The Catch (Part 2)

The Catch (Part 2)

Your daughter is the most important person in your life. Her father? Not so much. He's been away for years, and now he wants to come back.

Pairing: Seokjin x F!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 11k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: Single parenthood, sex and swearing

Part 1

Part 2

‘You want to go on holiday together,’ you repeat after Seokjin.

‘Somewhere hot, and sunny. A winter break,’ Seokjin says, nodding.

To be fair, he’s making it sound pretty enticing.

‘Chaeyoung wants to meet Reiha too.’

And just like that, your stomach drops.

‘You want us to go on holiday together with you and Chaeyoung,’ you say.

‘It’s a really nice resort,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll pay for everything.’

‘I don’t need your money, Seokjin,’ you say automatically, and your eyes focus in on his lips when you realise he’s mimicking you, having heard you say this exact sentence umpteen times over the last few weeks.

‘Are you twelve?’ you ask, scathing.

Seokjin grins at you.

‘Come on. I’ll hire out a separate villa for you, so if you and Chaeyoung don’t get along you don’t even have to see each other.’

‘Why wouldn’t we get along?’ you ask.

‘Women fight over me sometimes,’ Jin mutters.

You roll your eyes so hard you nearly give yourself a headache.

Reiha, of course, is ecstatic at the news.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the Maldives for five days with Kim Seokjin, his beautiful movie star girlfriend Chaeyoung and your superstar of a daughter Reiha.

***

One flight and a seaplane later, you tip the man who’s set your bags down in the huge villa Seokjin’s organised and admire the view.

You’ve never been to the Maldives before, and it’s stunning. To be fair, you haven’t been on holiday in years.

The sky’s a cerulean blue, and the sparkling ocean is so clear you can almost see the fish from here.

Reiha’s bouncing on the huge bed, and you throw your reservations to the wind and bounce along with her.

‘Mom, this is amazing!’

‘I know!’

You race through the villa, realising with delight that it’s bigger than you expected, with two bedrooms, both overlooking the ocean, two bathrooms, a huge living room and a tiny kitchen.

‘Let’s go swimming,’ Reiha says.

You can’t get changed fast enough.

You’re splashing in the ocean, horsing around with Reiha when you see Seokjin and Chaeyoung approach.

Chaeyoung had seemed nice enough, you met her for the first time on the plane. She’s beautiful, of course, and her and Seokjin look stunning together. She hadn’t said much to you, but she’d smiled kindly at Reiha, which had been enough to win you over.

Seokjin splashes out to join you and Reiha. You don’t remember him being much of a swimmer, but of course you last knew him when you were teenagers. He’s had time to get better since then.

‘Race to the shore?’ you challenge Reiha. You used to go swimming together a lot when she was younger, although you haven’t been in a while.

Reiha nods. She gets her competitive streak from you.

‘I’m in,’ Jin says.

You have no idea who wins because of all the cheating. Jin had given Reiha a head start, not realising how fast she was. Then the bastard had yanked your leg to hold you back and you’d gone under. You’d retaliated by tackling him in the water and then swimming off with Reiha.

‘Can we go snorkelling mom?’ Reiha asks, hopeful.

‘Sure, baby. Do you want to go with Jin and Chaeyoung?’ you ask.

‘Chaeyoung doesn’t want to snorkel,’ Jin says. ‘So it’d be just me and Reiha. Want to come?’

‘Ah, sure.’

Jin and you wait as Reiha’s fitted with a snorkel and mask.

‘She’s a great swimmer,’ Jin says, something like pride in his expression as he looks at her.

‘We used to go every week,’ you tell him. You’d tried hard to do something fun with Reiha in her early years, when everything was expensive and difficult.

‘Thank you,’ Jin says, and there’s a note in his voice that makes you look at him.

‘What are you thanking me for now?' you ask.

‘For doing all the work for the both of us,’ he says.

Your eyes snap to his.

‘Yeah, well, thanks for organising all this, and for paying for it,’ you tell him. ‘It’s kind of you.’

‘I’m not –‘ Jin breaks off as Reiha runs up to both of you.

***

You and Reiha are walking to dinner in the resort.

‘This is so awesome, mom. I can’t wait for tomorrow,’ Reiha says. She hugs you unexpectedly.

You hug her back. ‘What should we do tomorrow?’

‘More snorkelling,’ Reiha says.

You join Jin and Chaeyoung at their table.

Chaeyoung smiles at you. ‘The food is meant to be excellent. We’re having lobster.’

‘Ah thanks for the recommendation,’ you tell her.

‘I’d like a burger,’ Reiha announces.

You have to laugh at your daughter’s food preferences. ‘I’ll have the swordfish,’ you tell the waiter.

‘Can we go snorkelling tomorrow, dad?’ Reiha asks Jin. You see the faintest flicker of something in Chaeyoung’s eyes at the use of ‘dad’. You guess it must be pretty weird for your boyfriend to suddenly be the dad of an eleven-year-old.

‘How did you and Jin meet?’ you ask Chaeyoung.

‘Oh, through our management company,’ Chaeyoung tells you. ‘His manager thought we’d get on and set us up on a date.’

She laughs. ‘He was so awkward! I almost didn’t agree to a second date.’

You smile. ‘Guess he was nervous.’

‘It’s our one-year anniversary next week,’ Chaeyoung says. ‘I’m glad we managed to get away.’

That makes you feel a little awkward. Again, you guess it must be pretty weird to go on a holiday with your boyfriend’s daughter and ex-girlfriend.

‘This is a great place to go on holiday,’ you say, neutrally. Your gaze meets Jin’s, and he’s looking at you, another expression on his face you don’t understand.

***

The next morning Jin comes over to your villa.

‘Hey, Chaeyoung’s organised a spa day for you and her. I thought it’d be a good opportunity to take Reiha snorkelling and maybe check out the sea turtles,’ Jin says.

You’re torn. You’d love a spa day, but you’d also like snorkelling.

‘You don’t have to go on the spa day, it was just an idea,’ Jin tells you.

You guess this is what it’s like to be a grown up. ‘Oh sure, a spa day sounds fun,’ you say. ‘As long as you guard Reiha with your life, Seokjin.’

‘I won’t let anything happen to her,’ Jin promises you.

‘Because I will hurt you,’ you say, trying to sound menacing.

Jin laughs. ‘If you weren’t the shortest person here I might be able to take you seriously.’

‘I’m not short,’ you grumble.

‘No, you’re not. But I’m glad Reiha gets her height from me,’ Jin says, grinning.

He pauses. ‘She gets her determination from you though. When she’s concentrating, she looks just like you.’

You’ve never noticed that.

‘It’s cute,’ Jin coos.

‘Ugh. Get lost,’ you say, pushing his hands away as he tries to tug your ponytail.

***

As much as you hate to admit it, a spa day was a good choice. You’re relaxing on a massage bench, having hot stones laid on your back, being pummelled to within an inch of your life, and you feel great.

Chaeyoung looks over at you as you join her in the jacuzzi.

‘The massage was a good idea,’ you tell her enthusiastically.

She just smiles. ‘I prefer this to anything active to be honest. Jin tired me out last night.’

You work hard not to have any sort of visible reaction to her words.

‘It’s a romantic place,’ you agree.

‘What about you?’ Chaeyoung asks. ‘Do you have a partner?’

‘Oh no,’ you reply. ‘I’ve just started seeing someone though.’

You’ve been on a few dates with Yoongi. You think it’s going well. You’re by no means a relationship expert, but you know he’s a nice guy, and you know he likes you.

Chaeyoung hums. ‘Seokjin’s a romantic guy. Didn’t you find that when you were dating him?’

