Mother Knows Best | Index.

mother knows best | index.

pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au

note | a drabble series featuring the (fictionalized) bangtan moms! <33

main story ;

drabble 1 | sunday lunch

drabble 2 | of quail eggs and perms

drabble 3 | of hair styles and scissors

drabble 4 | of tangerines and dumplings

drabble 5 | mafia game

drabble 6 | code red

drabble 7 | father knows best

drabble 8 | a solemn day

drabble 9 | of ferris wheels and pomeranians

drabble 10 | of burns and skin care routines

drabble 11 | of fights and allergies

drabble 12 | once upon a treasure hunt

drabble 13 | of breakups and bouquet tosses

drabble 14 | a decade of friendship

drabble 15 | mother knows best

scenarios ;

scenario 1 ; what if tae’s eomma makes him & oc go to hawaii?

scenario 2 ; what if the members get tired of their eomma’s antics?

scenario 3 ; what if a someone flirts with the members (or vice versa) while they’re out with their mom?

asks ;

ask 1 ; what if the moms had a group chat?

ask 2 ; are the members idols in this au?

others ;

tag ; who is oc’s appa’s favorite among the members?

character asks ; the mkb gang answers your questions!

— status ; completed

in the end, it's him and i - jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader if u squint, jungkook x reader, brief mentions of namjoon x oc

genre(s): fluff and smut.

word count: 5.4K

warnings: some strong language, both jungkook and y/n being idiots lol. for the spicy content: fingering in front of a mirror, dirty talk, praise, mentions of an erection. (hope i'm not forgetting anything).

summary: how long will it take until the dam bursts and one of you says what the other one longs to hear?

masterlist

A/N: i gotta thank my beautiful @daechwitatamic because she's always there to help me, she read this SO FAST (wtf). pls go check her profile <3

he had grown so used to it that he kept looking for it the first time you stopped doing it. with a silent, simple tug on your shirt or a whine whenever you’d cut the hugs or kisses a second short. full of hesitance, you’d simply wrap your arms around him tightly, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath; you’d cup his jaw with your slightly tremorous hand, pulling him to your mouth again as he had wordlessly begged you to.

meanwhile, for you? you noticed it that time he held your wrist as you walked behind him between the crowd. his touch had never meant anything special outside the bedroom, until that night. he had made you feel a thousand things in mere seconds, your heart lighting up the same way the buildings’ lights lit up the street. it was amazing how something as basic as holding one’s wrist had helped you put the puzzle pieces together. suddenly, it made sense how you kept running away from his touch when possible, skipping reunions where you knew he would be.

because your heart couldn’t handle the truth. it couldn’t bear knowing that jeon jungkook only belonged to you behind closed doors, between messy sheets and underclothed bodies, where only whispered pleas were welcomed and not love confessions, nothing but lust. and as much as it hurt, it only hurt more trying to deprive yourself of him.

“y/n?” his voice calls, warm hand finding its place on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

“i’m sorry, yes you can press play.” placing your hand on top of his, you give it a squeeze back and lean backwards on the couch, looking for a way to ease your internal discomfort by getting comfortable externally.

“it’s been rolling for at least seven minutes, angel…” he trails off, not being able to take his eyes off your constant fidgeting with the blanket you were sharing. “are you okay?” 

“mhm,” was the only thing that left your throat, making sure it came with a reassuring - yet very fake - smile to ease the tension. everything screamed that he didn’t believe you, knowing him well enough to notice it was a huge effort from him to stay quiet and not ask any more questions. jungkook thought it was best to let you be. maybe his touch was offending you? or was it the pet names he had decided to use for you as they were worth it only for you? one thing you hadn’t managed to notice, though, was the fact that his hands were the fidgety ones now. they were itching to pull you closer to him and wrap his arms around your waist like you’re used to every movie night.

