Excited To Know How This Goes From Here!!

excited to know how this goes from here!!

(Please add me in the tag list)

Love Again | PJM (One)

Summary: A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Genre: exes au, exes to ???, fluff, angst, smut

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of depression, mentions of sex, uhhh I think that’s it.

Notes: A new story! I hope you guys are able to give it a chance. It will have quite a bit of angst but mostly it will be very fun and messy. It won’t be a very long series but I think for those who will read it will like it! (here’s hoping) Send an ask if you want to be added to a tag list or just want to chat:)

Tag list: @yoongimentita7 @aajames217

© taestefully-in-luv

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Jimin’s eyes drag around the place—the stage is covered in squeaky dark wood and obvious layers of dust. He closes his eyes and lets a long sigh leave his mouth as he tries to collect himself. He really can’t believe he is here again…not just this theatre…but this city. A voice suddenly speaks up and Jimin is shooting his eyes open, his hardened gaze falling onto Mr. Smith, the man he just auditioned for just a week prior.

“Oh, don’t look so unimpressed, Jimin.” The older man quietly chuckles, walking closer. “I know you may have gotten used to something of a different standard…but…well, this is what we’ve got.”

“It’s been five years and you still haven’t replaced these drapes?” Jimin points at the dark red curtains that look past their expiration date.

“With our budget?” The old man raises a brow, “You’re lucky you are even getting paid at this point.”

Jimin rolls his head back, his eyes closing again as he groans—not caring how obvious he is making it that he is less than happy to be here. Mr. Smith takes a moment to watch Jimin…the first thing he has noticed is the change in hair color since the last time he saw him—five years ago—he was a dark haired man back then but now is sporting a soft blonde.

“Jimin…” Mr. Smith says his name with a careful, tender tone. His hand reaches forward, gripping Jimin’s shoulder. This earns him a curious look from Jimin, his eyes opening and his head tilting towards the shorter man.

“I don’t know what happened in New York…” Mr. Smith takes a pause to think on his next words, “Well, it doesn’t matter.” He decides to grin genuinely, squeezing Jimin. “You’re back and I know with you taking the lead in these productions again we are sure to sell out!”

The second thing he has noticed in Jimin is his change in personality. He understands five years is enough time for a person to change or grow or whatever, but Jimin has changed in a way that makes Mr. Smith question if this is even the same guy. He doesn’t know what occurred in New York that completely wiped the smile off Jimin’s face but whatever happened did two things. One, it hardened the poor boy, Mr. Smith thinks. And two, it made him an even more incredible performer.

Last week he auditioned for the role of Peter Pan, the male lead in the upcoming production. But he paired it with an intense and emotional dance piece that left Mr. Smith speechless. Clearly his work and time in New York really perfected his performance abilities—but the raw emotion and utterly devastating expressions he showed were enough for Mr. Smith to see the change in Jimin. Enough to see he is no longer the fun, mischievous, charismatic and dare he say flirty boy.

“Are you nearby?” Mr. Smith asks, referring to Jimin’s living situation.

“Literally down the street…” Jimin groans again, “The only place I can really afford with the paychecks I will be getting.”

“You know you used to not mind the pay here?” Mr. Smith’s cheery laughter only makes Jimin roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well back then I was used to being a broke college student. Only needed money for cheap food from the convenience store.”

“Don’t forget for the times you begged me for a little extra so you could take your girlfriend on those dates you insisted on…oh, what was her name?” Mr. Smith glances up at the various lights on the ceiling as he thought about it. Jimin slowly turns his head towards Mr. Smith…his body tensing unknowingly as he waits for him to figure it out. The name he was looking for. Your name.

“Ah…y/n!”

Jimin only tensed more…his body reacting to the sound of your name faster than his mind. His brain finally starts processing the word that slipped out of Mr. Smith’s mouth…a word—a name—he hasn’t heard in years.

“Did you two stay in contact when you left for New York? You were awfully close.” Mr. Smith innocently reminds Jimin of the past, “You two really brought out such fun sides in one another.”

Jimin doesn’t like how his insides feel at the mention of you…he stares at Mr. Smith without blinking, his gaze remaining the same as before—empty eyes, Mr. Smith thinks.

“No.” Jimin says almost under his breath, “No.” he says more clearly now, his voice sounding a little strained. “We didn’t.”

“Ah, well that’s too bad.” Mr. Smith’s eyes find the floor as he nods his head, thoughts of how life is. It’s not too surprising that a couple parts way under those circumstances but it really is too bad, he thinks.

“Well. I guess I will see you for rehearsals tomorrow.” Mr. Smith offers Jimin a smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving him to observe the stage.

Jimin watches as Mr. Smith makes his way out of the auditorium…when the man was finally out of the room, Jimin turned his head back towards the stage and felt the heaviness he has grown all too familiar with come back to haunt him.

This theatre. This city. The place he left five years ago to pursue his dreams in New York. He never saw himself coming back here…he never saw himself go through life backwards yet here he is. From leading some of the most popular and loved Broadway productions to here—his city’s local theatre. He lets out a pathetic puff of air, he almost wants to laugh. But how could he? He doesn’t even remember the last time he laughed.

Jimin takes one last look at the stage that creaks with every step and accepts his situation. It’s not like he would be wanted anywhere else…the reputation of him being someone who was fired from Broadway…well, it doesn’t look good. Although, they used the term ‘let go’ everyone in this world has heard enough rumors of his behavior that led to such thing. Fucking assholes, he thinks.

He has only been back here—his hometown—for maybe 5 months now. Crashing at his parents as he wallowed in his sad, depressing life. But his parents constantly eyed him with pity, constantly reminding him why he should be as depressed as he is. So, he waited for a new production to be announced at the theatre and surprised Mr. Smith with an audition. He landed the role without much thought on Mr. Smith’s part, the old man just happy to see Jimin’s familiar face.

He took what he had in his savings and started renting out an apartment in an old, dingy building a block away. He just needs to move forward with his life the best way he can…performing. In those moments when he is in character, he only has their problems. He doesn’t have to be Jimin. He can pretend for a while.

Eventually he got into his new routine…weeks pass and every day is more or less the same. He comes to work for rehearsals and stays for hours even after they are done…he connects to a speaker and puts on one of his dance playlists and works himself into exhaustion. His expression remains the same as the days go on…his empty eyes never making eye contact with one of his costars for more than two seconds.

Jimin refuses his costars when they invite him out, he never smiles for them or has conversations. In fact, most of the words he says to others are just his lines as his character. He is lonely and he wants to stay that way. Because truly at this point nothing actually brings him joy. He lost everything that meant something to him.

“You know,” A voice cuts in. Jimin recognizes it immediately, already rolling his eyes, keeping his back to the owner.

“If you keep practicing like this you will become so amazing that everyone else is going to look like amateurs and well, that just wouldn’t be fair.”

Jimin quietly huffs out before spinning in his spot to face the owner of the voice.

“What do you need, Lucy?” He looks at her, clearly tired from the looks of it.

“Well, hello to you too. I am doing fine thank you—”

“Come on,” he rubs his temple, “What’s up?”

Lucy playfully rolls her eyes, a sign she isn’t actually offended by Jimin…unlike many others.

“I finished your costume.” She grins proudly, her hands reaching out to stuff the material in his own hands. “Try it on for me so I can make sure everything is perfect.”

“Oh?” He looks down at the green costume, “I’m sure it’s fine. I can try it on later, I really want to finish up what I was doing.”

“Oh, sure, sure.” Lucy gestures towards him, urging him to continue. “Be my guest.”

“Alone.” Jimin narrows his eyes at her and uses his hand to shoo her away but Lucy just stands here, a goofy grin on her face.

“Actually I have been watching you—well, your dance moves. And honestly, I think I have it pretty much nailed.”

Well, it makes sense, Jimin thinks. Lucy has lingered for weeks now, always bugging him with gossip or some lame joke that she insists is ‘hilarious’. She is the head of costumes, her fashion design degree allowing her to hold down a job—somewhat—in the field. Does she wish she was creating for runway models? Sure. But theatre can be fun…even if she was one of those people in high school who made fun of theatre kids.

“Yeah, I bet you have a real talent.” Jimin brushes past her, squatting down to the floor as he adjusts the volume on the speaker.

“Oh definitely.” She agrees right away, “Would you like to see?”

“Lucy—”

“Oh, come on! What if I want to audition for the next production? I could be a really cute side character with amazing moves, you know, the type of character the audience falls in love with and totally wish that I had more lines—”

“Okay.” Jimin stands, his tired expression only hardening. “Go for it.”

“Okay, let me get in the zone.” Lucy channels her inner Sharpay from High School Musical as she does some warm up exercises. She was hoping Jimin would laugh even a little at her attempt to mimic the character perfectly. She rolls her eyes with the slump of her shoulders before saying fuck it and giving her best shot at a dance routine.

And it is horrible. Truly the worst thing Jimin has ever seen. Her clumsy feet, her awkward shimmying shoulders and her incredible talent for being off beat. But she is dedicated and nothing amuses Jimin more. For the first time that she has ever seen it, the corner of Jimin’s lips lift and finally, the sound of Jimin’s laughter is filling the auditorium.

Lucy’s eyes go wide, her genuine shock written all over her face before she breaks into the most heartwarming grin.

“You laughed.” She says softly, almost proud.

Jimin’s laughter starts to ease as he composes himself but the atrocious image of her dancing is still in his head and he can’t help but smile.

“Yeah.” He agrees kind of quietly, “I guess I did.”

In that moment, Jimin felt his body relax for the first time in ages. He stares at Lucy, processing how good it feels to have a smile on his face. He doesn’t want to feel guilty for smiling and for the first time, he doesn’t. For the first time in so long someone has been able to make Jimin laugh…he doesn’t know what can come out of this but maybe this is what he needs. A distraction.

“Would you,” Jimin clears his throat. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

3 Months later

“Really riveting stuff.” Your monotone voice, clearly unenthused, doesn’t go noticed by your date for the night.

“Oh I know!” his wide smile almost makes you want to get up and leave. “That’s the thing though, women really just—”

“Oh, yes. Please tell me how women are.” You tilt your head and offer one of your sweeter smiles. “Since you are the expert.” You blink at him repeatedly, hoping he gets the hint.

“Of course” he agrees quickly making you drop your knife to the plate while shaking your head. “Women who think they need to orgasm every time are actually—”

And this is when you decide to tune him out completely, is a free meal really worth all of this? Dave was honestly full of red flags since the beginning but you decided to go through with it regardless because hey, maybe the sex would be decent enough. But considering his current topic, you have thrown that idea out completely.

“Oh no,” you say blandly, “I think I am getting a call.” You glance down at your phone on the table, its screen completely black.

Dave looks at your phone and tilts his head to the side, expressing a look of question on his face.

“I don’t think it is—”

“Yup.” You say again, doing little to convince him. You pick it up and bring it to your ear and start mumbling some random words. Dave stares at you and accepts that maybe you are on the phone. Fucking idiot.

You finally lower the phone and then slide it in your purse before looking up and locking eyes with Dave.

“Yeah, it’s an emergency.” You tell him, an exaggerated look of apology on your face. “I have to go. But thanks for such a…” You gesture around the table and leave it at that, standing up from your chair and grabbing your bag. You turn to leave when you hear Dave calling out after you but you ignore his voice, instead focusing on finding the restaurants exit.

Maybe just maybe you should have done this much earlier. Perhaps around the time he first opened his mouth when he saw you. “Oh thank god, you are actually hot.” Or maybe even when you both sat down at the table and he was already trying to suggest you stick to salad tonight. Definitely would have been a good time when he mentioned his ex and brought up how beautiful she is then paused and added, “Well, you’re hot too.” It was just a night of red flag after red flag. But his opinion on women’s orgasms was kind of just the last straw.

If you are being honest, this night of a failed date isn’t even surprising anymore. This just seems to be your luck lately. Even when the man isn’t totally unbearable, you just find yourself not satisfied every time. That includes with the conversation, the sex and well, the company in general. You are honestly just bored. Feeling left more and more unimpressed as time goes, something like ‘excitement’ never making your body tingle.

You feel the crisp breeze on your exposed skin, goosebumps suddenly rising on your body and you stare down at the bumps forming and chuckle bitterly. You wish it were a man giving your body such reaction but well, nature will have to do.

You quickly make your way to your car in the parking lot, your shoes clacking against the pavement, a sound you actually enjoy. Once inside your car, you take your phone out and dial the only person you can think of that will turn this night around. Your favorite coworker and also favorite friend.

“Come on, don’t let me down.” You groan to yourself as you listen to each mocking ring happening on the other side of your phone. You’re sure there are only a couple rings left before you are greeted with a voicemail box, a frown decorating your face at the thought but suddenly you are met with a chipper ‘Hello’ instead.

“Hoseok!” You whine theatrically, “Thank god.”

“Yes, thank god for me.” Hoseok teases on the other line, “But why this time?”

“Disaster date.” You inform with a shrug that he can’t see but definitely can imagine. “You know how it is already. Anyway, since we already saw that coming I am sure you can see what’s coming next.”

“Your strong desire to go out and get shit faced?” Hoseok asks with a playful tone, already knowing your answer. “I’ll inform the rest of the group. What do you say? Diablos?”

“Oh god,” Diablos is one of those places that you hardly actually remember your time spent there—it’s probably the fault of their Thursday night deal…$1 tequila shots.

“Hey, you want shit faced! I am just trying to help you with that.”

“I feel like shit faced and dying a horrible death are actually two different things.”

“Oh don’t act like you aren’t going to be downing those shots and telling all of us how much you love us by the end of the night.” Hoseok giggles to himself while you notice the sound of his fingers tapping against his screen. “Okay, we got confirmation from Jeremey, Naomi and Lucy in the group. And literally every single one of them complained about the fact we are going to Diablos. Which you know, only makes me want to go there more.”

“You are a heathen.” You laugh into the phone, “Lucy is coming too? No surprise there.” Hoseok can hear the smirk in your voice and is immediately groaning.

“It’s not like that!” He tries defending, “You know guys and girls can be just friends right?”

“Obviously, dumbass. But when I am just friends with my guy friends I don’t have total heart eyes like some cartoon character.”

“Anyway, meeting time is pronto. So get your ass over to Diablos.” Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to respond, you just hear new silence on the other line as he had ended the call.

Hoseok never lets you drink alone…if you are getting shit faced well, so is he. You chuckle to yourself, the thought of going to work tomorrow and seeing Hoseok just as miserable as you with a heavy hangover brings a little comfort. You finally stick your keys in the ignition and turn on the car and begin making your way to the bar.

You aren’t surprised…with a deal like $1 tequila shots and the fact people love making horrible decisions, the bar is packed. You fit right in though, being a person who also loves to make horrible decisions, you’re well aware of that fact as you swallow another disgusting shot of cheap tequila.

“Oh my god, do you think we will get in trouble tomorrow if we just…slept through that 9 am meeting?” Hoseok asks, his raised brows making you laugh. You wish he was joking but unfortunately, you know him, and you know he is serious.

“Well, if we get fired, we get fired together.” You bring your mixed drink to his as you both clank your glasses in cheers.

“I actually have no idea how you two haven’t already been fired.” Jeremy deadpans, “You both make me look so good at work. And I didn’t even show up yesterday.”

“Don’t know how Hoseok has a job but we all know Mr. Lincoln wants to fuck y/n so she somehow manages.” Naomi points out, laughing when you glare at her. “I vote you do fuck him though. God, how steamy would that be?”

“That would literally be so—you do realize he is married!” You shudder at the thought of fucking your boss, “Plus, he does not want to fuck me.”

“Nah, he definitely does. Probably jerking it to the thought of you when he closes his blinds in his office.” Hoseok starts jerking his hand up and down to demonstrate and you hit his shoulder making him laugh harder.

“This is so unfair.” Lucy pouts, “I wish I worked with you guys too. I never know what you guys are talking about half the time…so, our usual rule! No work talk!” She grins happily, knowing you all will agree because you know, fuck work and all that.

“Fine by me!” Jeremey sings, “How’s your job going though, Lucy?”

“Yeah, aren’t you guys going to have a show soon?” Hoseok nods his head towards the direction of an open table and you all follow. “We would love to go and support. See all the amazing costumes you created!”

“Oh yes, please come! The male lead is pretty sexy.” Lucy smirks, making you all laugh as you sit down.

“You’re just saying that because he is the guy you are currently seeing.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “Does he have any talents? Or like, is sexy all he good at?”

You snort, listening to them talk.

“Hobi,” you chime in cutely, “Being sexy takes a lot of skill.” You assure him and he gives you an unamused look. He’s always like this when Lucy brings up a new guy she is seeing.

“It really does though,” Naomi agrees, “I would know.”

“It might be your only skill then…” Jeremy says, earning him a soft punch to his arm, Naomi then giving him the middle finger.

“Anyway,” Hoseok turns his attention to you, “What was wrong with this guy?”

“Huh?” you say, a little caught off guard as you suck up your drink.

“Your disaster date.” He reminds you, “They always end in disaster so what was wrong this time?”

“Oh that.” You dramatically get the chills, shaking your body with a shudder. “Too many things to count but I about had it when he tried schooling me on women’s orgasms. Basically, he would have never given me one.”

“Bullet dodged.” Naomi gives you her best disturbed face along with a look of pity. “Men, am I right?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that y/n.” Lucy gasps, “That’s horrible!” Then her face lights up with an idea, “I could always set you up with someone from the theatre? There’s some pretty decent looking guys…” Lucy nibbles on her lip before breaking into her usual grin. “Actually, forget the cast. There’s this pretty hot dude who works with the stage lighting. And—”

You feel your heart twist a little, the mention of the theatre leaving a weird taste in your mouth. You’re a grown ass woman and you don’t think of the past too often but sometimes when there are things to remind you, you feel a little uncomfortable.

“Uh, no. Not really into that scene.” You chuckle awkwardly, “No offense!” you get out quickly, “I just—”

“Oh none taken. They’re kind of nerdy, I get it.” Lucy winks before bringing her drink to her lips and taking a sip.

“So then you are into nerds?” Hoseok playfully nudges her shoulder with his.

“Only if they are sexy.” Lucy nods her head in approval, “Real sexy.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes again, his smile wide as usual. You don’t remember how they met but they became friends and since then Lucy has been hanging with your group.