‘Oh well, we were fifteen,’ you tell her, honestly. ‘We were in school together, not the most romantic place.’ You laugh self-deprecatingly.

‘For our six-month anniversary he took us to Paris,’ Chaeyoung muses. ‘He’s generous too. He’s bought me so much jewelry I had to tell him to stop.’ She laughs, tinkly.

You’re not sure what’s triggering all this girl talk but it’s making you feel a little small.

‘Lucky you,’ you say. You stand up. ‘I’m getting a little pruney. I might go and grab a drink before our facials.’

As you’re waiting outside the spa, you hear Chaeyoung’s name called.

‘Hey, gorgeous,’ says a beautiful man, walking up and embracing her.

‘Hobi!’ says Chaeyoung, looking pleased to see him. ‘I didn’t know you were here too!’

‘I’m here with Jimin and Jungkook,’ Hobi says. ‘How long are you here? We should have dinner together.’

‘That would be lovely,’ Chaeyoung says. ‘Seokjin’s here, of course.’

Hobi is looking at you with interest, probably wondering what Chaeyoung’s doing with someone so obviously not a celebrity.

‘This is Y/N,’ Chaeyoung says.

You smile and hold out your hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ he says, smiling at you charmingly. ‘I’m Hoseok.’

‘We have to get going, Hobi, we’ll miss our slot. But dinner. Tonight?’

‘Yeah, we’re up for dinner,’ Hoseok says. He smiles at you politely as you walk off.

***

When you arrive for dinner, Jin and Chaeyoung are sitting with Hoseok and two other men you don’t know.

They’re a beautiful group, you feel pretty intimidated.

Reiha looks up at you. ‘Shall we go and eat together?’

‘Sure, baby. We can do whatever you want.’

You’re turning around, hand on Reiha’s shoulder, when Jin comes up to you.

‘Hey, where are you going?’ he asks. ‘There’s seats for you next to me.’

You look at Reiha, who’s looking up at Jin. For the first time in a long time, your daughter looks shy.

You’re just about to say you’ll meet Jin for breakfast when Reiha nods.

Reiha ends up sandwiched between you and a man called Jungkook. She admires his tattooed arm. In moments Jungkook is telling her all about his tattoos.

On the other side of you, Hoseok, who you met earlier, asks how you know Jin and Chaeyoung. Your eyes flick to Jin’s awkwardly before you answer. You have no idea how much his friends know about you and Reiha.

‘She’s my ex-girlfriend,’ Jin says, saving you. ‘Reiha’s my daughter.’

Hoseok’s eyebrows rise slightly, but the smile he gives you seems sincere.

‘She looks like a better version of Jin,’ he says lightly.

You laugh. ‘It’s my genes,’ you say, jokingly.

‘You are way prettier than Jin,’ Hoseok agrees.

You laugh off his compliment. ‘Better at swimming too.’

‘We’re going to swim out to a wreck tomorrow,’ Jungkook says, from the other side of you. ‘You’re welcome to come with if you’d like.’

‘Ah, I don’t know if Reiha would be up for it,’ you demur.

‘I’ll look after Reiha. We wanted to see the sea turtles again, anyway,’ says Jin.

You look at Reiha. ‘We’ll see.’

Reiha rolls her eyes. ‘You can go, mom. I’d rather hang with dad anyway.’

You pretend to be wounded at her statement. ‘I changed your diapers, young lady.’

Jimin, the beautiful man sitting across from Reiha, laughs suddenly. ‘I can’t imagine Jin changing diapers.’

‘I didn’t,’ Jin says, quietly.

‘You were always terrible at cleanup,’ you say, referring to when you had to do beach cleanup at school. ‘If it were up to you, the beaches would never be clean.’

Jin laughs. ‘I had other things to do at school.’ He says it so lightly it doesn’t sound suggestive.

Chaeyoung says, ‘Jin’s always had specific interests.’ She glances at Jin.

Thankfully your food arrives, because there’s a slight awkwardness in the air.

Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok are good company, attentive to Reiha. Jungkook in particular seems good with her, telling her a selection of terrible jokes and showing her how to fling peas at Jin.

You excuse yourselves when Reiha starts yawning.

The next morning after breakfast, Jin sets off with Reiha and you head to meet Jungkook, Hoseok and Jimin.

‘Hi,’ you say, a little shyly. They’re good-looking guys, and you don’t know them that well.

Hoseok smiles at you, friendly as ever. ‘Ready for adventure?’ he asks, dropping his voice for dramatic effect.

You laugh. ‘Born ready.’

The wreck is more impressive than you imagined it, a huge dark mass teeming with swirling fish. Hoseok stays close to you, pointing things out. He startles easily, but doesn’t take himself too seriously.

When you come out of the water, Jungkook and Jimin start talking enthusiastically about the turtles they saw. Hoseok helps you disentangle your hair from your snorkel mask. He’s gentle, gentler than you would have been, and with him this close your face is practically in his chest.

Your face flushes at his proximity, and you hope he hasn’t noticed.

‘There,’ he says, handing you your mask, helping you tug your hair back off your face.

‘Thanks, Hoseok,’ you say, smiling up at him.

He smiles back. ‘Not a problem. It was nice snorkelling with you. These two just like scaring each other under the water.’

‘Yeah, it was fun,’ you tell him.

‘Want to grab a drink?’ Hoseok asks. He looks so handsome, tanned and windswept, that you find yourself saying yes.

You text Jin to check him and Reiha are ok and Hoseok takes you one of the bars in the resort.

He tells you about a time he and Jin were cornered by photographers on the way out from a club. ‘And then, Jin had organised for the girls to be picked up first, but they took them to the wrong hotel. And so it ended up being just me and him.’

You laugh. ‘Pop star life.’

‘He used to spend any time off he had going back home,’ Hoseok tells you.

This is news to you. You’d never run into Jin bar that one night five years ago. You guess his family were pretty good at keeping his visits under the radar.

‘He told me about you, once,’ Hoseok says.

You’re curious despite yourself. ‘Oh yeah? What did he say?’

‘When I met Jin he was training for his debut. He was always focused, a hard worker. He used to carry a picture of you in his wallet, and one day I asked about it.’

‘Jin didn’t have any pictures of me,’ you say, confused.

‘You were wearing bunny ears, it looked like a funfair,’ Hoseok says.

It comes back to you then. On one of your first dates Jin had taken you to a winter carnival. He’d won you a stuffed bunny at a shooting game, and you’d promptly won him a bigger one hooking a duck.

‘He used to say he was working so hard because he was doing it for you.’

You stare at Hoseok, not sure what to believe. ‘He left, and he didn’t get in touch until a few months ago,’ you say. ‘I guess he got over it.’

Hoseok sips his drink. ‘He was in a bad way a few years ago. It was after one of his trips back home, he said he’d seen you.’

‘Yeah,’ you say.

‘I’ve never seen anything or anyone have as much of an effect on Jin as you.’

You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. ‘What are you trying to say, Hoseok? Jin left us. If he wanted to see us, he could have got in touch anytime.’

‘All I’m saying is that Jin’s one of my closest friends. I want him to be happy, and he seems to be happy spending time with Reiha.’ Hoseok takes another sip of his drink. ‘And you.’

You blink back the tears suddenly filling your eyes. ‘He’s happy spending time with Reiha,’ you agree.

Hoseok puts his hand on your arm, and his eyes are kind. ‘And you,’ he repeats.

‘Why did you ask me how I knew Jin, if you knew?’ you ask.

Hoseok gives you a smile that’s pure mischief. ‘Just wanted to see what he’d say.’

***

It’s been a few weeks since you got back from holiday, and things have ramped up as it’s close to Christmas.

You’re watching Reiha play hockey whilst trying to make sure your calendar is updated, when a shadow appears over you.

