Take Five

take five

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced.

alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.

[ angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining ]

notes: inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist!! you don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this :D this idea has been sitting in my notes for like a year now (yikes) and i’ve only found the wILL to do it now!! took a short break because i’ve been mostly just pumping out stem koo for the past months, but here’s a yoongi piece to cleanse everyone’s palate!! this has got to be one of my favorite pieces ever hee-hee

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback/requests/love to my askbox anytime!!

[ part two ]

“Now where the hell did you hear that?”

Yoongi looks at you incredulously and for a moment, you think you’ve actually hit homerun with your stupid myth of the day because not only does he roll his eyes at you, he also scoffs and stops in his tracks.

“Just somewhere,” you mumble under your breath and hope that Yoongi doesn’t ask you for the exact source and citation because he already looks irked with what he just heard. “But they say it’s true though! If you don’t immediately drink water when you start having hiccups, you would have a breakout the next day or hours later, even.”

There is bliss in ignorance.

There is bliss and beauty in ignorance and it comes in the form of knitted brows and an agape mouth on Dr. Min, his eyes trained on you as if you asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard (you probably did) in his career and perhaps his lifetime.

Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Yoongi comes to his own clinic between the window of 8 to 8:15 in the morning wearing a bucket hat and his choice of clothing to wear under his white coat. Only his right hand would be occupied by the Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière 45 bag, which he later tosses as soon as he enters the clinic and see his employees scramble to catch and save it, just to give himself a little chuckle every morning. He really couldn't care less if none of them manage to catch it, but it's kind of nice having a pointless yet joyful routine.

Additionally, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you come to Serendipity Aesthetics at 7:00 AM to drop off your things so you could walk to the expensive coffee shop to buy equally overrated coffee because after all, your place of work is in the heart of the luxury district. Between the window of 8 to 8:15, Dr. Min walks in and throws his designer bag into the air, to which every employee tries to catch so there wouldn't be a single scratch (but everyone knows that he literally wouldn't care if nobody could save it), and every single time, you're the one who catches his bag.

Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Dr. Min's first interaction of the day.

It always starts with a pathetic skincare myth that you ask him to verify while he either confirms or denies it for you while walking to his office, giving him his coffee that you buy with your own money. It originally started with you searching compilations online and eventually, they got so boring and repetitive that you started making up your own.

The more ridiculous it is, the more reaction you get from Yoongi.

You quickly learned that by now and every morning, you get to see the way he furrows his eyebrows and you're convinced that if you say your myth in a defensive and completely-swayed tone, Dr. Min would actually look at you to deadpan.

This time, however, you probably struck gold.

"I would actually fire you if you even thought for a second that it would be true."

Granted, maybe the gold you thought you've struck is just plated and would turn green overnight.

"Very funny, Dr. Min. No explanation today?" you try to coax one from him because the door to his office is looking especially near and he doesn't allow you to enter anyway.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory that I studied to be a doctor for more than a decade, have my own clinic, and threatened to fire you for your useless myth of the day, don't you think?" he hums lowly, wiping his finger to press his code onto his door.

"You do have a point," you sheepishly mumble at being outed more harshly for your tactics, "can I ask you something else though?"

Yoongi's eyes are glued on his phone as he just waves you off to both shoo and acknowledge you at the same time, leaning his weight to the door so he could both watch the highlight reel of a show he watched just last week and carry his bag.

"Later. I'm busy."

"No problem!" you stammer because you're not sure if you're ready to ask him anyway, wordlessly pushing the door open for him because he's deeply immersed on his phone. "Can I ask you over lunch? I-..."

... know a place.

Yoongi's door already closes on your face as the result of him kicking it backwards as he enters, making you take a step back to gather yourself.

You are not ready at all to ask him.

It's no secret that you have a crush on Dr. Min. Not at all. Practically everyone knows how head-over-heels you are for him; even the man himself actually.

It was embarrassing at first when it sinked into you that everyone collectively knows how you trail after him like a stray kitten whose gotten their first feed of the day, but later on, it’s something you actively and unnecessarily took pride in.

