believe I introduced the two of you at the shipyard once. He was a quiet man, took his responsibilities very seriously. Always made sure the sails were rigged properly, the supplies were accounted for, and the watches ran smoothly. His calming presence will surely be missed. 

It had to be the chaos of the storm. Perhaps he was startled by the lightning and slipped on the wet deck. Or maybe when one of the sails came loose, the boom knocked him off his feet and sent him into the dark churning below. No one knows. No one recalls seeing him on the deck at all, but I’m sure he was there. He was always there. He’d never abandon his post. 

Though the clouds linger this morning, covering the sun, the storm has passed, and we sail along on calm waters. We should all feel relieved, but there is a sense of growing unease among the men, hanging thick in the air like fog. One lost crew member is unsettling. Two is disturbing. I fear for what will happen to morale should we lose another. 

I cling to the thought of kissing your sweet lips again. I shall return to you soon.

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Fairest one,

We are near the halfway point of our journey.  Since the storm the other night, the men have been on edge. Every flash of lightning in the distance, every swell of a wave approaching has them alert. As I was preparing myself for my morning, I caught two men discussing the possibility of the ship being cursed. 

You know better than anyone that I of course take no stock in such things. But crews can be superstitious lots, given to ascribing the random uncaring nature of the universe to the supernatural. Ghosts and ghouls, spirits and gods - bad luck is never just bad luck, it’s always the actions of the transmundane. I did not bother to argue, but I did discuss the crew’s beliefs with Jimin-ssi as we ate dinner together tonight. Or, rather, as I ate and he sipped at his wine. Poor man said he has a very small appetite when he sails and cannot eat much or else become dreadfully sick. 

Jimin-ssi - whom I shall henceforth refer to as simply Jimin, as he has asked me to call him - usually does more than his fair share of the talking when we meet, but when I speak, he listens well. He agrees that the crew seems uneasy and too does not seem surprised that they would turn to the supernatural for answers. 

People fear the unknown, he informed me. It sets them ill at ease to know that there are things that they cannot explain. So they reach for the simplest explanations at hand. 

Rather like believing in fate, I countered, which drew a delighted chuckle from Jimin. 

Perhaps, he said, but the difference is that fate is neutral. It is not good or evil. Whereas people usually believe the supernatural to be malevolent - dark forces bearing ill will against them. 

I had laughed at that and remarked that it almost seemed self-aggrandizing, to believe that these all-powerful forces would be conspiring against the lowly crew members of an insignificant ship such as the Magpie. 

To which Jimin replied that a man so pure of heart as myself could never understand the darkness. And I was as flattered as I was confused. For what could a good man like himself possibly know of such things, either? 

I think perhaps the whisky has gone to my head tonight. Also, my neck itches like mad. I fear some bug may have stung me. Ah, love, if only you were here to help me sleep. 

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Beloved heart,

Just had another strange dream. This time, you and I were at the park - the one near the river, where I carved our names into that old tree. A blanket was spread beneath it, and you had set out plates of food and bottles of soju for a midday meal.

Though the world around us was a little hazy, the sunset glow turning the air around us pink and dusty, your face was in sharp focus, and oh, my love, you were so beautiful, just as you are in real life. Smiling, laughing, calling me your precious mandu as you kissed my cheeks - if the dream had ended there, I would’ve awoken the happiest man alive. 

But it did not. And as I reached for you, you drew away, and began to shimmer, as though lit from within. The sky darkened, pink deepening to red, and I glanced at the sun in horror as it suddenly disappeared behind the moon. 

When I looked at you again, you were gone. The figure of a man stood in your place. I did not recognize his face. He laughed at my confusion, eyes squeezing shut in mirth, extending a hand to stroke my face gently, and whispered, “You cannot deny me, Yoongi. You never could.” 

It is so utterly perplexing, my love, that I did not know what was happening or who he was, and yet I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I could not let his gaze meet mine, or I would be lost forever. So as he opened his eyes, I cried out in fear, and opened my own to find myself lying beneath my hammock in the crew’s quarters. I managed to fling myself out of bed in my sleep.

Again, I fail to find an explanation. Perhaps I should start blaming the supernatural for my dreams? Ha, if only it were that simple. 

Perhaps it has something to do with the loss of the crew members. The terrible dread that has begun to seep into my bones as the fear of losing another grows and grows. I do not know. But I desperately wish you were here, to bring me the peaceful slumber that I’ve known in your arms.

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Dearest jagiya,

I believe that I have told you before how we often have stowaways on the ship. Down where the food is stored, it’s common to find a mouse or two feasting away. Occasionally, a bird will make its nest in the masts, and then of course there are the dreadful little bugs that scurry about whenever our footsteps disturb their hiding places. 

But this journey brings a new addition to our collection. My first mate, Taehyung, reports that there are bats hanging from the rafters in the stores of the ship. Several of them, in fact - a tiny cluster of black wings and even blacker eyes. He’s counted at least three, though he swears he only saw two the other day and now a third has suddenly appeared. As though it just arrived, having flown out across the ocean to meet up with its traveling friends? More likely one was off feeding on the creepy crawlers burrowing into the woodwork when he saw the other two.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin would prefer that we be rid of these pests - Seokjin especially, whose shrieks I’m sure you heard all the way back in Busan - but I am not bothered by them. As far as I am concerned, they have more than paid their fare by eating the unwanted insects. There’s no reason for them to trouble us, and less reason for us to trouble them. Live and let live. 

Besides, we have more pressing matters to deal with. Again the heavens are filled with dark clouds, and a strong wind rips at the sails. The men are preparing the ship for a rough night. I informed Jimin at dinner that he will likely need to remain in his cabin and may be in for some seasickness, if the waves become rough. He thanked me for my concern and told me that he would be praying for the sailors to survive the storm. Such a kind man he is, to worry for the men. Truly, maybe he is an angel, come to bring some cheer to this unfortunate journey. Not that we are necessarily doom-

*****

“Captain!” 

Yoongi’s pen halts when he hears Taehyung’s voice. He glances up to find the younger man bounding towards him with a worried expression marring his handsome face. Quickly, he clambers out of his hammock, leaving his letter unfinished. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s Sungwoon. He’s taken ill.” 

Yoongi follows Taehyung up onto the deck, where some of the men are standing in a clump near the shade cast by the captain’s quarters. Sungwoon is lying on the deck, pale as a ghost and covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes closed as he moans quietly. 

Yoongi kneels by his side, fingers finding the pulse in the rigger’s neck. It’s scarily faint. Shit. He’s not sure what to do. Namjoon was the closest thing the ship had to a doctor. 

“Sungwoon? Can you hear me?” 

The sick man just groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Too bright.” 

Yoongi looks at the others helplessly. “What happened to him?” 

Shrugs all around. 

“He’s been looking a little wan the last few days,” Seokjin says. “I tried to give him a little extra food at breakfast today and he just pushed it away, said he wasn’t hungry.” 

“It’s the damned curse,” Yoongi hears Hoseok mutter under his breath, and he whips his head around to glare at the other man. Hoseok presses his lips together in silent penitence. 

“Might it be something he ate? From the food stores, not your cooking,” Yoongi adds hastily, before Seokjin can object. 

“He did take longer than usual the other day when he was sweeping the storage area,” Taehyung remarks. “Maybe he stole a bite of something that the mice got into?” 

“Maybe,” Yoongi hums, placing a hand on Sungwoon’s forehead. “He’s burning up. We should get him below deck before the storm hits.” He slides his hands beneath the man’s arms. “Seokjin - help me?” 

“Actually, Captain, if I may - perhaps he would be more comfortable in my quarters?” 

Yoongi didn’t know that Jimin had joined the crowd until he spoke. He looks up in surprise. “Oh, no, you don’t have t-”

“Please. I insist.” Jimin smiles, and again Yoongi is struck by his cherubic countenance. “I have plenty of room and I think it should be much more comfortable for him in there than down in the crew’s quarters. Besides, you and your men will be busy with the storm - he’ll need someone to look after him.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Yoongi protests, but weakly, as he can feel how futile it is to argue. Jimin radiates a quiet confidence, the air of a man accustomed to getting his way. 

“It’s the least I can do, given how well your men have taken care of me,” Jimin says, brushing Yoongi’s concerns aside with a wave of his hand. Other than Seokjin preparing his meals, Yoongi’s not sure what Jimin means, but he is pleased nonetheless to hear that his crew are attending to their guest’s needs, so he simply nods, and he and Seokjin carry Sungwoon into Jimin’s room as the other men return to their work. 

Carefully, they lay Sungwoon on the chaise in the captain’s quarters. Seokjin disappears to fetch a pitcher of water, while Jimin heads to the captain’s private washroom to find a cloth to use to cool Sungwoon’s forehead, leaving Yoongi alone with the sick man.

Yoongi does his best to make the other man comfortable, lightly covering him with a blanket. As he moves away, Sungwoon’s eyes fly open. His hand grips Yoongi’s arm with an unearthly strength, and Yoongi nearly cries out in shock.

“Don’t - don’t,” the younger man croaks, staring at Yoongi with bloodshot eyes. 

A shudder passes through Yoongi as he fights the urge to look away from his intense gaze. “Don’t what?” 

“Don’t let h…” Sungwoon trails off with a pained whimper, eyes fluttering closed again. His hand releases Yoongi as his breathing stills.

“Sungwoon?” Yoongi grabs the younger man’s shoulder, shaking slightly, but it’s no use. He’s out, deep asleep, as though he used up all his strength in saying those few words. 

Jimin reappears with a cloth in hand and finds Yoongi standing over the sick man, blinking rapidly in confusion. 

“Really, it’s okay - I may not be a doctor, but I know how to tend to someone who is ill.” Jimin’s hand gently grasps Yoongi’s chin. He jumps at the sudden touch, but then stills as he looks into the other man’s eyes. For not the first time, he’s struck by how mesmerizing they are. “You just focus on the storm now, Captain. I’ll take care of Sungwoon.” 

When Yoongi blinks again, he’s back in his hammock, pen in his hand. Strange, he feels like there was something nagging at him, but he can’t remember what it is. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Sungwoon. Jimin will take care of him. 

**********

Beloved,

A difficult night. Pounding rain, battering waves, wind like a thousand knives, thrashing our sails and our spirits. No losses to report, thankfully. One of the men is ill, but he fell sick before the storm hit, and spent the night recuperating in the captain’s quarters under Jimin’s watchful eye. 

I am exhausted. I stayed up during the night watch to help the men keep the ship afloat. As the rain finally stopped and the sky lightened, despite the sun hiding behind the clouds, I finally collapsed in my hammock, but slept fitfully. At least I was not plagued by any dreams. It is now nearly suppertime and though I am ravenous, I wanted to write to you first. 

Though these trips are always challenging, this one is testing my resolve like no other before. I pride myself on always remaining resolute, courageous in the face of adversity, but I must admit now that I am only human, and can only take so much. 

It is times like these, when I feel weakened and in need of strength, that I miss you the most. Your love always bolsters me. I need you more than ever. I miss your face, your voice. The way you kiss me. The way your body feels beneath mine. 

Do not worry for me, my love. The knowledge that we will be together soon is carrying me through. Even though I am down now, I will get through. 

I promise you.

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Dear heart,

An eerie mist hangs over the waters today. Still the sun cannot pierce the veil, no matter how brightly it may shine. I do not recall ever having seen such a thing on a voyage before - usually by midday such fog evaporates. Taehyung keeps saying it’s an ill omen, and as much as I do not wish to stoke his devotion to superstitions, I cannot help but fear he is right. 

The other men are murmuring again about curses, especially now that Hoseok has informed me that the storm the other night blew us slightly off course - he could not chart the stars until the clouds finally cleared, otherwise we would’ve corrected by now. But we have sailed several days more south than west, and must now add several more days to our travel.

Yet today was not all doom and gloom, beloved. Sungwoon has recovered from his illness. We still do not know what caused it - he himself has no memory of anything prior to his collapse on the deck - but he has returned to full health. Better, really - Taehyung remarked that he’s never seen him move so quickly before. I am quite relieved. 

Also, Jimin joined me on the deck after midday for a cup of tea. I have felt rather awful for him, having to remain cooped up in the captain’s chambers while the weather was foul, but he did not seem to find the stuffy confines of the quarters to be enervating in any way, cracking little jokes about how he is used to dwelling in such places. As if a man with such noble bearing would reside anywhere other than the most spacious estate! He is truly one of the merriest spirits I’ve ever met, with a smile that could chase away the grey clouds. Come to think of it, perhaps I should’ve asked him to deal with the fog - perhaps his sunny countenance could have helped!

Love always, Your Yoongi

**********

Precious jagi,

Another odd dream plagues me. To be completely honest with you, I am not sure that I should tell you about it…. But if we are to be married, then I believe there should not be any secrets between us. So, in telling you of this dream, I will bare parts of my soul that I have not shown to anyone else in a long, long time. 

I can only hope that you will read these words with love.

This time, I found myself back at school, out on the lawn with my friends. Did I ever mention Yi-jeong to you before, who was my best friend since we were babes? I don’t think that I did, because… because it is hard to speak of him, since he left this world so long ago. He perished in a fire the year before I left Daegu and came to Busan.

But there is another reason that I have not spoken of him. You see, we were very close. He is… oh, I don’t know how to say it but to tell you plainly that he is the one who taught me what love is, my darling. Our friendship transcended the typical childhood bond and became something more as we grew older. Something stronger… something that I struggle to put into words even now. 

Please understand, Young-sook. I am still your Yoongi. There is just more to me than I have revealed to you before. It was fear that held me back - the fear of losing you. But my heart… it is capable of loving anyone. And that is because of Yi-jeong.

And it is you that I love now. 

In my dream, we were wrestling on the lawn, the way we did as children, during our breaks between classes, and giggling because as usual the play fighting turned into tickling. Only we were not children in this dream, we were teenagers. He held me pinned to the ground, but I managed to free a hand, and used it to brush his hair from his face as he laughed… his hair was always so long, and always in his eyes… 

“Yoongi,” he said in my dream, “you have forgotten me, haven’t you?” 

I tried to tell him that I have not, that I could never forget him, but I had no voice. My lips moved uselessly, so I shook my head. He kept repeating himself, and I kept trying and trying to shout, until finally I managed to squeak a pathetic “No!” 

And he laughed, so cruelly, so unlike Yi-jeong, and I knew then that while he wore his form, he was not my Yi. He - it - was something else, something older than the memory, and when it spoke again, its voice echoed in my head. 

“It’s okay, my love. I will help you remember,” it said, and Yi-jeong’s eyes became like black holes, swallowing his beautiful face before - before -

Oh god, I want to tell you, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so s

Historian’s note: Marked with water drops, ink smeared in several spots, the letter ends here.

**********

My cherished love,

Hoseok came to me yesterday afternoon with an odd look in his eye. He pulled me down into the crew’s quarters, made sure we were alone, and then told me that he’d seen a ghost. 

I’m sure that your first thought upon reading that was that he was playing a prank. But I have known Hoseok for long enough to know when the man is joking and when he is not, and he was deadly serious. And also quite terrified. 

He told me that he’d been down in the storage area, having been sent by Seokjin to procure some dried fish for dinner, when he heard the sound of someone stumbling around. He turned, expecting to find that Seokjin had come looking for him since he was taking so long and we all know that Seokjin’s patience is as short as he is tall, but it wasn’t the cook he saw. 

It was Namjoon.

Hoseok said he froze, and Namjoon did the same. They both stared at each other for what felt like ages, before Hoseok shrieked. And then he ducked, for his scream startled the bats awake, and they flew about his head until he dropped to the floor. 

When the bats finally returned to their rafters, Hoseok uncovered his face and glanced around. He was alone. He abandoned his task and came to find me, desperate to discuss what he’d seen. And hoping for reassurance, I think. For me to tell him that he’s not insane. 

I am not sure that I was very comforting as I tried to placate his fears. Ghosts aren’t real. But how could I argue against what Hoseok had seen, without seeing it myself? I could provide no rational explanation for what had transpired. No one on the ship resembles Namjoon near enough for me to say that Hoseok had simply gotten them confused. And everyone else was accounted for - the day watch was busy at their posts and the night watch fast asleep in their hammocks. 

In the end, I told him that he was likely tired and worn out from the sun. The monotony of life at sea was clearly getting to him - his bored mind was simply trying to liven things up. All lame excuses for something that I think will trouble me for days, beloved. I recommended that he get a good night’s rest, and I am hoping for the same.

Damn the storms that blew us off course. Every extra minute spent on this ship seems to be costing my crew their sanity. What happens if my own begins to slip? 

Love always, Your Yoongi

*****

Yoongi places his notebook in his hammock with a weary sigh. His head spins. Even though he knows he should try, he feels too keyed up to get any sleep right now, so he pulls on his coat and heads for the deck. 

Despite the late hour, the captain’s quarters are still lit. Yoongi knocks without hesitation.

“Please, come in,” a gentle voice answers, and Yoongi pushes the doors open to find Jimin holding a bottle of wine “Ah, Captain, I was just about to pour myself another drink. Would you like a glass?” 

Jimin had already shared some of his wine with Yoongi over dinner. Asking for more of the man’s stash feels a little greedy, but when Jimin tilts his head, raising the bottle in Yoongi’s direction generously, Yoongi knows he doesn’t mind, and nods. 