“I really need to meet this guy. Make sure he’s the real deal.” Hoseok eyes Lucy with a grin, “You sometimes have trouble choosing someone decent.”

“Ew, yeah. Remember that dude you brought that one time and he literally hit on me in front of you!” Naomi shouts over the music, “He was a creep.”

“Don’t feel too special,” Jeremey shakes his head, “He also hit on me in front of everyone too.”

“Oh yeah,” Hoseok bursts out into laughter, “That was fucking gold.” Then Hoseok’s attention goes from Jeremey to his buzzing phone, “Oh finally.” He mutters before his head whips up and he is smiling at you deviously.

“What…” You narrow your eyes, “You did something, I can tell.”

“Just trying to end your unlucky streak.” He winks, your face dropping quickly.

“I think there is only one thing that could end y/n’s unlucky streak…” Naomi’s face lights up with amusement. “Please fucking tell me you hit him up.”

“Hoseok, what the fuck!” You lean over the table to snatch his phone from him and stare at the screen. “I am going to kill you.” You say, staring down at his latest incoming text.

“We all know why you aren’t satisfied with any dude you go out with…” Naomi sips her drink, her knowing eyes fluttering cutely at you. “Because none of them are the one you have a massive crush on.”

“It’s not massive…” is all you manage to say, your voice gone quiet as you look around the table, your friends trying to hold in their childish giggles.

“Remind me again why you two haven’t fucked yet?” Jeremy asks, “Or like gone on a date, if that’s what you’re more into.”

Your lips set into a firm line as you glare at Jeremy because he knows exactly why. His lips curl into a demonic looking smile, nodding his head like he just remembered.

“Ah yes, that’s right! Because you accidentally fucked his best friend in his apartment, not knowing they are roommates.”

“God, it sounds horrific every time I hear it.” Hoseok tries to contain his laughter again. “You have this dude you have a massive crush on—”

“Not massive.” You defend in a pout.

“—and you had been trying your hardest to get his attention, even kind of getting it at one point. Then went out one night, found some guy to hook up with, went home with him…only to see the dude you were trying to woo the next morning at breakfast.” Hoseok loses his shit, his loud laugh booming in the bar. Everyone joins of course, loving how sulky you are getting.

“Honestly, I’ve been in a similar situation before.” Lucy giggles. “Turned into a threesome though.”

“Didn’t they both try to date you after?” Hoseok looks over at Lucy, “I remember you were trying to decide between the two, then ended up with both.” He shakes his head with a laugh.

“Your dating history is always so wild.” Naomi applauds her, “We should all be taking tips from her.”

“Anyway.” You grit your teeth in annoyance, “Why did you invite him?”

“Oh, relax. It’s been like two years since then. I’m sure the bro code has expired and it’s fine by now.” Hoseok starts chugging his drink back, his smug smile irritating you further.

“I don’t blame you for still having a thing for him though,” Naomi nods her head, “He’s a hunk, not going to lie.”

You sigh out, not believing it really has been two years that you’ve maintained a crush on the same guy. You still have Hoseok’s phone in your hand when it vibrates, another text from you know who.

Namjoon 11:22pm

On the way.

“Here’s your stupid phone back.” You groan, sliding Hoseok’s device across the table. “Suddenly I don’t feel drunk enough.” You stand from your chair and nod towards the bar. “Anyone want something?”

“Oh me!” Lucy stands as well, “I’ll come with you.”

You both push your way through the crowd, you’re basically Lucy’s body guard, the very petite girl almost getting her fucking lights knocked out by random elbows as you try to make a path for you both.

The bar is busy as usual, cheap shots of tequila getting passed around like candy. You almost vomit at the smell of the shots, realizing maybe a shot isn’t the route you want to go.

You and Lucy wait for an opening to settle against the wooden bar and wait your turn for the bartender to notice one of you.

“So.” Lucy leans her head against her hand on the bar top, “I think I want to introduce my new guy to you all.” She says, her voice sounding a little nervous.

“Hm?” you glance down at her, “Your new—oh! Yeah, sounds cool. More the merrier, I guess.”

“Yes, but…” Lucy’s eyes slide to the side, maybe finding Hoseok before she looks at you again. “I don’t want to like overwhelm him with like a big group setting you know?”

“Oh?” Your head snaps back up towards the bartender who is now waiting on you to give your order. You order your mixed drinks and when the bartender gives her ‘ok’ you look back towards Lucy again. “What did you have in mind then?”

“What do you say you meet me for coffee this weekend?” Lucy asks, her eyes filling with hope. “I will tell him to meet with us and we can just hang out, you know? I really feel like out of everyone you two would really get along!”

“M-Me?” You point at yourself, a little surprised by Lucy’s request. “You want me to meet him first?”

“Honestly, you guys would really vibe well, I think. Plus, you are the coolest one here.” She winks at you and you feel yourself blush a little at the compliment.

“I guess that’s fine?” You question, “Sure—” Suddenly, the bartender is sliding over your drinks and you turn to grab them, ending the conversation there.

The walk back to the table is a long one, you slightly stumble through the crowded dance floor, avoiding sweaty bodies as they move all around you. It doesn’t help that at the moment it’s just you and Lucy, a pretty pair to a lot of onlookers. Naturally, you two are stopped by a pair of guys looking to get lucky tonight. You exchange some meaningless words, and finally bid farewell, disappointing the men who didn’t succeed in picking you up.

You spot the table your friends occupy when your eyes expand, you see Namjoon and Yoongi getting comfortable in some chairs at the table as well. You look around the table as you get closer and say a few greetings. Your eyes going straight to your good friend Hobi, your panicked expression making him grin awkwardly.

You sit down in your chair when Jeremey leans over to whisper into your ear.

“What are the fucking odds he would show up with his friend that you fucked?” He teases while you turn red from embarrassment.

“Shut up.” You pinch his side and he yelps, gaining the attention from everyone around the table.

“Hey y/n. It’s been a while right?” Namjoon’s voice makes its way to your ears and you turn to face him. You muster a smile that feels forced but you continue to try it anyway.

“Yeah. It has.” Then your eyes find Yoongi, “Hi.” You nod at him awkwardly, and he waves his hand with a smile that reminds you why you hooked up with him in the first place.

“Good to see you, y/n.” He says.

You know most people know this, how being around certain people bring out certain sides of you. With most men you are confident, proud, nonchalant, and maybe just a tad bit bitchy if they deserve it. But around someone like Namjoon, he brings out sides of you that you don’t even recognize half the time…someone who tries to come off as shy, cute and flustered at just the sound of his voice.

Yoongi got really confused when Namjoon talked about you, he mentioned how sweet and shy you were. He talked about how he wished you would speak up more often…Yoongi wondered if they were talking about the same y/n. The same girl who just left in a hurry when they all realized they knew one another. Yoongi didn’t meet that version of you—no, he got to know the woman who knows exactly what she wants. Someone confident, sexy and a little mean, he will admit. But he realized at the time, it was a part of your charm. It didn’t take much for him to agree to sleep with you, your straight forward attitude going straight to his dick.

But now, he realized after some time that the version of you that Namjoon knew, was the you that had a crush. God, you were so obvious. He stares at you now, seeing how flustered you are once again as Namjoon makes conversation with you.

“It’s great timing actually,” Namjoon takes a swig of his beer. “I was looking to go out tonight as well!”

“Oh really? What’s the occasion?” Naomi asks, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Celebration.” Namjoon grins, his dimpled smile making your heart flutter.

“Of?” Hoseok pries further. “Wait. Oh shit, it’s for your book, right?”

“Yup. Finally got it published.” Namjoon leans back in his chair, his arms going above his head, your stupid little eyes following his every movement. His biceps flex and you accept that you aren’t making it out alive tonight.

“Wow! A book!” Lucy squeals, “I wish I was good at writing, I have a lot to say but man, putting it on paper is not my specialty.” She giggles to herself, the rest of the group nodding along in agreement.

“What’s your book about?” Jeremy sounds genuinely interested, “I can only imagine it’s full of life quotes and solid advice.”

“Actually…that’s not far off.” Namjoon blushes, a small, proud smile on his lips. “It’s nothing really though.”

“Oh stop that.” Yoongi shakes his head, “It’s amazing. I read it so quickly and felt surprised he came up with all of that!”

“Surprised?” Namjoon chuckles, “I speak profoundly at all times.”

“Yeah, right.” Yoongi teases, “This morning you couldn’t even remember what you were talking about mid-sentence. Paused. Thought about it for a moment then ending up saying “and you know, blah, blah, blah.”

“Yeah. Very profound.” Namjoon begins laughing and you join, his eyes shooting to yours. He softens when he hears your giggles leave your mouth, something he feels like he doesn’t see too often.

“I feel like you are more dressed up than everyone else.” Namjoon points out, his eyes on you. “Were you doing something before this?”

“Disaster date.” Hoseok answers for you. “She knew he couldn’t give her an orgasm.” He shakes his head with exaggerated sadness. “Devastating, right?”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, you two speak with just a look and he snickers to himself even though he can read your expression well—you’re totally going to kill him later.

“Oh.” Namjoon looks a little surprised, a little awkward and a lot of cute. “That’s uh, too bad.” He swallows more of his beer.

“Orgasms are important.” Yoongi winks at you and you look at him, clearly unamused.

“Anyway,” you roll your eyes to the back of your head, as sassily as you can manage. “I’m sure no one is shocked at how totally anticlimactic my dating life is. Has been for some time.” You lazily take your drink in your hand and chug the entire thing through your straw.

“Still think you should just fuck our boss.” Naomi comments nonchalantly, making you choke on your drink.

“Really?” you wipe at your mouth, cleaning some of your drink off your skin. “He is literally married!”

“You’d be totally living that main character life like you’re in some drama.” She tries to reason, as if that was a totally acceptable thing to say.

“As entertaining as that would be,” Hoseok laughs, “I think she needs someone closer in age.”

“What I need is to stop being the center of conversation and throw away the topic of my dating life into like a trash can.” You say with a straight face.

“Oh come on, don’t be lame.” Hoseok slurs, “We’re all basically single here.”

“I literally have a boyfriend?” Naomi raises her hand, “Why do you guys always forget this?”

“It’s long distance, doesn’t count.” Hoseok shrugs.

“You’re the worst. It totally counts.”

“When’s the last time you guys fucked?”

“When I saw him last?”

“Which was?”

“Like…four months ago or so?”

“See?” Hoseok looks at everyone like he’s made his point. “Basically single!”

“I am in a serious relationship! That’s more than any of you can say,” Naomi motions towards all of you. “When’s the last time you guys were really committed to someone, hm?”

“I have had a few serious relationships in the last couple of years.” Hoseok says proudly, “So,”

“Same.” Everyone starts collectively saying around the table…well, everyone except you. This causes Hoseok to realize and he becomes too curious for your liking.

“You know…you haven’t been in anything serious since I have known you y/n.” he decides to call you out, “I mean, you’ve been on a shit ton of disaster dates but you’ve like, never had a boyfriend.”

You release a long, tired breath. Realizing you are still not drunk enough. You notice everyone’s eyes on you as they realize as well.

“It’s not like I have never had a boyfriend, guys.” You scoff, “Jeez. You—”

“It’s true!” Namjoon speaks up, “In college…like even after graduation she had a boyfriend. It was super serious too.”

Right. Unlike everyone else here, you actually have known Namjoon the longest. You both attended school together and that’s how you got to know him.

“What was his name again? Ah—”

“It doesn’t matter.” You cut him off quickly. “Yeah, I guess I had a thing back then.” You shrug, “But that was like…what? Five years ago?”

“Wow!” Lucy sings out, “I can’t even imagine you with an actual boyfriend. You’re so…I don’t know, like Miss Independent, you know?”

“Independent?” Namjoon chuckles, “They were totally attached at the hip.”

“y/n? Our y/n? In love?” Jeremey gasps, “I just refuse to believe it.”

“Same.” Naomi points at you, “Remember that time you went out with a guy and when you realized you weren’t into him you told him you were possibly pregnant with another man’s baby just so he would lose interest?”

“Didn’t she use that line on more than one?” Hoseok yelps when he feels you kick his leg under the table.

“It sounds like you just need to find a guy you actually like, y/n.” Namjoon smiles at you, it’s one of those smiles that make you feel like you are floating. He has no idea. Or maybe he does. But you really wish that person would be him.

“I think she does have someone she actually li—” Hoseok yelps again when you continue finding that sensitive spot on his shin with your foot.

“I would love if we shifted the focus of this conversation.” You basically beg, groaning into your hands and deciding that yup, definitely not drunk enough.

With it nearing 2 am, you have finally let Diablos do it’s nasty little number on you. Tempt you with those $1 shots and have you making questionable decisions. The first one being the guy you are currently grinding against, his hands roaming your body as you try to remember how you even ended up on the dance floor.

You waste no time in turning around to see what this man even looks like and you are questioning your taste in men now. He isn’t exactly you know, drop dead gorgeous or anything. In fact, if you were getting a little excited and wet from the grinding, well that dried up real fast. You awkwardly escape his arms and without saying a word, you just walk away. Classic.

“I was wondering if you were actually into him.” You hear a deep voice from behind you. “I definitely have no idea what your type is.” He laughs.

You turn to see Namjoon, sipping on his beer and watching everyone else have a great time on the dance floor.

“You aren’t dancing?” you slur out, “S’fun.”

“I am fine with watching.” He gazes at you, “You know…”

“Hm?” you look up into his eyes, your shy expression making him feel his chest tighten.

“I think maybe you just aren’t going on a real, proper date.” He blurts out, “I mean, with a guy that you know well enough that you’d probably have a good time.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, “Well, yeah. I don’t know these guys at all. I rely on dating apps more than half the time.” You admit with a chuckle.

“Maybe…” he gulps more of his beer, bringing the bottle back down to his side. “Would…would you be interested in going on one? With me, I mean.” He clarifies. He watches your expression shift into like 4 different emotions, he quietly laughs and waits for your response.

“What?” You blink at him again, “A date? With you?”

“Yes, and also you.” His soft laugh makes you feel drunker than you are. “Would you like that?”

“Would I like that?” You ask in comical disbelief. “Well, I wouldn’t not like it!”

Namjoon finds himself cracking up at your response and nods his head slowly.