“it was hilarious because taehyung was complaining about her, talking about how she had eaten the last donut and that it was his favorite flavour and he hadn’t eaten a single one. suddenly, she enters the office and you just hear him go: ‘good morning, miranda!’” tone chirpy and mocking, seokjin tells the story from his point of view, not being able to hold back the cackles that leave his lips.

“taehyung! i didn’t know you despised her that much.” covering your mouth, unlike seokjin, you giggle quietly.

“i just know you wouldn’t have done that to me, you would’ve defended that donut with your last breath,” the aforementioned man rolls his eyes, head resting on your shoulder as a pout rests on his lips.

“i’ve already apologized thrice. i was in a meeting, okay?” you shake your head as a smile slowly makes its way onto your face, looking down at taehyung and ruffling his hair.

"you look like you want to explode his head." yoongi whispers, next to jungkook who’s been looking at your interaction with a clenched jaw and his tongue prodding his cheek.

"i'm trying." jungkook admits, glaring at taehyung like he had just insulted his family when all he was doing was acting cute with you. with a forkful of pasta into his mouth, he decides to take his eyes off you, knowing deep inside him it was useless feeling like that when you were coming home with him at the end of the evening. or that’s what he hoped.

“anyone up for dessert? i am full, but my sweet tooth is asking me for that cheesecake i read on the menu. i’m willing to share.” looking around for someone wanting to share the creamy dessert with you, you lean forward, resting your weight on your forearms.

“me, me! i’ve been eyeing that cheesecake since we arrived, too.” taehyung chirps, eagerly raising his hand to call the waitress’ attention. his eagerness is short-lived, though, since jungkook speaks up.

“i want cheesecake, too. you think i could share with the two of you?” 

“uh… let me ask the waitress how big the slice is.” shooting jungkook a tiny smile, you turn your attention to the kind waitress who is expectant.

in the end, you two do end up sharing the slice with jungkook, as it turned out he only wanted “a couple of spoonfuls” of the dessert. he is not a cheesecake guy, which makes you wonder what had caused him to suddenly crave some of the dessert.

leaving your bills to pay your part of the check, you get up and walk to the restroom, letting everyone know they could head out if done before you came back. they tend to complain about how long you take in the restroom, and knowing jungkook is waiting for you to ride together, you make sure you hurry.

your memory sometimes fails you. and one of those cases is tonight as you can’t seem to locate jungkook or his car. letting your legs lead you to where you think you might be able to find him, you recognize taehyung’s back and hair. he might know where jungkook is.

“for god’s sake, dude. just confess your fucking feelings for her,” taehyung groans at the younger man’s behavior, covering his face.

that sentence alone makes you halt, leaning back against the brick wall so they can’t see you. eavesdropping is not appropriate, but right this moment it feels like it is. 

has he had feelings for someone else this whole time he’s been fucking you? are you his go-to option when he needs it?

“what are you talking about? we were talking about cheesecake and now you’re telling me i should confess to y/n?” jungkook scoffs, about to walk away when taehyung grabs his wrist, preventing him from leaving. 

“you don’t get all whiny over cheesecake, jeon. all it took was me saying i wanted to share dessert with her for you to go all ‘oh i want dessert, too’ when you weren’t even halfway done with your pasta. you kept giving me death stares if i even breathed around her.” 

“whatever,” jungkook laughs, a little too loud for his liking, making him scrunch his nose. “i’m not going to confess my feelings just because of some cheesecake.” he mocks taehyung in the last word, carefully releasing his wrist from the man’s grip, walking to the car.

does that mean… no, he never confirmed it. 

“jungkook!” you call him, jogging to where he is, “are we still on for tonight? you were about to leave without me.” you adjust your purse that’s almost falling off your shoulder, rocking back and forth on your tiptoes.

“yeah, i’ve been looking forward to it all night,” he confesses, pulling you closer to his body by your waist. one of his hands removes your purse from your body, the other cupping your cheek. “you ready?”