The two men take a seat at the dining table. Yoongi sips at the wine, letting the burgundy liquid float on his tongue for a moment. He’s going to have to try to find this vintage when he gets back to Korea. It would make a lovely gift for Young-sook. She has a fondness for red wine that rivals Yoongi’s love of whisky. 

“So what brings you to my door so late? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Yoongi sighs. “Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind,” he continues when the other man doesn’t say anything but just looks at him expectantly. 

“Well, there’s blessed little on mine at the moment, if you’d like me to share the burden,” Jimin cracks, eyes crinkling as he smiles. 

It must be the wine that’s warming Yoongi’s chest when he hears Jimin’s response. Just as it must be the wine that’s loosening Yoongi’s tongue. He tells the other man everything that is troubling him at the moment - the disappearances of Jungkook and Namjoon, the storms blowing the ship off course, the “curse,” Hoseok’s encounter, even his dreams, though he does not provide every horrible detail. It all comes tumbling out as Jimin quietly drinks his wine, observing Yoongi with an unwavering focus. 

When Yoongi finally stops to breathe, Jimin pours them both another glass. He swirls his thoughtfully for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi finally says. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with all of that.” He worries that he’s said too much. He’s not even sure why he said it all to begin with. 

“Relax, Yoongi. I asked you to tell me. Of course it’s a lot. You’re the captain. I’m not surprised to hear your concerns, although of course I only knew of a few of them before tonight.” Yoongi relaxes slightly as Jimin pauses for a sip. “I am no expert, but it would appear to me that all of this stress you bear may be causing the strange dreams. And I would imagine that your crew is also feeling the tension, which could account for Hoseok hallucinating the specter of your boatswain.”

Yoongi downs what’s left of his wine, nodding along as Jimin continues. 

“I know from what you’ve told me before that you shoulder so much responsibility, but I hope you understand that most of what you have mentioned - the storms, the losses, even your dreams - that’s all out of your control.” 

Yoongi frowns, spinning his glass on the table. “Yes, I do know that. A lifetime of sailing has taught me that no man can control the weather or the sea. And I’m aware that death is also beyond my purview, though I am loath to admit it.” This elicits a small chuckle from Jimin. “But knowing and understanding are not the same thing, though.” 

“True. Too true,” Jimin concedes. His brow furrows. “Yoongi, would you permit me to speak my mind freely?” 

“Of course. By all means.”

“It seems to me that you are still struggling with the idea of fate. You refuse to accept that anything happening on the ship could be predestined - especially since this ship is your domain and you are meant to be in charge. It’s a bitter ale to swallow, recognizing that you are not in control.” 

Jimin’s words leave Yoongi feeling exposed, as though the other man sees straight through to the heart of him. It shakes him, makes him want to look away from the other man’s gaze, but he cannot. After a moment, he nods, silently admitting that Jimin’s assertions are correct. 

“May I give you some advice?” 

“Please, yes. Anything.” Yoongi hears the naked desperation in his own voice and winces. He can only pray that Jimin doesn’t think less of him after this discussion.

Jimin slides forward in his chair. Yoongi copies him unconsciously, the buttons of his coat pressing into his chest as he leans into the table. 

“Give in. Accept that you are not in control, and let go.”

Yoongi blinks. “You make it sound so simple.” 

Jimin laughs then, but not his usual high-pitched laugh, the one that reminds Yoongi of the chiming of bells. This laugh reverberates from deep within his chest. “It can be, Captain. I promise you. And what’s more than that…” he pauses, eyebrow lifting slightly, “it can feel so good when you do.” He smirks, and Yoongi nearly reaches for the collar on his coat, suddenly needing more air. 

Jimin drains the last of his wine, licking a few drops from his plush lips. He takes Yoongi’s glass and clears the table, leaving Yoongi alone to sit and think. Or at least, to try to, but again his mind is a jumble. He’s not sure he feels any less tangled up than he did when he came here. 

Yet somehow, when Jimin returns, a soft smile on his face as he looks at Yoongi, Yoongi’s head suddenly empties. He rises to his feet, bowing slightly. 

“Thank you, Jimin. For the drink and the advice.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Yoongi reaches for the door, hand on the knob, when Jimin calls his name.

“Do let me know if there is any other way I can help you.” He tips his head, the corner of his mouth curling in a smile, and again Yoongi feels as though his breath’s been squeezed from his lungs again. “Anything at all.”

Yoongi swallows harshly, nodding. The cool evening air rushes to meet him as he steps out onto the deck again. He inhales deeply, trying to slow the hectic beating of his heart.

Unaware that someone else is enchanted by the rhythm. 

**********

My love,

The hours drag. I know that we are moving forward, ever on towards San Francisco, but if you were to tell me that time had come to a complete halt, I would believe you. 

Not only does it feel like we’ve stopped, but it feels like we are caught in some sort of loop. Nothing but storms and disappearances and bad dreams. I wish desperately for a way out. 

Hoseok has not recovered from his fright. Every odd sound makes him jump, every strong wind has him diving for the deck. Seokjin is quite worried about him. Not that he is faring any better himself. He and Taehyung are practically tied at the hip, both too afraid to walk the ship alone. 

I sought Jimin’s counsel last night, and he informed me that what I need to do is accept that everything is out of my control. Give in to my fate. And then I can bear all of this stride.

I suppose… I suppose if my fate is to be your loving husband, then I could. But I worry… what if there is something else meant for me? 

Oh, what am I even saying? 

Is this what madness is? Not an all-at-once encompassing sort of delirium but a thousand tiny delusions, cracks in the armor that spiral and fracture until it shatters like glass?

I need to rest. 

Love always, Yoongi

**********

My darling, 

Sleep was a mistake. 

Again, I found myself wandering in a vivid dream. I was in a house that I have never seen before, but in my slumber I recognized it as my home. Yet it was so much older than any house I have ever lived in - almost like one of those ancient houses from the Joseon dynasty that we visited as schoolchildren. 

Within the small village where the house resided, inside the gated wall, there was a beautiful garden. I was wearing a hanbok, strolling about the grounds, when I heard a voice saying my name. I turned, and there stood a man. Now, in the light of day, I struggle to recall who he was, but in my dream I knew him. 

I knew him very well, for as he approached, I raised my arms, and took him into my embrace. 

“You found me again,” I said. 

He brushed tears from my cheeks. “I always will.”

His kiss was like the sweetest ambrosia, nourishing me while I held him. Time passed around us, seasons shifting, melting one into another, until finally we drew apart.

“Yoongi, my heart,” he whispered, this beautiful man that I loved, “your garden is dying.” 

I glanced around and found that the lovely flowers which I had just been admiring were now shriveling, drying on their vines. 

“You must feed,” he told me. “It’s the only way.” 

And I knew that he was right. 

“It is time, my love,” he said, taking my hand. “Are you ready?” 

I said yes. 

And then

Oh god

And then, my love, I opened my mouth, and 

and

And we were surrounded by bodies. 

Dead bodies. Everywhere. Covered in blood, dripping from the leaves. From my tongue. 

The flowers bloomed.

I awoke screaming. Scared Hoseok, who sprang from his hammock to check on me. He asked what was wrong and I could not tell him. How to explain everything?

And now, lying here, I am unable to sleep again. Because every time I close my eyes…

Every time I close my eyes, I see crimson waters. Rivers of ruby, seas of scarlet, all rising around me until the world is nothing but red.

Oh, god… beloved, what is happening to me? 

Yoongi

**********

Love,

Hoseok has gone missing.

I am sorry to start my letter in such a blunt manner, but… I do not know what else to say. Hoseok is gone. Another crew member is gone. My best friend is gone.

There was no storm last night. The sea was tranquil. One minute he was in his hammock, doing his best to calm me, to guide me back to sleep. When I rose at daybreak, he was already out of bed. I assumed I would find him nagging Seokjin for an extra roll at breakfast. But he was nowhere to be found.

We tore the ship apart looking for him. How could it be possible that a third man has gone overboard? Especially one such as Hoseok, who has spent most of his life on a ship? He’s always understood the dangers we face. Taken them very seriously. 

There is panic brewing amongst the men. They’re eyeing one another with suspicion, having gone from thinking the ship is cursed to thinking there might be a murderer hiding amongst us, even though we have found no trace of any of the missing men. For what it is worth, I do not believe anyone on this ship could be acting with such malice. But I do not have any answers.

I am so, so tired of not having the answers.

And my heart is broken. My best friend. 

Gone.

*****

Yoongi sighs, running his hands through his dark hair. Why is he still bothering to do this? Writing letters by candlelight while curled up in his hammock is difficult enough, but lately his thoughts are too scattered, tumbling about too chaotically, making it nearly impossible to write coherently. Every attempt taxes his energy, a precious resource that he needs to conserve if he is to survive the remainder of the trip.

And it’s difficult to focus on writing when all he wants to do is weep. His heart is asunder. 

He glances around the room. The rest of the day crew is slumbering soundly. And quietly. With Namjoon gone, there are no earth-shaking snores to rattle the rafters. Yoongi’s heart twists slightly at the thought of the missing boatswain. With a sigh, he presses his pen to paper again, continuing his thoughts.

Yoongi

“Yes?” he says, looking up. Blinking in confusion when he sees that no one is awake. He could’ve sworn he heard someone say his name. A trick of the wind, perhaps. 

Yoongi. Hear me 

It’s clearer that time. Definitely a voice. 

Yoongi 

Not quite a whisper. More like a sigh. Who would say his name like that?

Carefully, he climbs out of his bed. Not a soul stirs. He tiptoes around the space, marking them one by one. Every head is down, every pair of eyes closed. 

“Is someone playing a joke?” he whispers, head turning this way and that, watching for signs of reaction. It does not seem like the time for frivolity. The mood on the ship is somber tonight, as everyone is mourning the loss of Hoseok.  

But none of the men move when Yoongi steps closer. Yoongi frowns. Everyone’s completely asleep. 

Yoongi. My Yoongi

Warmth floods through his veins suddenly. Like a rope, it winds itself around his heart. 

And as the voice speaks again, the rope pulls tight. 

Come to me

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he realizes the voice is calling from outside. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs, to climb towards the deck, when the squeak of a board beneath his feet breaks the stillness of the space. 

“Captain?” a sleep-bedraggled voice murmurs. He turns to find Taehyung peering at him from beneath tousled dark locks. “Is everything all right?” 

“Everything’s fine, Taehyung-ah,” he replies. “I’m just going to go check on - “

Yoongi. Come

“On that.” 

Taehyung yawns. “On what?” 

Now

Another pull, tighter than before. Moving his feet on invisible strings. 

“On that sound… don’t you hear it?” 

Taehyung’s eyelashes flutter. He rolls onto his side. “Don’t hear anything… cap’n,” he mumbles, breathing relaxing as he falls back into sleep.  

Only you can hear me, Yoongi

Yoongi’s mouth runs dry. He’s losing his mind. That’s the only explanation. 

But even as he doubts his sanity, he keeps climbing, until he emerges on deck. 

And finds Jimin standing in the doorway to the captain’s quarters, a patient smile on his face. He’s dressed in another one of his stylish suits, this one a deep red from head to toe. 

As soon as Yoongi sees the color, he’s hit with a vision of his last dream. The man’s face that he struggled to remember suddenly clicks into place like a jigsaw piece. He gasps. “It’s you.” 

Jimin just smiles wider, eyes bright with joy. “I was afraid for a moment that you would try to resist my call. I’m relieved you didn’t. It can be… unpleasant… when you fight it.” 

“Fight what?” Yoongi asks, voice rising in confusion. And fear. “What is happening?”  

“I can explain everything,” Jimin replies, stepping aside. “Please, come in.” 

It sounds like a request, but Yoongi knows that it is not. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he does. Some instinct buried deep within him recognizes an order when he hears it. 

He walks into the captain’s quarters. Jimin locks the doors behind him. 

“Please, sit.” Jimin gestures to the captain’s dining table, where a bottle of wine and two glasses wait. He pours and then takes a seat, crossing his legs as he leans back, studying Yoongi over the rim of his drink. “I promise you that I will give you all the answers you seek, but I’m curious to know how much you already understand.” 

“I don’t think I understand anything at all,” Yoongi declares. He doesn’t touch the glass in front of him, feeling like he needs to keep a clear head right now. 

Jimin clicks his tongue. “You underestimate yourself. Come, Captain,” he says, leaning forward to look into Yoongi’s eyes. “Tell me what you know.” 

Yoongi hears it then, the way Jimin’s voice drops into a lower register, as he gives the command. 

Yoongi obeys. “You were calling me. You’re in my head somehow. Not just tonight, but the dreams - that was you, too.” His own words stun him. But as he thinks about it, he knows it’s the truth. “It was you the whole time, talking to me in each one.” 

Jimin grins. “Ah, my love, I knew you’d figure it out. You just needed a little push.” He sips his wine slowly, still eyeing Yoongi closely. Yoongi shivers slightly at the endearment. “You remember me now? I was afraid that if I showed you my face, it would be too much. I was so tempted, though,” he laughs. 

“I - I think so. The last dream… it wasn’t just a dream, was it?” Yoongi’s heart starts to pound.

“No, it was more than that. It was a memory, of our lives before.” 

Yoongi says nothing, letting Jimin’s statement settle over him like a weight. He feels like he could drown under the questions it brings. “I don’t understand.” 

“You will. The memories are still there. You just need to let yourself remember.” 

He’s normally a patient man, but Yoongi has reached his limit. “Enough! Stop speaking in riddles, and tell me what -”

Be still

Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut. He stares wide-eyed at Jimin as the other man quickly rises, pulling Yoongi to his feet. Though his tongue is suddenly too heavy to move, there’s nothing stopping his pulse from racing when Jimin places both hands on the sides of Yoongi’s head, cradling his face.

Look into my eyes, Yoongi. Do you see now?

Yoongi gasps. His mind floods suddenly with images. Yoongi as a small boy, running through the grass with another child, a boy with eyes that crinkle and a kind smile. Yoongi and Jimin as teenagers, sneaking away from their families to kiss beneath a cherry blossom tree. Jimin and his family traveling to the West, leaving a heartbroken Yoongi behind.

Jimin, returning years later, with a sharper smile, and eyes that burn red. 

It all comes rushing back in an instant, an entire lifetime of memories, overwhelming Yoongi completely. His knees buckle, and Jimin catches him, leading him to one of the couches he’s stuffed into the captain’s quarters, where he collapses against the soft cushions. 

The last memory that he flits before his eyes is the end. “The hunters,” he croaks suddenly. “I - I tried to fight them off. We all did,” he says, meaning the rest of the coven. A sob racks his body as he remembers dying with Jimin’s name on his lips.

Jimin’s eyes glimmer with the same sadness Yoongi recognizes from their conversation on the deck of the ship all those weeks ago. “I know, my love. I know you did. I am so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you.” 

Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi then, and Yoongi calms, nuzzling into him like a cat. Being held by Jimin feels like coming home after a very long time.

A thought occurs to Yoongi.

“The crew? That was you.” His heart swells, thinking of the bats down in the storage of the ship. “You turned them all?”

Yoongi can feel Jimin nodding as he curls around him. “I did not intend to at first, especially when the hunger hit me after the first few days, but, well, they’re all so very sweet, and you seem to be so fond of them, so… yes, I turned them. I’ve been feeding from the others. Restraining myself, trying not to hurt them, for you. For us.” 

“For us,” Yoongi repeats, sitting up slowly. Now that the overpowering emotions of his past life memories have faded, reality sinks in. “Oh god. What am I - how can I -” he sputters, thinking of Young-sook and the life waiting for him back in Korea. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

“Yoongi. My heart. Don’t you understand? There’s only one thing for you to do.” Jimin takes Yoongi’s hands in his. “Fate led me back to you. You must come with me to America, where we’ll start our new coven in the new world.” 

Yoongi says nothing, paralyzed by the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He can’t just leave his life behind. But as he looks at Jimin, staring into the other man’s eyes, a swell of love rushes up and washes away all the confusion and doubt. It wasn’t déjà vu - it was jamais vu. His heart has recognized Jimin all along. 

“I’ve searched for you for lifetimes,” Jimin whispers, pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s. “I knew I’d find you again one day. Our bodies may wither, but our love will never die.” 

Yoongi’s eyes slip shut, breath coming out in heavy shudders. “How? How did you know you’d find me?” He feels Jimin’s hand trace his cheek and leans into the touch. 

“Because it’s not the first time.” Yoongi’s eyes fly open in surprise. Jimin grins, still stroking his cheek. “You’ll remember in time. I didn’t want to show you too much, but… you’ll remember.”

“Fate,” Yoongi murmurs. “You spoke of it from experience.” 

Jimin nods. “We’re meant to be, my love. Together, as one.” His hand slides around, cupping the back of Yoongi’s head. “Let me show you. Help you remember the way we… fit.” 

Yoongi shivers as Jimin kisses him. His lips are firm and demanding where Yoongi’s are soft and yielding. Let go, Yoongi remembers Jimin saying. Give in.

So Yoongi does. 