That way, you could ward off any other people in the clinic who have an eye on him! Dr. Park says that it’s the equivalent of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant within a street that nobody likes to walk in, but you just dismiss his comment as per usual. You’re sure that it’s impossible that no one likes him a little more than usual as an employee would, but perhaps they’re just not as showy as you are.

You can't pinpoint exactly why you have a crush on him because truth be told, you liked him in entirety. It was gradual, sure, but you liked him as a whole even from the start. Something about him’s so pulling that you find yourself complaining silently sometimes.

Liking him is easy. The variables aren't.

It just so happens that Dr. Min doesn't like you in that way, or in any way at all, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts from zero at one point.

"Not to burst your bubble, buttercup, but you do know that Yoongi used to have a wife, right?"

Jimin, the cosmetic surgeon of Serendipity Aesthetics and Yoongi's business partner, asks you. He has no ill intent — he actually finds it adorable to see you pining after his best friend who's done nothing but turn you down.

It’s harsh, entertaining, but not laughable. Even the secondhand embarrassment and heartbreak makes Jimin look away whenever you ask Yoongi about his weekend. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but the only difference is that the mouse is unfazed and untouchable, and the cat's scared yet determined.

Coincidentally, Jimin's your childhood friend. Both his and your parents would assign him to watch over you even if he's just some years ahead of you. It even strengthened the bond of you treating him as an older brother and him fulfilling the role well, just as annoyingly.

Your communication hasn't been consistent especially when he entered medical school, which is why you've rarely ever heard about Yoongi before you even worked here. None of it matters though because it feels that you’ve been with Jimin for a lifetime in a literal sense, feeling a stroke of fate because somehow, he’s the common string that bridged you and Dr. Min unknowingly.

You like him a healthy amount. In a very respectful, healthy, almost pitiful amount.

"Yeah. I knew that," you sigh dejectedly, stirring your iced coffee that’s already gotten too watered-down for your taste. “She’s the model, right?"

How could you not?

How could you not know who Dr. Min’s ex-wife is because even before you worked in his and Jimin’s clinic, you’ve already heard of her?

You once saw her in an LED billboard once at a prime spot in a busy street. You saw her face on a promotional liquor poster in a convenience store without knowing that she was the wife of your then-crush (who you didn’t know yet) at the time. You see her large signature on the wall at a restaurant you regularly eat at but don’t have the appetite for nowadays.

"Mhmm, Jihye."

Jimin hums in agreement, spooning a portion from your plate and into his mouth because you’re too preoccupied to swat his hand away.

"Is she your best friend?"

Jimin rolls his eyes playful at the tone of your voice who’s suddenly gotten meek. "No, that's you, buttercup.”

You atleast feel comforted that Dr. Min’s ex-wife, whom you barely know, hasn’t managed to snatch perhaps your favorite person in the whole world. She once had Yoongi and that’s something you can stomach because it’s their life you’re not a part of, but something tells you that you’d be a little more bummed to know that Jimin and her are close just like the two of you.

“We were friends at best because I'm close to Yoongi and well... y'know..." He coughs awkwardly, eyes hesitantly looking up at you before he buries his face to the noodles to the point he could feel the steam rise to his face. "I was the best man at their wedding."

Jimin notices the way your mouth is just fixed on your dumpling, unmoving. It's only rare that you ask him about Dr. Min because there's always the guilt that you're just using your friendship with Jimin as leverage to know more about his colleague, but in the few times that you do ask about him, it always has something to do with major facts you can't immediately grasp your head around.

"Don't worry! They were in a relationship for three years, and only married for one. They knew each other even before Yoongi became a resident."

"That does not help me, Jimin. At all."

He only sheepishly scratches the back of his head, going back to his words which he now realizes did nothing to make you feel better.

"Relax. If you say something superlatively dumb enough for your skincare myths, he'll probably take the hint and date you out of pity."

You unclench your mouth on the dumpling, finding no will to chew it now that Jimin, once again, opened his mouth. "Made it even worse, actually."

He's no stranger to you feeling bummed but he knows that he's somehow in a bind because he's in a point of conflict between you and Yoongi, both his best friends. He can't exactly give you false hope in order to cheer you up, but he can't lie either and say that you don't have a solid fighting chance with Yoongi.

You're frowning but he knows you understand, well-aware that you'd recuperate soon enough.