You look up to see Jin holding out a coffee.

‘We could be more tactical about this,’ you say, thoughtfully, accepting the coffee. ‘If we alternated one of us could have a lie-in on a Saturday.’

‘But we wouldn’t be able to spend time together then,’ Jin says, smiling at you brightly.

‘That’s a hard ‘no’ from me,’ you mutter, pulling up yet another email from Reiha’s school.

Jin puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

‘I see you haven’t upped your game since high school,’ you complain, leaning away.

Jin just laughs. ‘I had enough game to date the prettiest girl in the school.’

‘What? You had another girlfriend? Two-timing son of a bitch,’ you complain.

Jin pinches your cheek gently. ‘You were the prettiest girl in school. No one else even compared.’

You frown up at him. ‘Look where all that flirting got us, Kim Seokjin.’

‘It got us Reiha,’ Jin says. ‘And you’re still the prettiest girl in the school.’

‘Ugh. How does Chaeyoung put up with you?’ you ask.

‘We broke up.’

You look up at Jin, more than a little surprised. ‘You seemed fine when we went on holiday.’

Jin looks out at the hockey pitch. ‘My priorities changed.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him.

‘Don’t be. I’ve never been surer about anything in my life,’ Jin replies.

You’re quiet a moment.

‘Whilst you’re here, can I show you all these upcoming events at Reiha’s school, in case you want to attend any of them?’

Jin lifts the sunglasses he’s taken to wearing since he saw you wearing them and peers at the screen.

‘Sign me up for all of them,’ he says, waving a hand airily.

‘I’m not your secretary, Jin. I’ll send you a copy of my calendar and I’ll tell the school to add you to the mailing list.’

Jin frowns at the calendar. ‘You look sexy in a bikini,’ he says.

It’s so unrelated to what you’ve been taking about that it takes you a moment to regroup.

You ignore him.

‘I can buy you more bikinis,’ he offers.

‘I don’t need your money, Seokjin,’ you say, under your breath. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his lips moving as he mimics you.

You toss your sunglasses at him. He catches them without even blinking.

‘Looks like we have parents evening next week,’ he says, sounding completely serious.

‘Do you need a security detail to go with you?’ you ask, mocking.

To your disbelief, he almost seems to be thinking about it.

‘Better send out the NDAs now,’ you say.

Jin’s lips quiver. He looks like he’s trying to suppress a laugh.

‘Should we take separate cars? I can distract the paparazzi,’ you offer.

Jin tosses your sunglasses back at you, and you put them on, smirking to yourself.

‘You should wear a disguise,’ you say.

‘Shut up,’ Jin says.

***

You wave goodbye to Reiha and the teenager from next door who’s babysitting her and get into Jin’s car.

He reverses out of your driveway.

‘This is kind of like our first date,’ he says, glancing in the rearview mirror at you.

‘The only difference is, I’m on birth control now,’ you say, jokingly.

Jin almost looks proud. ‘The condom only split that one time,’ he says.

You’re appalled. ‘Do you think that’s some sort of testament to your virility? Oh my god, you do.’

You cover your face. ‘This is embarrassing. You’re a grown man, Jin.’

‘I’m grown,’ Jin says, suggestively.

‘Yeah, Chaeyoung told me all about it,’ you mutter.

‘What did she tell you?’ Jin asks. He sounds more curious than upset.

‘Nothing. She actually thought you were a romantic. She said you took her to Paris for an anniversary.’

Jin’s quiet, signalling to turn. ‘I’ll take you wherever you want.’

‘At this point I’d settle for you doing a Saturday so I can get some goddamned sleep,’ you say, yawning.

Jin looks at you, sympathetic. ‘You do look pretty tired.’

‘It’s been worse,’ you say. ‘Christmas is always tiring.’

‘How’s Yoongi?’ Jin asks, pulling into a space in front of the school. ‘Have you dumped him yet?’

You laugh. ‘He’s fine. He’s away for Christmas.’

‘I’m glad,’ Jin says. He shuts off the engine. ‘I don’t want to share you and Reiha over the holidays.’

‘I’m going to have to see my parents at some point,’ you say, falling into step beside him.

‘I’ll take you. I need to see them anyway.’

You look up at Jin. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Jin says.

You look at him thoughtfully.

‘Jin. Can you take those sunglasses off. They actually make you stand out more. And it’s like 8pm.’

‘Ok,’ says Jin, grimly. ‘But just remember you’re responsible for protecting me.’

***

Jin’s not wrong in that his appearance at the parents’ meeting does cause a bit of a stir. His good looks would get him attention anyway, but he’s also got an innate presence that makes heads turn.

You’re sitting in front of Reiha’s teacher, Mr Kim, an intense looking man with a gorgeous smile.

‘She’s doing great. I’ve got no concerns,’ he says. ‘She participates in class and she’s confident and she helps others. Was there anything you were concerned about?’

‘Not particularly,’ you say. You look to Jin. ‘Did you have any questions, Jin?’

Jin’s looking through a poem Reiha’s written. ‘She’s so creative,’ he says, proudly.

‘She is,’ Mr Kim agrees. ‘She’s a good writer.’

‘Thanks very much, Mr Kim,’ you say, getting up.

‘Ah, call me Taehyung,’ he says, smiling at you. He puts out his hand for you to shake and you smile back at him.

Jin nudges you as you wait in line to speak to the hockey coach. ‘What was that?’ he asks.

‘What was what?’ you ask, offering him gum from your bag.

Jin accepts. ‘Oooo thank you very much Mr Kim, sir,’ he says, putting a simper in his tone.

You burst out laughing. ‘I didn’t call him sir!’

‘You can call me sir,’ Jin says, not missing a beat.

‘You’re disgusting,’ you say, sternly. ‘This is a parents’ meeting.’

Jin chews his gum obnoxiously, and you regret offering him any.

‘Did I ever make you cum?’ he asks.

‘Stop embarrassing us,’ you hiss. ‘Lower your voice.’

Jin’s counting on his fingers, and you’re staring at the ground, wishing for a black hole to appear and swallow you down. Or him.

‘Five,’ he says.

‘Five what?’ you ask, furious.

‘That hotel room, five years ago. I made you cum five times.’

You laugh loudly. ‘Hahaha,’ you say, trying to drown him out.

‘With my mouth, with my fingers, with my mouth again, then twice on my cock.’

To shut him up, you say, ‘Think how many more times you could have made me cum if you hadn’t dumped me.’

Jin turns to you. ‘It’s the biggest regret of my life, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.’

You wait together in silence until it’s your turn to be seen.

***

Yoongi’s back from his trip, and you can’t wait to see him. You’re checking how your ass looks in the new lingerie you bought to surprise him when there’s a knock at your door and it opens.

Jin stares at you. ‘Holy fuck,’ he breathes.

You cover yourself with your hands, scurrying for your clothes. ‘Fuck! Don’t you knock? Where’s Reiha?’

‘She’s – fuck!’ Jin stops and looks at the ground to stop his eyes from roaming over your body.

‘Fuck!’ you echo.

‘I knocked,’ Jin says, holding up his hands defensively as you slip a t-shirt over your head and throw a pillow at him.

‘You don’t just knock and come in,’ you argue, throwing another pillow at him.

Jin takes two steps into the room and grabs your hands. ‘Stop throwing things at me!’

You wriggle in his grasp, and Jin licks his lips as he looks down at you.

‘What I wouldn’t give –’ he stops, and starts again. ‘What wouldn’t I give to bury my face –’

You stop wriggling. ‘Stop, Jin,’ you say. ‘Please, stop.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. He lets go of your wrists. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.’

‘I’m not your baby,’ you say. There’s a feeling in your chest that’s dangerously close to hope, and you can’t do this with Jin again.