With a sigh, Yoongi lays on his back, pulling the other man on top of him. Jimin huffs out a pleased laugh at how docile Yoongi becomes beneath Jimin’s touch. Jimin’s hands roam his body as they kiss, squeezing, gripping, guiding him into the perfect position so that as his tongue licks at Yoongi’s lips, his hips roll against him as well. 

Yoongi groans, feeling Jimin’s clothed cock rubbing against his. As his mouth opens in ecstasy, Jimin slips his tongue inside. Yoongi arches his back, pushing himself as close to Jimin as he can get. 

“Yoongi,” Jimin moans, dropping his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much.” His teeth rake along Yoongi’s pulse point, drawing a tiny “ah!” from the other man. 

“Wait - Jimin -” Yoongi pants, hands pressing on Jimin’s chest. “Did you - did you bite me earlier?” He recalls the terrible itching he’d felt for a few days, before he knew what Jimin was. 

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, love. I simply could not resist having a taste.” Jimin grins, fangs slipping forth as he speaks. “I had to make you forget, because I knew you weren’t ready. But don’t worry - you’re just as delicious as you ever were.” 

Yoongi remembers, then - the heady bliss that comes with Jimin’s bite. His throbbing cock twitches in his pants. “Please - do it again. Now,” he begs, tossing his head back to give Jimin more room. 

Jimin hisses, diving in without a second’s hesitation. Yoongi feels the sharp sting - and then immediate euphoria. His mind floats away on the high as Jimin sucks the blood from his veins, growling deep in his chest while he holds Yoongi’s head and body in an iron grip. 

“S’good,” Yoongi mumbles, barely able to form the words. Jimin laps at the bite marks to seal them shut, not wanting to drain his lover completely. Yoongi lifts his head in a daze. “More?” 

“Later, love. When it’s time.” Yoongi pouts, making Jimin laugh. He shifts, slowly grinding his pelvis into Yoongi’s, bringing him back to attention. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

Jimin helps Yoongi to his feet and leads him to the captain’s bed. They undress hurriedly, as though after all this time apart, they can’t bear another second of not touching, not kissing, and fall onto the blankets while wrapped in each other’s arms. 

It’s been years since Yoongi was with a man, but he remembers the rhythms. Jimin’s fingers work him open like they did all those centuries ago. When Jimin slides his cock inside him, Yoongi has to take a moment to breathe, but then desire surges through him and he thrusts his hips, inviting the other man to move.

And like all vampires who have been invited, Jimin comes inside. 

It’s when Yoongi is nearing his climax that Jimin bites him again. This time, he takes his fill, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of Yoongi’s precious blood as Yoongi comes, white blending with the red dripping down his torso. Once Yoongi’s breathing begins to slow, Jimin tears the skin at his wrist and presses it to Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi feels a few drops trickle down his throat before he stops breathing.

Only to wake again in his lover’s arms, cradled close, silent heart to silent heart. 

“Thank you,” Yoongi whispers, head on Jimin’s chest as they lay together. “For finding me again.” 

Jimin hums softly, stroking his hair. “I always will.” 

**********

To Young-sook,

I have done it. I have accepted my fate. And it is to remain at Jimin’s side. 

I will not be returning to Korea. You may keep any of my belongings as you wish, or give them away, I care not. Please inform my family that they should do the same. 

Min Yoongi

**********

Historian’s note: Nearly half a century after it was lost, the remnants of the Magpie were unearthed on the shores of Monterey Bay, over 100 miles from its original port of destination. To the neverending thanks of the scholars who worked on the display of the Magpie, which currently stands at the San Francisco Historical Society, Captain Min stored his letters in cork-sealed bottles, coated with wax to keep the contents safe from the elements until he could have them shipped back to Korea. These bottles miraculously withstood the churning waters to wash up on the beach unscathed. Sadly, most of the other items on the ship’s inventory lie at the bottom of the ocean, including most of the priceless goods owned by Park Jimin. 

It is not only relics and treasures that were stolen by the sea.  Only a handful of crew members’ corpses were discovered, strewn throughout the detritus, most of their bodies ravaged by sun, sand, and saltwater, to the point where they appeared desiccated. A few were completely unrecognizable, limbs and torsos torn into shreds, likely attacked by sharks in a feeding frenzy. 

Captain Min Yoongi and Park Jimin were amongst those never found; it is believed that they did not survive whatever storm sent the ship to its doom. May their souls rest in peace.

************************************************************************

A/N 2: I'd love to hear what you think! Please let me know 💕

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

Drift Kings

You and your brother Seokjin live completely separate lives, until one day when your worlds collide.

Pairing: Jimin x f! reader, Yoongi x f! reader

Genre: Drifting, street racing AU, smut

Word count: 9.5k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of drugs, cigarette smoking, illegal street racing

You know from the first time you lay eyes on Park Jimin that he doesn’t belong in your world.

He’s physically blessed, that much is obvious to anyone with eyes, but he’s all wrong.

His suit is beautifully tailored, but the material’s wrong. His shoes are expensive but in that modern, stylish way that screams new money.

You doubt any of the jewelry he has on is inherited.

He catches you staring, assumes it’s because of his good looks rather than that you’re finding him lacking.

He has the audacity to give you a once over of his own, like he has the right to judge you like you judged him.

You stay perfectly still, let him look.

You’re a Kim, and you’re used to people staring at you.

His lips curl in a smile that looks closer to a sneer.

‘You should wipe that sour look off your face, princess, before the wind changes.’

You’re too surprised to snap back at him, and a moment later, he turns away, like he’s the one dismissing you. 

You’re still staring at his back when Seokjin, your brother, arrives with Yoongi.

‘Were you waiting long?’ Seokjin asks politely, gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the private room he’s reserved for dinner.

‘Not long,’ you say, still thinking about the very beautiful man who’s just cut you down.

***

Seokjin, is as unmarked as he ever was, at least from what you can see whilst he’s dressed in a three-piece suit.

You’re glad.

Your brother’s always loved cars. When you were growing up, he spent every spare moment in Yoongi’s family’s auto workshop, similar to how you spent every moment in your father’s office, learning the ropes of your family business.

There was a Kim needed to take over the company, and thankfully, your family didn’t have any qualms about which Kim sibling it was.

A life in business would have killed your brother, totally unlike a life spent drag racing on Mount Samo, you think, uncomfortable with the irony.

If your parents were still alive, they’d probably have things to say about Seokjin’s lifestyle.

At least he’s always with Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

You sneak a glance at him over your plate as you eat.

Around you and Seokjin, his normally serious face relaxes into a smile, perfect teeth flashing often, eyes crinkled at the corners.

Your brother’s closest friend, you spent most of your teenage years swinging between a desperate crush on him and a desperate need not to be perceived by his intense, penetrating gaze.

Now that you’re older, the heat of your crush has settled into a burning ember he occasionally stokes by turning up when you meet Seokjin, all dark eyes and deep voice and the odd flattering comment that has the power to set your heart aflutter.

Apart from all that though, you know enough about Min Yoongi to know he’s got the heart of a hustler, and fierce loyalty to your brother. If your brother ever went down, Yoongi would be right there with him fighting to the bitter end. 

‘You look tired, sis,’ Seokjin says, dropping a dumpling onto your plate.

‘I’m just closing on a three year contract with the Moiwa group,’ you say, not denying it. You’ve been working on a lucrative partnership with the tech company for months, and you’re finally on the home stretch.

You’re not sure how much Seokjin knows about the family business, he rarely attends board meetings, like you’ve never seen him race.

Seokjin loosens his tie, wincing slightly as he does so.

‘How’s your collarbone?’ you ask.

Four weeks ago Seokjin had broken his collarbone and three ribs on Mount Samo. He hadn’t told you about it, but as you are each other’s next of kin, you’d found out anyway.

‘Healing,’ Seokjin says, making up for his brevity with a brilliant smile.

You know what they call your brother on the circuit. 

Chaebol. Often said with a sneer, despite the fact that he can put together an Evolution IX blindfolded and drive it in a way that credits all the tuneups he can afford to pay for.

‘I hurt my shoulder,’ Yoongi tells you, teeth flashing in the half-smile-half-snarl that makes you feel lightheaded when it’s directed at you.

‘I’m sure you have plenty of people to take care of it for you,’ you say, straightfaced.

Yoongi blinks, and his lip curls again. ‘Don’t you want to?’

You laugh. ‘Are you trying to be cute? It doesn’t suit you, Yoongi.’

‘Stop flirting with my sister, Yoongi,’ Seokjin interjects, distracting you from Yoongi’s pout.

He turns back to you. ‘Are you free this weekend? I was planning to visit Daejeon.’

‘I’m free,’ you agree.

Your parents’ graves are in Daejeon. You and Seokjin go a couple of times a year.

Your phone rings. It’s your PA, Daeun.

‘I should go,’ you say, apologetic. ‘It’s hectic right now at work.’

‘At least finish your food,’ Seokjin urges.

‘I’ll pick up something before I get home,’ you reply.

Seokjin frowns. ‘I’ll drop food off at your place.’

You smile. ‘I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Keep my brother out of trouble, Yoongi.’

‘And you stay out of trouble too,’ you add.

Yoongi throws you another grin. ‘For you,’ he promises.

‘This weekend,’ Seokjin says. 

Both men rise as you leave the room.

***

Seokjin wanted to drop by Yoongi’s workshop on your way to Daejeon, and you have to admit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen his crew.

Jung Hoseok, the angel-faced mechanic turned racer who has a smile and personality that can light up a room and drives like he’s halfway to heaven.

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, a baby brother to all who of recent years seems to be trying his hardest to hide the facts of his pretty face and endearingly cute little shit personality, by getting tatted and pierced and wearing exclusively black.

There’s an unfamiliar person though, and as he turns to greet Seokjin upon your arrival, you realise it’s the beautiful man who sneered at you in the restaurant.

‘Y/N, this is Park Jimin,’ says Seokjin.

Park Jimin gives you a smile that makes you long to slap him.

‘We’ve met. Turns out, I wasn’t far off when I called you a princess.’

His comment makes your hackles rise.

‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure,’ you say coolly. 

‘How did you meet?’ Seokjin asks.

‘It was at the restaurant that night,’ you tell Seokjin, trying to shut down the line of questioning.

You turn to Yoongi, who’s leaning against a workbench, watching the whole exchange with a bemused look on his face.

‘I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Y/N,’ Hoseok remarks, kindly. ‘It must be your fault, Jimin.’

You laugh. ‘I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, Hobi.’

If Seokjin’s the chaebol racer, and Yoongi’s the drifting king, you’re the ice princess of Cheongdam-dong. 

You’re well aware that your family’s laissez-faire attitude to succession isn’t necessarily shared by all. You’ve grown so weary of the misogyny in your society that it barely even registers to you, now. You learned long ago to apologise for daring to carry on your family business lineage. 

You completely miss the look that passes between Seokjin and Yoongi.

‘I’ll be back by nine,’ Seokjin says to Yoongi.

That gets your attention. ‘A race?’

‘We’ll look after him,’ Jungkook assures you sweetly.

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Who’s going to look after the rest of you?’

***

Seokjin parks the car, cuts the engine. 

You unbuckle your belt, and you both walk around to the trunk to get the flowers you brought.

Seokjin asks, casually, as you walk down the path to your parents’ graves, ‘How’s work going?’

‘Still busy,’ you say, shading your eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun.

‘The deal came through,’ you tell him. ‘I spent most of last night celebrating with my team.’

‘Congratulations,’ says Seokjin. He’s had the foresight to put on sunglasses, you can’t see most of his face.

‘Thanks,’ you reply. ‘How’s the Supra coming along?’

Seokjin and Yoongi are working on tuning up a fourth generation Supra for a client from Hong Kong.

‘It’s coming along,’ Seokjin says. He smiles wryly. ‘Jungkook keeps asking if he can ‘road-test’ it.’

You laugh along with him. 

‘Yoongi says he’ll let him if he can rebuild it after,’ Seokjin continues.

You know Jungkook’s talented, but he’s not as skilled as either your brother or Yoongi.

‘You can come watch the race tonight, if you want,’ Seokjin offers. 

He’s never invited you before.

‘Sure,’ you say.

‘We’ll head off when we get back,’ Seokjin says. 

You’ve reached the graves.

Seokjin kneels down to lay the flowers on the ground. 

You wonder if it’ll ever get easier.

***

You’re sitting in a corner of Yoongi’s workshop, watching as Seokjin and his crew get ready.

The atmosphere’s crackling with anticipation, a wild energy that has adrenaline thrumming through your veins. 

Seokjin and Yoongi are hunched over the popped engine hood of Yoongi’s Nissan GT-R, talking quietly. 

Jungkook and Hoseok are roughhousing by the workbench. Jungkook’s dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots, a chain round his neck, and you wonder, again, when the maknae started to become such a menace.

Jimin’s sitting on the raised walkway over Yoongi’s workshop, arms on the railing, feet dangling off the edge.

He catches you looking at him, and the slow smirk that spreads over his face is, to your chagrin, equal parts infuriating and attractive.

You can’t deny it, he’s not your usual type but he’s so fucking attractive you almost can’t stand to look at him.

His blond hair is styled back, a stray lock falls across his brow as he stares at you, almost in his eyes. His full lips are curved, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

The way his jacket’s lifted, with his arms braced on the railing, shows off his flat stomach, the plain t-shirt he’s got on doing nothing to hide how cut his torso is.

Beside you, Seokjin clears his throat. 

‘You can ride with me,’ he says. He glances up at Jimin as he speaks, and you wonder how long Seokjin was watching before you noticed.

***

You’ve been in Seokjin’s Honda before, but never on a race day.

The interiors are black leather, he’s modified the sound system, of course, but most striking to you is the way the engine vibrates with power, even when he’s driving the speed limit en route to Mount Samo.

Up ahead, Yoongi’s leading the convoy. You’d glimpsed the flash of his grin as he’d cut Seokjin off at an intersection a couple miles back, and the barely leashed ferality of it had made you fantasise, for the umpteenth time, about sleeping with him.

Bringing up the rear are Jungkook, Hobi and Jimin, keeping tight on Seokjin’s tail.

You look around with interest at the cars idling at the summit when Seokjin slides smoothly into a spot next to Yoongi.

Seokjin cuts the engine, and you get out.

You’d expected Seokjin to get a reaction, your brother is striking even when he’s not driving a midnight black Honda, crimson racing stripes cutting the car in half lengthways, but to your surprise, there are an equal number of eyes on you.

Yoongi’s lit a cigarette, the glow of the lit end reflected in his dark eyes as he moves over to make a space for you next to where he’s leaning.

Smoke curls around your face as he asks, polite as ever, ‘Do you mind if I smoke around you?’

‘I don’t,’ you reassure him. 

Yoongi nods. ‘I usually just have the one.’ 

His lips curl. ‘Then another when I win.’

Seokjin says. ‘Jimin will drive you back down when he’s scouting. We’ll see you at the bottom.’

‘Scouting?’

‘For police,’ Seokjin explains. 

You look at him sharply.

‘If you want, Jimin can drive you home right now,’ Seokjin offers.

It occurs to you then, just how separate yours and Seokjin’s lives are.

Yours is a world of meetings, boardrooms, euphemisms for what one really means.

And Seokjin’s is this, nighttimes and headlamps so bright they light up the city, and a physical rawness you never see.

Your brother looks chaebol but inside? He’s this.

‘I’ll stay,’ you say. ‘Good luck.’

Seokjin’s gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t say anything else.

When Jimin arrives Seokjin takes him aside. They have a conversation you can’t hear, they’re several feet away and Hobi’s trying to show you pictures of his new puppy.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, the deafening roar of engines, blinding lights as three new cars arrive.

One looks like it’s heading straight for your brother’s Honda. 

You tense as it approaches at full speed, screeching to a halt barely a foot from the front bumper.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, and beside him Yoongi straightens up, grinds the remnants of his cigarette to ash under his boot.

‘Who’s that, Hobi?’ you ask, as the driver gets out.

He’s tall, like your brother, good looking in a flashy way, and the way he stares at your brother as he approaches makes your skin crawl.

There’s a tattoo running up the side of his neck, next to a jagged scar.

You slip past Hoseok and go to stand next to Seokjin.

‘Hyunjin,’ Seokjin says, neutral.

Yoongi just stares back, lip curled in a sneer.

‘Seokjin,’ the man replies. ‘Ready to be driven off a mountain?’

You tense, and Hyunjin’s gaze shifts to you.

‘I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,’ Seokjin replies, but Hyunjin barely reacts. 

He’s still staring at you.

‘Who’s this?’ he asks.

‘The person who’ll make you pay if you do anything to my brother,’ you snap.

He raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting between you and Seokjin thoughtfully.

‘You must be the ice princess. I didn’t think you’d be quite this pretty. I guess Seokjin keeps you hidden away for a reason.’

‘Shut up,’ Yoongi growls, as Seokjin shifts so he’s in front of you.

You realise Jungkook and Hoseok are behind you.

Hyunjin just laughs.

‘I’ll see you at the bottom, princess. If I beat your brother can I have a kiss?’

Seokjin says, voice low and even, ‘What about winner gets the loser’s ride?’

Your eyes widen. You know how many hours Seokjin put in on his car in Yoongi’s workshop.

Hyunjin scoffs. ‘I’m going to enjoy driving your car.’

He gives you another long look, and then he’s turning on his heel.