“yeah! bye, tae-tae,” you wave at the man, flashing him a smile before getting inside the car.

the traffic at this hour is never heavy, if anything, it’s the best it’s ever been. the wind coming from outside is making you get goosebumps, but it’s nothing jungkook’s hand on your leg can’t provide relief to.

his phone lights up just as you’re reaching the last traffic light before his house.

taehyung [21:02]: i’m pretty sure she heard us talking. just so you know.

jungkook scans his phone screen, reading the text quickly before shutting off the device and placing it somewhere else where it won’t distract him.

“what did tae want?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“nothing important,” he murmurs, tone leaving no room for discussion as he speeds off once the traffic light turns green. “is it my turn to pick the movie tonight?” trying to change the topic, jungkook squeezes your thigh and parks the car smoothly, but doesn’t get out yet.

“uh, i think? but maybe i can bribe you with some kisses? there’s this movie i really wanna watch,” you confess, leaning over the console once your seatbelt is off, your face dangerously close to his.

“bribing me, huh? okay, hit me with your best shot,” he smirks, hungrily latching his lips to yours, hands holding your cheek softly - the perfect juxtaposition to the way he laps at your mouth.

the kiss rides like a wave - intense when needed, but also soft at times, steadying you and leaving you craving for more. more him, more jungkook, all the time. 

“mmm get inside before i change my mind,” jungkook whispers against your lips, already chasing them for more, but you’re quicker than him, getting out of the car and using your set of keys to unlock the door.

he seems pretty compliant tonight, agreeing to everything you say, letting you kiss him all you want even if you had bribed him already to choose the movie… yet he never complains, never says anything about how you’re not paying attention to the movie, eating at him or his snacks.

“did you bring your pajamas this time?” jungkook turns to look at you, moving some strands of hair off your face so he can look at the blush that’s starting to cover your cheeks. “i’m gonna take that as a no.” he snickers at your pretty much silent response, pausing the movie and pulling you to his lap.

“i keep forgetting them. i don’t really use them around you, but they’re pretty and comfortable,” a pout takes over your lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“i mean, i’m never against seeing you in my clothes. but you gotta start remembering to pack your pajamas, y/n.” jungkook carefully secures an arm around your waist as he moves to take off his shirt, letting it rest on your lap once taken off. “put it on. let’s get our pajamas on and then we’ll continue with the movie, sounds good?”

you nod, giving his nose a tiny kiss, enough to hear him chuckle and make you leave with a smile on your face. the floor feels cold under your bare feet as you make your way to the bathroom next to his room; the night is chilly enough that you already know you’re gonna be seeking jungkook’s body warmth throughout the night since you tend to get cold pretty easily.

it's almost like your heart is inside a cage and fighting to be set free the second jungkook's fingers trace your curves. every square inch of your body responds to him - blushing, smiling, getting goosebumps. your body knows better than your mind. and as much as you try to tell yourself that you don't have feelings for him, you do. you hope he does, too.

slipping the cotton material over your body, you look at your reflection on the mirror, adjusting the shirt so it covers your body the most it can. his shirt smells like him, like the cologne that drives you crazy and can’t get enough of. a knock interrupts your train of thought, and you open the door for him to come in as you move away from the door to collect your clothes and fold them.

“wanna know something funny?” is the first thing jungkook says as he sees you, leaning against the door frame, shamelessly eyeing your figure.

“what’s up?” you turn to him, looking at him as you finish folding your pants, recognizing the hunger in his stare but saying nothing about it.

“as i was getting dressed this morning, i kept picturing you in my clothes every time i picked out a shirt,” he starts, taking a few steps to be closer to you. “wondering which shirt of mine would look best on you. but now…” his tongue wets his lip, removing the pants from your hands and putting them next to the sink.

“n-now?” you murmur dumbly, waiting for him to keep talking.

“i think i picked it for another reason.” he pulls you closer to his body by the shirt, cradling your face in his hands. “i think i picked what shirt to wear based on what i wanted you to wear as i fucked you. or as i took it off your body.” he simply states, moving one hand down to your neck. he doesn’t even bother to apply pressure on it, he just lets his hand rest there.