“Okay.” He brings his beer bottle to his lips again, “Then it’s a date. How does Saturday night sound?”

~~~~~~

It’s around 3pm when Lucy sends you a text, reminding you of your little hang out today. To be honest, you had completely forgot about meeting her new boy toy or whatever. You are more focused on the fact that tonight, in just 4 hours from now you are meeting with Namjoon for a date you drunkenly agreed to.

You honestly just want to get this little meeting over with so you can give all your attention to your racing heart who needs some extra, tender love and care. You want to make sure you have enough time to prepare for the date…not just like, choosing an outfit, but mentally prepare. You have been crushing on Namjoon for some time and finally, finally you have an opportunity. Maybe Hoseok was right, maybe the bro code has a two year expiration date and now it’s suddenly not weird to you know, share the same girl.

Whatever, you aren’t going to question it. It’s not like you and Yoongi had continued the activities of that night at any other time. You are just going to move past that and hope it is never brought up ever again because well, your dignity begs for that.

You decide on getting like, half ready for your date. Hair and makeup done but instead of wearing the cute dress you have planned for tonight, you are opting for something more casual while meeting with Lucy and her special friend. Lucy texts you again, telling you that she is on her way to the café and she can’t wait to see you.

~

“He’s so sweet, y/n…you guys are going to get along so well!” Lucy continues to gush about her new man as you nod along. You have a straw between your lips as your eyes wander around the cafe…it’s dead today. You honestly have no idea why Lucy is so eager to introduce you to her new boy toy…you two aren’t even particularly close. But this seems so on brand for her, like she needs to show off something new. This reminds you when she got her shiny, new car. She even let you drive it around.

“He’s late though.” you note nonchalantly, “No brownie points for him.”

“He’s always like this…I’ll send him another text.”

Your eyes continue to drag around the empty cafe, you notice small things like the dribble of ice cream left behind on the table next to you, the wet floor sign put up near the bathroom and the cute barista on his phone, probably playing some game by the looks of it.

Lucy is more Hobi’s friend than anyone else’s…they’re always together, in fact it’s pretty surprising those two haven’t gotten together. But Lucy always has a new boo thang lying around while Hobi is waiting for Miss Right. Maybe they aren’t as good of a match you all thought, or so you think.

“Hobi hasn’t met him yet…” Lucy decides to speak of the devil. “I’m so nervous!”

“Why?” You ask, the straw still between your lips.

“You know how he is when I date someone new…he gets so…”

“Protective?” you laugh, your eyes finally landing back on her. “Yeah, we know.”

“So I thought I would…have someone else meet him first…you know, to hype him up a little so Hobi can relax.”

“Ah, so you’re using me.” You say with a straight face, but your tone is clearly teasing. “I’m sure he’s—"

But then the ding of the front door catches your attention, you lazily slide your eyes towards the entrance when the straw slips out between your lips back into the glass.. There’s—There’s no way.

In comes in a familiar face, a gorgeous familiar face at that. The way he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back so smoothly. The way he glances to the side, exposing his sharp jawline. His eyes are covered by some oversized dark shades but you know he sees you when you notice the drop in his jaw.

“Oh there he is!” Lucy stands from her chair, the loud screeching against the wooden floor has you flinching. There’s no way… “Jimin!” she begins waving him over.

Yes, Jimin. Park Jimin. Your first love…your first heartbreak. The man who left you 5 years ago to pursue his dreams in New York.

“Come over here!” Lucy waves him over excitedly. Jimin stands frozen as he eyes the both of you, his hand motioning between you and lucy. He reaches up and takes his shades off and you finally get a real look at him.

He’s as gorgeous as the day he left you. He’s hesitant but walks closer and closer…you swear the closer he gets the more you can smell that familiar scent that has you feeling woozy. Is it getting hard to breathe in here?

“Jimin. this is y/n. y/n…Jimin.”

“y/n….” Jimin tries out your name for the first time in years “This is…”

“Nice to meet you.” you say with a tight lip smile.

“Meet?” Jimin raises a brow and then realization is hitting him, a sly smile works itself on his thick lips. “Right.” he clears his throat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Great!” Lucy ushers him to take the seat next to hers, “I am so excited guys. I really, really feel like you will get along.”

At this point in conversation you should be opening your mouth to agree with her, saying something, anything to keep this conversation afloat. But instead you feel your entire mouth dry and speaking becomes something of a challenge. Jimin, however, looks at you with a sparked amusement. He nods his head enthusiastically when Lucy emphasizes how well you two will hit it off.

“From all the great things Lucy has said about you, feels like I know you already.” Jimin has this knowing look in his eyes that really irritates you. Why can’t he mask his obvious pique of interest, why is he acting like this is all fun? Is it fun?

Jimin understands immediately why you decided to pretend to not know each other. The situation could become messy otherwise, he gets it, totally gets it. But seeing you here, seeing how obviously panicked you are, seeing how utterly hilarious and cruel this situation is, he can’t help but want to have a little fun. Something he hasn’t had in quite some time.

While Lucy has been a great distraction for his grieving heart and he was finally able to laugh again thanks to her—seeing you, lights a whole different flame within him. Seeing you, he feels himself grow more and more comfortable. Seeing you, he feels things he hasn’t felt in a long time. They say, different people bring out different sides in you—Jimin believes this. He thinks the sides you bring out in him…are his favorite.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Jimin glances at you and Lucy, his smile making Lucy smile in return and you? His smile making you feel your insides crumble. Shock. That’s probably what you are feeling right now. Your ex-boyfriend of several years, who you were so sure you were going to be with for the rest of your life, is here. And he is supposedly in some sort of dating relationship with your best friends friend, and well, your friend too. Jimin stands, heading towards the front to order a drink.

“Well?” Lucy asks excitedly, “Cute, right? I promise he isn’t just cute! He’s great and—”

“Why do you want me to get along with him so well?” You mumble, your mouth finally okay enough to speak again.

“Be—” Lucy’s expression goes soft as she begins explaining herself, “Because if you like him then Hobi will be sure to like him. You’re his best friend…if you approve of this guy then Hobi will be more willing to give him a chance, you know?”

“I can’t tell if you want Hoseok’s approval so badly because you really like Jimin…or because you just want Hoseok’s approval.” Your eyes fall to your hands on the table, avoiding Lucy’s gaze.

“W-What do you mean?” She feels her nerves beginning to spike uncomfortably. “I don’t get it.”

“Nothing.” You look back up, “So, he is the lead in the production coming up?”

Lucy lights back up again, her previous thoughts gone at the mention of Jimin. “Yeah! He is so talented, you have no idea.”

Except you do have an idea. A pretty big idea actually. But…you’re confused. Why is he back? Did something happen? Surely he wouldn’t have left his successful Broadway dreams in New York to come back here. Here of all places, to the same theatre he got his start in. And…although his smile made your entire world shake…it is not the same smile you had always been familiar with. It was different. Distant. The same type of smile he reserved when he was playing a character on stage. It wasn’t his. And the empty look in his eyes—

“That’s nice.” You finally say, “I’m sure he is.”

“He’s talented on stage and well, in other places.” Lucy gives you a goofy grin as she wiggles her brows, her suggestive comment making you cringe.

“Right.” Your monotone voice making Lucy wince.

“Oh, sorry. I know you haven’t been getting you know, lucky lately. I don’t mean to rub it in.” She apologizes. “But!”

“But what?” Jimin comes back, a frappe in his hands, taking a seat next to Lucy, across from you.

“But that will probably change. Real soon too, right?” Lucy sends you an obnoxious wink and you tense at what she is implying.

“Uh—”

“Finally after all this time, you and Namjoon are finally going on that date you’ve always dreamed of!” She brings her hand to her forehead, swooning at the idea.

“Namjoon?” Jimin tastes the word in his mouth, wondering why this flavor seems so familiar.

“Yeah. A friend of ours,” Lucy fills Jimin in, “y/n has had a crush on him for like ever and he finally asked her out.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” You mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling very over this entire situation.

“But it is!”

“Nope, not really.” You try again, avoiding both Jimin and Lucy’s eyes.

“Get this,” Lucy turns to face Jimin, “y/n is like a serial dater, basically—”

“Oh my god.” You groan, “I am not!”

“y/n…You go on a minimum of like 3 dates a week.” She points out, not totally realizing how super fucking embarrassing this is for you.

“It’s not that many—”

“Anyway, they always end in tragedy.” She continues filling Jimin in on your very sad and very pathetic dating life. “And it makes me sad because she is so cool…well, you don’t know her but she is like such a bad bitch.”

“Lucy I am literally begging you to never speak again.” You lower your head to the table, “You are stripping me of what little pride I have left.”

“You don’t know y/n, but she can be kind of dramatic at times.” Lucy whispers towards Jimin and he just looks between you and Lucy over and over with wide eyes. “But anyway, it’s totally fine. Jimin will be hanging with us so he’s going to know all of this information one way or another.”

“Joy.” You deadpan, lifting your head up again until you’re locking eyes with Jimin. He studies you for a second, you feel yourself shrink under his gaze and he smiles. It’s that same smile you don’t recognize as his own, you think he is feeling as stunned as you…but his eyes, once looking empty, are now twinkling in excitement.

“You’re right, I don’t know her.” He says, his eyes never leaving you. “But I look forward to learning.”

You gulp. You know everyone knows this, that people bring out certain sides of you. Every person can bring out different versions of yourself. They can bring out your worst, your best. Your confidence, your vulnerability. Jimin is no exception. But unlike every other person you know, Jimin is the only one who has ever managed to bring out sides of you that once made you love yourself. He also brought out sides of you that you never want to see again.

“What do you say y/n?” Jimin has this glint in his eye that you know all too well, “Would you like to know me too?”

You truly, very truly, like so sincerely, as genuinely as possible would love to know—what the fuck is going on? You know this can only end in a mess, you know this is a situation you should not involve yourself in…but, you match the glint in his eye with your own…finally, in so long you feel intrigued by something—someone. You realize the thing Jimin brings out the most in you…is someone who is actually fun.

“Sure.” You reply back, “I’d love to.”

What are you doing? And why does it feel so fucking exciting.

Scent of a Woman {KNJ romance}

Pairing: leopard hybrid parfumerie boss!Namjoon x female reader!employee

Genre: Hybrid AU. Romance. Smut. Pining. Slow burn. Angst. strong father themes. NOT DADDY-type themes. EXPLICIT 🔞🔞🔞

Warnings: super super eemootiionaaal sex- is that a warning? No breed-you-with-my-pups here. Leopard-style sex, which just means, really, he comes in from the back ( I watched Nat Geo to make sure LOL). Mirror sex (so that they can look at each other @ralypenny this is part of your ask that I finally fulfilled).

Summary: In this hybrid AU, hybrids are rich and powerful. You are fully human in form and in weakness. Too bad you’re falling for your hybrid boss. And mayhaps he’s falling for you.

Word count: 10k

Special thanks: @hobi-gif for being a kick-ass beta reader with 56 edits that I never knew I needed. You read this while you were so tired, and took the time to encourage me. I'm so grateful.

Much appreciation to the following who have read it in some point of draft form and encouraged me: @httpnamjoonie94reads @jinfizz, @bonvoyagenoona @bangtanmademedoit @lcksndkys @xjoonchildx

——————————

“Stupid human,

Homo sapien

Little Alien

Tiny Cranium

Eat uranium

Poop Titanium

Homo sapien

Stupid human.”

You know the chant by heart.

Even now, more than twenty years later, the tune, the cadence, the leering faces that surrounded you are hauntingly familiar.

One glance at your comparably smaller build, your simple clothes, your plain, singular-species face was obvious enough to announce to anyone that you’re fully human.

The hybrids of your time are often part of the super-rich. It’s no surprise considering their survival instincts for attracting the richest, biggest, smartest, and fastest mates are well-honed from centuries of evolution.

Imbued with stronger genes than full-blooded humans, the hybrids live longer, look prettier, work faster, breed better, and probably fuck harder too.

So you were expected to count yourself lucky your mother worked as a live-in housekeeper for a rich hybrid family. And you were expected to count yourself lucky that their residential address allowed you to benefit from the most exclusive school districts in the country full of wealthy hybrids.

But you weren’t lucky.

Everyone knew you as the housekeeper’s daughter, as if that were more dignified than your name. Everyone made fun of you for being smaller, slower, shorter. More human.

And every day, you trudged to school, walking down the halls feeling like prey waiting to be fed to a room full of predators.

So you suffered alone through elementary, middle, and high school, always as the housekeeper’s daughter, always the butt of their jokes, always ready with fingers curled into hard fists to fend for yourself.

With each passing year, three things became clear to you:

You could never work for a hybrid.

You would never date a hybrid.

You should never, ever fuck a hybrid.

(Unless he was really good looking.)

————————

Kim Namjoon feels a little disconcerted.

He’s always been uber confident in his decisions, single-minded in his pursuit to establish the city’s most sought after bespoke parfumerie.

But lately, he’s doubting his choice to hire you as his shop assistant.

Your presence in his parfumerie disorients him. At first, it’s how the shop’s minimalist decor was suddenly disrupted by a burst of colour when you snuck in an inelegant bunch of flowers and placed them in a little jar of water, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner.

The old florist at the corner couldn’t sell this yesterday was your excuse. The petals were starting to droop, leaves yellowing with age, stems weak and insipid. And though the red gerberas clashed with the pathetic little violets, they held his gaze whenever he passed by.

Every day, a new bunch of sad-looking flowers would sit in the same jar, in different leftover color combinations. And every day, he found himself looking forward to them. Today it’s bright pink carnations mixed with orange marigolds, vulgar in their color but intriguing in their scent. Yesterday, it was half-dead roses mixed with a bright yellow peony.

He’s used to perfection— precision even —not this explosive mess of color and smells. By his standards, he should not even think these haphazard flowers are pretty. But here he is, admiring the furl of the carnation petal, thinking how silky smooth it feels despite its ragged edge. It’s almost… beautiful, nevermind the little brown flecks from its over exposure in the sun.

He doesn’t know why he quietly lets you bring this visual chaos into the calm monochrome of his shop. Or why he stops breathing a little when you brush past him to dust the corner of the shelf. (The shop has never been cleaner since you arrived.)

He can’t fathom why it’s suddenly hard to finalize the top notes of a perfume for one of his most important clients. Or why he finds himself wondering about the shampoo you’re using because the fragrance is driving him insane with curiosity.

But here you are, tying your buttery yellow hair ribbon on the door handle because it looks pretty like that and you heard an old country song on the way here and there’s no old oak tree to tie that around so the door will have to do.

He grimaces a little at your prattling, not trusting himself to speak. Because, truth be told, he wants nothing more than to rip off that ribbon and let his nose linger all over the satin fabric. He wants to, no, needs to, break down the entire fragrance profile which teases him every time you’re near.

It’s only logical since he’s in the perfume business.

At least, this is what he tells himself as he clenches his knuckles white to stop himself.

Only logical.

----------------------------------

Sometimes, you wonder what it’s like to be thoroughly fucked by the Kim Namjoon.

But of course, as your boss, he’s off limits like everyone else you’ve been attracted to. Let’s see… there was your brother’s best friend, your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, your science lab partner whom you later found out was gay and actually pining for the guy across the aisle.

You have a niggling feeling that you’re living in a strange fanfic universe full of well-trodden tropes but you banish those thoughts just like you banish your thoughts about Mr. Kim.

You remind yourself you are just a shop assistant and you desperately need this salary. That you have three rules regarding hybrids: one which you’ve already broken, two which you wish you could break, and all three with Kim Namjoon.

Sigh. If only you didn’t need this job, then there would be no rules to break. Your degree in art was a total waste of money in terms of finding a job after graduation. And when you walked by the swanky, modern storefront which advertised for a shop assistant six months ago, you ventured in without hesitation, desperate to pay off your college loan after another failed interview.

Entering the elegant interior, you went quiet for a moment as you spied a man suited impeccably in black, his gaze intent on the glass beakers of oils set on the counter.

It really had been too long since you studied a man who was not Cezanne or Matisse. With his sleek, sinewy build paired with a breathtaking side profile, he looked like a very tall, and very delicious glass of dark rum and Coke: sweet, smooth, and altogether dangerous.

Suddenly remembering you were here for a job opening, you were determined to make a first good impression.

“Hi—” you try your brightest, chirpiest voice.

“You’re hired,” he declared, without looking up.

“Excuse me? Wait. What?” you asked, heart racing.

“You’re obviously not here to buy perfume, so you must be here for the job opening. You’re hired. Starting today.”

You glanced at your plain black and white office attire that you’ve worn to hundreds of interviews. This was a high-end boutique but you didn’t think you looked that poor.

“If you really want to know, it’s not the outfit, it’s the desperation,” he said, eyes still focused on each drop of amber liquid he’s releasing into the glass beaker from an oil dropper.

“D-desperation?”

“I smelled it. Heard it in the thudding of your heart the moment you’d walked in.” He said it like he was talking about his coffee order (iced Americano, venti). “You’re desperate. And I need someone. Don’t usually take a full-blooded human. But I’ll take you.”

He finally lifted his eyes and you saw their slight but unmistakable fiery glow.

He’s one of the big-cat hybrids. They always seem so sleek and sophisticated, so sure of themselves and well, confident. It’s the money, it’s the superior genes, it’s everything... you’re not.

“Um, yes. I’m desperate for a job. Mister...?” You were nervous as hell. He was making you nervous as hell. Perhaps he was toying with you, like how a cat likes to play with a mouse.

“Kim. But call me Namjoon.”

That Kim Namjoon. The one in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m the right candidate for this position. I’ll just see myself ou—”

“Wait. You don’t have to worry about that. My hybrid interests are rather, you might say, specific.” He smirked, as if he would ever be interested in you, full-blooded in human form and human weakness.

Okay. You’re not his type. Got the message loud and clear. “Uh, the monthly salary?”

Lips curled in a triumphant grin, he announced, “5 million won.”

Holy shit.

And so that’s how you find yourself here, days peacefully filled with dusting between crystal flasks and glass beakers, fetching blotters and flacons for Mr. Kim, sweeping the shop floor and making everything sparkle.

Your daily tasks also involve decanting perfume oils according to your boss’ specifications for sampling. By now, you’re used to arranging the vials of oil on a little movable bar cart for his signature bespoke sessions with each client; always paired with a glass of bubbly for Miss or Madam.

Cleaning, dusting, decanting are all easy parts of this job.