‘Go with Jimin,’ Seokjin says, glancing at you. ‘I’ll see you down there.’

You’re hesitant. ‘Seokjin —- that guy —-‘

‘Don’t worry,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll beat him.’

His expression softens.

‘It’s not my first race,’ he reminds you gently.

You realise Jimin’s got his car pulled up next to you, door open, waiting.

‘Good luck,’ you say, still uncertain.

Seokjin nods, waits until you get in the car, closes the door after you.

***

Jimin drives in silence, navigating the hairpin bends that make Mount Samo a drifter’s dream with a competence that makes you wonder why he’s not racing himself.

‘Is my brother going to be all right?’ you ask, plaintive in the quiet of the car.

Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, and you’re wondering if he heard you when you catch him looking at you in the rearview mirror.

‘Your brother will be fine,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll wait for him at the finish.’

You’re thinking about the way Hyunjin sneered at Seokjin.

‘Is it always like that?’ you ask.

Jimin takes his time answering this question too.

‘Seokjin and Hyunjin have a history,’ he tells you. He turns to you briefly.

‘You should ask Seokjin about it.’

‘Have you known Seokjin long?’ you ask.

Jimin glances at you again.

‘Not long. We started working together a few months ago.’

‘Do you race?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘Are you any good?’ you ask. 

Jimin changes gears, slows to a stop. 

‘Never good enough for you, princess,’ he says, flicking his gaze at you. 

You feel chastened. It’s fair enough, you know that you can be a snob. It’s a learned behaviour, from your years trying to prove yourself as leader of the Kim conglomerate, but Jimin wouldn’t know that, and you doubt he’d care. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. 

Jimin parks the car, turns up the music. He glances at the clock on the dash. 

‘Your brother’ll be down in twenty minutes. We’ll have an extra car to drive back - which is why Hobi and Jungkook rode together on the way here.’ 

‘The wager,’ you say, a question. 

‘The wager,’ Jimin confirms. 

‘It was all planned then?’ 

Jimin laughs, short. ‘Hyunjin’s predictable.’ 

He glances in the rearview. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drift like your brother.’

You’re processing this when he says, referring to your apology, ‘It’s fine. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you since we met.’ 

‘Are you any good at your job?’ Jimin asks.

There’s the faintest hint of taunting in his voice. You can’t blame him in all honesty.

You decide to tell the truth.

‘I’m inexperienced but I have a good team.’

You look out the window.

‘I don’t have a problem carrying responsibility. Out of the both of us, I was the better choice. Corporate life would have killed Seokjin.’

You press a thumb to your temple, massaging the tension headache that’s threatening to come away.

The silence in the car is deafening. 

You glance at Jimin.

He’s staring at you, unreadable.

‘I’ll wait outside,’ you say. 

You push your door open and step out into the cool darkness of the night.

A light rain starts to fall.

Behind you, Jimin gets out of the car. A moment later he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body heat.

All he says is, ‘They should be here soon.’

***

Your heart accelerates when the gleam of headlights cuts through the dark.

The rain’s stopped but the tarmac of the road still glistens with wet.

You can’t see who it is, blinded as you are.

The car comes to a smooth stop not six feet from where you and Jimin, and a handful of others, are waiting.

The door opens as your vision begins to adjust, and your brother steps out. 

He looks around, spots you and Jimin, lifts his hand in a wave like butter wouldn’t melt.

There’s a wave of cheering, drowned out by the roar of Yoongi’s Nissan as he cruises past, stops a little way past your brother’s car.

You don’t even notice when Hyunjin and the rest of the racers arrive, caught up as you are in the overwhelming wave of relief that your brother and Yoongi are all right.

You lose Jimin in the crowd that surges forward, eyes only on your brother as Hyunjin tosses keys on the ground at his feet, disgusted.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check it distractedly as you head for Seokjin. 

It’s an unknown number. 

You’re swiping to answer when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.

You’d be off your feet if an arm hadn’t curled around you to steady you.

You look up into Hyunjin’s face.

‘Where’s my kiss, princess?’ he asks. His grip around your waist feels like steel.

You lean back. 

‘I don’t remember promising you one,’ you tell him, bringing your arms up against his chest, trying to put more distance between you.

He laughs, holds tighter, starts walking you backwards.

‘Get off me,’ you warn. 

‘Or what?’ he asks. ‘You gonna call your brother to come save you?’

‘She’s got more than one friend here, actually,’ comes a voice from behind you.

You turn to see Jimin, hands loose by his sides, expression hard.

‘She asked you to get off her,’ Jimin points out.

Hyunjin’s hand tightens painfully around your wrist for a heart stopping moment before he scoffs and drops it.

‘Maybe next time, princess,’ he says.

He leers at you as he steps away.

‘Are you ok?’ Jimin asks, nodding to your wrist.

‘I’m fine,’ you say automatically, despite the throbbing in your wrist. You’re used to showing no weakness. 

Seokjin and Yoongi have reached you. 

‘What happened?’ Seokjin asks, an edge to his voice.

‘We saw that fucker head straight for you,’ Yoongi says. The feral spark’s back in his eyes, he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight.

You tug the cuffs of Jimin’s jacket down over your wrists.

‘Nothing happened,’ you say.

Seokjin doesn’t believe you, you can tell, but you don’t want to talk about it.

Finally, he says, ‘I’ll drive you—‘

‘I can drive you home,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s on my way.’

***

You sit in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, waiting as he grabs something from the trunk.

He gets in, tosses a heat pack into your lap.

‘He grabbed you pretty hard,’ he says. ‘You can use that if you feel sore.’

You look at it for a moment.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m sorry I lost you for a moment there in the crowd,’ Jimin says, shifting the car into gear as he pulls out onto the road.

‘I’m not a kid,’ you say.

The heat pack feels nice. 

‘You’re definitely not a kid,’ Jimin agrees.

His gaze flicks over you, so quick you wonder if you imagined it.

‘You don’t even know where I live,’ you say, with a flicker of amusement. 

‘I’ll drive you anywhere you want,’ Jimin replies. 

For the first time, he smiles at you, lips curving, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Where do you want to go, princess?’ 

***

Your back’s against the front door of your apartment, your head thrown back as Jimin presses heated kisses to your neck. 

He’s beautiful, dark eyes and gleaming skin, you keep wanting to watch him but he’s kissing you so well it’s hard to keep your eyes open. 

He’s got one hand under your top, smoothing circles over your skin, the other curled over your ass, squeezing your flesh. 

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, your hand braced on his shoulder, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.

‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, silvery voice making you tingle. ‘Touch me, if you want.’

You slide a hand over the hardness of his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs, the tautness of him. 

Skin over muscle over bone.

He’s hard all the places you’re soft.

You can’t stifle a moan as he rolls his hips against yours. 

‘Where’s your room,’ he grunts, pulling a whine from your lips as he lifts his own lips from your skin.

You point, and he knits his fingers with yours, tugging you with him as he heads for your bedroom.

The door closes behind you, and in front of you, Jimin shucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

His beauty stops you in your tracks.

Jimin grins. He tilts his chin at you, all golden skin and bright eyes.

‘Stop staring,’ he says, bold, ‘and take your clothes off.’

You can feel your skin heat as Jimin fixes his gaze on you, watching as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undo the fastening on your jeans.

You can’t meet his gaze when you’re in your bra and panties.

Jimin takes two steps forward, dropping his own jeans.

You’re still looking down, so the bottom half of him comes into view first.

The waistband of his boxer briefs, stretched over taut skin, the very obvious bulge just beneath. Thighs so muscled your own thighs tighten against each other.

He lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him.

‘Why so shy, princess? Look how hard I am.’

He doesn’t wait for a reply, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle.

He walks you backward onto the bed, takes a moment to look at you laid on your sheets. His hand strokes over his rigid cock once, then he’s lowering himself on top of you.

He’s gentle, but you can feel the coiled power in his muscles as he grinds himself into the softness between your legs.

‘You really are a princess,’ he murmurs into the dip between your breasts, so lightly you know he’s just teasing.

He kisses the round of your breast, tongue flicking around your areola tantalisingly until you’re soaked, your hips seeking friction against his hardness.

‘Jimin,’ you plead, maddened with arousal.

‘Don’t worry,’ he soothes. ‘I’ve got you. Panties off.’

You lift your hips to pull your panties down.

There’s a rip of foil, a barely suppressed groan from Jimin as he unrolls the condom onto himself. 

He positions himself above you, slides into you like he’s been doing it his whole life, and you moan, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch of him.

‘You like that?’ he asks, silvery voice deep now, breath hot against your skin.

‘Yeah,’ you cry.

He props himself on one arm, rolls his hips against yours.

‘Fuck,’ he groans.

He picks up the pace, eyes on you, flicking between your face and how he’s making your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts. 

He’s glistening with a sheen of sweat now, hair flopped over his face, damp. 

‘Look at you, princess,’ he murmurs, voice dropped low, breathless. ‘Look how well you take me.’

He flattens a hand over the curve of your lower belly, thumb flicking over your clit, purposeful, firm, making the pleasure build. 

Slows, lifts your hips so he can fuck you deeper. 

The curve of his cock hits so good you’re crying out with each rock of his hips against yours. 

You come with a gasp of his name, and Jimin drops down on you, grinding, hips working. 

‘Fuck,’ he groans, deep in his chest. ‘Take it, baby.’ 

You wind a hand around his neck, and his lips meet yours again, tongue licking into your mouth as he fills the condom. 

‘Shit,’ he groans, pulling out, knotting off the condom, tossing it carelessly. 

You’re breathless still, heart hammering in your chest, but you sit up, admire how he looks sprawled out on the covers of your bed, flushed and glowing. 

‘You were right, you know,’ Jimin says. 

He’d been looking up at the ceiling, but now he flicks his gaze at you. 

‘You’re too good for me.’ 

You scoff. ‘Shut up. I never said that.’ 

Jimin laughs. ‘I didn’t say it was going to stop me from pursuing you.’ 

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Pursuing me?’ 

‘I said what I said,’ Jimin says. 

He sits up, muscles flexing, hair pushed back. He drops a kiss on your exposed shoulder, teeth flashing as he follows it up with a playful nip. 

As you’re getting up, picking up your clothes, you notice a flash of gold half-out of the pocket of his jeans. 

You lift it out, curious. 

Jimin says nothing as you rub your thumb over the gold badge, turn it over to see his ID. 

‘You’re a cop,’ you say. It’s not a question, you have the proof in your hand, but it comes out querulous anyway. 

‘I’m a cop,’ Jimin replies. 

You’re trying to process. ‘Does my brother know?’ 

‘Seokjin knows,’ Jimin says. 

He gets up, starts getting dressed too. 

‘It’s illegal to race on Mount Samo,’ you say. 

‘I’m undercover,’ Jimin tells you. He reaches for his badge, and you let him take it out of your loose grip. 

‘What are you investigating?’ you ask. 

‘Currently, your ass,’ Jimin says. 

You crack a reluctant smile. ‘Could have told me you were a cop before we slept together.’ 

‘I usually wait for a second date before I get the handcuffs out,’ Jimin shoots back. 

You laugh, but your mind’s still racing, wondering why Jimin’s hanging around with your brother and Yoongi.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts it takes you a moment to realise Jimin’s watching you.

‘I should get to bed,’ you say, feigning a yawn. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

Jimin asks, quietly, ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’

You’re troubled, but you force a smile. 

‘I’ll save my questions for when I’m less tired,’ you say.

Jimin’s got his jacket on, you’ve both moved out of the bedroom.

He says, ‘I’d like to see you again.’

Your smile becomes a little less forced. 

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but all he does is nod, flash you a smile before he leaves.

The click of the latch falling into place as he pulls the door to sounds oddly final. 

***

You’re tired.

You’ve been in and out of meetings all day. On top of that there’s been a problem with the city planning committee over the new property you’ve just acquired.

It was a hard fought battle but you’d managed to pip your competitor, Jungcorp, to the post. You’re not sure why Jungcorp had fought so hard for it, it’s an abandoned tower block in an unglamorous part of the city, but the land’s invaluable to you for development.

As far as you know Jungcorp’s got no vested interests in property development. 

You look up, exasperated, as there’s yet another knock on your door. 

It’s past 8pm, your feet are sore and all you want to do is go home and take your bra off, if you could only just finish reading and sign off on the city planning committee’s requirements.

Plus you thought you’d sent everyone from your executive team home. 

Your frown softens when you realise it’s Jimin.

You’ve been texting back and forth since you hooked up, he’s called you a few times, but you’ve been too busy to meet.

‘How’d you get in here?’ you ask, getting up to greet him.

‘I’m a cop, remember?’ Jimin says. He looks as pretty as ever, dressed all in black, silverware in his ears.

‘I have security,’ you point out.

‘Jaebeom?’ Jimin asks, feigning innocence. ‘We used to work together.

You roll your eyes.

‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this,’ Jimin says, ‘because I brought food.’

He brings his arms round from behind his back to reveal a bag of food that makes your stomach growl, loudly and ungracefully.

‘When did you last eat?’ Jimin asks.

‘I had a protein shake for lunch,’ you say, eyeing him as he sets out boxes of noodles. ‘They’re apparently a complete meal.’

It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes.

‘Prawns or chicken?’ he asks, holding out chopsticks to you.

You reach out and grasp his hand instead.

‘I’ve missed you a little,’ you say, tugging.

Jimin lets you pull him closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you a lot.’

He’s close now, head tilted to yours, face barely inches away.

‘A lot?’ you ask, staring at his lips.

‘Yeah.’ His voice is husky now, and he dips his head to yours.

You meet him more than halfway, lips already parted.

Jimin’s hand curls around the back of your head as he slants his own to kiss you deeper.

‘I lied,’ he murmurs, crowding you against the edge of your desk.

‘I didn’t just come to bring you food. I came because I knew you’d look fucking sexy in your work clothes.’

He kisses you again, hips pressed against yours, hand slipping down to cup your ass.

You slip your arm around him, sighing a little as he kisses you, lips warm and sweet.

‘Eat, before we get distracted,’ Jimin says, pulling away.

You whine, disgruntled, but he’s insistent.

The noodles are hot, tasty, satiating the hunger you’ve been suppressing all day.

‘Thanks,’ you say, as Jimin gets up to clear away the food.

You’d help, but it’s the longest break from work you’ve had all day, and now that you’ve sat down on the comfortable sofa you’re not sure you can muster the willpower to get up.

Jimin looks at you knowingly.

‘Want a ride home?’

‘I should probably get back to work,’ you say, regretfully.

Jimin says, ‘You look exhausted. Here, I’ll take you home.’

You find yourself picking up your things, letting Jimin help you on with your coat, following him to the lifts.

Jimin curls an arm around you, and you lean into him as you wait for the lift.

He smells good, but more than that, he feels good, solid, his shoulder corded with muscle under your cheek. 

‘You can lean on me,’ Jimin says. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.

In the car, Jimin leans over to help you fasten your belt.

‘I can do it,’ you say, but he just smiles. 

‘I said you can lean on me,’ he tells you. He starts the engine, puts on soft music, a lo-fi beat. 

‘Sit back, princess. I’ve got you.’

You want to tell him to stop calling you princess but you’re so comfortable and warm the words won’t leave your lips.

You blink awake to find that Jimin’s parked outside your apartment building. 

‘Sorry,’ you mumble, trying to orientate yourself. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’

‘You talk in your sleep,’ Jimin tells you. 

Now you’re fully awake. 

‘What did I say?’

‘I didn’t know you liked my ass that much,’ Jimin says, thoughtfully. 

‘What?’

He laughs. ‘Go to bed, princess. Want me to walk you up?’

‘I’ll be all right,’ you tell him. You hesitate, hand on the door handle. 

‘Thanks, Jimin.’

‘Anytime, princess.’

He waits until you’re inside the doors before he drives away.

***

Yoongi rolls himself out from under the body of the Subaru he’s working on just as Seokjin approaches. 

He stares at the pictures Seokjin hands him, jaw tightening, anger sparking, hot and bright, within him.

‘Does she know?’

‘Jimin says she doesn’t seem to know,’ Seokjin says, voice low, furious.

Yoongi hands him back the pictures, lip curled in disgust. 

‘I think you’d better fucking tell her,’ he says. 

‘It’s not just that,’ Seokjin says. ‘I got this, too.’

Yoongi listens to the recording on Seokjin’s phone, swears.

‘Shit, that asshole’s asking to be fucked up.’

‘Call the guys,’ Seokjin says, voice hard. ‘We get her and then we show him what happens to people who fuck with us.’

***

You’re hurrying, running late. You’re meeting a client from Norway in the busiest part of the city at 7pm sharp.

You glance at your watch just as the light goes green at a multiway intersection, watch the numbers indicating how long you have to cross tick down as you walk briskly across the white stripes on the road.

There’s a thunderous roar, a wave of screams, and the throng of people crossing with you disperses rapidly as you look around to see where the noise is coming from.

The crowd’s clearing, but you stay where you are in the middle of the intersection because you recognise the midnight black Honda with the red racing stripes heading straight for you, the sleek silver Nissan keeping pace alongside it.

Your brother drives slightly past you and executes a 90 degree turn so his car’s across your path, lengthways, tyres screeching.