You can’t.

‘Get out of the room, Jin,’ you tell him, voice flat.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N,’ he says. He turns and leaves the room.

***

Yoongi’s a perceptive man. He touches your arm.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks.

‘Just people,’ you tell him. You turn into his chest. ‘My ex.’

Yoongi drops his chin onto your head. ‘What’s he done?’ he asks.

‘He broke up with his girlfriend and since then he’s been acting like he wants us to get back together.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Yoongi asks.

‘No. How could I ever trust him again after what he did?’ you say. ‘I can’t do that to myself again.’

‘Want me to have a word with him?’ Yoongi offers.

You’ve never had a man volunteer to stand up for you before.

You look up at Yoongi. ‘No, but thank you. I’m pretty good at fixing my own problems.’

Yoongi nods. ‘I know you are. I’m here, though, and I’d love to help you, with anything.’

‘I know what you can help me with,’ you say.

Yoongi laughs, low. You can feel the rumble in his chest.

‘Yeah?’ he asks.

‘Got some new lingerie for you,’ you tell him.

Yoongi nuzzles your neck. ‘Let me see,’ he murmurs, lips ghosting the skin of your neck, making you shiver.

‘Help me get this off,’ you tell him.

Yoongi obliges, because he’s good like that.

***

Sometimes you can’t tell what Yoongi’s thinking. You’ve been dating on and off for months now, periods of seeing each other interspersed by periods of radio silence. He travels, but he also spends a lot of time in the studio and sometimes his and your schedules are incompatible.

He knows about Reiha, and about Seokjin, your famous ex-boyfriend, and the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You think he likes you. He seems to be attracted to you, and he’s pretty damn good at making sure you enjoy yourself as much as he seems to when you’re in bed together.

Reiha and Seokjin are spending the weekend together, she’d gone over on Friday night, and he’s dropping her off on Sunday morning.

He’s quiet tonight, seemingly lost in thought. He hasn’t said much since you had sex, you’re wondering if you should make yourself scarce. Maybe you’ve outstayed your welcome, you’ve never really stayed more than a night before.

‘Hey,’ you say, gently touching his shoulder. ‘I should get out of here. Can I do anything for you before I go?’

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I’ve got a few things I need to work on.’

His acknowledgement that you should go stings a little, but you’re glad he’s being honest about it.

‘Sure, no worries. You can just tell me to go, you know.’ You smile and pick up your bag. Thankfully you’d gotten dressed after you’d had sex, so there’s no awkward fumbling with clothes.

You drive home, and once you’ve parked you look at your darkened house. The idea of going in to emptiness, with Reiha gone, doesn’t really appeal to you.

You pick up your phone and call Jin. He answers in the first few rings.

He sounds pleased to hear from you. ‘Hey! Just checking in on us?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, hoping your voice sounds normal. ‘Can I come over?’

‘Of course,’ he says, immediately. ‘I’m making hot chocolate, I guess I can make you some too.’

‘Great,’ you say. ‘I’m on my way.’

‘Drive safe,’ he says. ‘See you soon.’

***

You arrive to Reiha and Jin drinking hot chocolate in Jin’s huge kitchen, listening to a podcast about mindfulness.

As soon as you get in, Jin grabs you in a hug. He holds you for a moment, looking down at you. ‘Hey, are you ok?’

He’d known you were meant to be with Yoongi this weekend.

You force a smile. ‘Yeah, of course.’ You turn away to give Reiha a hug. ‘Didn’t want to miss the hot chocolate.’

Jin doesn’t look like he’s convinced, but he plays along when you swipe his hot chocolate, complaining to Reiha about you. Reiha, your loyal daughter, defends you until he buys her off with extra marshmallows.

It’s a scene you never thought you’d experience, your daughter and her father ganging up on you over hot chocolate on a Saturday night.

You’re still too scared to accept that this happiness is your present, let alone your future.

After Reiha goes to bed in the huge room Jin’s had decorated for her, you’re loading the dishwasher when you hear Jin come back in the room.

‘Drink?’ he asks.

You turn around and realise he’s holding up a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Yeah, I could use one,’ you sigh.

He waits until you’ve taken your first few mouthfuls before he says, ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen with Yoongi?’

You try to force another smile but it doesn’t come. ‘He was busy,’ you tell Jin.

‘He’s an idiot,’ Jin says, decisively. ‘I’d never be too busy –’ He breaks off.

The laugh that comes out of you is more bitter than you’d like it to be.

‘You’d never be too busy for me?’ you ask, completing his sentence. ‘But you were, Jin.’

Jin’s getting up from his seat, coming around his kitchen island to you.

He stops in front of you. ‘I can’t change what I did. All I can do is try and show you that I’ve changed. I’m not the same person who left you.’

You can barely look at him. ‘What’s the catch, Jin? You can’t walk in here after eleven years and just expect us to all play happy families for the rest of our lives.’

‘There’s no catch,’ Jin says, resolute. ‘I promise you, I’m not going to leave you again.’

‘Jin, I-‘

Your words trail off when you realise he’s leaning down to you. His hand lands on the small of your back, and his lips stop a whisper away from yours.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks.

You close your eyes and give in. The kiss is so sweet you can feel tears pricking your eyelids. This is the Jin you fell in love with as a teenager, this is the Jin you’ve been in love with all these years.

He has so much power over you, it’s devastating.

Jin’s kissing you slowly, languidly, like he has nothing but time for you. You part your lips first, and his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. His hard chest presses against yours, the friction making your nipples peak. His hand’s still on the small of your back, fingers splayed, thumb rubbing circles against you.

‘Jin,’ you breathe when your lips part.

‘Yeah?’ he asks. He’s looking at you, lips swollen from your kisses, and he’s so beautiful you almost can’t believe he’s real.

Jin doesn’t wait for you to answer his question. He’s already dipping his head down to kiss you again, dragging his lips over yours, pulling your hips against his, showing you how hard he is for you.

‘Come to bed,’ he says. He takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

***

It feels like you’ve been kissing Jin for hours, sweaty and breathless, limbs tangled. He’s stroking you over your panties, the pressure of his fingers relentless, drawing gasps from you. You rock your hips against his hand, trying to get more because he’s not giving you enough.

Jin nibbles your lower lip, distracting you just enough that it takes you a moment to notice he’s tugged your panties aside. He strokes over your clit, then slides two of his fingers inside you.

‘So wet,’ he marvels. ‘Your little pussy’s squeezing my fingers so tight.’

His thumb presses over your clit, and you cry out his name.

You look down at his fingers buried inside you, the way his forearm’s flexing as he thumbs your clit and the sight is so erotic you moan into Jin’s mouth.

‘Feel good, baby?’ Jin asks. He mouths at your breast over your lacy bra, tonguing your nipple, and you cry out again as you cum over his fingers. Jin fucks you harder, licking at your nipple until you put your hand against his arm.

He slows his pace but doesn’t remove his fingers. ‘I want to stay buried in this pussy forever,’ he grunts.

You clench around him involuntarily, and Jin hums his approval. ‘I think you want me to stay buried inside you, don’t you?’ he asks.

He sits up. ‘Panties off,’ he says. You lift your hips so he can tug your panties down.

Jin pushes your legs apart and plants a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your cunt. His tongue laps at your clit, and you keen.

‘Your clit’s so swollen,’ he tells you. ‘Your pussy tastes so good, baby.’

He holds you open, thumbs parting your lips so he can lick inside of you.

‘Jin,’ you moan.

‘Fuck,’ he groans. ‘So good.’ His face is deep between your legs, nose against your clit, his lips and tongue pressed against you, devouring you.