The hard part is dealing with the disdain, and sometimes, even disgust, you get from his clients—all female hybrids of some variety. They flock to this boutique because for the longest time, it’s been taboo among the female upper class hybrids to carry the scent of their hybrid ancestry.

You feel like you should pity them; after all, they can’t help it if they smell like horse and hay, like wild game or cat piss.

But it’s difficult when they never grace you with a second glance when they enter the shop; harder still when they brush off invisible dirt from being infected by your presence when they leave.

With their impossibly high cheekbones, noses yet higher in the air, they show not an iota of kindness. To them, you’re just staff. And well, you of all people know the hybrids are used to treating their staff a certain way.

You remind yourself the salary is worth the dismissive tone, the scornful glances.

That you can and you will carry yourself with dignity even though you weren’t born into money like them.

That the only difference between you and them is that they’ve held the attention of Kim Namjoon for hours at a time.

That he has listened to each one talk about her favorite childhood memories, her favorite meal, her hopes and dreams to get a feel of what she’d like in a personal fragrance.

That when he works on a new fragrance for a client, she’s all he thinks about, always quietly brooding about the fragrance profile until a rare smile breaks across his face because he’s got it.

That he’ll smell the inside of her wrists, inhale a breath behind her ears to see if the scent combination worked with her skin. The top note. The heart note. The base note.

He’s just doing his job. You tell yourself.

It’s not a big deal. Not at all.

Then why do you wish that you could just be one for them, just for one day?

--------------------------------------------

Kim Namjoon just can’t get this right.

He’s been building Eau de Parfum No. 1071 for a client for some time now. The complex fragrance was going well with its symphony of sandalwood, vetiver, oud and oakmoss. The top notes of orange flow like a kind, generous invitation, the base notes carried mainly by oakmoss and sandalwood are strong and supportive, but the heart note, the heart was missing.

On a whim he tries a bit of vanilla. Too flighty.

Maybe a bit of neroli. Too serious.

He thinks for a moment and then looks over his files on this client. Perhaps something floral. Or fig?

It’s here where he works his hardest, commanding oils to mix and mesh, to meld into a message. Sometimes it’s longing, other times, it’s innocence. This client wants sophistication, and Kim Namjoon always delivers.

Yet, something about this fragrance profile of No. 1071 puzzles him. It seems a little too masculine for the client in question.

Perturbed, he approaches you. He almost never asks for a second opinion, but he can’t stop his feet from stalking quietly out of his private office and onto the shop floor.

Nowadays, he finds himself relishing the split second before you sense his presence.

It’s when he can breathe in your entirety, undisturbed. He misses nothing, not the perpetual slight tilt of your head like you’re listening to some invisible music of the spheres, not the impish grin of your lips like you’re in cahoots with those god-awful flowers you bring in everyday. There’s the serious eyes, the sometimes sassy mouth. Smart and sexy like a mix of heaven and hell.

It’s a while before you notice him, and his heart skips a beat when you ask in that quiet, serious way of yours, “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

“I need you to smell this and tell me what you think,” he says, voice a little crackly.

“Well, Mr. Kim, that would be an extra twenty thousand won per hour,” you quip, a little smile peeking below your serious eyes. “But, honestly, I don’t know much about the accords and notes and...”

“Just use your instincts. Just feel.”

He holds out the testing strip to you, thinking himself a little stupid for asking for help.

He looks carefully at how your hand moves closer and closer to his. How the inches, then centimeters bring you nearer to him; fingers almost touching.

Shit, Namjoon sees a slight tremble in his hand. He’s sure you see it too. Why the hell is he so nervous?

He expects you to take the tester from him. But, eyes closed, you lean in to take a whiff. He wonders fleetingly if you look like this when you kiss. You’re quiet, nose hovering just above the tester, just over his fingers, the light touch of the in-and-out of your breathing feathering his skin.

Fighting to hold still, he focuses on you as the scent begins to hit you in different ways. A look of complete and utter longing flits across your features, and he sees you’ve surrendered completely to the heart of the fragrance. “What does it smell like?” He’s desperate to know.

For a long while, you can’t answer him.

“It smells like...” you murmur, “like my dad. My dad.”

Your father would twirl you round and round under the orange tree in the greenhouse at sunset when his day’s work was done; your nose buried in his plain cotton shirt, every warp and weft woven with the fragrance of the flowers he grew. The hands that lifted you and tossed you in the air were hands that carried the smell of the earth, rich with moss.

He was a gardener for the wealthy, and while he grew flowers, he raised you until… until you were not old enough.

“I miss him. He left too soon.”

Kim Namjoon doesn’t know what to say. Words like I’m sorry; words like I’m sure he’s proud of you; those words are not enough. He wishes he could touch you, pull you into him, shelter you with an umbrella against the grey sky of grief until light breaks through.

But he’s your boss. He can’t.

Wordlessly, he hands you a tissue.

“Thanks, I’m fine, really,” you sniff. “I’ll get back to work now, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon hears the steely strength in your voice even though your breath is shaky. “The shelves don’t mean anything, Y/N. Not today. If you need time…”

“I’m okay. I miss him. That’s all.” Squaring your shoulders, you go back to wiping down the shelves.

But the sudden thought of the paper tester cradling the scent of your dad in its pores dumped unceremoniously in the trash stops you. “Mr, Kim, if you don’t want the testing strip anymore, could I have it please?”

“Of course.” Namjoon leaves the strip on the edge of the counter, careful not to contaminate the part holding the fragrance.

Back in his office, Kim Namjoon sits down and opens his leather-bound ledger. It’s where he records every perfume he has created for clients over the years. A new fragrance will be entered in its pages today. The sample vial sits quietly on his mirrored desk, waiting to be named.

When he’s done, he slips quietly into the backroom where you keep your bag and places the tiny bottle of perfume oil beside it.

Written on the label is his small neat script:

Dad. For Y/N.

Eau De Parfum No. 1072

By KNJ

No. 1072 will forever be yours now.

-------------------

You’re so embarrassed.

You’ve never been late before. Not for work. Not for school. Not even for your expected date of birth, arriving right on the dot at the stroke of midnight, quietly triumphant of your punctuality even as a little babe.

You shudder at the confluence of all the bad luck that happened today.

The one day you forget your umbrella is when a sudden burst of rain catches you unprepared. Traffic was snarling as the slippery roads caused a car accident along the way.

As the rain wreaks havoc on your dress, you scold yourself for wearing your glasses today instead of contacts. You can hardly see a thing as you hurry up the path to the shop from the bus-stop. And what a stupid choice of an outfit today. A fitted white linen dress? You might as well be wearing nothing at this rate that you’re getting wet. Even the flower seller by the corner knew better than to put out her bouquets at the shop front this morning. You better hurry. You’re so late.

Without warning, you find yourself lurching forward over the cobblestones, balance completely fucked as your last coherent thought mocks you: you should not have worn your stupid pair of wedges today with the shitty grip. Bracing your arms out in front of you for the impact to come, you’re surprised when you find yourself in the strong, safe grasp of… your boss.

“Easy there,” he murmurs. Kim Namjoon must be a leopard hybrid of the highest order. You neither heard nor saw him a second ago. And now, he’s steadying you with his arm around your waist, his umbrella over you.

God. He’s so close.

Namjoon knows he held you for a second longer than he probably should, but it’s a second that he will cherish and play over and over again in his mind later. “You should remember your umbrella next time,” he says, trying to distract himself from petrichor, the smell of rain, mingled with the scent of a woman— your scent.

“I should,” was all you can reply, too affected by how your shoulders and elbows are bumping against each other underneath the umbrella to say more. Were you imagining the reluctance in his fingers when he let go of your waist just now? You shiver at the thought. It can’t be.

Namjoon sees it and thinks you’re cold, the wind picking up speed now. He wonders if he should take off his suit jacket and drape it around you temporarily; at least until you get to the shelter of the shop. But then his jacket would smell like you and he’s not sure if he would be able to concentrate for the rest of the day after that.

His own instinct for survival kicks in and overtakes his heart. No, his jacket stays on.

“Glad I went out to get a coffee earlier or I wouldn’t have seen you.” He’s trying to explain why he’s here, beside you; trying to hide the fact that he saw your lithe figure struggling up the hill, and how he worried when he spied you without an umbrella.

He can’t believe he’s lying.

So he doesn’t say anymore, just gives you his arm to hold while you negotiate the slippery sidewalk. It’s wiser than holding you; letting go of you for the second time would prove to be difficult.

You’re quiet, rendered blind by your rapidly fogging up glasses, deaf by the drumming of raindrops, mute by the closeness of his presence, and crippled by your stupid, stupid shoes.

But you can smell, and you can feel.

And, dear reader, he smells amazing. Like strength and trust. And somehow, it makes you feel quite, quite safe.

-----------------------------------------

Inside the shop, he grabs a towel from the back and gives it to you. You murmur a word of thanks as you quickly fumble open your satchel to take out a sketchbook, groaning when you see that the rain has soaked through the pages of the book. You try to dab away the damp pages with the towel, but the water damage is already extensive.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, could I lay these out on the counter? I know they don’t look like much, just pencil sketches really, but I hope I could dry out each page before they stick to each other. It’s just—I spent so many hours on—"

“Go on.” It amuses him that you didn’t even bother to dry your dripping hair, nor the soaked dress wrapped around your body.

You carefully take out each sketch and lay it across the glossy surface, every art piece precious, every penciled stroke so intimately a part of you that you know its when, where, and why.

It feels like you’re laying bare yourself to a stranger. You wish he weren’t here, wish his prying eyes weren’t raking over the drawings.

But for the sake of your sketches, you soldier on, murmuring an apology to each naked sketch, unpainted and unfinished, as you thrust it on the cold glass of the counter.

Namjoon loses count of exactly how many drawings there are, every picture inviting him to see the world through your eyes.

The ladybird, quiet and brooding with the weight of the world on her shoulders as she considers a leaf.

The field of daffodils like a class of eager children waving their stretched hands to answer an easy question from the sun.

“When do you find time to draw?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the sketches, moving slowly along the counter to admire each one. He knows if he looks at you, he might do something fucking stupid after catching a glimpse of your body under the sheer, translucent dress.

“Here and there. Sometimes after I finish dusting here at the shop. Sometimes when I go home. Or even on the bus.”

He senses your apprehension with the last pages of your sketchbook that you’re clutching to your bosom. “Don’t hide them from me. They’re beautiful,” he says gesturing to the rest of your pictures. “Let me see, please.”

At his request, you offer the last two pieces to him. His gaze is intense as he zeroes in on the clever curve of the leopard’s tail on your paper. He stares at it, instantly recognizing his own steely gaze in the big cat, the signature scowl on the left side of his jaw drawn to perfection.

And then, there’s the picture of the fig tree—its trunk, leaf, and flower etched as if by the hand of god. Lost in his thoughts, he’s clutching on the two sketches a little too tightly than you like.

“Mr Kim. Mr. Kim. Um, could I have it back please?” Any moment now and he might tear it. It might be just a sketch but it’s still a piece of work that you treasure.

He snaps back to reality and finally notices his fingers are almost ready to crumple the flimsy paper bearing your sketch. “Shit. I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” he apologizes. “Here. Don’t stop drawing. They’re perfect. Just, uh… don’t stop. I’ll be in my office. Let me know when my ten o’clock arrives.”

You nod quietly, glad to have some time to clean up and get dry, but also a little puzzled as to what came over your boss.

————----------------------------

Namjoon bursts out into his office, glad to sink into his chair, comforted by the familiarity of his desk and surrounded by his array of pipettes, testing strips, glass bottles, and vials. They are uncomplicated things, precise and emotionless. Dependable. Predictable.

For a cat hybrid, he is more a lone wolf than anything, preferring the solace of his own company, the solitude of his thoughts. The memories of his dad had almost suffocated him out there on the shop floor. Emotions are not his forte.

The picture you drew ushered the smell of figs to him, bringing him back immediately to that fateful evening where a plate of freshly cut figs lay ignored on his father’s mahogany desk.

“Son, it’s time to stop the fucking around and take your place in the company.”

“I’m sorry, but my answer is still no. It’s just not me. I can’t report to a dozen board members, to thousands of shareholders.” And most of all, if he cared to admit it, he couldn’t report to his overbearing father.

When will his father ever understand he prefers the calm of sandalwood to the clamor of the boardroom? That he loves the complexities of jasmine, and fucking hates the backstabbing in the corporate world? Even with his fancy Sloan School MBA which his father had insisted on, his interests surely lie more in perfume than price projections for the quarterly report.

“Namjoon, walk out of here and you will amount to nothing. You hear? Nothing. Your duty is here. Your legacy is here. Your future is here. I’ve planned it out for you. It’s yours for the taking. Stay here. Stay home.”

He remembers how he took the house key out of his pocket and placed it next to the plate of figs. How he felt free when he turned and started for the doors. His dad did not follow him nor call after him, but it was the scent of fig which pursued him, saturating his pores, tempting him to walk out of paradise with shame and regret like the first sinner in the family.

But no, he had stalked out of there, head held high, finally a master of his own destiny.

Namjoon wishes he didn’t have to revisit these memories brought on by your drawings. But oh god—your drawings.

Who knew his pretty little assistant could draw so well?

Your style is a little raw, a little wild; unrestrained yes, but also, lively. He’s intrigued. He wants to find out more—because, he tells himself, because, he’s an art collector. His interests are purely business.

Really.

----------------------------------

The next day you arrive at the store to set up for the day’s clients when you notice a stack of Strathmore sketch pads of thick, heavy paper and Caran D'ache sketch pencils wrapped in satin blue ribbon. Written simply on the card, were the words Don’t stop.

It looks expensive as hell and you know it’s meant for you, but there’s no way you can accept it. Better your one-dollar pencil on recycled paper than a debt owed to a hybrid family you cannot repay.

And so you leave it at the corner of the glass counter, its shiny mirrored surface mocking you for your prudishness for not accepting his gift every time you glance in that direction.

Oh but fuck, how your hands itch to test the glide of smooth graphite on the cream of the paper. You know you cannot. You know you must not. Your mama has taught you never to be indebted to anyone or anything. There’s danger written all over that gift. The sample vial of perfume was different. That was something he would have thrown away. But this—this is different.

With a sigh, you take out the polishing cloth, determined to finally deep-clean his desk and office chair before he comes in. He’s usually in by this time, already hard at work in his private office. It’s a good thing you can give it a go today.

Mixed in the grain of the dark, rich leather chair, you catch a whiff of his scent. It smells of power, tempered with a softness you’re surprised to detect. You can’t help but press your nose into its plush cushioned back a little more.

It reminds you a little of the sweetness of hay mixed with the musk of the stable horses on your grandparents’ farm. You rub the polishing cloth all over the leather chair, dreaming of those carefree days. How good it felt to go barefoot in the soft earth, dandelions spread across the carpet of grass like rich, yellow butter.

Next, his black mirrored desk.

You use the special glass polish for this, making sure not to smudge the desk with your fingers.

The mirrored surface is unforgiving, and you see the tiny scar above your lip, the one the bully gave you at the playground (for which you returned a black eye) when you were six.

And there there’s your non-hybrid eyes, looking entirely plain, and completely uninteresting. You sigh. If only to be born a hybrid. Imagine the riches, the privilege, the—

you catch his eyes in the mirror of the desk.

“Mr. Kim!” you gasp, “Shit, you scared me!”

“Sorry. Didn’t expect you here. You’re usually out at the front,” he says.

“I—I just wanted to give it a clean,” you say. “I apologize—”

“No, it's fine. I’ll just head out and come back later—” he says.

“I’m actually done here,” you offer.

“Great. Thanks.” He watches as you gather the cleaning supplies and leave, his gaze never intrusive, but never leaving your retreating form.

“About the pencils and paper—” he begins.

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept such a gift,” you apologize.

“Well, what if I say, I want you to draw whatever inspires you in the shop and we can consider which ones to put around the shop or use as graphics for new labels for the perfumes?”

He senses your hesitation, so he ploughs on, “I’ll put it in your job description so it’s not like you’ll have a choice.”

Draw? As part of your job?

“Mr. Kim. I may be a poor employee, but I always have a choice,” you say quietly.

He takes a moment to savor the shape of your words and their quiet dignity. “Well damn. I apologize for being out of line. I hope by now, you know you are anything but a poor employee to me.”

He doesn’t know what the hell he means by that. It just slipped out. “Just… do whatever you wish. You should know by now that I trust you. If the daily duties are done, you’re free to use the time as you see fit.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim. I appreciate it.”

“For the hundredth time, it’s Namjoon.”

“Certainly, Mr. Kim,” you say, the corners of your mouth lifting into a wry smile. You’ve never called him Namjoon and never will. He should know that by now.

He smiles back, genuinely, dimples winking as he breaks into a little laugh.

The tension subsides between the both of you and somehow the air in the shop feels a little lighter than before.

———————————————-

Soon after, you begin to realize that you have less to do in the day. The perfume oils for sampling by each day’s clients are already decanted into the little vials when you arrive for work. And then, the black marble floors seem to look effortlessly clean. Plus little corners of the shop shelves seem to have had a dusting before you could get to it.

All of a sudden, you have so much more time to spend on your drawings (though you’re still not using any of the art materials he bought).

What the hell is going on?

You have a theory, and to test it, you decide to deliberately leave your scarf behind when you head out of the shop after work.

Twenty minutes later, you return to the shop. Through the glass windows, you spy the back outline of his form, mopping the floor as elegantly as a leopard hybrid would.

You hurry to unlock the door with your key and step onto the shop floor.

“Mr. Kim. What are you doing?” you ask, voice trembling. “Did I not do a good job?”

He turns to face you and actually looks guilty.

“No. No. I, uh, I just wasn’t hungry for dinner yet, so I thought I’d work on the floor,” he says. For all the confidence he exudes, he looks like a little schoolboy right now, hand caught in the cookie jar.

“You’re not very good at lying,” you say quietly. “Are you doing this so I have time to draw?”