The acrid smell of burning rubber fills your nostrils, but you almost don’t notice it, because three other cars surround you in quick succession, boxing you in.

To your left, Yoongi, dark eyes scanning you as if to assure himself you’re unharmed.

To your right, Hobi, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

Behind you, Jimin, a shadow behind his blinding headlights.

Seokjin leans across the passenger seat, pushes the door open.

‘Get in,’ he says.

***

You have questions, but Seokjin waits until you’re out of the busiest part of town, when the streets get a little wider, the lights less bright, before he starts talking.

You realise he’s taking you to his apartment.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask.

‘Hyunjin threatened you,’ Seokjin says, terse, jaw tense as he navigates the expensive neighbourhood his apartment’s in. 

‘He threatened me?’ you ask, sure you’ve heard wrong.

Seokjin glances at you. ‘The land you just purchased.’

You frown. ‘The square footage we fought Jungcorp over?’

‘Jungcorp is Hyunjin’s grandfather’s company,’ Seokjin says.

The puzzle pieces click into place.

You let out a low whistle. ‘Shit. And he calls you chaebol.’

‘The company’s in trouble,’ Seokjin says, ‘and they’re being investigated for running drugs out of Jamsil.’

He slides into a space in the underground car park, cuts the engine.

‘You know Jimin’s part of the narcotics squad.’

‘He didn’t say what he was investigating,’ you reply, sliding out the door, walking with Seokjin to the private lift.

Seokjin punches in the code, activates the lift, and a moment later you’re walking into his apartment.

There are pictures scattered across the coffee table in the lounge, and for once you don’t stop to admire the view of the city.

They’re all pictures of you. Full colour, high resolution.

Pictures of you in your office, walking into your apartment, at a client dinner. Even, to your horror, one of you in your bed, asleep.

‘Who took these?’ you ask. Your voice comes out tremulous, you barely recognise it.

‘Hyunjin had them sent to me,’ Seokjin replies.

You have to sit down. 

‘They want you to give up the Jamsil property and land,’ Seokjin tells you.

You’re struggling to take all this in.

‘Or what?’

Seokjin doesn’t want to give you the details of what Hyunjin threatened to do to you.

‘You should stay at mine until this settles down,’ is what he settles for.

You look up at him.

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Seokjin. It’s the biggest victory I’ve had since I took over the company.’

‘No victory is worth your life,’ Seokjin points out.

Logically, you know your brother is right, but you don’t know if he knows how hard you’ve fought since you took control of the reins of the Kim conglomerate.

The times you were challenged over decisions the board would have praised you for, if you were a man.

The tears you cried in secret when your spirit was battered and bruised from pretending you were immune to the snide comments, the demeaning remarks.

You know you’re stronger than the adversity you faced but it’s never been easy.

Seokjin studies your face, a look in his eyes that makes you wonder how much your older brother really knows.

‘Yoongi’ll take you home to get your things. I’ll fix us dinner for when you get back.’

***

Yoongi never really seems to expect anything from you when you’re together.

It’s a trait that you’ve come to appreciate more and more as the years go by.

He listened to your naive prattling about your friends on the odd occasion when he picked you up after school, never commenting except to ask if you wanted ice cream.

He picked you up sometimes when you were back from college, letting you choose the music you wanted to play, handing you snacks silently, sometimes smoking out the open window.

He drives quietly now, changing gears so seamlessly you barely notice even though you’re staring at his hands.

You remember once, a couple years ago, when you’d met by chance when you were walking to the metro after a disastrous blind date.

You’d been so stung by the experience the indignation had tumbled out of you, words jumbled, as he’d pulled up alongside you and offered you a lift.

Yoongi had listened all the way to your apartment, murmuring support in the lower range of his vocal register, a reassuring rumble if not any actual words.

As soon as he’d stopped the car you’d unbuckled your belt, intending to turn to him and thank him, and instead, you’d looked at him looking at you, his hair pulled back from his forehead in a tiny ponytail, eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d leaned forward and kissed him instead.

Yoongi had grunted a little, and you would have pulled away, if he hadn’t cupped the back of your head and sought your lips with a hunger that thrilled you all the way to your bones. 

Heat had pooled in your belly, down low, as he licked boldly into your mouth, slid his big hands around your hips to steady you.

You’d pulled away, breathless, more than a little aroused, and he’d quirked a brow at you.

A question.

You think that if you’d showed any uncertainty, Yoongi would have stopped, and so you didn’t.

You’d taken his hardness in your mouth with a confidence fueled by the reverent, affectionate way he said your name, had learned what he liked by the way his breathing quickened until it was laboured gasps, then a single uttered, emphatic ‘fuck’ as he spilled down your throat, hand clenched on the steering wheel.

He’d given you a feral smile, thumbed away a smear of his cum from the corner of your mouth and put his hand up your skirt like it belonged there.

You’d come crying his name, once with his tongue buried deep in your cunt and another time on his cock as he drilled you into your bed.

He’d left in the morning, a kiss on your forehead and a goodbye so sweet it’s never mattered to you that you’ve never talked about that night since.

You sometimes wonder if he still thinks of it. You’ve never asked.

You look out the window as Yoongi drives.

He reaches into the centre console, tosses a packet of chocolate fish into your lap.

‘I’m not a kid, you don’t have to bribe me with snacks,’ you grouse, but you open it anyway.

The chocolate reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.

‘Stop being cute and I won’t buy you snacks,’ Yoongi says, reasonably.

‘I’m not cute.’

He just snorts.

‘Want one?’ you offer.

‘You look like you need them more than me,’ Yoongi says, but he accepts the fish you place in his palm. 

He walks you up to your building once he’s parked, waits in the living room as you pack a bag.

Once you’re back in his car you turn to him.

‘Did you see those pictures?’

Yoongi’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes.’

‘Seokjin’s worried,’ you say.

‘He’s your big brother,’ Yoongi says, neutral. ‘He worries about you like you worry about him.’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.

‘I’m not,’ Yoongi says. He glances in the rearview, signals to turn. ‘I’m angry.’

You put your hand on his arm. ‘You’re always angry,’ you point out, gently.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘No one comes for you, especially not some half assed wannabe racer like Hyunjin.’

You’re touched at his anger on your behalf.

Yoongi looks at you. ‘Seokjin and I will take care of it.’

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Yoongi. I’ve finally clawed myself some credibility.’

‘Fuck that,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re not giving up jack shit for that asshole.’

His lip curls in a half snarl. ‘We’re not giving in even if I have to chain you to me to keep you safe.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow back. 

He stops in front of the private lift to Seokjin’s apartment. 

‘I think you’d like being chained to me,’ you say, unable to resist.

The smile he gives you is a mix of rueful and cocky. 

‘Of course I fucking would. I’d make you like it too.’

He unlocks the doors so you can get out, rolls down the window as you get into the lift. 

‘I think about that night all the fucking time,’ he tells you, voice low.

You look up at him in surprise, but don’t have time to reply before the lift doors shut between you.

***

Seokjin sets a plate in front of you.

‘Eat,’ he urges.

You pick up your chopsticks and dig in.

‘The responsible thing to do would be to tell you to give up the land,’ he says. ‘That’s what our parents would tell you to do.’

His words set off a pang of sadness that resonates in your chest.

‘If our parents were still here I wouldn’t be running the company,’ you reply.

‘I don’t want you to give up the land. I know how hard you fought for that victory.’

Seokjin takes another bite. 

‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting.’

‘Running the company was always what I wanted,’ you tell him. ‘It’s just that it was supposed to be with dad at the helm whilst I found my feet.’

It’s the first time you’ve ever come close to hinting that it hasn’t been easy.

There’s sadness in Seokjin’s eyes.

‘I can put in some time at the company. I’m a Kim, too.’

‘The company is what I want,’ you say, very gently, ‘but it’s not what you want.’

Seokjin sighs. ‘What I want is for you to be happy. I am.’

You snort. ‘You have three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone.’

Seokjin smiles. ‘And you have no injuries. Let’s keep it that way.’

You clink your glasses in a toast.

‘So, Jimin, huh?’ Seokjin asks, sly.

You blink at him but don’t say anything.

Your brother manages to smirk at you anyway.

***

You’re in the gym in your brother’s building, running through your PT routine when there’s a flicker of reflection in the floor to ceiling window you’re facing.

Jimin.

‘Seokjin said you’d be down here,’ he says.

You look up at his reflection in the glass.

‘I’ve got a meeting with my board tomorrow,’ you say. ‘They’re going to want to congratulate me on the Jamsil acquisition.’

You get up from the mat, turn around, and realise he’s as sweaty as you are.

Jimin tilts his head, blond hair falling over one eye. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath that’s moulded to his torso, sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets. 

The gold pendant he wears glimmers in the low light of the gym. 

There’s a faint bruise on his jaw. 

Unthinking, you step forward and brush a thumb over it lightly. 

‘What happened?’ you ask. 

Jimin stays perfectly still as you touch him. 

‘Just some bangers down by the river,’ he says, vague. 

‘Hurt anywhere else?’ you ask. 

‘Check me over and see,’ he says, an invitation. 

He’s ready for the kiss you press on him, sliding his arms around you, hands warm on the gap between your top and leggings. 

You lose yourself in his kisses, only realising he’s walked you backward when your back hits the glass. 

The cool press of the window against your shoulder blades is a startling contrast to the warmth of him. 

Shit, why’s he so warm? 

Jimin’s more insistent than usual, you can feel his erection, already rock solid, nudging at your core even between your layers of clothing. 

He grunts, fingers tugging at the zipper down the front of your top, working your breasts free, hands cupping you possessively, pinching your nipples. 

You’re aware anyone could walk in but you’re struggling to care, at least whilst Jimin’s hot mouth is pressed against your skin and he’s murmuring filth to you as he touches you. 

You’re the one who ends up tugging your leggings down. They’re barely at mid thigh before Jimin’s surged forward, entering you to the hilt in one stroke. 

‘Shit, Jimin,’ you gasp. It’s tight like this, your legs pinned together. 

‘Turn,’ Jimin commands. 

He pulls out, turns you, one hand cupping your cheek so your face doesn’t hit the glass, the other pressed into the small of your back so your hips are angled perfectly for him to enter you again. 

He fucks you hard, drilling you into the glass, cock gliding in and out of you at a pace that makes stars form behind your eyelids. 

You’re not wet enough but the friction adds to the thrill. 

Your nipples tighten harder against the cold of the window. 

‘Look at you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.’ 

His hand kneads the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard you know he’s going to leave handprints. 

He groans again, long, drawn out, into the back of your neck as he spills. 

You’re stil recovering when he turns you around again, drops to his knees, pushes his head between your thighs. 

He looks up at you, flushed, breathless still from fucking you, eyes dark as he licks up into your cunt. 

He hooks his hands over your bared thighs, parts you with his thumbs, and laps at your clit. 

‘Jimin,’ you gasp. 

‘Yeah, fuck,’ he moans. He’s flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue, slow circles, fingers sliding into you, curving, pressing. 

You can see his come leaking out of you, dripping down his hand as your cunt spasms around his fingers. 

He keeps up the pace, fingers moving in and out of you, lips suctioning at your clit, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you come. 

He moans like he loves the taste of you, licking at your arousal until your knees weaken. 

You get re-dressed in a hurry, Jimin helping you with most of it, shucking off his hoodie and pulling it tight around you.

‘Come on. I’ll put you to bed.’ 

You’re boneless from your orgasm, weary from the stress of the last few days. 

You lean on him as you head back up to Seokjin’s apartment. 

Jimin waits, seated on the edge of your bed as you take a shower, pulls back the covers so you can get in. 

You grasp his wrist as he gets up. 

‘Where are you going?’ you ask, sleepy. 

‘I’ve got more to do, princess.’ 

Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead. 

‘It’ll be over tomorrow, ok?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. 

‘Yeah. Promise.’ 

You want to ask more but you’re asleep before he leaves your room. 

***

You love the view from your office, in the nighttime but also on days like today, when the sun blazes bright, laying out the city before you.

In the distance, the silhouette of Mount Samo. 

It always reminds you of Seokjin.

Seokjin had asked you to back down from the deal on the Jamsil land, just until he could ‘take care of things’, but your board meeting’s been planned for months.

The success of the acquisition was meant to be the cherry on the top of the cake, the final step in proving your worth to the company.

You’d tried, at dinner last night, to articulate to Seokjin how much you needed this, but had found yourself too close to tears for comfort.

You think maybe at the end he’d understood.

You breathe in, slow, trying to get your head in the game before you face your board.

Your PA buzzes with a reminder.

You take one last look at Mount Samo in the distance and turn.

Time to go.

The walk to the meeting room’s never felt so short.

Everyone rises when you enter. 

You scan the sea of faces around the U-shaped table and are about to sit when the glass door swings open.

The murmur through the room makes you turn sharply.

Your brother, tall and broad and exquisitely coiffed, walks up to stand beside you at the head of the room.

All eyes are on you, but Seokjin doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

He leans over, and says, simply, ‘I was wrong.’

You search his gaze, and realise how wrong you were to think Seokjin has no idea what you’re going through.

The realisation makes warmth course through you.

You compose yourself enough to say, ‘That’s why our parents left the company to me, brother.’

The laugh you share makes the tension ease in a way it hasn’t in days.

You turn back to your board. 

‘Let’s begin.’

***

The meeting is a success.

Maybe you’re just flying high off the reaction to your report, but you think you’ve made a significant step towards proving your abilities.

Seokjin, beside you, loosens his tie as he starts the car.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask.

‘You’ve done your bit,’ Seokjin says, glancing in the rearview as he pulls out of the space he’s parked in.

His jaw tightens. ‘It’s time to do mine.’

***

You’ve never really been on Mount Samo in the day before, and the hairpin bends that Seokjin’s manoeuvring with ease are making you a little queasy.

Seokjin glances at you in the rearview mirror, amusement on his face.

‘I could drive this blindfolded,’ he tells you.

‘That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,’ you mutter, trying to keep your eyes straight ahead instead of gaping over the sheer drop you’re inches away from.

‘What have you got planned?’ you ask.

‘We’ve actually already carried out the plan,’ Seokjin tells you. ‘I thought you’d like to be there for the final part.’

You’re curious, thinking back to the night before, when Jimin met you in the gym and then left because he had things to take care of. You’d never heard Seokjin come back, you’d assumed that you’d been asleep and that he’d been quiet.

For the first time, you notice the dark circles under Seokjin’s eyes, marring his normally perfect complexion.

It strikes you that although you’ve been bemoaning your brother’s lack of involvement in your work life, you know very little about what he gets up to.

‘What did you do, Seokjin?’ you ask.

‘Nothing Hyunjin didn’t have coming to him,’ Seokjin replies.

He shrugs.

‘I set him up to meet again today so he could have a chance to win back the car I won from him the other day. I gave Jimin all the pictures Hyunjin sent me, the threats he sent against you.’

Seokjin’s lips thin into a hard line. 

‘Hyunjin’s car’s been captured on CCTV in a notorious spot in Jamsil that the narcotics squad have been monitoring.’

You’re staring at your brother.

‘There are traces of narcotics in the trunk.’

Seokjin blinks. ‘Jimin knows I won the car, but he left with you that night so he hasn’t seen it driven by anyone other than Hyunjin.’

You see what your brother’s done.

You turn to him, realising only now, how carefully he’s been watching you this whole time.

Seokjin’s voice is carefully neutral. ‘This is the kind of thing your big brother gets up to.’

Seokjin doesn’t know about everything in your life, and you don’t know everything about his.

All you know is, he’s your brother, and you can stand up for him like he stood up for you.

You put your hand on his, where it’s loosely curled over the gear shaft.

‘Guess you’re a good big brother after all.’

Seokjin fixes his gaze on your joined hands, throat bobbing as he swallows.

‘I’m the best,’ he agrees, giving you a crooked smile.

***

When you make it to the summit, Yoongi’s already there, peering through binoculars.

‘Hey princess,’ he says, shifting over on the hood of his car to make room for you.

He hands you the binoculars, casual. ‘Check this out.’

You hold the binoculars up, and Yoongi gently pushes you in the right direction, fingers warm under your chin.

The scene’s a few hundred feet down from the summit, and for once you’re not distracted by the vertiginous drop.

There’s Hyunjin’s distinctive car flanked by a tactical team, all clad in distinctive blue and yellow jackets over bulletproof vests. 

Hyunjin, hands above his head.

A flash of blonde hair you’d know anywhere.

Jimin cuffing him and guiding him to an armoured van.

Beside you, there’s the clink of a lighter as Yoongi lights a cigarette.

You lower the binoculars. 

‘I guess that’s that.’

Seokjin lowers his own binoculars.

‘Guess so.’

‘Your boyfriend’s a good cop,’ Yoongi remarks.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you reply.

Yoongi’s dark eyes fix on you with interest, but all he does is hum, noncommittal.

It’s barely a quarter of an hour before a car pulls up to the summit, parks beside Seokjin’s.

Jimin steps out, still in his regs, a sight for sore eyes.

He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.

‘We’ve got him,’ he tells you.

‘We saw,’ you say.

‘I’ve got to go down to the precinct, then they’re sending me down to Gwangju.’

He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It could be months.’

You reach out and give him a hug.