"so what are you gonna do? are you gonna keep it on or should we take it off?" you trace the ink on his forearm, moving your head to place a kiss on his palm.

"wouldn't want you getting cold, would we?" his hands move you in mere seconds, letting your pelvis rest against the edge of the vanity, right in front of the mirror. 

you can see him, can see the way he puts your hair up in a messy ponytail so he has space to scatter kisses around your neck, decorating it with a couple of marks. your hands replace his on your hair, holding it up the way he wants it. jungkook hums, pleased, while you quietly gasp when his hands move to your inner thighs, making you spread them wider so his hands can roam freely where they want to.

“mmm, good girl.” he praises, his fingers leaving feather-like touches on your clothed cunt before they wrap around the waistband of your underwear. jungkook crouches down as he removes them, leaving a trail of kisses on your legs, too. 

“no matter,” he starts, hugging you by the waist once he’s back to his full height, “how hard i try, you’re always on my mind. it’s not fair.” 

“it’s as fair as it can be. you’re always on mine, too,” you whisper to him, almost like you’re telling him a secret, even if it’s just the two of you in the room. 

maybe it is a secret with the way you’re baring your heart to him by saying that.

silence follows your words, filling your chest with something close to restlessness. had it been too much? did you cross the line with your words? your gaze moves to the floor, enjoying his embrace the most you can because you’re sure he’s gonna step away–

“look at me. not at my reflection, but at me,” he orders, and you’re surprised by the way you quickly obey, without second thoughts.

“what’s going on in that little head of yours, angel?” jungkook whispers, hovering your lips, giving you space to talk freely.

jungkook’s not sure what just happened. he is sure, though, that with the way your expression fell in that moment, he doesn’t wanna see that again, ever. the sincerity in your eyes when you confessed that he’s constantly in your mind too had made him feel… something. not sure what to make of it, but with a persistent thought in his head:

taehyung was right.

“i want you.” you respond after a while, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. your nose nudges his playfully, a grin on your mouth rapidly replaced by his lips on yours.

jungkook kisses you as if he’s never going to see you again, feeling lonely when your mouth’s not on his, when your body is half an inch further than he’d like it to be. his lips chase yours, they chase the sweet, lingering taste of the chamomile tea you had drank during the movie.

the movie. he doesn’t even know what the fuck it had been about since he was just thinking about you, when you were next to him the whole time. what if taehyung found the way to your heart and stole you from him? he should confess, shouldn’t he?

at least he’s past the denial phase. 

your confession should be more than enough for him to know you probably feel the same too. unless you’re constantly thinking about him because you’re needy, because you want him. 

deciding to shove those thoughts away, he pulls away from the kiss, pushing you with a hand on your back so your chest is against the vanity, making you hiss at its coldness.

“thought you were gonna fuck me with it on,” you confess, angling your hips so they’re slightly lifted. you rest your chin on your forearms, finding a comfortable position; you know you’ll be here for a long time before he fucks you. 

“tsk, who says i’m not? don’t be greedy,” he tsks, running his cold hands over the warm skin of your butt, squeezing it a little. “i don’t think i’ve ever fucked you in front of a mirror, have i?”

“nuh-uh. there’s always a first time with you.”

there’s this side to you that only comes out when jungkook’s around. he knows who you truly are and helps you express that side, a judgment-free zone if you will. if restlessness ever clouds your thoughts, a look from jungkook is all you need for everything to quiet down and dissipate.

“keep your eyes on me, or i’ll stop.” jungkook leans down to leave a trail of kisses on your upper back, allowing you to feel his hard-on right on your butt. “y/n.” biting down on your skin, hard enough to leave a tiny mark, he tilts his head when you only blink at him, whining desperately. “did you hear what i said?”