Kim Namjoon wishes he doesn’t have to answer this but you’re staring at him and staring at him and suddenly he feels a little weak. “So, why are you back?” he asks, hoping to gain back some control over the rapid unravelling of the evening.

“I—I, ah, forgot my scarf.” God, that sounded pathetic.

“You’re not that convincing either,” he muses.

And then you’re looking at him and he’s gazing at you, and you wait for words that always come so easily to you but none arrive.

“Listen. It’s getting late. I know this little cafe two streets over. Do you...”

“Mr. Kim.” God. Why do you sound so needy? With great difficulty, you pluck the words one by one from your mind instead of letting them flow from your heart. “You’re right. It’s late. I—I better go.”

You turn quickly to go before you stop yourself. Any moment longer and you might actually say something stupid.

As you step out into the cold, you remind yourself that he’s part of the hybrid ruling class. Hybrids that look at you scornfully when they walk in. Hybrids that speak to you like you’re stupid. Hybrids that use a sanitizing wipe for their hands after you hand them their bottle of bespoke fragrance.

And lest you forget: you’re not his type.

He’d said so himself.

Didn’t he?

—————————————

After a while you get used to sketching and slowly move on to watercolors when it gets quiet at the shop, drawing inspiration from the scents around. The oud smells of longing, the geranium of innocence and wonder, ambergris reminds you of regret, while the coriander reminds you of mayhem and mischief.

Namjoon sees how the lines on your sketches are bolder, stronger. Your play with the color palette has become more adventurous, brushstrokes surer than before.

Just earlier today, he complimented you on the color blending, said your little painting reminded him of Sargent’s work. You blushed, proud that the wet washes and sponging you used caught his attention in the best way possible.

When you return to the shop, you’re surprised to hear an unfamiliar male voice coming from his office, the door uncharacteristically open.

“Namjoon, don’t you think it’s time to end this charade of yours? You are our only son. Come home and do the right thing.”

“Come home to marry someone I haven’t even met? For the sake of the family company? Like I’m part of a business deal? I’m done with that shit.”

“Is there someone else?”

“I’m not going to even answer that question.”

“So there is someone. She better be a hybrid. You’re going to regret this. What will this shop amount to? Nothing. What will you, on your own, amount to? Nothing. But come home and I guarantee you will have everything you want.”

“Everything I want? You can’t even give me the one thing I need.”

You know you should not eavesdrop. That this is a private matter between your boss and his father. You’re just about to turn around to leave when the elder Mr. Kim steps out of the office and saunters to the front doors, pointedly ignoring you.

When he finally reaches the entrance, he turns and gives you a disdainful once-over which makes you feel uncomfortable as hell. You feel like a piece of meat he’s inspecting, one he finds terribly lacking. But, still he waits. Then you understand he’s not going to open the doors himself to exit the shop.

In an exaggerated show of duty, you rush there and hold the door open, bowing deeply as he makes his departure.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, making sure he hears you before you quickly close and lock the door behind him. The elder Kim looks back and glares through the glass panel. You return the glare with an indifferent shrug only to turn around and bump right into your boss.

“I heard that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, I couldn’t resist.” You’re not sure if you’re truly sorry, but it just felt like the polite thing to say to your boss after he catches you swearing at his own father.

“I was never good enough for him, you know,” he says quietly. “I went to the best schools, topped the class, graduated with summas, but still, he was never satisfied. And when I took over operations and turned it around, it was still not good enough. I had to walk away.”

There’s a glimmer of hurt in his eyes, a little catch in his throat. You wonder if you could comfort him with a hug. Whether his chin might press on the top of your head. Would you pull away first or would he?

He, surely. He’ll never see anything in you.

“Sometimes, walking away is the best thing we can do ourselves.” You’re about to reach for his arm to give a short, comforting squeeze but you decide against it at the last second, bringing your hand up awkwardly to smooth your hair.

Namjoon noticed how your hand lingered for a split second over his and swallows hard, not knowing why he even held his breath.

“You share the same name, Mr. Kim. But—but your heart is different. You’re not him.” It’s hard for you to walk away, yet you must.

As he watches the back of your silhouette disappear into the stockroom, he wishes he had the courage to ask you to stay to talk, just for a while. He wants you to reassure him again.

But he’s been a loner for so long that those words can’t come to him anymore.

At night, in the darkness of his shop, he sits alone in his office chair and weeps.

----------------------------------------------

It’s 8 p.m., closing time, and you’re rearranging the last row of crystal flasks of perfume when the door flings open violently, a gust of cold air blowing into the warmth of the darkened shop.

“Where is he?” the icy voice demands.

You recognize the face. A newish client, she’s absurdly beautiful, golden eyes, long-limbed, and perky in all the right places except in her demeanor. You remember how she was late for her own appointment and was extra demanding. Bitch would be completely inappropriate since she is a cat hybrid.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. We’re closed now. Could I pencil you for an appointment with Mr. Kim tomorrow?” You keep your voice low, respectful.

“I want to see him. Now.” She strides towards his office at the back of the shop. You hurry to keep her from barging into his office.

“I’m so sorry. He’s not available at the moment. Perhaps I could offer some assistance?”

She looks you up and down with disdain. “And what do you think you can offer me?” quiet scorn dripping over each word.

“I am his assistant. Mr. Kim has deemed me fit to assist you,” you say, just as quiet, just as lethal. She backs you into the door of his office, eyes flashing with anger. Like hell you’ll give in to this self-entitled hybrid trash.

“I know what people like you want.” She reaches into her bag and pinches out a crisp fifty thousand won note between her delicate fingers, perfectly manicured. “You’re all the same.” Sliding the corner of the note to your cheek, she snaps it, each lightning quick thwack eager to remind you of your poverty. “I want. your. boss.”

“That’s enough,” his voice, dark and thick, slices in. The heat of his body is suddenly behind you, and you feel a measure of comfort that he’s now here.

“Namjoon—” she purrs, a smile, sweet and sickening, consumes her entire face.

“It’s Mr. Kim,” he says.

“Namjoon, this… this thing—" she points at you “—said you weren’t available. But you prrromised I can come to you anytime.”

“It’s Mr. Kim, and yes, anytime within office hours. Unfortunately, office hours are over, as are my services for you from now on.”

“My, my. So prrrrrotective over a little staff?”

“Out. Now.”

The tight clench of his jaw is unmistakable.

“Jooooonieeee, you know I didn’t mean it. I can play nice,” she purrs, suddenly playful.

“Out,” he says, resolute.

“It’s true then,” she smirks with a triumphant smile. “Daddy says your father told everyone this shop won’t amount to anything. That you won’t amount to anything. That you never know a good deal even if it were right in front of you.” She sighs airily, “Pity. I did like those samples.”

“I’m glad you did. You sure took enough,” you retort.

She turns to you, glaring. “Pity about the face.” With lighting reflexes, she raises her hand and scratches the side of your cheek with a single, freshly manicured nail.

The sting of her nail barely registers as you start to throw a punch back at her, but suddenly remembering your own dignity, you thought better of it, lowering your fist as fast as you raised it. It’s not worth it. She’s not worth it.

“OUT.” The snarl he emits reverberates within the shop and she flinches. Actually flinches.

Slinking off, she saunters toward the door, swaying her hips, pert nose in the air, sure that he’s watching her. “Get her trained prrrroperly,” she announces before slamming the door behind.

Namjoon turns to look at you.

You’re burning with anger, shame, disgusted with her and with yourself. You’ve never raised your hand against someone after the playground incident so many years ago. Today, you'd almost lost control.

A single drop of crimson slides down your cheek.

“Fuck. She hurt you,” he murmurs as he cups your cheek.

“I’m okay. Really.” You’re flustered by his tenderness, suddenly so close to him.

With something that can only be blamed on animal instinct, he leans into you, and licks up the side of your cheek, catching the bead of blood on the tip of his tongue.

He feels warm, wet, and just the tiniest bit rough and you moan on reflex, tilting your head back, not knowing why or how as you bare the smooth expanse of your neck to him.

“Mr. K—Kim.”

Namjoon does not hesitate often. But he does for a split second. “It’s Namjoon. It’s always Namjoon with you.” He’s breathing so hard, nostrils flaring from effort to not devour you completely. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh shit. This is just like in a fanfic.

You take a deep breath and say the word which dances across your dreams at night, the name which you forbid yourself to say in the day. “Namjoon.”

He’s no longer Mr. Kim. He’s Namjoon to your Y/N. Everything in him is fully awake, completely alert. He leans in and licks the little cut on your cheek again, but this time, he doesn’t just stop there. This time, he continues to trail his tongue down the curve of your jaw, and up the other side. “Need you,” he whispers by your ear, arms curling lightly around your shoulder to anchor his hands that want to run all over your body.

You tell yourself you don’t need him; no, not the way he needs you. You only want him. And wants come and go. Wants don’t always get fulfilled. You of all people should know that by now. Today, you’ll have your fill. And that’s enough.

“Just for today,” you whisper. “Only today.” You repeat it again, for yourself, because there won’t be a tomorrow of this anymore. There’s no way he would need you again.

“Only today,” he echoes, lying to you and to himself.

He licks your earlobe, sending thrills across your spine, teeth nipping lightly against your skin. He’s eager to mark you, the leopard instincts from his hybrid heritage returning in full force. He noses your clothed shoulder, fingers deftly working off the buttons on the front of your prim, starched shirt.

Feeling shy, you're sure that you can’t compete with the models he must have dated. Clutching tightly to the two open halves of your shirt, you’re afraid to disappoint him.

“Don’t hide from me. You’re beautiful. Let me see, please.”

With shaky fingers you let the halves of your shirt part, revealing the curves of your breasts to him.

Beautiful. Slowly, he lifts your chin with a finger. “Look at me.”

You’ve always shied away from meeting his gaze straight on, always wary that you hunger for more than just the touch of his eyes.

But now, at the command of his voice, you can only obey.

“You're beautiful. And you're strong, stronger than anyone I know. You’re strong for me. And—" Namjoon swallows. Growing up, his father had always stressed the Kim motto: Always First. Always Strong. Always Right.

“—and I’m weak for you,” he finishes, the realization finally out in the open.

“Just for today,” you remind him, trying to blink back tears. “Be weak for me. Only today.” It’s better this way, with no hope of tomorrow to disappoint.

Namjoon knows he will be weak for you today and tomorrow and every day after. He takes you to his desk, the place he finds himself daily, because he knows he’s going to want to remember this every fucking day for the rest of his life.

Gently, he sits you on the mirrored surface, marking the curve of your shoulder with his kisses as he eases off your shirt. Laving at your skin, he nips against your collarbone, trailing his tongue lower and lower to your covered breasts, easing the cup of your bra to the side as he licks the soft, full flesh there. “Can’t stop tasting you,” he murmurs against your skin.

He inhales the scent between the valley of your breasts, trapping his nose between the smooth curves of silky skin as he draws a low moan from you. Fingers roaming your back, he unhooks your bra to tongue gently at your nipples. You press his head closer, arching your back towards him, wanting more of his mouth on the tight, tender flesh. He complies, and angles you back a little more, crying out with pleasure each time you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth on your breast.

“Feels so good. Oh god.” Panting with want and lust, you plead, “Let me touch you too.”

“Go on then. Touch me.” Namjoon steels himself not to move as you explore him, fingers outlining the sides of his face, his jawline that’s so familiar by sight, yet strangely unfamiliar by touch. You’re wondering if he feels this hard, this strong everywhere.

Seared by the heat of your hand cradling his face, Namjoon noses the inside of your wrist immediately. He wants to breathe this in too. Wants the scent from your wrist all over his body, your fingers everywhere on his skin.

But your fingers are already going over each button, helping him shrug off his shirt, tracing the faintest of leopard markings under the skin of his torso. It’s a mesmerizing pattern. You brush your fingers over his pecs, around the dusky disc of his nipples, down the line of his abs.

Your artist’s eye sees his beautiful, sleek proportions, heavy with muscle and sinew.

Uncertainly, your fingers hover over his belt, the dark bulge of his pants a strangely erotic sight. There’s no turning back once you go there.

“Don’t you stop now,” he whispers. “Don’t give up on me.”

His words give you the confidence to continue. When you finally undress him, pants and boxers pooling around his feet, you’re overwhelmed at his naked vulnerability. “Should I—Can I?” you ask.

Namjoon almost chokes at the way you stare at him with innocent wonder. “Just use your instincts. Just feel.” All other words are impossible the moment you wrap your fingers around his flesh. He braces his hands against the desk on either side of you lest he comes apart too soon, allowing you full access to explore him. He grunts tightly as you stroke him, circling the sensitive opening at the tip.

Instinct says taste. You drop down to your knees. Palming his throbbing length, you lick the liquid beading around the head of his flesh.

“What are you doing?” His fingernails are digging desperately into the unforgiving surface of the glass desk, but there is no relief to be found. “Oh god. Please. Please, take me in.” He remembers how he’d found you kneeling before his chair, putting your nose in the leather as you cleaned it, how for a fleeting moment, he’d pictured you just like this, rosebud lips wrapped around his cock.

On your knees, you feel powerful, making this man speechless and wordless; your tongue, throat, and hollowed cheeks rendering him breathless with desire.

His large hand is warm and soft against your face as you slide his length into your mouth again and again. “No more,” he gasps, “not for our first time.”

Supporting you in his arms, he pulls you up to meet his gaze and you swear his hooded eyes flash a brighter yellow for just a second.

“Am... am I doing something wrong?”

Bringing his lips right against yours, he confesses quietly, “I am. I’m doing everything wrong.” With slow brushes of his lower lip between yours, he urges yours apart. “I shouldn’t kiss you,” he whispers as he traces the curve of your lips with his tongue. “But I am.” The kiss is long and languorous. He takes his time, lets you explore him, noses bumping as you taste him and he drinks you.

“Shouldn’t undress you.” He reaches for the back button of your skirt, and unzips you, easing the material down. Unhooking the bra to let it fall off softly, he fingers the waistband of your panties, eyes questioning if it’s okay. Silently, you place your hand over his to slide it down your thighs. “But I am,” he says, eyes trailing down your entire naked expanse.

“Most of all, I shouldn’t fuck you here at my desk. But—”

“But I want you to.” Pressing your naked flesh against his, you curl your arms around his neck, face hiding in his chest in your desperation. “I want you to.”

This time, there’s no more rain to give him an excuse to hold you, no more umbrella to pretend he wants you close. He pulls you into him; moulding you to him, melding him into you. With flesh against flesh, there’s no denying now the liquid heat between your legs. “You’re so wet. How is it you want me? A man who will not amount to anything?”

It’s there again. The hurt. Unlike the cut on your face, his wound is much, much deeper. “That’s him. That’s not you.” Still pulled flushed against him, you place your palm over his pounding heart. “You’re different. Here.”

Namjoon shuts his eyes at your words. “Say that again.”

“You’re different from him.”

He is not his father.

A great relief washes over him. It’s something he couldn't say to himself until you said it. He is not his father. He is not his father. He is not his father!

He kisses the top of your head, grateful for the day you stumbled into his shop, grateful that you want him like this. The fragrance he cannot have enough of fills his senses. There’s ylang ylang. There’s jasmine. A hint of bergamot. He inhales deeply, sighing, “How are you so good for me?” Sliding one hand down your thigh, he lifts it up to his hip so that you feel the hardness of his cock against you. “Let me be good for you.”

“Please. Please don’t let me wait anymore.” A dull ache throbs within you, and the searing of his skin against yours has steadily pooled arousal in the apex of your thighs.

“I won’t let you wait. I’ve waited long enough. Turn around.” Reluctantly, he unhooks your leg from him and stands behind you. “We are going to do this the proper way.”

Bracing a strong arm around your waist, he bends you over his mirrored desk, your nipples hardening even more when they brush across the cool surface of his desk. “So sensitive,” he whispers against the back of your neck, “I saw that.”

A shower of sparks shoot down your spine as he kisses the back of your neck, the other hand fondling over your breasts; the front of your body on full display in your reflection. You lean your head into him, writhing at every slow lick and hot breath and soft kiss on your neck.

His hands dip between your legs, easing them apart. “Let me prep you. I bet you’re so tight, bet I can’t even put in a finger.” He’s probably right. You know you’re wet, embarrassingly so, but it’s been so long since you’d been with someone else.

“N-Namjoon, please go slow. It’s—it’s been a while.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. Never. Can you trust me?”

You nod, too overtaken by the sensations of his fingers playing along your folds to speak.

“Just use your instincts,” he murmurs again into the shell of your ear.

Instinct says to feel.

With teasing fingers, he continues to draw low whimpers from you, before he goes on to circle your clit gently. Sliding a finger in, he feels you shudder. “Easy there. Breathe for me.” He feels your legs clamping around his fingers like a vise, the tremors beneath your skin as your breath gets shorter and harder.

You’re dripping a little now, making a mess between your legs. It’s getting harder to stand as he hooks two fingers into you, rubbing softly. “Oh my god.”

“You getting there?”

“Y-yeah. Hold me. Hold me.”

Namjoon feels a surge of pride that he gets to hear you like this, gets to feel you come apart just from his fingers. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

The orgasm blooms through you—shakes you at your core, curls your toes—as you arch back into him. He’s as good as his promise, lending you his strength, supporting you completely as you fall into him.

He takes the opportunity to nuzzle into your hair again, alternating with kissing you along the nape of your neck, and catching a whiff of your scent behind your ear. “Can’t stop smelling you.”

Flushed and euphoric from your high, you don’t stop yourself from asking, “Tell me… tell me what do I smell like?” Your gaze shyly meets his in the reflection of the mirrored surface.

With his nose pressed behind your ear, the answer is clear to him. “Home,” he breathes, “You smell like home.”

His answer shouldn’t make you cry. But it does. “Then make your home in me,” you whisper. “Just today.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He nudges your legs apart with a muscled thigh, groaning with satisfaction as he feels you wet arousal on him. “Coming in,” he murmurs, angling you lower so he can help you adjust to the intrusion of his cock into your core. You gasp at how thick and hot he is, how just a little bit of him inside you already feels so good.

“Goddamn. You’re tight.” He groans as he tells himself to slow down. He’s not going to rush this if he can help it. Breathing hard, he waits for you to accommodate him, stroking your back lightly and then your hips to reassure you.

You want more, and you push back tentatively, longing to feel completely full of him, but a little fearful if you can take a hybrid without falling apart. Grimacing at the inviting way you slide your ass backward into him, he thrusts shallowly, a gentle finger on your clit, coaxing you to take more of him.