He reaches up to squeeze your breast, pinching at your nipple. He pushes his fingers inside you, stroking, scissoring, and your hips buck into his face.

You cry out his name again, and Jin fucks you harder. He wants to make you cum again on his fingers and tongue.

‘You want my cock baby?’ he asks, breathless. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you it hurts.’

Jin noses your clit again and again, tongue lapping at you, fingers thrusting. You pinch your own nipples, and Jin groans again. ‘Good girl.’

You can feel the pleasure spiralling again, tighter and tigher until Jin curls his fingers inside you and you cum again, gushing all over him.

Jin licks up your cum until you’re panting, boneless on the bed.

‘You can give me one more,’ he tells you. He curls a hand around his cock, so hard it looks painful.

You turn over onto your front and lift your ass in the air for him. You turn your head just in time to see Jin squeezing the head of his cock.

‘Fuck,’ he says, and there’s a wry smile on his face. ‘I nearly just came right there and then. This ass. Fuck.’

You wriggle your hips, and Jin slaps your ass.

The head of his cock breaches you, and you moan at the stretch.

‘So tight,’ Jin hisses. He pushes in, inch by exquisite inch, and by the time he’s fully inside you, you’re beyond words.

He stays like that, unmoving, letting you adjust to him.

You arch your back. ‘Jin,’ you whine.

‘Want more? Greedy,’ Jin says, but he sounds pretty smug about it.

He waits a moment more, and you know it’s only because you’re getting more desperate for him to move by the second.

If there’s one thing Jin knows how to do, it’s how to make you wait for him.

You bury your face in his pillow so that he can’t hear you groaning in frustration.

Finally, you push up on the bed and twist your torso towards him. ‘Jin, baby, please,’ you say, leaning back against his chest. You press your lips to the beautiful column of his neck, and he curls an arm around the front of your pelvis, holding you against him.

‘Turn around, I want to see your face,’ Jin tells you.

The intimacy of his weight on you, his cock inside you, his face next to yours, is almost unbearable. You’re looking at the hollow between his collarbones when he says, ‘Hey. Look at me when I’m fucking you. ‘

Your eyes snap to his, and he’s smirking at you.

‘I can’t stand you,’ you tell him. Jin just laughs.

‘Don’t lie to me when I’m balls deep inside you,’ he tells you, voice like velvet. ‘You’ve been squeezing me non-stop since I got inside you. You’re so wet.’ He punctuates his words with a thrust.

‘You think you hate me, but your body knows better, baby.’

Jin rocks his hips against yours, smooth, slow. You tilt your pelvis, meeting him thrust for thrust, and finally, you see his control begin to break.

‘Need you to fuck me hard, Jin,’ you murmur. ‘I wanna cum on this cock.’

Jin sucks in a breath, and you nibble his ear.

‘I want it, Jin,’ you tell him. ‘Give it to me.’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Jin says, picking up the pace. ‘I’ll give it to you, baby, I’ll fucking give it.’

You press your lips to the sensitive skin of his neck and suck, hard, making a bruise bloom.

Jin moans, and he sounds so beautiful you suck another hickey into his skin just to hear it again.

Jin’s hand slips down between your bodies to thumb your clit. You press your fingers over his to help, letting the tension build until you’re cumming, pulsing around his cock.

Jin’s almost unintelligible now, a litany of fucks slipping from his lips. He slows right before he cums, calling your name. His lips find yours, and you kiss again and again, trying to stay together even when he softens and slips from you.

When you next open your eyes, you’re curled up against Jin’s chest. His arm is sleep-heavy, weighting you down. One of his legs is thrown over your hips, and his cock is warm against your thigh.

You realise by his breathing that he’s awake, looking down at you, eyes bright.

‘Jesus. You’re so clingy,’ you say, but you make no move to get away.

Jin pulls you closer. ‘I’ve been watching you sleep. Like a stalker. And trust me, I know all about those.’

You stretch under him. ‘You’re so much more tolerable when you’re fucking me,’ you tell him.

Jin nods. ‘You too,’ he agrees, smirking at you. ‘You’re so much less prickly after you cum a few times.’

‘What time is it? We should check on Reiha,’ you say, sleepily looking around for the time.

‘I’ve already checked. She’s fine. She slept through that racket you made,’ Jin tells you.

You nudge his cock, which is getting harder and more insistent by the second, growing against your hip. ‘Get this thing away from me.’

‘I’m gonna give it to you in a second,’ Jin promises. ‘If you’re good.’

His hand’s already sliding across your hips, turning you on your side to face him. He’s already hard enough that he’s inside you with the slightest push of his hips. You’ve only just woken up, but the slide feels good, lubricated by his cum, the stretch exquisite. A few thrusts and you’re slick enough for him to move faster.

Jin pulls your leg over his hips to thrust harder against you. This time isn’t as frantic as the last time, the urgency building slower. He kisses your breasts, licking at your nipples, blowing on them until you’re whining, arching back against him.

‘You look so pretty,’ Jin tells you. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his brow and on his bare chest, and you think he’s the pretty one.

‘You’re so pretty when you let me love you,’ he tells you.

His words make you freeze, stiffening up enough that he notices. ‘Are you ok?’ he asks, trying to get you to look at him.

You’re rallying past the sudden pang in your chest. ‘Yeah,’ you lie. ‘You’re just irritating me.’

Jin pulls out of you. ‘I love you,’ he says.

You’d be a fool to believe him, you remind yourself.

You sit up, turning away from him. ‘Don’t make it more than it is, Jin.’

Jin’s grabbing your shoulder. ‘You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.’

‘How am I supposed to believe you, Jin?’

Jin turns your face to his. ‘I’m working on it, Y/N.’ He gets up and holds out a hand.

‘Come on. Let’s go watch the sunrise. I’ll make you a coffee.’

You look up at him and back at the bed.

Jin laughs. ‘I’ll make pancakes when Reiha wakes up and you can have a lie-in then.’

Jin brings you a mug of coffee as you curl up in the huge sofa overlooking the floor to ceiling glass windows of his kitchen.

He sits next to you and brushes your hair away from your face. ‘I could do this with you for the rest of my life,’ he says.

You swallow down the snappy comeback that automatically comes to your lips, and instead lean your head on his shoulder, letting him hold you as you watch the first rays of the sun light the horizon.

***

You look at the riot of flowers that’s taken over your office in disbelief.

It’s your birthday, but you haven’t told anyone.

Certainly not – ‘Jin and…. Min Yoongi,’ reads Eun-Woo, your secretary, looking through the cards.

You’d expect this kind of craziness from Jin, if he ever remembered your birthday, but not Yoongi.

The last time you saw Yoongi you were leaving his house a rejected mess.

‘Can I see the card from Min Yoongi, please?’ you ask, holding out your hand.

Eun-Woo hands you the card. It’s typically brief, and so typically Yoongi you smile.

Y/N,

Happy birthday. I’m sorry for being a dick. Can I call you?

Yours,

Yoongi

‘Min Yoongi sent the peonies,’ Eun-Woo tells you, helpfully.

‘Christ. They’re all fucking peonies,’ you say.

Eun-Woo hands you another card. ‘This is the card from Jin.’

You tear the card open.

Baby,

I love you. I’m going to pick you up after work with Reiha so you can take all these flowers home with you. Dinner tonight?

Love Jin

P.S: Reiha said you liked peonies, so it’s all on her if you don’t.

‘How romantic,’ sighs Eun-Woo, reading over your shoulder. ‘He’s so handsome, too.’

You sigh, irritated. ‘Do you like peonies, Eun-Woo? Take as many as you want, and you can ask anyone else if they’d like some too.’

‘I couldn’t,’ says Eun-Woo, scandalised. ‘They’re for you, from your husband.’