"Cheer up. Just ask him out and if he denies you, then be it! I had a hand in designing this clinic, remember? It's big enough for you to avoid him."

"Not sure if I should feel inspired or discouraged," you tut under your breath, pressing your forehead down the table so you could ignore him while he leaves you alone. "Thanks, Dr. Park."

Jimin rolls his eyes at the nickname you use to spite him and only call him when the other employees are around, in which case there aren't, just because he did the equivalent of making you gulp orange juice after brushing your teeth like his sudden "I was the best man at Yoongi's wedding" revelation.

You don't know how long your forehead's been pressed to the table but it feels long enough to the point you hear a familiar set of footsteps you didn't anticipate to come this soon, immediately straightening your posture.

"Dr. Min! You're here!"

Yoongi looks up from his phone and nods, completely unsurprised that you're here in the breakroom at the exact moment that he comes in.

"Dr. Park bought everyone lunch today, yours is in this bag," you gesture to the meal you've separated and took the initiative of writing his name on so no one would "accidentally" claim it for themselves because it's always the one with the extra sauce and napkins.

He only hums as he plops down to the seat parallel to the paper bag, not registering it at all that you did it on purpose so he'd be sitting beside you. You didn't actually think he'd fall for it, but it's one of the times you feel indebted to his eager attention to his phone because he doesn't notice.

Yoongi sets his phone down on the table as it's held up by his convenient popsocket, immersed in slurping his own noodles to be oblivious of you who's close to losing your shit right beside him.

The opportunity is sitting right next to you and you didn't expect it to come this soon because if you knew that Dr. Min would be setting off your tentative plans unknowingly with how everything's coming to place, you probably would've rehearsed endlessly in front of a mirror.

"Can I ask my question now?"

Dr. Min's in the middle of chewing when you ask but he doesn't flinch, already aware that you ask him so much questions within a day that he feels like he's working with a nosey toddler.

"Go. You're gonna ask it anyway," he replies monotonously and continues chewing, bringing more noodles to his mouth even if his cheeks haven't deflated yet.

His nonchalance is what simultaneously intimidates and eggs you on, finding the words leaving your mouth with no filter at all.

"Can I ask you to go out with me? I'll only ask you five times and after that, I'm gonna get off your tail."

There's no beat of silence because Yoongi keeps chewing and you're sure you heard a chuckle in-between, looking at his side profile while holding your breath. You're just about to apologize for crossing a line you've been toeing for the better portion of a year when he looks at you once, briefly and lazily.

"Okay."

The word doesn't immediately click in your mind as you stumble with spelling out the letters in your head. Are you hearing it right? Is this just a side-effect of Jimin randomly clapping his hands beside your ears when you're getting groggy?

"O-okay? As in, yes?"

"Okay as in yes, you can ask me to go out with you," Dr. Min clarifies calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips when he sees the favorite part of his show appear on-screen. "Asking me to go out with you is different from going out with you."

You're shell-shocked because that's exactly what you asked of him and you're even more surprised that he interpreted it as such, the weight of his approval now dawning on you.

"Of course."

Yoongi only hums but he can't bring himself to get another bite because you don't let a second go to waste, seeing your face plead closer to his peripheral vision that he only manages to give you a side-eye.

“Can we go out later, Dr. Min? I actually checked your schedule and you have nothing booked past 4 PM!”

You try to tone down your excitement and you're glad that the expectation of him answering you in the first try is only an afterthought, because he shoots you down twice as quick as you asked.

“No.”

“Do you have plans tonight then?” you prod with a gentle smile, trying to see if you can sway him even in the slightest.

“Nope.”

“Then why don't you wanna go out with me?” there's a light-hearted frown on your face and as much as you know that it won't elicit a reaction from Dr. Min, it's only playful. There's no real accusation nor anger behind your tone.

“Because I don’t, Y/N," Yoongi actually chuckles and he looks at you as if you're the silliest goose he's ever come across a pond. "You’re on closing duty later, bye!”

( ♡ )

“Good morning to my favorite dermatologist in this whole wide world!”