Instinct says to meet him.

This time, you slide back to meet his thrusts, delighting in his thick girth filling you. “Feels good. So good,” you sigh.

Namjoon sees you’re ready and doesn’t hold back anymore. “You’re wrong. Nobody goes home for just one day,” he says with ragged breath against your ear as he surges fully into you. “They go home every day.” He pulls himself back a little, feeling the tightness of your slick walls squeezing around him to stop him from pulling out completely.

Shielding your entire back with his own body, he thrusts in once more, eager to bury himself inside your warmth. Bringing his face next to yours from behind, he says it again, “Every day.”

“Every day,” you whimper back.

He loves seeing your face in the mirrored reflection, how it twists with yearning when he’s all the way inside you. He relishes the arch of your neck into him, sweet mouth open and moaning for him at every thrust, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you cry. “Don’t stop, don’t stop dontstopdontstop.”

The words from him are now echoed back into his ears. Namjoon doesn’t stop. He won’t. He can’t. Thrusting into you, he feels a surge of power ripping through him. He wants to give you all his strength, wants to take all your softness for himself.

In the quiet of his office, your combined moans reverberate around the stark walls, the rhythmic push and pull of your bodies are the only other sounds that fill your senses as you focus on offering yourself to him.

“Look at me when I come,” he commands, his chin pressing on your shoulder. “Open your eyes, and see what you do to me.”

You open your eyes, and can hardly recognize yourself in the reflection on his desk. The little scar on your lip, the wound from just now, the plain face that you’ve always wished were more exotic are all inconsequential. There’s tenderness in the way he looks at you, a softness and desperation no one has ever looked at you with.

“Namjoon.” You feel a little pathetic at how much you want him, at how good his name feels on your tongue. You whisper it again because tomorrow, he’ll be Mr. Kim once more.

“I’m close. So close,” he moans now, dying to hold on this feeling as long as he can. He pants with effort as he fights to keep his thrusts slow and long and hard, before his instincts take over and he loses control. When you clench harder around him, meeting his eyes in your combined reflection, Namjoon feels a last surge of raw need rip through him, and he comes with a low roar, hips stuttering wildly into you.

You feel the hot spurt of his seed inside you, his deep groan of satisfaction thrilling you immensely. He’s kissing the back of your neck, across your shoulders, hands lazily playing with the globes of your breasts. He’s quiet as he pulls out, enjoying the sight of his cum and yours leaking down the inside of your thighs.

“You’re wonderful. Want you again,” he teases your earlobe, nuzzling the plump flesh there.

“Now?”

“Not now,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. But only if you do. Are you sore?”

How can I, when I’m wrapped under you? No, not today. Tomorrow, my heart will be.

“No. Not at all.” You’re strong. And greedy. You want him as much as he will want you today.

“Let’s go back to my place. I want to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

You feel vulnerable because god, you want it too. But if he wants tomorrow with you, you have to ask. “When your father asked you… if there’s someone else, and you didn’t answer him…”

“It’s none of his business,” he replies curtly. “But it is yours.” Taking a deep breath, he tells you the truth, “Because there’s been no one else. Not for a long while. And when you walked in that day with those flowers, there couldn’t be anyone else.”

And so, dear reader, there was tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow.

And of course, you broke all your rules about hybrids because you still worked with him after you were made partner. And you went on many, many dates with him. And you fucked him many, many, many times.

But you’re okay with it.

After all, your Dad had also said:

Rules are meant to be broken.

~The End~

-----------------------------------

Posted on June 30, 2021 by sahmfanficbts. All Rights Reserved © 2021 @sahmfanficbts. Please do not translate, post or upload this content on to any platform including YouTube without permission. This is a work of fiction.

Author's Note:

Dear reader,

How are you?

According to my therapist, one important thing fathers and parents can do for their children is to help them believe a) You are loved and are worthy of love. b) You are capable - you have what it takes!

My own father was too busy to help me with these things. I grew up constantly insecure, seeking affirmation and love with many different people and relationships, in many different avenues and endeavors, made many, many stupid decisions in the process just because I was craving and craving and craving.

Today, I've found genuine friends who, every day, in various ways, affirm these truths for me, as I also try to do for them.

And while some days, I can only see the broken, needy parts inside; more and more, I see parts of me which are healing and mending slowly but surely with these friends.

This Father's Day, whether you grew up with a father or parent who was good and kind and true, or someone entirely different, I hope you believe that you are worthy of love, and you have what it takes.

Truly,

Sam.

P/S if you haven't, pls check out the samsung parfumerie ad. Jimin and Namjoon are.... chef's kiss

---

Launderette

Seokjin asks you to accompany him to an event that his ex and her new fiance are attending. What starts as a casual date ends up becoming more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Seokjin x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut, angst

Word count: 10.4k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, explicit language

The early Saturday morning sunshine bathes the street in a flattering pale gold glow, and by the time you’ve reached your uncle’s dry-cleaning shop to open up, you’ve shaken the last of the sleep from your eyes and are ready to go.

Your uncle, Che, has owned this shop for twenty years, inheriting it from your grandfather. It’s part of a small street of shops you’ve known all your life, from Oscar’s convenience store to Maribel the hairdressers, stretching all the way to the shiny new community centre that opened last year.

You unlock the door and scan through the collections list for today. You’re about to start a load of items when the door opens.

A tall, well-dressed man steps in.

You smile at him. ‘Good morning, how can I help you?’ you ask.

He nods politely at you. ‘I picked up a suit yesterday, but it’s still stained,’ he says, holding up the garment bag he’s carrying.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ you say, apologetically. ‘May I?’

You unzip his garment bag, revealing a beautiful light grey suit with an ink stain on the lapel.

Your uncle walks into the store as you’re examining the stain. ‘Mr Kim,’ he says, greeting the customer like he’s an old friend. ‘Can I help you?’

Mr Kim tells him what he’s just told you.

‘I’ll take care of this myself,’ Che promises him.

You spend the day taking care of older orders, pressing suits and delicates, double checking the clothes on the collections list.

It’s near the close of business when Mr Kim comes back. You’re on your own, your uncle’s left to pick your cousin up from baseball practice.

He smiles at you as you hand him his now perfect suit.

‘You don’t have anywhere in here where I could get changed, do you?’ he asks, looking a little embarrassed to be asking.

You laugh. ‘Sure. Go in the back and I promise not to look.’

He comes out as you’re finishing off tidying up.

‘Looking good,’ you tell him, amused, as he comes out.

You’re not flattering him, the grey suit emphasizes his broad shoulders, and tapers down beautifully to his trim waist. The trouser length is perfect.

You hold out your arms for the clothes he was wearing when he came in. ‘I can hold on to those here for you, if you want?’

He smiles at you gratefully. ‘Thank you. It’s just, I’m going out to a pre-wedding dinner with some friends, and it’s close to here, so it’s easier than going all the way home.’

‘No problem, where are you going?’ you ask, walking him out of the shop. You pause to lock up, and he waits beside you.

‘Just a little Peruvian place down the road from here,’ he says.

‘Pachamama?’ you guess. You check the door’s locked, pull the shutter down and lock it, and turn to look up at him in the late afternoon sun.

‘Yeah, you know it?’ he asks.

You smile at him. ‘I love it. The food’s amazing, my roommate Dia is one of the chefs.’

‘Do you want to come with?’ he asks, suddenly. He hesitates. ‘I mean, if you’re free tonight.’

You look up at him curiously.

‘It’s a pre-wedding dinner for my friend Namjoon, he’s getting married next week.’ He looks at you, and he almost seems shy, different from the confident persona he has in his beautiful suit.

‘My ex is going to be there, with her new fiancée.’ He smiles suddenly, self-deprecatingly, and it lights up his face. ‘It’s probably silly, but I guess I could use the company. I haven’t seen them together yet, I’ve been worrying about it all week.’

Something about his honesty touches you. Plus you love the food.

‘Sure,’ you say. ‘I need to get dressed though.’

He smiles, and he looks relieved, like a weight’s fallen off his shoulders.

‘I’m Y/N,’ you say.

‘Seokjin,’ he tells you, manners impeccable. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Seokjin,’ you say, testing out the syllables. ‘Do you want to drop by mine whilst I get ready? You’re probably a little early anyway.’

‘I’d like that,’ he tells you.

You take Seokjin to the tiny apartment you share with Dia. She’s on her way out when you get back.

‘I’m out all night,’ she says, waggling her brows outrageously at you and Seokjin, before you’ve even introduced him.

You burst out laughing. ‘Seokjin and I are going to Pachamama tonight.’

‘Seokjin. Great to meet you, I’m Dia. I’ll make sure you’re looked after tonight,’ Dia promises him. ‘Gotta go. I’m running late.’

She hurries out the door, and you smile affectionately. ‘We’ve known each other our whole lives,’ you tell Seokjin.

He’s looking around your tiny living room, barely big enough for two armchairs and a coffee table. The colourful throws over your armchairs liven up the place, as do the plants you painstakingly look after. There’s a breeze coming from your living room window, and a view of the next building. You love your little place.

You pour him a glass of wine from the bottle Dia’s left uncorked. ‘Get comfy, I’ll be twenty minutes.’

You touch up your makeup and slip on a black dress and heels. Your hair is behaving itself today, so you leave it to its own devices.

When you come out of your bedroom, Seokjin is perched by your open window.

‘Hot?’ you ask, sympathetically. ‘It’s boiling up here in the summer.’

He gets up. ‘Just checking out the view. But you are.’

‘But I am?’ you ask, a little confused.

‘Hot,’ Seokjin tells you.

You laugh, flattered despite yourself. ‘You are too,’ you tell him.

He offers you his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

On the walk to the restaurant, he tells you a little about his friends who are getting married. Namjoon works for a publishing company, as does his fiancée, Nara. They went to university together.

The other guests are members of the wedding party, friends of Nara’s and Namjoon’s. His ex, Hana, is good friends with Nara, and one of the bridesmaids.

As you walk into the restaurant, you’re greeted by Miguel, Dia’s boyfriend.

‘Y/N,’ he says, warmly. ‘Dia said you were coming, and bringing a date.’

‘It’s not a date,’ you say, laughing. ‘I’m accompanying a friend to a pre-wedding dinner. Seokjin, meet Miguel.’

‘The rest of your party’s already here,’ Miguel tells you and Seokjin.

As Miguel walks you to your table, you aren’t sure what to expect.

You definitely aren’t expecting the crowd of beautiful people you see. But maybe that was remiss of you, because Seokjin is beautiful, so why wouldn’t his friends be?

A tall man comes up to embrace Seokjin warmly. He turns to you, and you try not to stare at the pretty dimples that appear in his cheeks as he smiles down at you.

‘I’m Namjoon,’ he says. ‘This is my fiancé, Nara.’

You greet them politely. Nara is gorgeous, tall like Namjoon, with a mane of dark hair and legs that go on for days.

The next people to greet you are blond man with an outrageously flirtatious grin who introduces himself as Jimin, and a quiet man with a deep voice called Yoongi.

You’re trying your best to remember everyone’s names.

Beside you, Jin stiffens a little, and you look up to see a very beautiful woman. She’s around your height, and like Namjoon, when she smiles, dimples pop in her cheeks.

‘Jin,’ she says. She embraces him, and you don’t miss the way Jin automatically leans down so she can reach. It’s a learned movement, almost automatic, and you wonder how long they were together.

The handsome man behind her smiles at you. ‘I’m Minho, Hana’s fiancé,’ he tells you.

There are more introductions, more names you try hard to remember, but it’s all a bit of a blur by now.

You settle in with a beer next to Jin. ‘You ok?’ you ask, touching his arm.

He looks at you, and there’s something like gratitude in his eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he says.

He gestures to the menu. ‘What do you like?’

‘Tell you what, why don’t I ask what your friends like and I’ll get Dia to sort us out?’ you ask.

Your idea goes down a treat, and you slip out to the kitchen to see Dia, leaving Jin catching up with his friends.

Dia smiles knowingly at you. ‘Seokjin, huh? He’s hot.’ She calls out an order, and you hope the heat from the warming counter is enough to account for your warm cheeks so she doesn’t tease you.

‘He said I was hot,’ you say.

‘You are hot. That whole table is hot. Tell me why I decided to spend my days in a kitchen instead of being wined and dined?’ Dia rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

‘Because anyone can be wined and dined but it takes talent to do what you do?’ you ask.

Dia waves you away from the pass. ‘Get out of my kitchen and back to gorgeous Jin. I love you, Y/N. I’m going to make you a meal that’ll make Jin fall in love with you.’

She winks at you. ‘Then I’ll cater your wedding.’

You’re still laughing to yourself as you head back to the dining room.

Jin’s in the middle of a playful argument with one of his handsome friends, when Nara turns to you.

‘How do you know Jin?’ she asks.

‘Oh, I work at a dry cleaners. Jin drops his suits off to us,’ you say.

Nara smiles. ‘That tracks. Jin’s so particular about his clothes.’

‘I just want to do justice to this gorgeous face,’ Jin says, straight-faced.

‘You are pretty,’ you agree.

The food arrives, and to your pleasure, everyone seems to enjoy it, Namjoon, in particular.

Yoongi leans over. ‘Thanks for ordering for us, Y/N, the food is great.’

‘It’s a pleasure,’ you say easily. ‘My friend Dia’s great, isn’t she?’

‘She definitely is,’ Jimin says.

Dinner goes smoothly, Jin’s friends are charming, funny and try to include you in everything. You think Jin’s having a good time as well, he don’t know him that well but to you he looks more relaxed as the evening goes on.

Everyone’s going dancing after dinner, but you’ve got to be in early to open up the dry cleaners tomorrow, so you say your goodbyes.

You turn to Jin. ‘Thanks for having me,’ you say. ‘I had a nice time.’

Jin looks down at you. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

‘It’s only down the block, Jin,’ you protest.

Jin insists. He’s a nice guy, the more you get to know him the more you realise that his politeness seems to be ingrained in him. He’s unfailingly considerate, making sure you had enough on your plate, that your drink was topped up throughout dinner.

You wonder what he thinks of you.

You stop by the steps leading up to your building. ‘I guess I’ll see you around,’ you say, a little hesitantly.

‘Thank you,’ Jin says. ‘I was more stressed about it than I realised.’

You nod. ‘It was a pleasure.’

You’re about to turn away when he says, ‘there’s another dinner tomorrow night. It’s at a great sushi place downtown.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. I don’t know if you like sushi, but I’d love it if you could join me.’ Jin looks at you, waiting.

‘I love sushi,’ you say, and a warm smile blooms on his face.

‘I’ll pick you up at seven,’ he says. ‘We should probably exchange numbers.’

If someone asked, you don’t think you’d be able to explain why your heart feels so light as you skip up the stairs to your tiny top floor apartment.

***

Jin’s running late to pick you up, so you tell him you’ll meet him at the restaurant.

You’re waiting outside, wondering if you should go in, when two of Jin’s friends from last night approach you.

You recognise Yoongi, but you don’t remember the name of the other man. He’s tall, with a tattoo sleeve and an emo vibe you could get behind.

Yoongi greets you with what seems like genuine pleasure in his voice. ‘Y/N. Let’s go in.’

You head into the restaurant with Yoongi and the tattooed man, wondering if you’re dressed up enough. It’s an upscale Japanese fusion restaurant, with a sushi bar and a calming water feature at the entrance.

When you get to the table, Namjoon and Nara are already there, talking quietly to Hana and Minho.

Yoongi’s thrilled when he discovers you watch basketball, and is giving you a play-by-play of the game you missed earlier in the week when the tattooed man leans closer, and says, in an amused voice, ‘don’t mind hyung, he’s been talking about the game all week.’

‘At least Y/N’s polite enough to pretend to listen, Jungkook,’ Yoongi says, rolling his eyes.

You laugh at his expression. ‘I was listening, actually. If you’re in town we should go and catch a game together sometime.’

Yoongi insists on exchanging numbers with you. You’re saving his number on your phone when Jin rushes up to you, a little breathless.

He’s flushed and glowy, and he looks gorgeous as ever. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says. He focuses in on you. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come and pick you up,’ he tells you.

‘It’s ok, Jin, Yoongi’s been talking her ear off,’ Jungkook says, smiling at you mischievously.

Jin looks apologetic as he slides in next to you. ‘It’s fine, Jin,’ you tell him, patting his arm.

In between your entrée and dessert, you excuse yourself to get some fresh air, and stand for a moment admiring the water feature at the entrance.

‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ Jin asks. He smiles charmingly at you. ‘I really am sorry I was so late.’

‘Are you sure you don’t just like making a dramatic entrance?’ you ask, teasingly.

He laughs, self-deprecatingly. ‘Yes, but today wasn’t about that.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘I actually got sweaty hurrying here. There was so much traffic the taxi couldn’t get close.’

‘You’re cute when you’re sweaty,’ you tell him, watching the koi carp weave their way through the artificial stream.

‘And you look beautiful,’ Jin tells you.

You smile up at him. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d like my style. You seem like a classic kind of guy.’

‘It’s true, you do look too cool for me. You’d probably match better with Jungkook or Yoongi, clothes wise,’ Jin says, seriously. ‘Maybe you can style me.’

‘I think you’re perfect how you are,’ you say. ‘Lawyer chic is trending now.’

Jin laughs. ‘I actually am a lawyer.’

You chuckle. ‘Nothing wrong with that, Jin.’

He holds out his arm to you. ‘Come on. I ordered you dessert.’

Jin and you have similar tastes in food. He’s pleased when you rave over the matcha ice-cream he’s ordered you.

‘Let’s toast to Nara and Namjoon,’ Jungkook says, lifting his glass.

You lift your glass obligingly, and catch the way Hana’s looking at Jin as you toast.

He’s oblivious, smiling and joking with Yoongi. You glance at Minho, and realise he’s looking back at you. There’s a sardonic curl to his lips as he tips his glass to you.

The plum sake Namjoon has ordered is so delicious you drink way too much of it before you realise how strong it is.

You’re sipping water, trying to ward off the effects of the alcohol, when you feel Jin’s eyes on you. He nudges you, gently, leaning close so no one else can hear.

‘You ok?’ he asks, quietly.

‘I may have drunk too much,’ you whisper to him, worried.

He looks at you, at your wide eyes, your warm cheeks, and a corner of his mouth curls up.

‘I’ll take care of you,’ he says.

Jin orders you more water and a black coffee, and lets you lean into him as everyone else chats.

Yoongi, on the other side of you, passes you his water. He smiles at you kindly when you take a big gulp.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says.

You can feel your whole face heating up. ‘Do I look like a tomato, Yoongi?’ you ask.

Yoongi’s deep chuckle makes you smile. Jin turns to you. ‘I’d say more of a strawberry,’ he tells you. He hugs you to him, and you’re so self-conscious you miss the way his friends exchange glances at the way usually conservative Jin is holding you in front of them.

Jin hails a taxi after dinner. He nudges you. ‘Hey, quiet girl.’

There’s affection in his voice.

‘I’m too drunk to talk,’ you announce to him.

Jin laughs. ‘You’re cute.’

‘I hope I didn’t embarrass you in front of your friends,’ you say, widening your eyes.

Jin laughs again. ‘Please. Yoongi’s already texted me asking when we’re going to see you again.’

‘He’s cute too,’ you say.

‘Cuter than me?’ Jin asks in mock-outrage.

‘Maybe,’ you say. You peer at his face in the darkness of the taxi, and he winks at you.