‘I’m not married,’ you remind her, waving your ringless ring finger. ‘Especially not to either of these buffoons.’

Eun-Woo sighs, dreamily. ‘I’d love to have two gorgeous men fighting over me.’

‘How do you know they’re gorgeous. And they’re not fighting over me,’ you say irritably.

‘Min Yoongi’s that music producer isn’t he? And everyone knows Kim Seokjin. He came to your office the other day.’

You rub at your temples, willing away the headache that’s about to bloom.

‘Take as many flowers as you want,’ you tell Eun-Woo again. ‘I’m getting back to work.’

***

Jin steps out of the car to open the door for you.

‘Happy birthday, baby,’ he says. You’re not sure when he started calling you baby, but it seems so natural now you barely notice it. ‘Reiha got her period today.’

You get in the car, turning around to look at Reiha. ‘Hey, baby. Are you ok?’

Reiha nods. ‘Dad helped me.’

When she turned eleven, you gave Reiha a period pack to put in her backpack for school, with a selection of period underwear, pads and tampons.

‘Dad helped you?’ you ask, looking over at Jin.

‘Yeah,’ Reiha says. ‘He helped me pick out what to use.’

You’re surprised, to say the least.

Jin says, ‘I googled it.’

You send kind thoughts to the secret service agent monitoring Jin’s search history.

‘I’m kidding. I’m a grown man, I know how periods work.’ Jin looks offended that you’d ever think otherwise of him.

Reiha holds up the hot water bottle she’s been clutching. ‘This helps.’

‘Thanks,’ you say to Jin. You wouldn’t have picked Jin as the best person to help a pre-teen girl with her period, but he seems to have done well, judging by Reiha’s reaction.

‘I’m her dad,’ Jin says.

You wait for the punchline, but all Jin does is start the engine and start driving you in the direction of home.

You end up ordering in as Reiha’s not feeling up to going out. You watch a movie and cut a cake Jin’s picked up. You let Jin carry all the flowers into the house, including the dozens of peonies Yoongi sent you.

It’s one of the best birthdays you’ve ever had.

***

‘So are you coming?’ Jin asks casually, strolling into your kitchen and stealing a carrot stick before you can stop him.

‘To your funeral?’ you ask, wanting to clarify. ‘If I have nothing better to do.’

Jin steals another carrot stick. ‘To the awards ceremony. I’ve been nominated for one.’

‘Good for you,’ you say dryly. ‘I guess you’re good for something after all.’

Jin pretends to be hurt, clutching his chest dramatically.

‘You’d appreciate my voice if you weren’t so busy screaming for me when we’re in bed together,’ Jin says, huffily.

‘I do scream for you,’ you agree, sultry. You walk up to him, so close your breasts press against him.

Jin looks down at you, his gaze darkening.

‘Stop stealing the fucking carrots, Jin.’

You cup a hand around his cock and squeeze.

Jin licks his lips.

You break apart guiltily when Reiha strolls in.

‘Gross,’ she says, indifferent.

Once she’s strolled out again, Jin says, ‘Where was I? Oh yeah, I was just saying you can scream for me another way, if you come with me to the awards.’

‘Is that why you left the invitation out?’ you muse.

‘I should have known it was too subtle,’ Jin grumbles.

‘I’ll go,’ you decide. ‘If you sort the babysitter.’

‘Done,’ says Jin. ‘I’ve already called her.’

He filches a handful of carrot sticks and walks out. ‘Yeri’s having a bunch of dresses sent over for you. I’m wearing black and white, if you wanted to match.’

***

You aren’t used to having your hair and makeup done, but Jin is. He sits in a chair in one of his spare bedrooms, perfectly at ease, joking with the small army of people swirling around him as he gets ready for the awards show.

He’s up for an award for a song he recorded for a movie, a ballad that suits his voice perfectly.

You, on the other hand, are getting more and more anxious about it as time ticks on.

You can barely look yourself in the mirror, forcing a smile as the makeup artist compliments your skin. After your hair is styled, you leave the room to hide in the bathroom.

You stare at the clock on the wall, wondering if it’s too late to develop a stomach bug. Or to fake your own death.

There’s a knock on the door.

‘Baby?’ Jin calls. As usual, he doesn’t wait for you to answer, opening the door that you thought you’d locked.

‘I’m dying,’ you tell him, trying to sound pitiful.

Jin just laughs. ‘You’re the strongest person I know.’ He holds out a hand to you. ‘Come on, let’s get dressed together. I kicked everyone out.’

He really has. You walk with him to his now deserted room. ‘I’ll help you with your zipper,’ Jin says, waggling his brows suggestively.

You’re so busy trying to disentangle your slinky dress from its hanger that you don’t notice Jin is completely nude.

He smirks at you as your eyes drop to his cock. ‘Like what you see?’ he asks, curling his fingers around himself, pumping his cock, once, twice.

You ignore him and start unbuttoning your oversized shirt.

You step into the shimmery dress you picked out, and you feel Jin’s hands on your back. He’s gentle as he helps you with the zipper.

By the time you’ve had one last look in the mirror, Jin’s ready.

God, he’s handsome. His skin is buffed to perfection, his hair beautifully coiffed, and the tux he’s picked out sets off the breadth of his shoulders, the trimness of his waist, his height, perfectly.

‘You look beautiful,’ he tells you. He seems perfectly sincere, and so you respond in kind.

‘Thank you, Jin.’

‘Let’s go, baby,’ Jin says, holding out his arm, and you take it.

***

The awards show is less nerve-wracking than you expected. Jin skips the red carpet completely, a kindness you hadn’t been expecting.

He keeps his arm around you, anchoring you as he chats to various people he knows. Between his steady presence and the glass of champagne he handed you, by the time you get to your table you’re practically relaxed.

Jin leans over to you. ‘You ok, baby?’ he asks. He waits until you look at him.

‘I’m ok,’ you reply.

He pours you another glass of wine. ‘I can’t wait until we get home,’ he tells you.

‘Do you think you’ll win?’ you ask.

‘I’ve done a bit of campaigning for it,’ Jin replies. ‘Probably not enough.’ He looks up as someone approaches your table.

‘Donghyun,’ Jin says, warmly, getting up to embrace him.

You look up at Donghyun. You’d known you were likely to see him tonight, but you’re not prepared for the rush of emotions you feel as you come face to face with the man who bought you a house to keep you away from Jin.

His face is neutral, in fact, he smiles as he greets you. You reply politely, mechanically, taking another gulp of your wine as Donghyun joins your table and talks to Jin.

As Jin’s category comes up, he reaches over to hold your hand.

‘Good luck,’ you whisper.

‘I don’t need luck,’ Jin says, and the smile he gives you is pure confidence, partly for the cameras, but mostly because he’s Jin.

When he wins, he lifts your hand to kiss it, smiling at you before turning to accept congratulations from Donghyun. It’s an unusually public show of affection for Jin, a clear indicator to all the cameras focused on him of your togetherness. You see Donghyun looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

As Jin goes up to accept his award, Donghyun moves into Jin’s seat.

‘Are you prepared for everything about you to become public knowledge? You’re the one going to be laid bare here. You’re the one who’ll come off like a desperate fan who had Jin’s baby and now won’t leave him alone. Is that what you want for yourself? And your daughter?’

He speaks quietly, emphatically, and his words make you feel like you’ve been doused in freezing water. You’re so shocked you don’t reply, but he doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for one.

You don’t know how you get through the rest of the ceremony. Jin’s surrounded by well-wishers, fellow celebrities keen to congratulate him, and he’s swept away for press interviews and photographs.

You head away from the throngs of people, stepping outside the building, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.

Someone takes your arm, and you look up distractedly to see Min Yoongi.