“yeah, yeah, not taking my eyes off you,” you reply, gripping the counter as his fingers make contact with your now-bare cunt, collecting your wetness before easing two fingers in one go.

every drag of his fingers inside you manages to turn you into a moaning mess, legs trembling because of his touch, eyes trained on his just like he expected. it takes a huge effort from you to not close your eyes once he curls his fingers, aiming for your g-spot.

“look so pretty bent over the sink for me, aren’t you my pretty girl?” he whispers, hot breath fanning in your ear as the fingers from his free hand move to rub your clit, enjoying the way he can tell you’re about to lose it. when jungkook has you like this, you let your inhibitions get lost. your body trusts jungkook, feeling safe under him, letting him do whatever he wants to you because you know he would never hurt you.

it’s about time your heart trusts him, too.

you manage to nod, trying to keep your eyes open as he instructed you to. the sound of your whimpers and loud moans fill the bathroom; as jungkook pulls you by the hair so your back is against his chest, you lean your head on his shoulder, turning your head so you can kiss his neck.

“words, princess. let me hear you say it.” he requests, slowing his thrusts as he expects your reply.

“i-i’m your pretty g-girl. i’m jungkook’s pretty girl,” you whine, hips having a mind of their own and rutting against his hand to get some more friction.

“what was that? i’m sure you can be louder. no need to be shy.” he pouts, smirking condescendingly right after he angles his palm so your clit rubs against it, thumb wiping the fallen tears on your cheeks.

“i’m your pretty girl, fuck! jungkook, please. i need you.” moving your head to face him through the mirror, your hands grip his forearms in order to control yourself. “yours, all yours. just– take me, please.”

he takes his sweet time with you that night, reminding you that you’re his, and reassuring himself he’s not gonna lose you. even if the voices in his head wouldn’t shut up about how he could lose you any second, the way your hands reach out for him so you can hold him a little longer, how you won’t stop showering him with kisses as your eyes struggle to stay open because of how tired he has left you… 

eventually, sleep wins the fight. you pull the blanket jungkook got you closer to your body, scooting closer to his body - his chest has always been more comfortable to you than a pillow - and clinging to him like a koala. 

he can’t take his eyes off you. you’re laying there, asleep, and he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him. when jungkook used to think about you, he’d either picture you naked or as someone who’d be there unconditionally like the great friend you are. 

however, now? he cannot focus on anything other than your lips and how he yearns to kiss them over and over again just to hear your muffled, angelical giggles; how your body feels meant to be next to his like two puzzle pieces.

despite the fact that everyone can see how much time you two spend together, they know you’re not dating. they know about your - basically - best friends-with-benefits relationship, leaving both of you on the market. all that jungkook can think about is changing everyone’s line of reasoning from “they’re fucking” to “they’re dating”, they’re in a relationship”.

yeah, he’s screwed.

he feels like his heart is gonna explode, and he tries to convince himself with all of his might that it’s because of the way you look tonight and not because of taehyung’s arm around your waist as you both move to the table you got assigned for tonight. if he could rip it off your body, he would, but the weight of someone else’s body on his arm reminds him you’re not his date, this other girl is. he’s walking with somebody else, too, so he has to keep it together for the sake of jimin’s party. 

when jimin sent the invitation to the group chat, both of you felt excited and had already started to plan what you’d wear, who was going to drive who, and what you two were going to gift him. the conversation fell when you reached the bottom of the invitation, where in bold, it said: remember to bring a date!

sure, it said other things, but that was all both of you could focus on.

“so… uh, you and i are not dating–” 

“yeah,” you squeak, interrupting jungkook. “we aren’t, so we should find a date, right?”