‘Definitely,’ you say, nodding to yourself.

You fend off his hands as he tries to tickle you.

‘Take it back,’ Jin says, threateningly.

You double down. ‘Yoongi’s the finest man I’ve ever seen,’ you say firmly.

‘He’s the best,’ Jin concedes.

The taxi pulls up outside your building, and Jin gets out to help you out.

You stop outside your door. ‘I can take it from here,’ you say, smiling up at Jin.

He looks beautiful in the light from the streetlamps, his skin gleaming like burnished gold.

He looks at you for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite read.

‘Thanks for another great night,’ you say.

‘Thank you for making it great,’ he tells you. He shuffles his feet a little.

‘The wedding’s on Friday. I’d really like it if you’d be my date. Namjoon and Nara would love to have you.’

‘Is Yoongi going?’ you ask. You smile mischievously at him.

Jin rolls his eyes. ‘Brat.’

You touch his arm. ‘I’d love to go with you,’ you say, and you mean it.

‘It’s a date,’ Jin says.

You unlock your door, and he calls out after you.

‘Make sure you drink water!’

‘Yes dad,’ you say.

He laughs, and it’s the last thing you hear before your door closes.

***

Dia is excited to hear that Jin and his friends loved her food, and even more excited to hear that you’re meeting Jin again.

‘He’s way better looking than Leon,’ she tells you.

You’re sipping water and tucking into the huge breakfast she made you.

Leon is your ex-boyfriend, a guy you met at a club. You knew from the start that he was a great dancer, from your second date that he was great in bed. It took you another two months of dating him to realise he was also incredibly hot headed, impulsive and prone to starting fights.

You don’t mind a bit of drama, but after the third bar fight you pulled him out of, there was a moment when he turned on you - and that second of uncertainty wasn’t something you wanted to relive.

‘Jin’s gorgeous,’ you agree. ‘All his friends are.’

‘I told Miguel I’d use up a free pass on that tattooed guy,’ Dia says, pretending to fan herself. She gets up to refill your coffee mug.

You giggle. ‘How many free passes do you have?’ You know she’d never actually follow through, her and Miguel have been dating since high school.

Dia ignores you. ‘So where’s the wedding?’ she asks.

‘The Albion,’ you tell her.

‘So fancy,’ Dia says. ‘Want me to do your hair?’ She twirls a finger into your ponytail.

‘Sure, baby,’ you say. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’

‘Anytime,’ Dia says. ‘Up for a swim later?’

‘I’ll see you there,’ you promise.

***

You wave goodbye to Che and head down the street towards the community centre to meet Dia.

The community centre is newly built, and in your opinion, great for the neighbourhood. It’s got a pool, tennis courts, an indoor basketball court, a huge hall and baseball field. Your cousin plays little league here.

You swim a few laps with Dia and are walking home with a cherry snow-cone from the cart outside the community centre when you see a familiar frame.

‘Jin?’ you call.

He turns when he hears his name, and a smile spreads over his face. ‘What are you doing in the neighbourhood?’ you ask.

He holds up a garment bag. ‘I came to pick up my dry cleaning,’ he says.

Dia smiles at Seokjin. ‘What are you doing for dinner? I was going to try out a new recipe.’

Jin smiles at her. ‘I couldn’t impose.’

‘There’ll be plenty,’ you assure him. ‘Besides, you know what an amazing cook Dia is.’

‘You are great,’ Jin agrees.

Dia insists on you and Jin taking a walk before dinner so you don’t ‘get in the way’, as she puts it.

You take Jin to the park.

‘I’ve been thinking about you,’ he tells you. ‘I really am grateful that you’re accompanying me to all these wedding events.’

‘I’m having fun,’ you tell him. ‘How are you holding up?’

Jin looks out at the grass in front of him, at the setting sun. His profile is beautiful cast in pinks and oranges.

‘They look happy,’ he says, finally.

‘How long were you together?’ you ask, gently.

‘Five years. I wanted to marry her,’ Jin says. ‘She met Minho at work. She broke up with me.’ He glances at you, and there’s pain in his eyes.

‘That’s tough,’ you commiserate.

‘My family still ask me about her,’ Jin says.

You roll your eyes. ‘I dated a man for 2 months and my mom still asks about him.’

Jin grins at you. ‘That’s harsh.’

‘Tell me about it,’ you agree. You nudge him. ‘Come on. We can drown our sorrows in beer and gorgeous food.’

You walk back to your apartment, and true to form, Dia’s made an incredible meal.

You walk Jin out after dinner.

He leans against your door, and with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his throat exposed, his hair carelessly pushed back over his forehead, he looks delectable.

You make a concerted effort not to stare.

‘So, see you Friday?’ you ask.

‘I can’t wait,’ he tells you. He leans close, and for a second you think he’s about to kiss you, but he turns away.

You watch him go, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Dia smiles affectionately at you as you come back up.

‘He’s pretty hung up over his ex,’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

‘But he also can’t stop staring at you,’ she points out.

‘Mans got needs,’ you say, pulling her into a hug.

Dia ruffles your hair. ‘I’m just saying, I can’t get a read on him. Proceed with caution, my love.’

‘I’ll guard my heart,’ you tell her.

Dia smirks. ‘You do that. But also climb that man like a tree. Fuck he’s gorgeous.’

You burst out laughing. ‘Thanks for the advice, baby. Now go. I’ll clean up.’

***

Jin rings the doorbell, and you hurry down the steps to greet him.

He’s stunning. He’s wearing a tuxedo, perfectly tailored to fit him, as are all his suits, and his hair’s styled back. You try not to stare at his beautiful lips.

‘Whoa, are you real?’ you joke.

You expect him to laugh, but he’s quiet. Then you realise he’s staring at you.

You shift, a little self-conscious. ‘Do I look ok?’

He blinks. ‘God, I’m sorry you had to ask that,’ he tells you, and warmth blooms in your chest. ‘You look very beautiful. You look perfect.’

He holds out his arm to you. ‘I’m looking forward to having you on my arm tonight.’

You pull up outside the hotel at the same time as Yoongi, Jungkook and Jimin. Yoongi smiles at you warmly when he sees you, and Jungkook immediately pulls Jin aside to complain about how long Jimin took to get ready.

The banquet hall is stunning, decorated with a gold and silver theme. You’re taking a sip of your champagne when Hana and Minho approach you.

‘You look lovely,’ Hana tells you, politely.

‘You do too,’ you say, automatically, but it’s true. Hana’s wearing a beautiful red dress that skims over her figure. She looks expensive, flawless. Minho is equally well-dressed, but in your opinion Jin’s way better looking.

‘This colour scheme is gorgeous,’ Hana comments. She looks up at Minho. ‘We should do something similar for our wedding.’

‘When are you getting married?’ you ask.

‘Next summer,’ Hana replies.

You don’t know if Jin knows, but you know you need to change the subject quickly as he’s making his way over to you.

‘If you like Peruvian food, there’s a new restaurant that’s just opened up downtown that my friend Dia recommends,’ you blurt out.

Minho and Hana look at you strangely.

Jin reaches you then, and you smile at him. ‘We were just talking about Peruvian food,’ you tell him.

Hana turns to Jin. ‘Lovely to see you, Jin.’

Jin smiles at her, and he does that automatic tilt down so she can hug him. This time, it makes your heart squeeze a little.

You get an inkling then that you might be in trouble here.

You can’t develop feelings for a man who’s still pining over his ex.

You excuse yourself and go over to the balcony to get some air.

You’re looking out at the city view when you hear two older women mention Jin’s name.

‘I was surprised that Kim Seokjin and Lee Hana broke off their engagement,’ an older woman wearing black says.

‘It would have been fantastic for their families,’ the woman next to her agrees.

‘She seems happy with Chan Minho, though,’ the first woman says. ‘I wonder if Kim Seokjin’s moved on as well?’

‘He’s here with a girl. She’s not from a family we know, I doubt it’s anything serious.’

You’re a little thrown by this, by your feature in a conversation by people you don’t know. You gulp down the rest of your champagne, and feel a hand on your arm.

You look up and it’s Yoongi.

‘There’s a lot of gossip at these weddings,’ he says, not looking at you. He’s not loud, but his voice carries just the same in the clear night. You follow his line of vision, and realise he’s looking at the two women who were gossiping.

‘They’re about to start, let’s go to our table,’ he says. He holds out his arm, and you slip your fingers into the crook of it.

‘If you’re not from this world, consider yourself lucky,’ he tells you. He looks at you then. ‘People love talking about other people. It's meaningless.’

You smile gratefully at him. ‘I know that, Yoongi.’

He nods. ‘Has Seokjin told you how beautiful you look?’

You tug at your earring, and his fingers come up to straighten it.

‘I’m sure he has,’ Yoongi says. ‘Just in case you need to hear it again, you look stunning.’

He smiles at you. ‘Come on. The food is meant to be excellent.’

The food is excellent, the service impeccable. Namjoon and Nara are well-loved, judging by the speeches and the reactions of the guests. Jin's speech is characteristically sweet and funny. You sigh as you lean back in your seat. You love weddings.

You look around for Jin as the lights go down and the music starts to play.

You spot him, standing beside Hana. He leans down to her, and she takes his arm, smiling up at him.

He doesn’t see you, because he isn’t looking around. He’s only got eyes for Hana, and even you can appreciate how lovely they look, together.

The song that’s playing is slow, romantic. You recognise the singer, it’s one of your favourite songs at a wedding. Jin and Hana dance like they’ve been doing it for years, and you guess they have.

You look around for Minho, and realise he’s looking straight at you. He looks like he’s heading your way, and that makes you a little nervous, so you tap Jimin on the shoulder.

‘Want to dance?’ you ask Jimin. He looks a little surprised but agrees readily enough.

It turns out Jimin is an amazing dancer. There’s not much of a height difference between you, especially in your heels, and it makes it easy to follow his lead.

‘You’re so good!’ you tell Jimin, exhilarated.

He just smiles at you. ‘I love dancing,’ he tells you. ‘You’re a good partner.’

‘There’s a club near Pachamama that does live music on a Thursday, we should go sometime. You’d love it,’ you tell him.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. ‘Mind if I cut in?’ Jin asks.

Jimin lets go of you, telling you he’ll text you when he’s free to go dancing.

If Jimin’s an amazing dancer, so is Seokjin, though not necessarily for the same reasons. Jin is goofy, entertaining, secure enough in his good looks that he doesn’t mind looking silly to make you laugh.

You’re giggling at him when you see his expression change. You follow his line of vision and realise he’s looking at Hana and Minho, dancing together.

‘You ok?’ you ask, gently. ‘We can go if you want.’

‘Yeah,’ he tells you. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

He’s a little quiet in the taxi to your apartment.

‘Hey, you want to come up? We can watch a movie. Dia made this amazing lime granita today,’ you suggest. You can’t bear seeing him so deflated. You know what it’s like to not be over an ex.

Jin looks at you, and you smile. ‘I also have tequila,’ you coax.

The oversized sweats you toss Jin to change into are straining a little around the shoulders, but he looks good.

You put on a rom-com and fix margaritas for you and Jin.

‘To drinking our sorrows away,’ you say, holding up your glass. Jin clinks glasses with you, looking at you curiously.

‘What are your sorrows?’ he asks.

‘I work at a dry cleaners owned by my uncle. I’ll probably never be able to afford to buy my own place in this city. I’m single, and my last boyfriend was more interested in starting fights than spending romantic evenings with me.’ You smile at Jin, to let him know you aren’t entirely serious.

He touches your arm. ‘You’re beautiful, and kind and interesting. You live with your best friend who from what I can see, adores you, and I don’t blame her, because everyone who meets you seems to like you.’ He pauses. ‘And your last boyfriend? He sounds like an idiot.’

You’re touched. You take a sip of your margarita whilst you gather your thoughts. ‘He was an idiot,’ you say, finally. Your eyes meet Jin’s. ‘He tried to fight someone over a spilt beer.’

Jin looks thoughtful. ‘If I were going to fight someone it’d have to be something worth my time.’

You snort. ‘You tried to arm wrestle Jungkook for the last piece of sashimi the other night.’

‘I won, didn’t it?’ Jin retorts, looking proud.

‘Trust me, no one was expecting that outcome,’ you mutter.

‘I paid him to lose. So I’d look good in front of you,’ Jin says.

You stare at him for a minute before you realise he’s joking.

‘What do you know, anyway,’ Jin grumbles. ‘You were tipsy over half a glass of sake.’

You laugh. ‘It was strong!’

‘Thank God we’re already at yours, I don’t have to worry about you being sick in the taxi,’ Jin says.

You burst out laughing. Jin smiles, patting your hand, and you settle in to watch the movie.

You wake up the next morning in a pile of blankets and cushions. Your eyes land on the line of empty salt-rimmed glasses and then you realise there’s a more pressing issue.

Jin’s head is in your lap. He stirs, blinking up at you, and then he smiles. ‘I can’t think of a better way to wake up,’ he tells you, and there’s another dangerous tug at your heart.

‘That’s the tequila talking,’ you say, and it’s probably that you’re a little tired and a lot hungover, but you sound sadder than you’d intended.

Jin’s gaze sharpens on you, and you avoid his eyes.

‘I’ve got to get to work,’ you tell him. You smile, but your heart’s not in it.

‘Feel free to stay as long as you like,’ you say, getting up.

Jin’s back in his wedding suit by the time you’re ready to leave.

‘You ok?’ he asks. He’s still looking at you carefully.

‘Nothing caffeine won’t fix,’ you say. You give him your brightest smile, and are relieved when he seems to buy it.

He walks you to the dry cleaners, waiting as you open up.

‘I had a great time,’ you tell him. You have no idea where you go from here now that the wedding’s over and he no longer needs you as a buffer between him and his ex-fiancee.

Jin smiles. ‘Me too,’ he says. ‘You’re great company.’ It comes out a little flat.

You guess that’s that.

‘See ya, Jin,’ you say. You turn around and step into the shop.

By the time you count to a hundred and look up from the collection book, he’s walking off down your street. You watch him get smaller and smaller until he turns a corner, and then you can’t see him at all.

***

You look up as the door opens.

‘Hi, can I help -‘ The words die on your lips when you recognise Jin.

He’s still in his wedding suit, only now he’s holding two coffees and a brown paper bag.

‘I got you breakfast,’ he says. He waves the paper bag. ‘A cinammon roll.’

You accept the coffee and the roll. There’s a spark of something in your chest that you’re trying not to get too hyped up about.

‘Thanks, Jin.’

He looks at you. ‘I’d still like to see you, you know. If you wanted to.’

Your smile could light up the sky.

‘Yeah?’ you ask.

Jin nods. ‘Yeah. Want to grab dinner on Tuesday?’

‘I have a better idea,’ you say.

***

Your cousin’s doing great at his little league practice game, but that’s not the entire reason why you’re enjoying watching him.

Jin, it turns out, is passionate about baseball.

He cheers, he obnoxiously protests calls he doesn’t agree with and he’s spent most of the game on his feet.

Gorgeous, sexy, well-dressed Jin is apparently a little league dad in disguise.

You choke back laughter as Jin jumps up and down.

‘You didn’t say you felt so strongly about baseball,’ you say, torn between hilarity and affection.

‘If you weren’t so busy gushing over Min Yoongi and basketball, I’d have told you,’ Jin says.

‘Gushing,’ you say, thoughtfully.

Jin shoots you a look. ‘Gushing,’ he says, firmly.

You sit back and admire his ass as he waves it in your face for the rest of the game.

You stop by to congratulate your cousin, Felix after the game. Che seems pleased to see you and Jin. He invites you both over for dinner but you decline.

Jin and you have plans. You take him to a tiny Italian restaurant on your block, where he raves about the clam linguine like it’s the second coming. After dinner you walk through the park and get ice cream.

By the time you get back to your apartment, it feels like the best first date you’ve ever had.

Jin lingers on your doorstep, seemingly reluctant to go.

You look up at him, half shaded in the fading daylight, and reach out, pulling him a little closer to you.

He tilts his head down, and your lips meet.

His kiss is sweet, chaste almost, but there’s nothing innocent about the way he looks at you when he pulls away.

‘You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,’ he says, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it.

You look up at him, wide eyed, and almost as though he can’t help himself, he leans forward to kiss you again.

Your second kiss is better than the first, and your breathing is slightly erratic when you break apart.

‘Jin,’ you say, pressing a hand to his hard chest.

He puts his hand over yours, briefly. He presses a kiss on your forehead.

‘Call you later?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

***

You get a text from Jin once you’re in bed.

Jin: So my friend Taehyung’s just got engaged, and he’s throwing an engagement party next weekend in a fancy hotel in a vineyard. I’d love for you to be my date if you’re free.

Y/N: I’d like that.

Jin: It’s a date.

***

Jin picks you up early on Saturday morning, in his own car.

He puts your overnight bag in the back and waits as you buckle yourself in.

‘So I booked a hotel room for us to share. I hope that’s ok,’ he says.

You look at him. ‘I don’t know, do you snore?’ you ask.

Jin shakes his head. ‘I just don’t want you to feel like there’s any expectation on you, just because we’re sharing a room.’

‘We have slept together,’ you point out.

Jin gives you a mischievous smile. ‘That’s true. Maybe we can do it with less clothes this time.’

You nod. ‘Wouldn’t want to overheat,’ you say, solemnly.

***

This time, Yoongi and Jimin greet you like old friends, and you realise you have missed them.

Jin has your things brought up to your room whilst Yoongi and you organise a wine-tasting session for all four of you.

You’re on your way up when you see Hana and Minho. They’re walking together, but their interaction seems a little off. They’re not touching at all, and barely looking at each other.

After the wine-tasting, you and Jin are pleasantly tipsy.

Taehyung and his fiance, Jia, are as lovely as all of Jin’s other friends. They’ve organised dinner outdoors.

Jin seems a little distracted during dinner, and you’re about to ask if he’s ok when Hana taps his shoulder.

‘Can I speak to you after dinner?’ she asks.

Jin looks at you, and you hope your smile hides your uncertainty.

‘Of course,’ Jin says.

Yoongi asks if you want to take a walk after dinner, but you beg off, saying you’re tired.

You plan to stay up until Jin gets back to your hotel room, but eventually you fall asleep.

You’re woken by Jin’s lips on your neck.

He feels good, so good.

You turn towards him. His hands are warm, pulling you to him. You can barely see him in the darkness of your hotel room, but you’d know his silhouette anywhere.

His hard chest presses against yours, and the weight of him on you has your legs falling apart for him.

‘God, you’re so sweet,’ he tells you. ‘You taste so good.’

He kisses down your neck, tongue dragging across your skin.

‘Hana,’ he murmurs.

You freeze. You’re grateful for the darkness, because you wouldn’t want anyone to see the expression on your face.

How devastated you are.

You’d known Jin wasn’t over Hana, and you’d let your foolish heart trick you into believing otherwise.

Jin clicks on the bedside lamp, and your humiliation is complete.

You swipe away the traitorous tears that have sprung into your eyes.

The fact that he looks as dismayed as you feel brings you little comfort.

‘Y/N,’ he says.

You sit up. ‘I need some air,’ you say. You can barely get the words out.

‘No, it’s late,’ Jin says. ‘I’ll go.’

He grabs his coat and is out the door.

You leave anyway.

***

Jin’s got a headache. He massages his fingers over his temples, glancing at the clock. He doesn’t have any other client appointments today. He decides to head home.

He takes the subway home, and as always, he feels a pang as he passes what he always thinks of as your stop.

When he reaches his apartment he puts the TV on. The movie you watched together is playing. He turns the TV off and thinks of you.

It’s been a month since he saw you last, and he’s spent a disproportionate amount of time thinking about you considering you only met up a few times.

He remembers the circumstances in which you parted ways, and part of him still feels sick about it.

He’d left the hotel room to give you some space after his unfortunate slip, and when he got back you were gone.

He has no idea how you got home, but he knows you did because he went to your apartment.

You’d come out the door the next morning to open up the shop. If you’d turned your head, you would have seen him gaping at you like a deranged stalker.

But you hadn’t. You’d walked down your front steps, heading down the street in the early morning. He’d wanted to follow you, to get you a coffee, to apologise, but he hadn’t done any of those things.