Yoongi hears you greet him cheerily and it almost makes him flinch because you materialized out of nowhere. He's about to scold you for doing that because who knows if you get mistaken and accidentally give a faint-hearted client with the shock of their lifetime, he really was about to — but he sees his cinnamon bun on your hand (courtesy of Jimin telling you his favorite dessert for the price of one cheek kiss), and all the words melt from his mouth.

“Good morning.”

Dr. Min almost snatches what you're holding and you almost huff, trailing beside him as his fingers quickly undo the familiar teal box packaging of his favorite pastry.

“You forgot 'Y/N, my favorite nurse in this whole wide world'.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget anything," he adds for good measure but something doesn't quite fit because as much as his hand is holding a box that houses his favorite type of sweet, his other hand doesn't feel warm. There's no cylindrical cup on his hand that makes his palm just the right amount of toasty and he realizes it the hard way because he raises his hand, ready to take a sip of a whole lot of nothing.

"Where's my-"

“Here’s your coffee.”

"Thanks," Yoongi feels the familiar warmth in his hand in a second and he sighs in relief inwardly, but there's just something off. Feels that there's something actively off because it's definitely more warm than what he'd feel in his regular cup. "Huh? Why is it in a mug?"

He wonders out loud and the sight of the ceramic mug is enough culture shock from the usual lidded paper cup he sees almost every morning, looking at you as if you've told him the worst insult known to man.

You didn't exactly think that Dr. Min would react as differently as this because Jimin said that coffee is still coffee to him, but in the process, you've directly forgotten that your friend told you right after Yoongi's coffee preferences — is that he tends to be a creature of habit.

“From the shop. I-I also bought the mug from the coffee shop so I can present it as this.”

You thought Dr. Min would be pleasantly surprised as he holds the too-expensive ceramic excuse for a coffee mug, but you don't know what to anticipate as he casts his eyes down.

GO OUT WITH ME? :), written in cocoa powder amongst the white froth, a product of going to the coffee shop extra early and having to fend off the red-haired barista with the bunny smile because he thought you were asking him out.

"Mhmm," Yoongi spends a second longer looking at the foam art before he takes a big gulp and effectively washes away what you significantly paid higher for than his usual coffee, trapping your wince at the back of your throat. You're looking at his Adam's apple and he looks just one gulp away from finishing it all, and he does right in front of you. "Can't. I'm taking my mom to go shopping."

You awe unconsciously as it's a known fact within the clinic that Yoongi adores his mom a lot and you see her quite often, having extra snacks being delivered personally to the employees each time because she's a nice and sincere woman.

“I can carry the bags?" you're only half-joking, a cheesy grin on your face, but Dr. Min only shakes his head at you and disappears into his office.

That's your second chance gone as quick as the latte disappeared into Yoongi's throat, but atleast you know that he doesn't hate the beverage and he can reuse the mug.

There's still some merit in your attempt somewhere.

There's never an empty instance in the clinic. It's always full. It's a little more high-end than most clinics and you could see it in the design and layout of the clinic itself, but it doesn't mean it's fully-exclusive. You see celebrities and socialites every other day and with the hands-on nature of your work, you're not as starstruck and bothered as you used to be.

There would always be more than a handful of VIP clients but that doesn't mean they're the only clientele. Serendipity Aesthetics isn't that snooty, and it's something you can manage with.

Your work's just as tiring as the doctors' and not a lot of people credit you for it, but it's something you shove to the back of your mind at the end of the day. You only scrunch your nose under your mask when you see the 73rd trustfund baby come into the clinic for the day, unfocus your eyes so you couldn't roll them when they manage to bring in their wealth that wasn't questioned into the conversation, and move on to your next patient.

You've just finished giving a diamond peel to a breadwinner mother (whom you've had a nice chat and laugh with throughout the process) when your eyes immediately lock in to the figure that knows no queues nor other clients as she walks past, walking straight to Dr. Min's procedure room.

And of course, you don't know whether fate is on your side or not, but you're the only assistant available to assist so naturally, Hoseok, the secretary, looks at you with a knowing nod.

You don't know what to expect when you come inside the procedure room, making yourself as small as possible when you knock twice briefly and enter, standing in the corner with your eyes trained on your clipboard.

Yoongi nods at you once in acknowledgement as his attending assistant, and you can barely acknowledge him back because the Jihye, who was Mrs. Min at one point, is in your direct line of sight.