“yup, you could go with taehyung! he’d love that,” jungkook lets out an insincere laugh, keeping himself busy with another app to stop thinking about how badly he wanted to be your date. 

fast forward to today and jealousy is eating him alive. that night, he had texted jimin privately, asking him to sit you at another table in order to keep his feelings controlled, to be able to spend time with leslie, his date for the party. now, he doesn’t know if it was a good idea. 

you two fit perfectly together, he realizes. he’s mesmerized by you, the color of your dress suits your skin incredibly well and he finds himself smiling when he sees the way you grin at the others at your table, greeting them quickly in order to continue listening to whatever taehyung is telling you.

right, taehyung. 

he’s one second away from getting up, chair in hand, to sit between the two of you because he can’t stand one of his closest friends taking his place, talking to his girl. 

“is everything okay?” leslie asks, noticing jungkook’s clenched jaw and tight grip on the tablecloth. 

“what? yeah, why do you ask?” he turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed together subconsciously. he’s quick to soften his gaze, moving his chair so it’s closer to leslie’s.

“you seemed… angry, i don’t know. if something’s bothering you, we can leave,” she suggests, wrapping a hand around his wrist, trying to intertwine her fingers with his.

“the party hasn’t even started,” he scoffs, pressing his lips together right after. “sorry, i’ll keep it in mind, okay? i’m just a little distracted, had a small situation at work before coming here, that’s why i was late.”

because he was certainly not debating whether he should go to the party if it meant seeing you with somebody else. nah, not at all.

jungkook manages to keep his feelings at bay for the second half of the night. almost like the situation had been flipped around since you’re the one about to lose it now. 

the food was delicious, taehyung kept making you laugh every now and then with his funny stories and bad jokes, you had also met namjoon’s girlfriend, kimberly. everything was sailing smoothly. jungkook who?

that was, of course, until he and his date joined the other couples on the dancefloor. you feel like they’re dancing on top of your table, too close for your liking. too close to you, too close to each other. leslie keeps laughing like a teenager in love at prom; at this point, you think he’s a second away from kissing her if you don’t do something soon. taehyung’s deep in conversation with jimin, so that leaves you without your dance partner.

almost as if he’d read your mind, jimin stands up and pulls the two of you to the dancefloor. taehyung moves his free arm to be able to reach your hand, making sure you don’t get lost in the crowd. bingo, you think to yourself, standing up and reaching for his hand, securing your grip on his.

“i love this song, i was about to interrupt your conversation,” you confess, taking advantage of the position you’re in now that taehyung spun you around to the rhythm of the music to peek around the room, trying to locate jungkook. 

your eyes meet his almost instantly, your gaze changing from soft to something close to “did i interrupt something?” when you see how close leslie’s mouth is to his. jungkook steps away from her at breakneck speed, making you smirk now that your line of sight is not infected. you don’t mind taehyung pulling you closer to his body if it means giving jungkook a taste of his own medicine. besides, his grip feels snug. 

“didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” taehyung’s warm breath in your ear startles you.

“we’ve never had the privilege of dancing together, have we?” the music is loud enough, almost like you’re in a club, making you lean to talk in his ear too.

you don’t step away or move your head when taehyung cups your cheek and makes you look at him, not even when he tilts his head and his eyes flutter shut, lips mere inches away from yours. 

“y/n, i think i left my gift in your car, can we go get it?” jungkook’s voice is heard out of nowhere, making taehyung jump and step away from you.

“but we didn’t even r–”

“now,” he growls, reaching for your hand.

there’s a tiny window open for you to refuse if you don’t want to listen to him. jungkook could be filled with rage, but he’d never force you to do something you don’t feel like doing. the moment you take your hand in his, he leads you to the hallway, hoping you two could have a decent conversation.

“this is not the way to the parking lot, i should’ve guessed you were bringing me somewhere else since we didn’t ride together, but i still don’t understand what we’re doing–”

you’re hotly interrupted by jungkook. “were you about to kiss taehyung?”

“were you about to kiss leslie before i caught you redhanded?” you closely scrutinize his body language. 

he is not going to put the blame on you, oh hell no.

“i think i asked you first, y/n. were you, or were you not?” he questions you again, tongue prodding his cheek.