He shouldn’t have brought you into this. It wasn’t fair on you to be a crutch to help him heal after his breakup with Hana.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself, though. You’d just been so generous with your time and your love. The time he’d gone to your cousin’s little league game, he’d seen how everyone in your community greeted you, how you’d had a kind word or a joke to exchange with everyone you met.

You were so warm, and you made him feel good about everything.

And fuck if you weren’t so pretty you made his trousers feel a little tighter every time you looked up at him.

Jin sighs. He gets in the shower, makes himself dinner and thinks about you until he falls asleep.

***

‘Your two o’clock’s here, Mr Kim,’ Jin’s assistant, Yeri announces.

‘I wasn’t aware I had a two o’clock,’ Jin says, frowning.

‘She says she knows you personally. Ms L/N?’ Yeri asks, snapping her gum.

Jin raises his eyebrows. He has no idea who to expect, but he’s definitely not expecting you to walk into his office.

Jin stares at you for a moment before remembering his manners. ‘Y/N,’ he says, coming out from behind his desk. He stops short a couple feet away, thinking you might not want the hug he was about to give you.

You look up at him. ‘I need your help,’ you say.

‘You have it,’ Jin says. His first thought is that you’re pregnant and he’s the father. Then he remembers what happened the one time you came anywhere close to having sex, and he cringes internally. He’d be unbelievably lucky to ever get a shot like that again.

He realise you’ve been looking at him through his entire embarrassing internal monologue, and he flushes.

‘Please, sit, tell me how I can help,’ he urges you, gesturing to the chair set up in front of his desk. He sits in the chair next to it.

‘You said you were a lawyer,’ you say. ‘I thought you might be able to help, or that you might know someone who could. They’re trying to tear down the community centre to develop more housing. I want to stop them.’

Jin was not expecting this. But damn, this is right up his street.

‘I do real estate law,’ he tells you. ‘I can help.’

You look so relieved he reaches out to put his hand on yours.

Jin pulls up his tablet and makes notes as you talk. Once he thinks he’s got all the information he needs to proceed, you hesitate.

Jin nods encouragingly at you. ‘Anything else you think might be useful to know?’ he asks.

You shake your head. ‘Your fee.’ You look worried. ‘The community’s done a collection – I’ve got enough money for your retainer fee but you’ll need to keep me up to date –‘

Jin interjects smoothly. ‘A proportion of my work is pro bono. A case like this fits the bill perfectly.’

You raise an eyebrow at him, skeptically.

Jin looks back at you, impassive. He knows his poker face is good.

Finally, you nod. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll get some preliminary work done, and I’ll organise a time for us to meet next week,’ Jin tells you.

You get up, and Jin says, ‘Wait.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘About what happened at the hotel.’

You look at him, eyes searching his. ‘It’s ok, Jin,’ you say, finally. ‘You were going through a rough time.’

‘It’s not ok. I don’t even know why I said it,’ Jin says.

‘Freudian slip,’ you murmur. You flick your eyes up at him, and there’s a spark in them that he didn’t think he’d see directed at him again.

Jin laughs, despite himself. ‘What I mean is, it was disrespectful, and it didn’t reflect how much value I place on the help you gave me.’

‘Because you did help me, so much,’ Jin says, wanting you to know how much he means it.

You smile up at him. ‘I’m glad. I’ll see you next week, Jin.’

‘Wait,’ Jin says, as you step towards the door. You stop, and now he can definitely see a spark of amusement in your eyes. ‘I’m meeting Yoongi and Jimin for dinner. Would you like to join us? They’d love to see you.’

You tilt your head at him.

‘Seafood,’ Jin says, coaxingly.

You laugh, and his heart leaps in his chest.

‘Is that all you got, Mr Kim?’ you ask, a teasing note in your voice.

‘Lobster,’ says Jin. He walks beside you as you step out of his office.

‘Swordfish,’ he says, as you walk down the corridor to the lifts.

‘Tuna!’ he calls, as you get in the empty lift.

‘I’ll pick you up at 7,’ he says, quickly. He has just enough time to see the smile on your face before the lift doors close between you.

***

Yoongi is doing an uncanny impression of drunk Jimin, and he has you in hysterics.

Jin passes you a drink when he’s sure you’ve calmed down enough to drink it safely.

Jimin pouts at all of you. ‘I was NOT drunk.’

Yoongi bursts into song again, and Jin joins in. He’s got a surprisingly good tenor, and his rhythm isn’t bad either.

‘Was I drunk, Y/N?’ Jimin asks.

‘I’m sorry Jimin, you were trashed,’ you confirm.

Yoongi looks at you, straight-faced. ‘You also got drunk on a thimbleful of sake, if I recall correctly.’

You’re outraged by his lack of loyalty.

Jimin laughs, delighted. ‘You’re never going to be able to wash your clothes now,’ he tells Yoongi, gleefully.

You stare at them, confused.

‘Because you work at a launderette,’ Jimin points out.

‘It’s a dry cleaners. She works at a dry cleaners,’ Jin says to Jimin, clapping a hand to his forehead dramatically.

Now Jimin’s confused. ‘It’s synonymous!’ he protests.

‘No, a dry cleaners isn’t the same as a launderette,’ you say. ‘Why does Yoongi need to go to a launderette anyway?’

‘My washing machine’s broken,’ Yoongi says. He seems genuinely upset about it.

‘I mean, you can use my machine if you live close,’ you offer.

Jin puts an arm out and pulls you to him. ‘God, why are you being nice to him. He was just teasing you!’

Your lips are so close to his throat you can smell his cologne, fresh and piney.

‘I like him,’ you say. ‘I have a thing for mean, grumpy men.’

Yoongi chuckles. ‘It’s the irresistible Min charm,’ he says, deadpan.

‘It’s the irresistible Yoongi charm,’ Jimin echoes. ‘Capable of dropping all panties within a twenty-mile radius.’

‘Sounds dangerous,’ you say, finishing the last of your drink.

Jin walks you home after dinner, as always.

‘Thank you for coming out with us,’ he says to you. ‘I’ve missed your company.’

‘I had a great time,’ you say, and you mean it.

He looks at you a moment longer, then nods, turning away.

You watch him go for a bit.

‘Go inside. It’s dark,’ he calls out. He looks back at you.

‘Yes dad,’ you call back.

He laughs, waving a hand at you. He gives you another smile over his shoulder before he goes.

***

When you get upstairs, Dia and Miguel are making out on the kitchen counter.

‘I’m sure this contravenes all food hygiene regulations,’ you say dryly.

Dia turns to you, waving a hand. It takes you less than two seconds to notice the new sparkly diamond on her engagement finger.

You clap a hand to your mouth and scream.

Dia grabs you in a hug and you squeeze her. ‘Congratulations, my love!’ you say, kissing her on her forehead.

You turn to Miguel. ‘Congratulations, Miguel. Remember even after you’re married I can still kick your ass.’

Miguel laughs. ‘I’ll look after her with my life, I promise you,’ he tells you, rather sweetly.

Dia pours out champagne for all three of you from the half-empty bottle.

‘To my two favourite people,’ you say, lifting your glass in a toast.

‘To my two favourites,’ Dia echoes. She smiles at you, affectionately.

After you finish your champagne, Dia leaves with Miguel to go to his place, smirking suggestively at you before she leaves. You have no doubt Miguel is going to be a happy man in the morning.

You flop on your bed, already planning how you’re going to get everyone together for the bridal shower.

***

Jin’s talking about zoning laws and procedural errors, and you’re just watching the way his lips move. He’s wearing a navy suit today, shirtsleeves held together with silver cufflinks. He’s got a waistcoat on.

You’d never realised you had a thing for men in three-piece suits.

You make brief eye contact to pretend like you’re listening, and go back to admiring him.

The thing you’ve always liked most about Jin is the way he carries himself. He’s confident, just shy of arrogant, and he pulls it off with aplomb. He behaves like privilege is his birthright, and as someone who’s always lived alongside privilege but not always with it, you’re fascinated.

Jin makes eye contact with you again, and it takes you a second to realise he’s stopped talking.

You nod. ‘I agree.’

‘You’re not listening. I can tell when someone’s not listening and they’re just having sexual fantasies about me,’ Jin says.

He raises an eyebrow at you. ‘It happens a lot.’

You lean forward slightly. ‘Actually, I can also tell when people are fantasizing about me,’ you tell him.

Jin’s poker face is good, but his lips press together just a fraction as you lean even closer.

‘I can also tell when someone’s checking out my ass,’ you tell him.

Jin doesn’t break eye contact as he says, ‘You do have a great ass.’

He licks his lower lip.

‘Trust me, Jinnie, if you ever get to touch this ass, you’ll be saying my name and no one else’s,’ you tell him.

Jin smirks. ‘Actually, given my track record, I’d prefer if we didn’t say any names in bed. You can call me daddy.’

You snort. ‘No chance.’

Jin shrugs. ‘I’ve told you what I like. Maybe one day you’ll indulge me.’

‘Not saying names doesn’t negate the thoughts behind them,’ you point out.

Jin pauses then, and his voice is serious when he speaks. ‘I never meant to hurt you, Y/N.’

You break eye contact because he’s threatening to make you feel things again, and you’re not sure your heart can take a second strike.

‘Anyway, the other thing I wanted to ask, was if you knew any good places where I can throw an engagement party for Dia and Miguel,’ you say, straightening your skirt.

‘Yes, actually,’ Jin says. ‘I was thinking of you the other day. There’s a new place that’s just opened up down the street from me. It has great cocktails, and a rooftop bar.’

‘Where do you live?’ you ask, curious. You’ve never been to Jin’s apartment.

‘Tell you what, I’ll take you out for drinks after this. You can check out the bar, and my apartment,’ Jin suggests.

‘I’m not calling you daddy,’ you say.

‘Are you pouting at me?’ he asks.

You’ve never picked up dom vibes from Jin before, but he’s suddenly got an edge to him that you’re intrigued by.

‘I’m not pouting,’ you say. You look up at him.

His hand comes up, fingers curling under your chin. His thumb traces along your lower lip.

‘Your pretty mouth,’ he muses.

You shiver.

‘One of the regrets of my life is what happened in that hotel room,’ Jin tells you. His eyes are intent on yours. ‘And I’ll spend all of my time making it up to you, if you’ll let me.’

You don’t know what to say to that, but Jin doesn’t wait for an answer.

He leans forward to kiss you, once, and you sigh as he pulls away.

‘I’ll see you later, for drinks,’ he tells you.

You make it back to the dry cleaners, but you have no recollection of how you did it. All you can think about is Jin’s lips on yours.

***

Jin’s right. The rooftop bar is perfect for an engagement party, and the cocktails are damn good.

He smiles at you over his ridiculously pink drink.

‘What do you think?’ he asks.

‘It’s perfect,’ you reply. ‘Thanks for the recommendation.’

Jin grins. ‘It reminded me of you when I came here. The music’s great, the vibe is relaxed, and the view is stunning.’

‘You did good, Jin,’ you concede.

Three cocktails in and you’re struggling to take your eyes off Jin. He’s not faring much better, leaning close, staring at you.

‘Want to see my apartment?’ he asks.

‘What’s my name?’ you ask, only half-joking.

‘You’re Y/N. You’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen and your ass is second to none,’ Jin says.

You reach out and tug at his loosened tie.

He tilts his head down, lips hovering over yours.

‘Let’s go,’ you tell him.

Jin’s apartment is gorgeous, modern and spacious. You want to look at the photos on the wall, but that’s going to have to wait, because Jin’s taking his suit jacket off, and damn, his shoulders are distracting.

He crowds you against the wall, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

He tilts his head down, and kisses you. The touch of his lips sends a throb through your veins. He tastes sweet, but there’s nothing sweet about the way his hands are roaming over your body.

‘I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long,’ he tells you. One hand slides around the back of your neck, tangling in your hair as he takes his fill of you.

You run your hands over his shoulders, and they’re gorgeously firm. He grips your ass, pulling you tight against him.

You’re unbuttoning his shirt to run your hands over his skin, and he’s unzipping your skirt. You wriggle a little, and it falls past your hips into a silken puddle on Jin’s floor.

Jin pulls back to stare at your panties.

‘Sweet,’ he murmurs. He takes your hand. ‘My bedroom’s here.’

You walk across his living room, and hesitate at the doorway.

Jin looks down at you. ‘We don’t have to go in there,’ he tells you. ‘You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But I promise you that when you do, it’ll be just you and me in there. There’s no one else, Y/N.’

Your eyes meet his, and you take a step into the room.

Jin walks you backwards onto his bed. When the backs of your thighs hit the mattress, he keeps going, until you’re lying across his bed.

Jin lays down next to you, his shirt half unbuttoned. You tug at his shirt.

‘Off,’ you say.

Jin sits up and starts unbuttoning. When he looks back at you, his eyes widen a little.

You’ve slipped your silky blouse off, and all that’s left is rose coloured lingerie that makes your skin pop.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he breathes.

‘Right back at you,’ you say. Jin’s face has always been beautiful, but there’s a manliness to the shape of his body that has you feeling a little weak.

His broad shoulders taper into a taut waist, and there’s obvious strength in his arms as he supports himself above you.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asks.

‘God, yes,’ you reply. Jin doesn’t need further encouragement, laying kisses on your breasts as his hand slips over your panties.

You tug your panties off your hips because you think he’s the kind of man who’d drive you half-insane with teasing, and you don’t want to wait.

‘Eager,’ Jin says, but he doesn’t sound mad about it.

His full lips close over a nipple as he strokes you, fingers sliding in between your folds.

You tighten around him, and he sucks in a breath. ‘You’re killing me,’ he tells you.

You’re so wet, so ready you feel like you’ll implode if he doesn’t get inside you.

‘Jin,’ you say, voice strained.

‘Baby,’ he says. You aren’t sure if he’s not using your name on purpose.

He winks at you, mischievously.

You’re about to tell him off when he climbs on top of you, and what feels like a very hard cock pushes at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, and now he’s the one who sounds strained.

You gasp as he pushes his way in. ‘Ngh,’ you moan.

Jin wants to make you laugh again but god, you feel so good. ‘So good,’ he tells you.

He thrusts into you, one hand coming up to curl around your neck, pressing a little.

‘You look so good on my cock,’ he tells you.

You’re beyond words, legs locked around his hips. You reach down to stroke your clit, and Jin groans. He lowers his head to suck at your tits, and then you’re cumming, orgasm flaring through you, making your toes curl and your back arch.

Jin calls your name as he cums, says it again and again like he can’t stop. Finally he collapses next to you, pressing his lips to your heated face. He whispers things to you, and you don’t quite hear all of it, but you think it’s all good.

***

You’re at work when Dia calls you. She sounds breathless.

‘You need to call Jin and get your ass over here,’ she says. ‘Bulldozers have just arrived outside the community centre.’

You call Jin as you lock up the shop. He answers within a few rings.

‘Y/N,’ he says. ‘Are you ok?’

‘There’s bulldozers outside the community centre, Jin,’ you tell him.

Jin swears. ‘I’ll be right there,’ he tells you.

You stop by each store on the street on the way to the community centre, telling everyone what’s happening. By the time you get there, you’re walking within a large crowd, and there's more people already there with Dia.

You join hands with Dia and form a wall of people in front of the community centre. You can see the men in the bulldozer cabs on their phones, calling whoever’s hired them to do the job.

The foreman steps forward. ‘We don’t want to cause any trouble here, but we’ve been hired to tear this place down.’

You’re about to speak when a taxi screeches to a halt on the street in front of you.

Jin steps out, and you hear Dia suck in a breath beside you.

You don’t blame her. He looks like a literal, heaven-sent angel.

Everyone’s looking at him, and Jin takes it in his stride. He walks straight up to the foreman.

‘I’ve called your boss about the highly illegal stunt he’s tried to make you pull. The zoning overlay’s been permanently redacted. I suggest you leave, and take a contract from another developer. One that isn’t trying to hang you out to dry.’

The foreman signals to his team, and murmuring runs through the crowd as the bulldozers pull away.

The clapping starts, tentatively at first, then it’s a full blown round of applause with cheering. It's making you feel all warm inside. People are shaking Jin’s hand, thanking you and Dia, you think that maybe you’ve helped to achieve something worthwhile here today.

‘Free pass?’ Dia asks, twinkling at you as she tilts her head towards Jin, currently being embraced enthusiastically by Guiseppe, the owner of the Italian place you took him to on your date.

You laugh. ‘You know I love you, Dia, but I’m about to rail that man ten ways to Sunday tonight, and I don’t want to share.’

‘Fair,’ Dia says. ‘You can tell him I think it’s really fucking sexy what he just did.’

Back at your apartment, you show Jin just how fucking sexy you think he is.

Afterward, Jin lays flat on his back, sheet carelessly draped low over his hips.

‘Fuck,’ he utters. ‘You got anything else you want me to get done for you?’

‘I’ll let you know,’ you say, still a little breathless from your orgasm.

Jin props himself up and leans in close to kiss you deeply. ‘You do that,’ he says, smiling at you.

***

You love weddings, you always have. Dia and Miguel decided to have their wedding at the community centre, and your whole community pitched in with decorations and food.

You smile fondly at Dia, and she blows you a kiss as she slow dances with Miguel.

Beside you, Jin holds your hand in his. He brings your intertwined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

‘You ok, baby?’ he asks.

You look over at him and nod a yes.

You think you’re going to be all right.

©hamsterclaw 2022

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✨Always going to be my fav✨

Admire | 01

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Here we go! I’ve said it before, but this story was based off a dream I had ages ago. I’m not quite sure how long the fic will be, but I figured I should write and share as soon as I could. Enjoy :)

<< masterlist

»»————- <<prologue | next >> ————-««  

  After all that, you supposed God wasn’t too cruel in the end.

You only say this because even in the midst of every other screwed up thing going on in this family-organised-arranged-marriage, the deity had decided to reward you with a man that wasn’t grotesque to look at. Actually, Seokjin was pretty damn far from it.

You observed the back of the tall man’s head as you made your way up towards the house. Our house. The whole place had been settled for you already, making you feel as though your marriage to this wealthy son had been planned long before you’d learned how to even walk.

Keep reading

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For Love & Money Pt.1

PART ONE - PART TWO

Words: 4361

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life, Casual writing, (maybe eventual smut), Arranged/Forced Marriage!Au

Summary: For love, you foolishly lied to yourself. For money, you married a stranger. 

Notes: I got tired of writing so much angst haha. So this is completely the opposite lol From one extreme to the next, I swear. Oh yeah, I’m trying different styles of writing and different OC types…so the story’s a bit saucier. But yes..there is minimal pain in this story…enjoy~ 

Ringg Rinnggg.

“Honey is that you?” It’s your mother’s chirpy voice on the other line - you furrow your brows.

“Is everything okay? Your voice message said it was an emergency.” Suddenly your back is pushed against the wall.

“Yes…yes. Everything’s fine. Your father and I are fine.” Your mother hesitates. “It’s just that I was wondering if you would like to go on a dat-”

“A date?” The stranger presses their body against yours as their lips meet your neck, trailing kisses up and down. “No thanks mom.”

Keep reading

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rockabye

With the sting of your divorce renewed by the winter chill in the air, you certainly weren’t looking for anything like love this Christmas. But even flowers can blossom from deep within the snow.

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Flower Shop AU

Word Count: 8,900+

Warnings: Profanity; Alcohol; Physical assault; Physical and verbal abuse; References to drugs

A/N: The “Jaeseong” character is an original character and should not be associated with any real person of similar name. Also, this story is a rework of a story I previously wrote entitled Honeysuckle.

Read on AO3

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