He smells faintly of sweat and gunmetal, and you think you like it.

‘I guess you should call me when you’re next in town then,’ you tell him, close so only he can hear.

Jimin turns his head, lets his lips brush your cheek.

‘Is that an invitation, princess?’

‘Take it however you want it,’ you reply.

Jimin laughs. ‘I will.’

He gives you a look so heated your skin warms. He nods at Seokjin and Yoongi, gets back in the car.

You all watch him drive off.

Yoongi finishes his cigarette, grinds it into the dirt at his feet.

‘Dinner?’ Seokjin suggests.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Yoongi curls his lip at you, that familiar slow smirk that makes your heart skip a beat.

‘Wanna ride, princess?’

Seokjin rolls his eyes. ‘See you guys at the restaurant.’

You guess he really is the best brother ever.

©hamsterclaw 2023

one of the greatest tragedies in life is that you will always be loved more than you will ever know. someone in class finds your presence inviting and warm, even if you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with them—maybe none at all. someone on the street loves your smile and it gets them down the next few streets. someone you used to be friends with still wishes to fondly call your name. someone you used to be friends with five years ago would give anything to be in the same room as you today. someone who regularly comes into work is disappointed when you aren’t there to brighten their day. someone missed you today. someone noticed you were gone. someone loves you when you’re there; someone loves you when you’re nowhere to be found at all. you think you have always disappeared when you’re no longer in the picture, but you’ve never left the frame.

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @wintaerbaer for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!

Damn him.”

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turns make you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

Incorrect BTS 1 / ?

our beloved summer | jjk (7 + 7.5) (teaser)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x f!songwriter!reader word count: tbd estimated release: september 2023

series masterpost / main playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

sooooooooooo we're in the obSeven home stretch now people 😈 i did not specify a date bc i don't want people to come for my head if i don't deliver lol. but we're feeling very hopeful that obSeven and obSeven.5 will be released before the end of the month! you only have a bit of time left to send in your theories before The Reason™️ drops bubs hehehehehhehe

jungkook fic recommendations (II)

Part 1

a - angst / s - smut / f - fluff /

minors - dni!!

All Time Favourites

Bedeviled by @writemywaytoyourheart a

summary: "Money. Fame. Power. Love. Health. Courage. Strength. Humans will trade their souls for anything, unaware of how their selfish desires will fade away as they do; growing feeble and pathetic, until there's nothing left but the ghost of their youth, cowering in a corner until old age disposes of it.  Convincing yourself to go to the Underworld? Easy... Walking through to get something that you've waited many years for, accompanied by a demon that will stop at nothing to make sure your soul belongs to him? Maybe not so much. Making deals with the devil is a tricky business; one you might not have realized could end in something much more painful than death itself if you make a single mistake."

Please Love Me by @ahundredtimesover a, s, f

summary: "As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t."

Habits of A Broken Heart by @softykooky a, f

summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  alternatively, “You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Over the Odds by @jungk0oksthighs s, a ,f

↠ sugar daddy au

Blue Spring by @adonis-koo f, a, s

summary: Jeon Jungkook, only well known as the youngest (and hottest) dad at the daycare, he’s got it all, the looks, the sweetheart personality, the body, but here’s what gets everyone- he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. The only problem lies in his fickle one year old daughter that hates just about every daycare worker out there...Well...besides you that is. Which of course leads to Jungkook liking you just as much as his daughter...if not maybe a little too much. Or in other words...You and Jungkook are secretly crushing on one another but too shy to admit it.

Catastrophe by @astralmono f, s

↠ intimidating jk who's only soft towards oc

Mine by @flowerprincesscherryblossom s

summary: "oc is jungkook's bff and he get's jealous of taehyung flirting with her and jk takes her home and fucks the shit out of her"

Worst of You by @oureuphoria f, a

summary: "You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of baggage at 23." Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Epiphany by @nightbts f, a

summary: "you hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. but why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? and why did he feel the same way?"

1999 by @tattookoo f, s

summary: "the year was 1999. boybands were wearing all-white outfits, everybody wanted an ibook or a tamagotchi, tlc didn’t want no scrubs, fight club was playing in movie theaters and you became jeon jungkook’s fake girlfriend in order to fix his reputation. "

Hotter Than Hell by @chateautae s, a, f

summary: "jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant."

Soft For You by @joyfulhopelox f

summary: "wow, he's normally so cold. how did you manage to get him so soft for you?"

Risqué by @mercurygguk a, s, f

↠ age gap au ↠ boss' daughter au

Temptation by @aiimaginesbts s

summary: "werewolf jk entering his heat"

I Don't Like A Gold Rush by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids f

summary: "Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?"

Sketch by @moonscriptsx f, s

summary: "After sixteen years of dreaming about the same unknown beautiful girl, Jungkook finally gets to put a name to the face — and she's so much more than what he's dreamt of."

Drunk on Lust by @rerefundslocals s

summary: "drinking night with your best friend spills the truth upon secrets within you both."

Accidental Roommates by @jjkeverlast f, s

summary: "moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate."

Fool For You by @btsgotjams27 f, s

summary: "When Jungkook is finally single, you shoot your shot."

Evolution of A Lovers Heart by @jeonstudios a, s, f

summary: "the rules are simple: first one to take the virginity wins."

Stockholm Syndrome by @taleasnewastime a, s

summary: "You’d tried so hard to run away from your troubled childhood. Now in your final year at university you’re starting to feel like maybe what’s in your past will stay there. Then a beautiful stranger shows up and befriends you, but not everything about him is as it seems."

One Year, My Love by @hayjeon f, s, a

summary: "You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. "

Don't Ever Let Me Go @thedefintionofbts s, a, f

summary: "You were ten years old when you first met Jeon Jungkook, seventeen when you decided he was your best friend, and twenty one when you agreed to be fuck buddies upon his proposal."

Ember Burning by @kpopfanfictrash a, s

summary: "The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook."

University Superstar by @jungkookstatts f, s, a

summary: "Jeon Jungkook is your University’s biggest rock-star-athlete-hot guy. It literally prides itself on his attendance at the school — walking around with his “big name” (captain of the lacrosse team), tattoos, and rude, jock-like personality. You hate him. You hate that he can’t apologize for being a complete asshole. But what you don’t hate is how he visits your office every day. You also don’t hate that your feelings for him are crawling back into your system…"

Énoument by @littlemisskookie a, s, f

summary: "Mulan!AU | War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook."

Recent Likes

Tainted Love by @jessikahathaway a, s

summary: "Jungkook sometimes forgets the time. Except the time he's spent with you, he's certain those times he'll remember until the day he turns to dust. As a demon with a time limit on his life, will he let you in? The witch who has shown him tenderness instead of a blade at his throat. Does he trust you with his life? Or will you be too late?"

Not in the Way You Think by @jungkookstatts a, s, f

summary: "You've been after your best friend for ages. But how are you supposed to know that he's after you too if he insists on being a bachelor until his dying breath?"

My Strange Addiction by @joonberriess f, s

summary: "Put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it. Hurts, but I know how to hide it, kinda like it..’ 

R U Mine? by @nochukoo97 a, f

summary: "It hurts so bad seeing your best friend, who you have been madly in love with, with another girl. You secretly wish he would have never met his current girlfriend. It pained you to watch them interact right in front of your eyes. But what if things took a turn? What if you actually had a chance with him?"

Out of Sight, Out of Mind by @doyawalker a, s

summary: "Two years ago, Jungkook charmed you into loving him and wanting to spend your whole life with him. And when he suddenly ghosted you, your world broke into a million pieces and you swore to yourself to never trust him again. But when you suddenly meet him again as you start your master's degree, he is very keen on proving to you that he made a mistake back then and that he wants you back. Badly. But how can you be sure that he is telling the truth?"

Besties for the Resties? by @jessikahathaway f, s

summary: "Jungkook had always been your friend since the day you two met as young kids. But what happens when your friendship is put to the test? Can you remain “besties for the resties?” Or will years of friendship be lost in the blink of an eye?"

Stay by @still-with-koo a, f

summary: "when a creepy stranger follows you to your new job, your best friend jungkook makes sure he never does it again. but now he’s hurt and you’re determined to tend to his wounds, no matter how awkward if feels."

Candles and Flames by @taegularities a, f, s

summary: "He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen."

Ongoing

Bumblebee by @jkslipppiercing a, f, s

summary: "Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?"

Too Late To Dream by @itsamejin a, f

summary: "Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you."

Sweet Nothing by @adonis-koo a, f

summary: "being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time."

Wicked by @adonis-koo a, s

summary: "In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?"

Mirrors: what becomes of us | jjk (m)

⤑ Summary | One year has passed, and the unmistakable fuzzy feelings that have nothing to do with lust continue to grow. Yet while he is able to look deep into your heart, he has yet to allow you to see what is hidden inside his. He still put up a hard front, making you believe that standing by his side may not be as different than standing in front of fragile mirrors.

⤑ Title | Mirrors: what becomes of us ⤑ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader ⤑ Genre | Smut, Angst, Friends with benefits to lovers!au ⤑ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; pwp (there’s a plot here if you squint), explicit sex scene, dom!Jungkook, brat!reader, partly clothed sex (oc will be wearing her shoes…again), dirty talk, mentions of deepthroating, praise kink, stripping, nudity, size kink, breast/nipple play, clit play, masturbation (mutual), oral sex (female receiving), grinding, face fucking/riding, minor ass play and ass kissing, cum eating, finger licking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, standing sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, orgasm control, orgasm denial, multiple sex scenes, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ⤑ Word count | 8,5k words

⤑ Story guide: Mirrors

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

⤑ Author’s Note | Found this rough draft while I was moving Mirrors back to Wattpad after the site deleted the book version and decided to rewrite it so I can release it for Jungkook’s birthday. Well, let’s just pretend that I didn’t post this a week late lol. While this story is connected to Mirrors, this one-shot can be read as a standalone.

— © 2016-2023 @yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, and unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed. | First publication & writing on Sept 7th, 2023

You can feel the heat of his gaze without having to take a look. 

It is not too hard to notice it when he has been doing the same the entire night. 

The dinner party that you attended with him earlier now seems like a distance away, with nothing left but flickering images of the people whose names you have already forgotten and fleeting, hazy moments of it left in your memory. Because all you could sense and focus on had been his presence, and nothing could draw you away from his unwavering attention that kept tethering you towards him for the rest of the evening.

Looking up at the full-body mirror in front of you, you keep your eyes on your own reflection instead of focusing on the dimly lit bedroom behind you, denying the urge to turn and find him in the darkness. Knowing that he has his eyes on you only makes you want to give him a show as you slowly strip down all the fancy jewelries that you wore for the night. Starting from the glowing earrings, doing it gently as you take off one piece and then the other, before reaching back to the clasp holding your necklace together. 

Just then, Jungkook slowly appears from the shadows, taking his position right behind you with his eyes locked on the reflection of your face. You return his gaze through the mirror. The intense look coming through his eyes quickly makes your skin tingle and warm without him having to touch you.

“Allow me,” he gently says with the tip of his lips rising to a grin, and you lower your hand so he can unclasp your necklace for you. Like an expert, he does it so easily without looking away from your face. Yet he takes his time with it, as he takes this chance to touch you after having to keep his hands away from you all night long. He slowly drags his soft knuckles against the nape of your neck as he pulls the necklace off, drawing a shudder that comes out through your exhale of breath, before he finally places the necklace on your palm. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he suddenly says, and the first reaction that you can give him is a scoff, though you doubt that it can do much to hide the way his compliment warms your cheeks. 

“Only tonight?” you ask to tease him. 

“Hmm—” he hums softly as he watches you putting away your jewelries before taking a step closer, pressing his warmth against your back. His hands find your waist, while his eyes once again find your reflection in the mirror. He keeps his gaze on you as he leans down, the dark intention you see glowing through his eyes becomes an invisible restraint that keeps you from moving away as he gently presses his lips on your shoulder, staying just an inch away from the straps of your dress. “You’ve always captivated me, but seeing you tonight was exceptional.” 

You look down to hide your bashful smile, though it is quite hard to even try to pretend as if your cheeks aren’t getting warmer when he already knows what his compliments would do to you. It isn’t rare for him to surprise you like this, either with his words or the things that he does which often catches you off guard. And he always loves the reactions that he manages to coax out of you through the things that he does to you, through his sweet words and, of course, what has often affected you the most, his sweet praises. 

“Do you remember what we used to do in front of this mirror?” he whispers against your skin. 

While the warm breath that falls on your skin already does wonders to your body, it is the memory that he is bringing back which makes you feel as if you have a thousand wings fluttering inside your belly. The sensation isn’t only giving you warmth blooming within, but also a desire so familiar, so dark, that your next exhale of breath feels heavy, weighted down by your sudden want that starts building inside. 

One year ago, you stood by this same mirror, baring yourself to him. When you stripped down your coat and dress right in front of his eyes—and yourself, when he made you watch your own reflection—and you inadvertently bared not only your heart, but also your soul for him to finally have a good look at what your true desire was. 

One year has passed, and here you are, still standing right beside him instead of running away, and he is still embracing you with the same touches, blessing you with the same kisses, with not a single sign of the passion that you shared diminishing with the passing time. Just like how you had expected it would have.

As if he knows where your mind is drifting away towards, Jungkook nips at the spot beneath your earlobe and whispers, “We had quite a lot of fun with this mirror, didn’t we?” 

You meet his gaze through the mirror and return the sly smirk he is giving you with an incredulous laugh. “Fun, hmmm?” Your question fades to a sigh when he continues kissing your skin, slowly going up and down the side of your neck that you can barely think clearly beyond the sound of your pulsing blood. “I think,”—you sigh when a shudder runs through your body. “We may have to review your definition of ‘fun’.” 

With a soft chuckle, Jungkook tightens his grip around your waist for a brief squeeze, before he slowly slides his hands to your front, stopping at your stomach where he gently presses you back to him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy every second of it,” he whispers right as he captures your earlobe between his lips. “As far as I remember—” he stops briefly to press his lips against your pulse, making you gasp softly to the touch. “We both enjoyed our sweet moments using this mirror.” 

There is a dark look twinkling in his eyes, and you can slowly tell where this is heading. That he has no qualms in taking you back to those moments when he first introduced you to one of his most wicked desires. 

Even if you keep trying to deny it, you have to agree that you did enjoy everything from that fateful night. The mirror may have more to do than to simply show your reflections, as it helped reveal what your hearts had truly desired—both to you and Jungkook. Even now, you can clearly see the clear desire that Jungkook is currently feeling, as it is evident through his deep gaze, his shallow breaths that have been falling on your skin, and the drag in his touch, as he keeps moving his hands upward, leading towards the mounds of your breasts. 

“Why don’t I help remind you of those fun times?” he murmurs against your skin, the last warning that he gives before his thumbs graze against the underside of your covered breasts, igniting the burning flame inside you. Your thin, silky dress and the delicate lace material of your bra can only do so little to prevent you from feeling the heat of his touch on your skin. 

Your chest arches into his hands, and your head falls back as you gasp at the shudder that is now rushing through you. Through your hazy eyes, you meet his gaze through the mirror, seeing him licking his lips and his eyes darkening at the sight of you as you are embracing your desire. “Is that a yes?” he asks, while his fingers continue grazing up the mounds of your breasts, finding your covered nipples and rubbing against them until they grow hard under his touch. “Talk to me, baby.” 

“Mmmh—yess!” your words erupt into a moan when Jungkook pinches at your nipples from over your dress, drawing out your cry when he continues by simultaneously rolling his fingers around them and pinching them. Your body jerks when the mix of pain and pleasure comes rushing all the way down, and you can feel your core pulsing with a new need that is demanding to be sated. 

“Yes, Jungkook. Please—” 

At the sound of your begging, Jungkook releases you and pulls his hands away. With his fingers on your chin, he turns your face towards him. No more words are needed when he captures your lips, and you immediately melt into the kiss even before he begins devouring you. The kiss continues for a moment longer, just enough to help distract you from his wandering hands. While he slips one arm around your waist to press you back to his chest, his other hand moves upward, slipping the straps of your dress off of your shoulder, taking one side off and then the other. The silky fabric falls and pools down around your feet once he pulls his arms away from you. 

“Sneaky bastard,” you murmur against his lips once he pulls back from the kiss. 

Clicking his tongue, Jungkook makes a disapproving noise as he whispers, “You have such a foul mouth.” He reaches up and runs his thumb across your lips, smearing the rest of your lipstick that still remains after his kiss. “Maybe I should teach you how to behave.” 

You bite your bottom lip and flutter your eyes open for him, lowering your voice when you respond back to him with, “You never minded with my mouth when I was doing all the naughty things I did to you last night.” 

A deep groan escapes from Jungkook when his mind wanders back to the night before, when you have your lips wrapped around his cock while you were on your knees for him, taking all of his length down your throat to bring him pleasure under his swift command. The way he responds to your teasing pleases you, yet you keep it to yourself, feigning innocence as you return his gaze. 

“You’re being naughty tonight. But you’re lucky that I am in no mood to punish you for being a brat,” he murmurs. Jungkook pulls back and turns you back to face the mirror before you. His jaw is tense when he says, “I love seeing you like this. When you are stripped down and you look ready to be thoroughly fucked.” 