‘Yoongi,’ you say, relief in your voice.

Yoongi looks at you carefully, then he’s leading you to a corner of the building, slipping his jacket off and wrapping it around your shoulders. He puts an arm around you and squeezes, briefly, and you lean into his touch.

‘He’ll probably be done soon,’ Yoongi tells you. ‘It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?’

You’re starting to calm now, soothed by Yoongi’s presence.

‘Apparently I’m a desperate fan who won’t leave Jin alone,’ you say, smiling wryly at Yoongi.

Yoongi’s bark of laughter makes you feel instantly better. ‘Who told you that?’ he asks.

‘His manager. He bought me a house back before Jin made it big, told me he hoped I wouldn’t have a reason to get in touch with Jin again.’

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair. ‘Fuck that. I can’t believe the shit you’ve been through.’

‘I have Reiha,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at you, and there’s affection in his eyes. ‘She’s lucky to have you.’

He gives you a crooked smile. ‘I was lucky to have you.’

‘God, so many flowers,’ you say, teasing.

‘I’m capable of a grand gesture. From time to time,’ Yoongi replies.

‘Thank you, Yoongi.’ You squeeze his hand.

Yoongi looks at your intertwined fingers then covers your hand with his other one, briefly.

‘Come on. He’ll be done now.’

You feel much stronger coming back in on Yoongi’s arm. He takes you through the crowded room and you see the relief on Jin’s face as he spots you.

He makes his way to you quickly, weaving through the crowd. He nods to Yoongi.

‘Don’t lose her again,’ Yoongi tells him.

You grab Yoongi’s arm as he turns to leave. ‘Will I see you?’

Yoongi flashes a smile at you. ‘Don’t worry. I’m around. I’ll probably be working with your husband, actually.’

‘He’s not my –’ you start, but you trail off at the look Yoongi gives you.

You’re still watching him go when Jin takes your arm. ‘Let’s go, baby.’

In the car, Jin turns to you.

‘Did Donghyun say something to you?’ he asks.

You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions.

‘What did he say?’ asks Jin. His voice is so gentle you find you want to tell him.

‘Did you know that you bought me the house we’re living in now?’ you ask.

His expression tells you he didn’t.

‘It was when Reiha was young, maybe 2 or 3. Childcare was expensive, my parents were helping out a lot, and I’d only just graduated. I wasn’t earning a lot. My dad had a stroke, and he had months of rehab ahead of him. My mom had to look after him, so I moved them in with us.’

You stop, because talking about it is making you remember how desperate you’d been.

‘It was so hard, Jin.’

Jin’s hand is stroking your arm. You aren’t sure it he’s aware he’s doing it. He’s looking at you so intently it gives you the courage to continue.

‘I went to visit your brother, and he gave me Donghyun’s number. I thought it was yours. So I called and he wanted to meet up.’

You stop again, and swallow. You’re still so ashamed of how you’d had to ask him for help when he’d wanted nothing to do with you.

Jin’s jaw is tense now, clenched, and you cover your face. ‘Fuck.’

‘Tell me,’ he says. He’s still touching you, hand warm on your arm.

‘He said he’d buy me a house, and that he expected I wouldn’t need to contact you for any more help.’

Jin huffs out a breath at that.

Now that you’ve said it, the words are pouring out of you.

‘It was pretty fucking desperate times, Jin.’

‘What did he say at the show?’ Jin asks.

‘He just asked if I was ready to be raked over the coals for being a ‘desperate fan’ who let you knock me up and now won’t leave you alone.’

You laugh, but there’s no humour in it.

‘He’s pretty good at looking out for you, Jin.’

‘I didn’t know you’d tried to contact me,’ he tells you. ‘If I’d known, it would have been different, I promise you.’

He pulls you into his arms. ‘How big is your heart that you’d even consider forgiving me after everything I put you through?’

You don’t have an answer for him, don’t have anything else to say.

Jin drives you home and parks outside your house. ‘I’m not coming in yet. I’ve got to speak to Donghyun,’ he says.

He’s still in his tux, his award sitting in the cupholder between you. He sees you looking at it.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘Fuck, I’ve ruined your night.’

Jin picks up his award and passes it to you. ‘Take this. You can do anything you want to it. Drop it in the trash if you want. It’s yours. Everything I have is yours, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to ask for anything. There’s no pride between us, not when you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.’

He looks at you intently. ‘I’m sorry that I ever made you feel I wouldn’t give you anything you wanted. It’s all fucking yours, baby. I did it all for you.’

Jin’s got so much sadness in his eyes you lean forward and kiss him. He sighs into the kiss, lips melting into yours for a moment before he pulls away.

‘I’ve got to go, baby.’

You have no idea where you go from here.

You get out of the car and walk up to your house. Jin waits until you turn and wave before driving off. You unlock the door, and go to Reiha, and let her excited questions and squeals pull you out of the sadness of your past and into the practicalities of your present.

***

You wake up slowly, to the familiar sound of your coffee machine and Reiha chattering.

You blink, hope blooming in your chest.

You’re up and heading downstairs before you’re fully awake.

Reiha’s in the kitchen, talking excitedly to Jin. He’s still wearing his tux, there are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks as though he hasn’t slept.

He’s beautiful.

He gives you a crooked smile.

‘Hard night?’ you ask, but you’re already walking up to him. His arms around you feel like you’re coming home. You press a kiss onto his chest.

‘I think I fuc—messed up the pancake mix,’ he tells you, ruefully.

‘Why don’t you have a shower,’ you suggest. ‘I got this.’

Jin nods, running a hand through his hair. ‘Breakfast in bed?’ he suggests.

Reiha pipes up, and you realise she’s behind Jin, hugging him too. You pull her in between you.

‘Sure, but don’t get used to it,’ you say.

Jin kisses the top of your head. ‘Afternoon quickie whilst Reiha’s at piano?’ he suggests.

‘You’re pushing it,’ you say, but there’s a smile on your face.

***

You’re at your office when Jin calls.

‘I’m outside, can I come up?’

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Is everything ok?’

‘I’ll explain when I come up,’ Jin says.

Jin’s eyes drop to your pencil skirt when he reaches your office.

‘God, your ass looks good in this,’ he tells you, approvingly. ‘Like –’ He makes a cupping motion with his hand, and you take a quick step back.

‘Was this just a sexual harassment visit, Jin?’ you ask.

He shakes his head. ‘Not just –’ He grins, but his heart’s not in it. ‘You’d better sit down.’

‘Remember that awards show we went to together?’ he starts.

‘You mean, over the weekend?’ you ask dryly.

‘The press have been digging into your past, and mine,’ he says. ‘It’s about to blow up.’

He brings it up on his phone, and you blanch at the pictures of you and Jin at the awards show, and the picture of you and Yoongi outside the building the same night.

‘What hell is this?’ you ask.

‘They’ve contacted my team for a statement.’

‘What are you going to say?’ you ask.

Jin shrugs. ‘I’ll just tell them the truth. That I’m irresistible and you’re enthralled by me.’

‘So many big words,’ you tease.

Jin smiles. ‘I just want you to be prepared. They’ll probably try to find you at some point.’

‘And Reiha?’ you ask, concerned.

‘I’ve contacted the school to warn them, they’ve got a good handle on the situation,’ Jin says.

‘Look at you, like a proper dad.’

Jin sighs. ‘I wish I could still get off to being called daddy.’

‘Stop it, Jin,’ you say briskly.

You both laugh.

‘I don’t know what narrative they’re going to go with,’ Jin says. ‘But my team are all over it.’

‘Thanks for the heads up,’ you say.

Jin nods. ‘Is it your lunch hour soon? Quickie? Can you lock the door?’

‘Ok daddy,’ you say.