“last time i checked, you’re not blind. you definitely saw my lips hovering over his, his hands on my waist, my chest pressed to his…” you trail off, biting your lip to contain the smirk that’s about to take place on your lips.

“if you were so okay with him kissing you, why did you get all bothered by me being close to leslie? if i recall correctly, she was standing close to me like this,” he pulls you to him by the waist, wrapping your arms around his neck. “and i was here…” he leans down, about to kiss you until you push him off you.

“if you wanna go kiss her, just go. sorry i interrupted your majestic movie scene with my jealousy.” it escapes your mouth before you could even think twice about it. your arms, that were still wrapped around his neck, leave his body in order for you to be able to cover your mouth.

“what was that? i’m sure you can be louder. no need to be shy.” he uses the same sentence he uttered the other day in his bathroom, enjoying the way you get all flustered. 

“imma go shove my tongue down taehyung’s throat. this is a waste of time.” you spit, eyeing him up and down before turning around and taking a couple of steps.

“over my dead body, get the fuck back here and kiss me,” he practically growls, making you halt in your steps.

“not so cool picturing the other person about to kiss someone else who’s not you, is it?” you reply, back still turned to him.

“i was not joking when i said you should kiss me. i was also not joking when i called you my pretty girl the other day.” 

that makes you turn to look at him. 

“it was the heat of the moment, don’t twist your words.” you’re able to recognize when jungkook is bullshitting his way through life, and you hope this is not one of those moments because that is the closest thing you’re ever gonna get to a confession coming from him.

“i’m not.” he simply states, walking up to you. “if what you felt tonight was indeed jealousy, then i’m not ashamed to say i’ve spent the whole night imagining it was me holding your hand in front of everyone, holding you close, making you laugh and dancing so close to you.”

“why now?” you ask, deciding to break the one-step barrier between the two of you, being able to spit one question out of the thousand in your head.

“because i hated seeing someone else take my place, and i’ve tried to hide it. i’ve tried to ignore these feelings, but i can’t anymore.” he gulps, throwing his head back in exasperation. “my date, you were supposed to be my date. not leslie.”

“why didn’t you say something?” 

“why didn’t you say something?” jungkook returns the question, obviously a nervous mess because of your interrogation.

“look, can we pretend i never mentioned i felt jealous? it was stupid and useless and this conversation’s going nowhere.” typical you trying to escape everything that seems complicated.

“too bad, y/n. because i’m not letting you go so easily now that i know you feel the same way.” 

before you know it, jungkook’s kissing you. if he’s kissed you before, this kiss makes you forget all those previous kisses. nothing feels better than the way jungkook leaves you breathless just by licking your bottom lip, or the way he breaks the kiss for a nanosecond before tilting his head to deepen the second best kiss you’ve ever had. 

the need for air becomes predominant, making you reluctantly step away from him. jungkook is quick to chase your mouth, eyes still closed and a low whine leaving his mouth.

“mmm. let’s go home, ‘kay?” you giggle, cupping his face like he usually does to you.

“i’ll follow you everywhere, y/n.” 

pls don't be a silent reader! i love reading your reactions <3 hope u enjoyed.

just wanna thank everyone for the reblogging, likes, and even follow!! love y’all 🥰

sky musings

cr.

angel!yoongi x reader

genre: a bucket of angst, a cup of fluff/romance

words: 2,3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smoking

for the vibes: Son Lux - Let Me Follow 

note: well, i mean, i don’t even know what this is, but i hope it’s coherent enough to enjoy

masterlist

🍁

‘is that where your home is?’

the night sky is the canvas for your imagination, thus the tiny specks of stars flicker in the pattern of your fantasy.

the earth welcomes your tired body by cooling your skin down and caressing it with its viridescent sprouts of life.

you hear a shaky exhale beside you. he’s the inspiration for your glittery art.