A breathless laugh escapes you, though you cannot stop the flutter that you feel when you finally turn to look at your own reflection and see exactly what he is seeing from you—your makeup that is partly ruined with your lipstick smeared and lips swollen after sharing the kiss, your body that is partly exposed, with only a strapless bra and your lacy underwear left covering your skin, your dress that has been left as nothing but a heap of mess around your feet, and the pair of heels that he had told you not to take off until he tells you to. 

Jungkook’s hands return to you. His fingers are tender as he reaches out to touch your waist, keeping you steady. “Let me see you take those lacy things off,” he says. His voice is stern, yet breathless at the same time, as if there is a wave of emotions engulfing him. You have doubts that it would be anything different to what you are feeling right now as you stand under his gaze. The same dark gaze that feels like invisible fingers tracing your skin as he runs it up and down your body. 

Reaching back, you hold his gaze with your own through the mirror while you unclasp your bra. You hold it up with your palm, keeping it from falling and exposing your breasts a little too soon, and his knowing gaze flickers at your face. “Tease,” he murmurs, drawing a soft giggle out of you.

Finally, you drop the bra and your breasts come into view. His eyes are easily drawn to them, just like they always would when you are completely bare for him to see. Yet he still doesn’t miss a thing when you trail your hands lower, reaching down to the lacy panties that you still have on. By the time your fingers slide under the waistband of your undergarment, Jungkook reaches down to undo his belt. The two of you move simultaneously as you slide your panties down your hips, to your thighs, while he kicks off his shoes and socks and slowly begins taking off his pants, his boxers joining right after. 

Once every piece of clothing is left piling on the floor, Jungkook steps out of the mess he created behind to reach out to you. His hands find your waist before he starts running them up and down your curves, doing his best to avoid the more sensitive parts of your body. Yet every part of you that is vacant of his touch still tingles. An instant craving to have his fingers touching them as well keeps building up. It grows just as strongly as your desire to reach out to him, to run your fingers down his hot skin that you get to see through his partly unbuttoned shirt and wrap your hand around his cock that has grown semi-hard, its tip pointing your way, like a promise for a good time that is so easy to reach. 

It only takes one look into his eyes to know that he isn’t going to be giving it to you that easily. And he proves you right once again when a grin appears on his face, and the familiar twinkle that you would often see in his eyes whenever his wicked idea comes to him makes its appearance.

Jungkook steps back, his eyes remaining on your reflection as he pulls his hands away from your body. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and touch yourself. Show me everything you want me to do to you.” 

He reaches up to continue unbuttoning his shirt while holding his gaze on you the entire time. Tension builds before your hands begin to move, rising steadily the more you get to see the lines of his chest as the shirt comes apart. The moment your fingers come up to brush against your breasts, desire ripples through you. If he cannot see it from the way your body tenses and your legs shift when the urge to press them together rises, he would be able to hear it through your sharp inhale of breath. 

Stifling down the sounds threatening to come out of your throat, you look at him straight in the eyes and question him, “Like this? Is this what you want to see?”

Jungkook says nothing as she shrugs off his shirt, but his gaze says a lot more. The hunger in his eyes is palpable, growing darker and more intense as you start kneading your breasts, rubbing and massaging them gently until you start feeling good. Every part of your bashfulness goes out the window when you feel pleasure. A soft moan slips from you when you move your thumbs, rolling them in circular motions around your nipples to draw the delicate shudders going down your spine. You keep your eyes on him, watching the way his chest trembles with each deep intake of breath he makes, and it is quick to help you recognise your own hunger that needs to be sated. 

“Keep doing that, baby,” you hear him whispering to you while he seems to be lost in the sight of you pleasuring yourself. You are not even sure if he realises that he had spoken, judging from the way he remains still, transfixed with what he is seeing. 

His gaze follows your hand as you move it down your torso. You are not even close to where the tingles in your body are building up the strongest, yet your legs are already shaking, your heartbeat keeps picking up, and you can feel the heat coiling inside you as you get closer to your pulsing core. 

With his eyes remaining on you, it feels like everything just sparks violently the moment your fingers come touching at your folds. Spreading your legs, you give him a better view through the mirror as you part your slick folds, showing him your throbbing clit. Jungkook licks his lips, as if he is picturing himself touching you, tasting you, and the image appears in your head right then just before you move your fingers, rubbing your clit in a similar rhythm to the fingers that are moving around your nipple.

“Are you wet for me?” Jungkook says, his voice drips lower as he watches you stimulating yourself. He seems transfixed on you, that it almost seems like he is moving under a spell when his hand come down, engulfing the length of his cock which has been growing stiff while he continues watching you. 

Knowing that he is just as affected to this moment as you are only elevates everything. Even his question sounds so sinful. Even if it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve ever heard him asking about something so obscene, it still does the magic. Your eyes flutter to close as you rub against your clit, and your arousal seems to ooze right out of you with the shudder that comes from your touch.

“Yes,” you whisper with a soft moan escaping you. “I’m so wet, Jungkook.” 

He takes a step closer, slowly, but not as slow as the drag of his palm along the length of his cock. Even with his eyes on you, Jungkook continues giving himself a few lazy strokes, then his other hand finds your waist to catch you from swaying. Lost in the pleasure you are giving yourself, and the heady sight of him stroking his hard cock, you don’t notice the way your body is swaying and trembling, slowly losing your balance. Until the touch of his hand on your skin helps you feel it. 

“You want me to touch you,” he moves his hand from your waist, joining your hand as he cups the underside of your breast and roughly palms it while whispering, “here?”

The cry that slips out of your lips is the kind of sound that you can’t recognise as your own. How you manage to remain standing is beyond you, when it seems like there is a hot wave rushing inside you. Beneath you, your knees begin trembling, but you can hardly focus on it, when the pleasure continues rising, increasing faster when your joined hands are kneading firmly at your breast. You follow his gaze as he looks down, watching closely as you rub your fingers back and forth against your clit. 

Dark lust fills his eyes, and it pushes you to give him more. Just as Jungkook’s fingers give your hardened nipple a tight pinch, you slide your fingers into your pussy, pushing into your walls. You can hear the sound of his breath getting caught in his chest, and you tease him with a soft voice, 

“I…want you to touch me”—you gasp when your fingers hit right at your sweet spot—”here.” 

You push your fingers deeper, drawing a shudder that he can clearly feel now that he has his hand on you. “Fuck,” his muted curse comes with a gasp. Pride overcomes you knowing that you are the reason for him to react this way. Except he gives you no time to revel in it, when he suddenly pulls you back. A gasp slips out of you when you are pressed back against his chest, his hard cock is pressing at your back, making you pulse from the inside when you can feel his thickness without having to see it, and the hand that he used to stroke himself comes down to your front.

You find it hard to look away from your own reflection, seeing with your own eyes the way your body is trembling in his hold. Your chest keeps rising and falling with ragged breaths, though it almost seems like you are pressing your breast further into his kneading palm. Instead of touching you right away, Jungkook grabs your wrist and gently pulls your hand out of your pussy. Your fingers glisten with your arousal, and he brings them up to your lips. 

“Taste them,” he whispers to you. And just like a spell, it drives your lust-driven mind to follow through, as you bring your fingers into your mouth and suck every single drop of your slickness right before his eyes. Moaning at your own taste, the heat inside you burns hotter, and his eyes seem to grow even darker with his hunger. 

He reaches down between your legs, circling around your wet folds for a brief moment before making his way in to find your clit. He draws out a moan from you with his deft fingertips as he runs them through your wet slit, sweeping across your delicate skin, the slick sound of your dampness reaching to your ears as he keeps moving his fingers between your folds. 

“Hmmm—you were right. You’re already so wet, just the way I like it,” he says with a hum in his voice, and it comes out so deep that you it vibrating all the way down to where he is now touching you. Jungkook presses his lips on the top of your head and briefly closes his eyes while he continues stroking your pussy. “Makes me want to taste you so bad,” he moans softly, and it almost draws a whimper through your lips when you can picture his mouth on you, tasting you. Suddenly, his eyes are opened, and his gaze turns dangerously dark when he smirks at you and says, “Good thing I skipped dessert earlier, because now I can take it properly and relish it as much as I can.” 

Jungkook pulls out his hand at the sound of your gasp, though he doesn’t stay far. Because his hands are quick to find your waist, both still warm after being attached to your most sensitive spots, then he leans down. Once again, his lips find the spot where he can feel your pulse, and then he begins kissing your neck, making you tilt your head as you enjoy the soft shudders he is drawing out of you through his kisses. 

As you begin to give in to the pleasure rising inside you, he continues to trail his lips all the way down from the back of your neck, your bare shoulders, and continues kissing his way down along your spine as he comes down to his knees. The press of his lips on your bottom cheeks brings heat to your face and your entire body. It feels scandalous when he continues kissing against the area that isn’t used to getting such attention. Even more so when his hands come up, palming your soft flesh while his lips continue trailing lower, and lower, hovering close to your tight and untouched rim, making you flinch when you are not ready to have him anywhere close to that specific spot. 

But you quickly relax when he moves past it, barely grazing across the area that you have decidedly to be kept forbidden to finally come down to find your folds. His grip tightens, and he gently pushes your hips down to his face, angling you just enough so he can get some space where he can reach your pussy with his mouth and tongue. 

A breathless cry comes out of your lips when he slides his tongue between your slit and his mouth comes to give your nether lips a deep kiss. Your hips come down to meet his face in return, almost grinding against his mouth so you can feel more, and that is exactly what he gives you when his tongue flicks against your hot entrance and the pleasant rush you have been searching for instantly surges through your body. 

Your body begins to sway yet again with the overwhelming pleasure. Even your foot slips at the stroke of his tongue across your slit, but his hands give you a firm grip on your thighs to keep you from falling. “Take deep breaths, baby. Hold still,” he whispers, before he presses his open-mouthed kiss right at your pulsing pussy. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan and curse as he begins licking your pussy, starting soft and slow, then gradually building up pressure and speed to draw more and more of the delightful spasms you feel pushing from your core. He twists his hands, sliding them into a position where he can press your bottom cheeks and open you up for him, allowing him to go deeper, to work his tongue and press his tender muscle into your pussy, then go around your clit while giving it a light suck. 

Standing upright without anything to hold on to becomes extremely challenging when your body is trembling under a myriad of sensations he is giving you. Seeing him on his knees, with his face entirely buried between your legs, with the sight of his jaw and mouth working to devour your pussy only makes your mind swirl even faster. Your hands move, searching for something to hold, a leverage to keep you up. While one hand finds nothing but air to clench, the other flies to your back, finding his hair to clutch as your head falls back at the surging pleasure.

It doesn’t take long before your thighs start shaking, your pussy contracts violently to each work of his mouth and tongue, and your moans become louder at the approaching climax. You know that he can feel it when the coil inside you comes close to snapping, and just like that, he suddenly stops. 

A desperate cry escapes you when he pulls back. After giving a few more kisses around your wet core, he trails his hot lips back up, across the soft skin of your bottom cheeks and up to your spine. He reaches up to pry your hand away from his hair, and brings your palm up for him to kiss. As he rises to his feet, he entwines his fingers with yours and slips his other arm around your waist to hold you still.

“Jungkook—”

“Hmm, are you mad at me? Did you think I’d let you cum without giving you permission first? Right after you used your foul mouth to talk back at me?” he asks you as he slides his hand back down. He easily finds your clit and starts rubbing against the ache in your pussy from being denied release. His touch brings the sparks of pleasure back alight and you slightly jerk against his hold. He gives your clit a sharp flick, drawing the sound of your cry, only to take away his touch from your heated center when you roll your hips. 

“Not yet, baby. I want you to cum around my cock, and I want to be able to look at your face when you do,” he says, forcing you to open your eyes again when he runs his hand down your right thigh, giving it a grip as he gently lifts your leg up, exposing you both to his eyes and the mirror so you can see yourself. 

Moving his other hand away from you, Jungkook reaches down and guides his cock into your sweet, throbbing pussy. A soft moan is drawn out of you when the tip of his cock is pressing against your hot entrance, yet he does nothing to push his way in until he has one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, with the firm grip that he keeps on your right thigh holding you up and open for him. 

You have never done this in such a challenging position, especially with your heels on which makes you feel off-balance. But before you have any chance to question it, Jungkook bucks his hips and slides his cock deep inside your pussy. Your walls throb around him to welcome him in, stretching around his girth as he slides deeper. A pulse engulfs him and Jungkook curses under his breath, yet it doesn’t stop him as he immediately begins to move. He starts thrusting in and out, taking it slow for a few more strokes until your muscles are no longer tense and straining against him, and only once both of your bodies are balanced enough—just enough to stop you from getting knocked down once his strokes grow stronger.

His thrusts are sloppy when he continues on, yet they gradually grow in speed and power that it feels like your entire world is being shaken. You almost feel like floating, with only his arm keeping you up and pressed against him, unable to escape or fall even when you are barely standing on the tip of your heel. Your hands find his forearm for the sake of having something to hold on to. Your nails sink into his skin when he keeps stroking deep and hard into your pussy, hitting all the pleasure spots inside that is pushing you so quickly towards the edge. 

“Open your eyes,” he suddenly snaps. You don’t even realise that you have your eyes closed while you are revelling in the pleasure. Opening your eyes feels like a struggle, yet you manage. Through your bleary eyes, you find his gaze in the mirror, and that is before your gaze falls on the scene that he wants you to see. 

What you get to see is the startling view of your body taking all of him in—how your body is trembling with each deep thrust he is giving you. You can see the blurry image of his cock sliding in and out of you so rapidly with each powerful thrust, while the muscles in his arms are flexing as he continues to lift your body and hold you up. His glorious tattoos seem to glow under the dim light as a thin layer of sweat appears on his skin. Looking down, there is the clear view of your pussy that seems wet, swollen on the folds, and is stretched apart to accommodate his size.

The wanton way you are taking his rough fucking seems enthralling, and it feels maddening just by watching you take everything he is giving you, while he too seems lost in his own pleasure, showing you that he feels good by sending you off to your own edge. That you are both in this together. The thought ignites the rush of pleasure that is coming to you in waves, one that he feels through the flutter of your muscles around his cock. You suck a deep breath, hoping that you can hold out just a bit longer, afraid that giving in too quickly before you are granted his permission would only grant you a punishment. The kind of punishment that he enjoys, and would only end with your pleasure. 

Except that you want to have that pleasure in your body now. 

Just when you half expect to hear him telling you to hold back, Jungkook surprises you when he commands you through his gritted teeth, “Play with your nipples. Make yourself cum for me.” 

Your hands are shaking when you move them. As if they all have a mind of their own, they manage to find their destination even through the frantic motions, as one hand claims its spot on your breast, giving attention to the one that he wasn’t touching, while the other hand comes all the way down to find your clit, giving it a few gentle rubs that fall in the same rhythm of his thrusts.

Almost immediately, sparks light up beneath your eyelids, and your orgasm builds. It grows more and more until you start falling straight into it, though not before he snaps his final command, “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Cum for me.” 

His words, his commanding voice, the deep gaze he is giving you through the mirror, the hard thrusts of his cock, and the press of your fingers on your throbbing clit—all of them come together to throw you over towards your climax. You cry out as the intense wave of your orgasm engulfs you, and it pushes him right over his own release. His eyes never leave yours as he tenses, his cock twitching inside you before you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up, almost sending you off to another climax. 

Once the waves of pleasure begin to simmer down, your body slowly turns languid, almost pliant, barely hanging on with only your shaking leg and Jungkook’s arm holding you up. Your pussy throbs once, twice, almost rhythmically to the twitches that come from his softening cock, and Jungkook tightens his hold around you for a bit longer until everything winds down altogether. 

It takes a while before you can start feeling things—anything other than the remaining spasms of your orgasm and the heat of his skin against yours—to be able to feel the warm, soft kisses that Jungkook is pressing on your neck and shoulder. The kisses help soothe you down from your high, coaxing you to relax in his arms, while he slowly lowers your leg and pulls out of you. 

The move draws a gasp from your lips, when in the absence of his cock, your walls seem to contract against the void, and the liquid mixture of his cum and your essence drip down to your thighs and the floor beneath you. 

“Seems like we made quite a mess,” Jungkook murmurs as he takes you in his arms, merely seconds before you would sway and fall, and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently and kisses your lips. It helps calm you down even more that you barely notice him taking your heels off and tossing them away. He seems hesitant when he draws back, and you almost pull him back to you when your body shivers, suddenly feeling cold without his warmth. But you stop yourself when he smiles and promises to you, “Stay here. I’ll be back to you soon.” 

There is something in his words that weighs on you, and it leaves you in a haze as you watch him leave to the bathroom, returning with a wet towel that he uses to clean the mess coating your skin. His gaze softens as he dips the towel between your legs, across the inner side of your thighs, your overly sensitive pussy, before he cleans himself from his own mess. He rises from the bed and leans down to wipe the mess on the floor with the soiled towel, and for some reason, watching him do such a mundane thing captivates you. 

You follow him with your gaze as Jungkook walks across the room in his naked glory. His bare ass and solid back steal your attention before he disappears in the bathroom once again. When you hear the sound of the running water from the washbasin, and the heat of passion cools down in his absence, your mind wanders. 