She's sitting down but you can still see her graceful posture then with her shoulders pulled back and her hair framing her face perfectly. The casual sweater ensemble she wears is probably more expensive than your whole closet could be, but the gray of it doesn't dull her out at all. There's creases on the material since she's sitting down and is therefore not taut, but the wrinkles look poised on her figure nonetheless.

Her manicured hands sit prim and proper on Dr. Min's desk and you can't help but think how they used to look with a wedding band on her ring finger, your thought process making you look at his hands that are clasped right in front of him.

She smells expensive and important, just like how Dr. Min does. Not only do they have a figurative scent of gravitas surrounding them, but they also carry it literally. When they shared a home, have they started smelling like each other at one point? Does the intoxicating smell of daisies on Jihye become Yoongi's scent on his white coat at one point?

"What do you want, Jihye?"

You find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of hearing her voice in-person, and it's everything you've ever expected.

"Undereye fillers, please. I have campaigns and Fashion Week back to back so I need a touch-up."

Expensive, important, elegant, sweet.

Yoongi sighs under his breath, standing up from his seat to examine closer. You almost move to stand beside him to assist but you forget that of course, Dr. Min has his own penlight. You're paralyzed at your corner but you can't help but watch.

You watch him press Jihye's undereyes lightly with the pad of his thumb and then with his ring finger, assessing intensively but holding her lightly as if she's made of glass.

"They're not that sunken-in like usual. You still want a touch-up?"

Jihye laughs sweetly, putting a hand on her chest as she tilts her head up at Yoongi.

"Ah. You're still so sweet to me."

Yoongi doesn't indulge her with a laugh but instead just rolls his eyes, going back to his seat as he types into his chart. "Would that be all?"

"That's it for now," Jihye grins, clutching her purse to her chest as she rocks back and forth on her heels even if she's sat down. "Always down for a facial from you though."

"Jihye."

Yoongi clicks his tongue and gives his ex-wife a warning gaze, and just for the slightest fraction, you feel him turning his gaze to you. His gaze that's not for the purpose of feeling sorry you had to hear that, but rather for the purpose of telling his ex-wife that the two of them aren't alone.

"Yoongi."

She drawls sweetly and you could only look away because this banter of theirs doesn't concern you at all.

Dr. Min ignores her and looks at you, a firm line on his lips.

"Get me the materials, Y/N."

"Extra ice too! I wanna munch on some," Jihye adds as you're on your way out and you make the note of getting more ice from the freezer because she asked so, filling up a champagne glass neatly.

You wheel in your cart and you could only reply with a stiff nod when she thanks you eagerly, already plopping an ice cube to her mouth.

You wait as you see Yoongi become gentle, all from the way he injects the filler to massaging the skin underneath Jihye's eyes.

They're divorced and yet they look casual as they've always done this. They probably did and still continue to. They look like they still belong to each other.

You can't deny that Jihye's pretty and although you're not privy to details if she has work done or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's pretty. She must and is the prettiest girl in the world for Yoongi because obviously, he married her. Loved her. Maybe even currently love her even.

You feel silly. A little more silly than usual like what Yoongi points you out to be because after all, you're an assistant at work who's holding the tissues and the icepack, feeling as if you have the right to intrude or even be jealous of the fact that your boss, the one you have a pathetically huge crush on, is laughing with his ex-wife over an inside joke like what all couples have.

Like what all couples, divorced or not, have.

( ♡ )

Yoongi thinks he's actually managed to escape you.

He's in his procedure room simply because the airconditioner blows colder and not because he has a patient to meet at the moment. It's his favorite kind of quiet; no one's daring to knock on his door, no shoes squeaking, no you who keeps asking him questions at every waking moment you could find.

Come to think of it, not only did he barely see you today, but he also barely saw everyone in the clinic. It's unusual to say the least because for the hundred times that he passes by Hoseok, he now realizes that he barely occupies his position at the front desk. He's heard nothing from Jimin either whose office is just right next to his, unaccustomed to not having someone knock on his door until he budges and lets him in because the guy just wanted to hang out even in silence.

Actually, he doesn't know anyone's whereabouts at the moment. The clinic's full even at lunchbreak but it oddly feels quiet, making him put his phone down and debate to whether or not he should check up on everyone.