Jin lets out a half-groan, half-laugh. ‘That just makes me confused.’

You lean close. ‘My next appointment’s not for an hour,’ you tell him, ‘and Eun-Woo’s on lunch. Guess it’s your lucky day.’

Jin’s already pulling you in for a kiss.

***

Your phone lights up. It’s Yoongi.

‘Hey,’ he says, without preamble. ‘What’s this about me being some sort of romantic saviour?’

You sigh. ‘Want to meet for a coffee, Yoongi?’

‘Yeah, I’m a block away from your office.’

You meet Yoongi at a tiny café near his studio.

The press had a field day with you and Jin. Jin’s team released a statement confirming that he had a daughter with you, and since then there’s been endless speculation about your relationship. The photographs of you and Jin and you and Yoongi from the awards show have only added fuel to the fire.

Yoongi’s been painted as a romantic hero, saving you after you were jilted by Jin. Jin’s been the subject of the most questions, and you’re not surprised. The nation’s resident singing heartthrob turns out to have a family he never acknowledged publicly throughout his fame? It’s a TV melodrama that practically writes itself.

Thankfully, no one’s bothered Reiha or her school, and for that you’re grateful.

Yoongi pushes a coffee towards you. ‘The publicity’s working for me, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had more interest in me in the last few days than I’ve had in the last few months.’

‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.’

‘You misunderstand me,’ Yoongi says, quietly. ‘You don’t have to apologise. No one dragged me into anything. I just want to know if you’re ok.’

‘I’m fine. I’m getting pretty good at recognising photographers now,’ you tell him.

Yoongi curls his lip in a half-smirk. ‘Do you want me to make a statement?’ he offers.

‘Not unless you want to. I think being the romantic hero works with your brooding mysterious personality,’ you say, only half joking. ‘My secretary Eun-Woo wants your number.’

Yoongi grins. ‘Tell her I’m too busy pining over you.’

You laugh. ‘My hero.’

***

Later that night, Jin’s flopped out on your bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s been having trouble sleeping lately, he falls asleep after you and he’s usually up by the time you wake up.

You turn over. ‘Go on, share. You can’t just take on all my problems and not share your own.’

‘They want me to hold a press conference,’ Jin tells you. ‘Do some damage control.’

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that the negative press is affecting him.

‘So do it,’ you say. ‘Say what you need to. I don’t need public opinion on my side, to do my job.’

‘I deserve it,’ Jin says.

You put your hand on his chest. ‘You don’t deserve to be publicly vilified for things we did when we were 17, Jin.’

‘I’m not throwing you under the bus,’ Jin says, harshly.

‘Maybe you need to,’ you say. ‘Who cares. My family know the truth, and so do me and Reiha.’

Jin turns to you, and you kiss him.

‘Come on, baby. If they’re going to crucify us for fucking, then let’s at least have a good time whilst we’re at it.’

Jin laughs. He makes love to you with a quiet intensity, saying your name as he rocks into you, clutching you tightly to him, mouth on your skin long after you’ve both cum.

Afterwards, he sleeps, finally.

***

It’s the day of Jin’s press conference. You’re running late after a painfully long meeting. You wave the pass he gave you at the security guards and jog into the room.

Jin’s sitting beside Donghyun and his publicist, Yeri. You don’t know if he’s seen you. The room’s full of people, reporters, photographers. There are tripods set up along the rows of seats.

He’s in the middle of a sentence. You take a few steps forward, walking down the centre aisle.

Someone’s asking him a question, but Jin’s finally spotted you. The smile on his face makes everyone turn to see what he’s smiling at.

He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling back.

‘I made a lot of decisions at 17 that I regret,’ Jin says. He’s looking straight at you as he stands up. ‘And I’m still making up for my mistakes, every day of my life.’

He’s walking around the long table, heading down the steps of the makeshift stage.

He’s heading straight for you.

‘I must be the luckiest man in the world, because despite everything, I have the most wonderful daughter.’

He stops in front of you.

‘And I have you.’

You’re already lifting your arms, curling them around his neck as he leans down to kiss you.

The world explodes in a shower of flashing lights and a cacophony of noises, but you don’t see any of it. You don’t hear any of it, because Jin’s got his arms around you, and finally, finally, it feels right.

He's the love of your life, and he's finally home.

Epilogue

©hamsterclaw 2022

fifth wish

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 18k

glimpse: jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead?

alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

[ angst, unrequited love (at first), emotional constipation, jk is Very Frustrating to be with, so much pining, the constant repetition of the notion that one must amount to something to be deserving of love, rlly wholesome fluff, mentions of blood n injuries, whole 360 redemption arc dw i am not evil ]

notes: i’m back :) this belongs to the take five universe (take five feat. yoongi, nine to five feat. jimin) n although it’s a completely different jungkook, it’s still on the same vein!! thank u for waiting for me <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Keep reading

---

Honesty: A KSJ | KTH two shot (m)

Summary: Life in London is not easy for Taehyung, especially where Seokjin’s girlfriend is involved.

Pairings: Seokjin x reader, maybe Taehyung x reader (no spoilers…)

Warnings: 🔞 not suitable for minors, adult themes throughout. A fair bit of smut, references to violence and domestic abuse

Genre: Angst, smut (in part 2)

Word count: 12.9K

🔹Part 1 here

🔹Part 2 here

Note: If you have generously given your time to read this, thank you very much! Please drop me a comment/message/ask/anything to let me know what you thought or if you have anything at all to say! I'd love to interact with you!

Also, if you enjoyed, please check out my other writing: masterlist

---

better off

pairing: reader x jeongguk

@moonchild1​ requested: “I was just listening to better off by ariana (one of my favourites) so I thought I’d recommend it for a angst and smut fic with jungkook the lyrics says it all…”

summary: things get messy after a one night stand with your labelmate

genre: angst; smut; celebrity!au;18+;

soundtrack: better off—ariana grande (highly recommend listening to this version )

content/warnings: fake dating; friends with benefits; fuckboy!jeongguk; swearing; mentions of sex

a/n: this took me entirely too long to write 😭 I made so many drafts and I still cut in in half smh. also not beta’d bc I just need it to get this story out of my head!! 

word count: 3.3k

♪ I’m better off without him. I’m better off being a wild one♪

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You jumped and let out a little curse when the champagne sloshed out of the pretty flute in your hands. You’re taken back by the sweet, familiar voice cutting through the afternoon quiet.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you..”

You’d know that voice anywhere. Of all the places you worried about running into your ex—in the studio, at the label, on the red carpet—you never imagined running into Jeongguk on the rooftop of a stranger’s party.

Keep reading

---

about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter.  Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

---

A Fine Line [Masterlist]

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader (ft. Hoseok)

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au, smut, some angst

Total word count: 67.5k (92k including epilogues and bonuses)

Summary: It's time to rebuild your life. You've got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: consumption of alcohol, protected sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. and m. receiving, inc. throat fucking), masturbation (f. and mention of m.), spanking, biting, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, some seriously Big Dicks.

Enormous thanks to M, 💗@here2bbtstrash💗, for beta-ing this series for me.

Chapter One - Desperate Times

Chapter Two - A Distraction

Chapter Three - It's Not Complicated

Chapter Four - A Warning

Chapter Five - Fun and Games

Chapter Six - Fury and the First Time

Chapter Seven - Lacunae

Chapter Eight - Confessions

Chapter Nine - Watershed

Chapter Ten - Grasping the Nettle

Chapter Eleven - Luxury

Epilogue One - Hope

Epilogue Two - 'Tis the Season

Epilogue Three - Final Order

Epilogue Four - Yes

Bonus Chapter - Fear and the First Date

Bonus Chapter - Check

---