Just like always, your thoughts would start circling through your head in the silence, with a dozen questions and wonderings filling your head as you start to look deeper into what has become of the two of you over the past year. 

Admittedly, your relationship hadn’t been a conventional one since it first started. What started from a mutual arrangement that had existed without a full commitment, had then shifted into something else when both of your hearts started craving for more, and with courage, you both reached for it when the chance arrived.

Though things didn’t start as easily as it seemed, the one year you spent with him had allowed you to understand each other a bit more. You have known from the start just how bad the two of you are when it comes to expressing your feelings, but everything else had only started to come to the surface once you decided one morning that you weren’t going to leave the way you used to after spending the night with him.

At one point during the entire period of trying to see if things would work out between the two of you, you managed to find out just how terrible the two of you are when it comes to going on dates like regular couples do. Going out on dinners and then the movies hadn’t been so tasking back in the day, and you remember having fun on those kinds of dates before Jungkook came into the picture. Except that any innocent night that Jungkook had always planned out for the two of you had always turned cumbersome and—well, dry. 

If it hadn’t been for the way those nights quickly escalated into something else—something more fun—perhaps you would have taken it as a sign that things were not working well between the two of you. Because everything else has been going well. The desire you have for each other has always been a dominant part in this situationship that has been going on between you, as it has always been stronger when you are together, enough to supersede any words that would be needed to express your yearning for one another when you could act on it.

It should have been enough for you to stop questioning what you have between you, or to have doubts that this will last. That you wouldn’t wake up one day to find him changing his mind and suddenly kicking you out the door. But that doubt still takes root within you, leading you to always anticipate the moment the rug would finally be pulled under your feet and you are forced to face reality where the two of you no longer exist together.

Because just like the mirror which had just become the silent witness of your wanton exchange of pleasure, what you currently have with him now seems so fragile. As if there is a chance that everything will slip right out of your hands once you are too complacent. 

The bed dips, taking you away from your thoughts to see Jungkook climbing onto the bed right as he returns to you. He is hovering above you in no time, almost covering your body with the length of his. His warmth becomes a comforting blanket, even when his presence is driving your heartbeat to start racing. 

You look at his face, and your breath stills. His immaculate hair has become a mess after fucking you to oblivion. He has been growing it quite a bit to a length, and that hair has fallen to frame his perfect face while he slowly moves to cover your body with his. 

His hands sink into the sheets as he lowers himself, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that is soft and gentle that allows you to feel everything else that he is giving you. As if he is pouring his soul into the kiss, the same way he poured his desire into the intense lovemaking that has made your legs feel like jellos. The flapping wings in your chest linger as he pulls away from the kiss, though it is now mixed with anxiety when your mind still refuses to shut up with all the lingering doubts and the ceaseless questions. 

“I can hear you thinking inside that pretty head of yours,” he murmurs against your lips, surprising you when he could easily guess what has been running through your head. 

“That would be impossible, unless you can read my thoughts,” you reply to him once his lips rise from yours. You force a smile, but it falls short once you get to look up into his eyes. All of a sudden, you feel exposed under his gaze. Not only because of your complete bareness, but because he makes you feel as if he can look deeply into your soul. As if he is unraveling your secrets, layer by layer, until there is nothing left to hide the content of your heart.

The same way he made you feel a year ago when he called you after you ended everything and walked away. 

“Even if I can’t hear it,” he starts, as he reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair that has gotten stuck on your cheek. “I can feel it coming out of you in waves. You’re practically trembling.”

A soft chuckle slips out of your lips. “Is that so?” Your question almost fades at the tip of your tongue when he takes the strand of hair and kisses it softly. He steals the rest of the words you are about to say when he tucks your hair back and grazes your lips with his thumb. 

A worried look flickers through his gaze. Though it fades just as quickly it appears, and a small smile comes in its place while he is looking at you closely. His smile looks gentle and soft, tricking you into believing for a brief moment that he has nothing but sweet and innocent intention with his concern, until he suddenly questions you, “Was it not enough?”

“What—” 

His question makes your heartbeat jump in your chest, and you find yourself wondering. What does he mean? What is he talking about? Is he asking if making you delirious by fucking you in the most outrageous way possible hadn’t been enough to satiate your need? Your lips tilt to a smile and you almost laugh at the thought of this, only to stop when you suddenly wonder if he truly had been reading your thoughts. 

He couldn’t have possibly—

“Should I give you something else to shut that mind off and forget whatever it is that’s been troubling you?” he suddenly says, and your jaw almost drops open. As if he is seeing right through you, his words hit the mark perfectly. 

With a knowing smile, as if he had gotten the answer he needed through your silence, Jungkook leans down and kisses the nape of your neck. He captures your lips next, giving you no chance to say anything at all. His kiss is deep, gentle and slow, but his tongue easily slips in to take control. 

Everything that has cooled down now begins to heat up again. The invisible flutters in your chest arise, while a different kind of flutter sends your hips rising to meet his. You moan into the kiss when your folds brush against his cock, its girth nestling heavily against your center that you feel it when it slowly recovers. With each twitch you feel coming from his cock, it begins to grow hard and stiff, and Jungkook makes you feel it happening as he starts rocking his hips, grinding the length of his cock against your slit until you feel your dampness returns and builds. 

He rocks once more with a groan rumbling from his chest, brushing the tip of his cock against your clit, and you give out a breathless cry when it sparks everything inside you alight. 

“Answer me, baby,” Jungkook coaxes you, his voice nearly muffled by the sound of your pumping blood. “Tell me you want it. Let me silence your mind and take them all away.” 

There is no need for you to question him, or for him to explain the implication of his words. You can see it when you look into his eyes, that what he wouldn’t be able to give you through his words, he would be giving them to you through his actions. Just like always.

“Yes,” you gasp out to him as you reach up, holding onto his shoulders as you look at him in the eyes to say, “Yes, I want it. Take me, please.” 

Your answer draws a low groan coming out of him, and he continues stroking his cock between your legs a few more times before he pulls back. Using one hand, he aligns himself on your pussy, and within a blink of an eye, he sinks back into your slick, tight heat. Your body reacts with a jolt once he is buried deep in your pussy. Your walls contract around him violently for a brief moment, pressing around his length at the sudden penetration. Yet instead of causing you any discomfort, even when you are still sensitive from before, it just feels right. As if he truly belongs here, joined together with you. 

Both of you tremble when the pleasure rises. Then Jungkook moves, going at it without taking his time or going slow and gentle. It feels mind-blowing the way he sparks the pleasure inside you. With the heels of your foot pressing onto his back, your hands begin to move everywhere. From clutching on his shoulders and biceps to hold on, up to his hair or cupping his cheeks, feeling the need to remain in contact with his body even while you are joined together. 

Jungkook’s eyes have been fluttering close as he relishes in his own pleasure, but they snap open when he feels your nails sinking into his shoulders and your moan grows louder. He dips, drawing your lips into a kiss. The sounds of your moan and his deep groan are drowned as he sucks your tongue, while his pace remains steady, not once does he falter as he thrusts so deep you feel the entire bed rocking together with you. 

He leaves your lips, kissing his way down your throat. When his hands move upward, cupping your rocking breasts, your head falls back. That is when you finally meet his gaze again, seeing the passion that is clearly shining through them as he gives attention to your breasts, palming at them and holding them up while your bodies rock together. 

As he continues rocking his hips and thrusting into you, keeping it at a steady pace instead of rushing it, you realise his true intention. He isn’t simply fucking you to silence your mind. He is making love to you. 

Your gazes are locked together when he lifts his head to look at you, and everything seems to fall into place with what you are reading through his dark eyes. You keep your eyes on him as you start returning his thrusts by rolling your hips against him. Each thrust feels enough to unravel you, while it slowly becomes his undoing. 

His mouth returns to you, devouring you as you raise your hips, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster, because you are so close, already on the edge of unraveling completely into your climax. And he gives it to you, thrusting so deep inside you with hard strokes and increasing in speed while you hold on to him, your nails digging into his skin when your orgasm takes over. It comes barrelling down your spine as he takes you, slamming hard into your heat as pleasure erupts. You come with a sharp cry, and he roughly shouts when he joins you, falling into his own pleasure with a tremble rocking his whole body.

Your blood is still pumping wildly in your chest as the height of your climax slowly winds down. He is still twitching deep inside you as he presses his forehead on yours. Your chest rises and falls with your deep breaths, while his hands trigger the soft quivers in your body as he runs them down your torso to hold your waist. 

Closing his eyes, Jungkook releases a deep, shuddering exhale of breath, while you feel heavy with sleep. Exhaustion rolls in once the remaining spasms of your release are fading. With the voices in your head silenced, drowned by the sound of your steady breathing and your racing heartbeat, all you want to do is to give in to slumber. 

You try to open your eyes, but your eyelids are heavy. You can’t even move as he pulls out of you, once again taking away the fullness and dragging out the essence of your lovemaking that floods out, making a pool of mess on the sheets beneath you. Your muscles feel like liquid. Your bones are soft. You fall easily into his embrace when he pulls you in his arms once he falls right beside you on the bed. 

And you simply let him.

You let him because you need to be in his warmth, to feel the touch of his fingers that are soothing, helping you relax beyond the rush flowing in your blood. You keep your eyes closed, allowing yourself to be engulfed in his comforting embrace. Because not only did he manage to silence your thoughts, he has also helped replace the uneasiness with relief. 

The feeling of relief which only strengthens itself when he kisses the top of your head and whispers, “Sleep. I’ll hold you and keep you warm so you can have a sweet dream.” His words bring back the flutter in your chest, then dampness fills your eyelids when he adds with a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.” 

And just like that, you have gotten what you were hoping for. Because those words are enough.

He might not be able to say it out loud, but you realise now—as you lean into his embrace, welcoming the warmth that he is giving you while your body hums in contentment—that you may no longer need to hear it. Because you can feel it. You feel it through his touch, through the way your bodies seem to fold and melt into one as he presses you to his chest, and you can hear it through his promise. 

When you open your eyes again to meet his gaze, you finally allow the walls inside you to crumble. You may have already fallen for him from the beginning, but only now do you finally have the courage to let yourself fall deeper instead of fighting it.

Even if the landing will be hard, and most possibly be painful, you are willing to take the chance anyway. You realise that you would endure anything for him. Because he is worth all the risk. Judging from the way he is looking at you now, with a gaze so deep that you almost feel like you are drowning in him, and the way he is holding you as if he wants to protect you from the world, he shows you that he thinks that you are worth the risk for him to take. 

Thank you for reading!!!

Angel | myg (m)

❀ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

❀ Word Count: 15,551

❀ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

❀ 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: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

❀ Published: September 3, 2023

❀ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

❀ 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.

| Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist |

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

Jungkook Fics Based on AUs/Themes

I enjoy making lists so I organized the fics I’ve read based on AUs/themes so it’s easier for me to look for them (and for anybody reading). Please check this page before sending in an ask! These will be updated every month’s end based on my monthly reads. And as a writer, reblogs and comments are much appreciated and motivate us to write so please don’t be shy and show some love 💜

Disclaimers: Listed fics are not exhaustive. You may check other pages, too. Themes are listed alphabethically but some are grouped together.

There are also certain AUs/JKs I don’t read (aliens/robots, yandere, incestuous, infidelity, abusive, toxic relationships, extremely violent, etc.). They’re categorized based on the key themes of the story (so some stories may be included in more than 1 list). Tags are included in each!

Arranged Marriage AU Fics

Badboy JK AU Fics

Best friends/Childhood Friends AU Fics

Brother’s Bestfriend/Bestfriend’s Brother AU Fics

Bodyguard JK/Crime AU Fics

Boyfriend JK AU Fics

Boss/CEO JK AU Fics

College AU Fics

Cop/Agent JK AU Fics

Dad JK AU Fics

Doctor/Medical AU Fics

Ex-Lovers AU Fics

Fake Dating AU Fics

Fantasy AU Fics (werewolf, vampires, etc.)

Fratboy/Jock JK AU Fics

Friends AU Fics

Friends with Benefits AU Fics

Fuckboy JK AU Fics

Gamer JK AU Fics

Historical/War AU Fics

Husband JK AU Fics

Idol/Popstar/Band AU Fics

Mafia/Gang AU Fics

Neighbors AU Fics

Nerd/Weeb AU Fics

Roommates AU Fics

Royalty/Fairytale AU Fics

Social Media AU Fics

Soulmates AU Fics

Sports AU Fics

Strangers AU Fics

Tattoo/Piercing Artist AU Fics

Workmates Fics

BTS PACKAGES

summer package in kota kinabalu (2015)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/sp2015

summer package in dubai (2016)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/sp2016

summer package in palawan (2017)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/sp2017

summer package in saipan (2018)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/sp2018

summer package in korea (2019)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/sp2019

winter package in finland (2020)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/wp2020

winter package in gangwon (2021)

https://3cmgoogie-package.tumblr.com/wp2021

or click ‘BTS PACKAGE’ for the links!

©️ 3cmgoogie [ 💜 about me ]

ALL LINKS BTS CONTENT DVD/SERIES ENG AND INDO SUB

📌 WINTER PACKAGE & SUMMER PACKAGE

      LINKS 

📌 BTS MEMORIES 2014 - 2020 FULL DISC ENG SUB

MEMO 2014

MEMO 2015

MEMO 2016

MEMO 2017

MEMO 2018

MEMO 2019

MEMO 2020

📌 SEASON GREETINGS 2015 - 2020 INDO SUB

SG 2015

SG 2016

SG 2017

SG 2018

SG 2019

SG 2020

SG 2021 (eng sub)

📌 MAP OF THE SOUL ON:E DVD

      LINK

📌  IN THE SOOP SEASON 1 FULL INDO SUB + BEHIND

       LINKS

📌  IN THE SOOP SEASON 2  FULL INDO SUB

      LINKS

jungkook: rollercoasters, cherry cola, adrenaline, rock concerts, hickies, all-nighters, sky-diving, summer nights, cold pizza, comic books, ghost-hunting

tae: art galleries, paris, runway shows, friends-to-lovers, puppies, midnight drive-ins, giggling, piggy-back rides, honey-scented, gucci, royalty, teddy bears

jimin: airy laughs, cotton candy, hand-holding, spring warmth, blushing, i-love-yous, chaste kisses, pillow talk, plushies, cherry blossoms, pouty lips

namjoon: novels, travelling, vinyls, overthinking, the ocean, romantic nights in, museums, evening rain, road trips, 3am conversations, new years eve

hobi: sunflowers, shooting stars, sugar-sprinkled donuts, campfires, succulents, spooning, coming home after a long day, disney movies, sun-kissed skin

yoongi: neon lights, chokers, new york, hangovers, sour candy, kittens, eyeliner, leather jackets, poison, lo-fi beats, slow kissing, gummy bears, sarcasm

jin: retro-gaming, polaroids, bubble tea, surprise hugs, inside jokes, birthday cakes, pastels, pillow fights, hot air balloon rides, red lips, ice cream dates

BTS x The Office

for @cordiallyfuturedwight 🫂

230820 - namjoon on weverse (2)

OMG WHAT AMAZING NEWS TO WAKE UP TO WOW I AM SO HAPPY

𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 🫶🏻 ◦ ○ ◯ ⍮ 🤍

I genuinely love bts. Like not in a delulu I wanna marry them or a fan liking music way but in a I wish them all the best and all the happiness and love in the world. I genuinely think of them the way you would family members you actually like. And that’s kinda terrifying and so incredibly beautiful at the same time. Because these guys don’t even know I exist but I am so incredibly fine with that and so grateful for them. The love I have for them overflows from my heart.

i just want to hug yoongi and thank him. thank him for so many things. for sharing the things he doesn't have to in order for us to heal, for putting on a tour for us just because we miss each other, for doing run-throughs like 20+ times to make it perfect for us, for performing even when he's so sick he can barely speak, for making us laugh being silly on stage, for working so, so hard for us this entire past year. i just want to thank him so deeply for all these things he does for us and continues to do for us. looking back on his album and his tour, i'm just feeling so very, very loved today. and i hope he feels that same love from us as well

guys... he opened the door. at the end of amygdala mv he still couldn't open the door. no matter how hard he fought, the trauma still had a hold he couldn't break because he wasn't strong enough yet, his journey to healing wasn't complete. but now the door is open and he walked out. in the end, he opened the fucking door. he's healing.

Yoongi ending his tour with Joonie as his last guest, is just really the cherry on top of their friendship.

Both started in the underground rap scene, both sharing the same passion for music, both bearing the brunt of the hip hop world invalidating them as artist just because they were both idols.

Both seeing everything together, from their humble beginnings to where they are now, from the awards, the accolades, the albums, their losses and wins.

Namgi's friendship is of two people who heard and understood each others passions and did everything so that they could see each other (and their members) succeed.

When Yoongi proudly shares that amount of years/time they have known each other, he says it with conviction, boasting about it, he say's it with pride.

Bandmates, Best Friends, Brothers, Soulmates.

Because Namjoon is his beginning and his end.

I can't wait for them to be reunited with the members and with Hobi, because there's no one else like BTS' rapine.

BTS FOREVER, NAMGI FOREVER!!!!

NAMJOON PERFORMING A NEW SONG ON YOONGI'S FINAL CONCERT