‘not physically, no,’ he answers softly. the thoughtful tone in his voice captivates you, makes you listen. you have a craving to learn. you want to hear more. you need to know more.

effortlessly, he senses that and adds, ‘it’s a whole another world.’

if you had to describe his voice, without a doubt you’d say it’s the navy blue of the sky. deep and full of mystery, making you dizzy with its endless echo rippling over you. strikingly magnificent and at times overwhelming. yet those vividly yellow sparkles mottle its dark surface in different ways every time he speaks. they resemble him. they’re bright and warm. they hold the eternal wisdom deep within. it’s up to you how much of it you’re able to hear.

‘is it beautiful?’ you ask, already full of certitude that the place must be the most majestic of all the realms, if yoongi is the one to originate from there.

‘it truly is,’ he utters. a tinge of nostalgia paints the sky.

you feel the grass tickle your cheek as you gaze at the man beside you. ‘so why don’t you take me with you?’

Keep reading

glitter and disquiet (jjk) - 1

Part of the Sons of Midas Collab

Part 1 | Part 2 | Drabble

Summary- Poised to inherit Korea’s largest gaming company in a few months, the world looks at Jeon Jungkook as a symbol of envy. Why wouldn’t they? He has everything, riches, power, and according to the rumour mill, endless women. Little do they know that his father’s company is on the verge of downfall, he barely has respect of his employees, and regardless of the rumours, he’s just a virgin saving himself for true love.

word count -  18.5k (buckle up buckaroooos!)

pairing- ceo!Jungkook x youtuber!Reader

rating- R

genre- angst, smut, fluff, chaebol!au

warnings- virgin!Jungkook, mentions of cheating, divorce, open relationships, descriptions of anxiety and stress, car accident, hospitals, smut in the form of oral sex (m and f receiving), Jungkook is a hopeless romantic but wbk

a.n- Well here it is martians (did i make my own fandom name for a fandom that doesnt exist? yes, sir. ty marketing 101 in uni lmfao)! The collab that I forced all friends to do with me. Thank you @hobiandsprite, @taegularities, @oftenderweapons​, @biaswreckme​, @honeyj00ns​ for enabling my 3am thoughts. I truly love and appreciate you all! 

This is an angsty piece that I challenged myself with because I wanted to create holistic characters rather than just focusing on romance (dw theres lots of that there too!). 

I hope you enjoy this! See you next month for the second part hehe!

A big warm thank you to @oftenderweapons @hobiandsprite and @taegularities for beta reading this monster even though i didn’t finish it till a few hours ago! ily guys you keep me sane and happy 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

Sometimes, when he was all alone, or when he was working hard, Jungkook felt it. A little tug on his little finger. It didn’t hurt nor burn, but left behind tingles. A little spark that lifted his finger into the air involuntarily. It was pretty prominent when he was younger but not much anymore. Now, much to his disappointment, it came rarely.

His doctor said it was most likely muscle fatigue, but Jungkook liked to believe in old myths instead. He wasn’t superstitious, but he liked the idea that somewhere, there was another person whose pinky twitched the same time as his - that some ancient omnipotent god had tied the two of them up with an invisible thread. A thread that may tangle, or expand, or shorten, but would always lead him to the one he was meant to be with. 

Perhaps this belief was silly, a dreamer’s hyperbole, but Jungkook really really wanted it to be true. He couldn’t understand the point of life otherwise. Would god really be cruel enough to create the crushing monotony of existence without creating the reprieve of a partner to bear it with?

Keep reading

lover

pairing: jungkook x y/n

glimpse: jungkook has a crush and LOTS of vacant space on his ears upon seeing piercing artist!y/n, jin is TERRIFIED of needles and just needs to hold someone’s hand, jimin is a chatty receptionist that gets on jungkook’s nerves a whole ton, and tHen some smut :D 

wordcount: 22k

notes: dedicated to jungkook n his pretty earrings because i would totally go through his hoops like what vitaly did in madagascar 3 :D // gif isn’t mine!!

(*´꒳`*)

Keep reading

Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.