“Give me a facial, please.”

Yoongi practically jumps out of his seat when he hears someone pipe up from right behind him, goosebumps forming at the back of his neck as he automatically flinches.

He knows it's you but he didn't know it would be you who's sneaked up on him out of nowhere. Sometime in his whole thought process, you've already opened the door to his room without him noticing and he's badly reaping the consequence of not being perceptible enough.

"Holy fuck," he clutches at his chest from the shock upon seeing you that's slowly simmering down, throwing his head back, only to see you smiling at him gently as if you didn't age him atleast two years faster. "A facial?"

Yoongi grimaces at your crude plead, snickering to himself, but when he registers the weirded-out look on your face, he immediately remembers his profession and what you're actually asking from him.

“Yup! A facial.”

You seem to have no qualms about repeating your request and that's because you don't have any, feeling fully confident in yourself because you're certain that he can't deny such a trivial request at the time.

“Do you have a schedule with me? Have you paid to the front desk already?” Dr. Min asks you in succession and tilts his head at you, making his newly-dyed blonde hair bounce from side to side intentionally.

It's cute, really, but you didn't come here unprepared. After all, you believe that it's Dr. Min this time who owes you something.

“But it’s my birthday — you didn’t know?“

That throws him off the loop for a second and he doesn't even actually believe that it's your birthday at first, especially coming from you whom he believes is a big fan of bogus skincare myths and probably eats them for dinner.

He's about to ask you for some ID but the dots connect in his mind before he polices his employee over their own birthday; why everyone's been missing, why Jimin couldn't stay still the whole morning, why he's been seeing random balloons being held by patients in the waiting area, and why there's some bit of frosting left on the side of your jaw.

“Why would I know when your birthday is?”

“You hired me.”

You blink owlishly at what’s supposed to be an obvious answer but Yoongi reads it as being a smart-ass.

“I hired you for your credentials, not your birthday,” he rolls his eyes and you already know he’s fully recovered from the unintentional spook you’ve given him. "Actually, scratch that — Jimin told me to hire you."

You'd like to think that you'd get hired nonetheless if not for Jimin, but the thought lingers heavily on you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and you’re unaware that it shows on your face because for a second, Yoongi feels as if he should apologize because he may have took it too far. In full honesty, the whole concept of it only struck you now and you don’t know what to think of it, especially in a day you swore you’d only be self-indulgent.

You miss a single beat and the needier part of Yoongi’s guilt feels compelled.

“I’m-…”

“Nevermind. It’s okay! But it’s my birthday, and you told me that you give your employees a free facial as a birthday gift!”

Yoongi feels saved with your smooth transitioning but his eyes narrow once he recognizes the gist of what you’re saying, deeming it to be a little too demanding because all he wanted to do this afternoon was to lay back in between appointments.

"I can just give you a gift card,” he offers and he thinks you’re gonna accept the upgrade which is why he’s about to stand up and retrieve it from his office right this instant, being stopped abruptly when you block his way out of his chair.

“No. I want a facial.”

He hasn’t even started telling you that he has some designer gift cards in his drawer as well but you already shake your head no to what he was about to say, unrelenting when he tries to walk past you that only prompts you to hold your arms out horizontally.

“Fine. It’ll just be a quick one after the last patient and-...”

“Actually, your patient for this hour just cancelled because she has to appear in court for evading taxes or something.”

He blinks once, clearly unnerved. “Oh. Naeun? Again?”

Dr. Min hums to himself about taxes and turns his back on you silently, making you stammer in place because you don’t know if you’d accept rejection at your birthday this early into your attempt. You want to ask one more time if he’s still giving you a facial or not because you’re just standing there as still as an idle video game character, waiting for a prompt that would directly address you.

“What are you doing?” he asks you and you look straight to the mirror that’s in front of him, wide-eyed at being guilty for simply just standing in his presence. “Lie down already. I thought you wanted your birthday present?”

You realize belatedly that Dr. Min’s standing by his employee benefit because while he had his back turned on you because it turns out he was just preparing the tools and equipment he needed for your facial, not because he was annoyed at you and wanted you to take a hint by making you look at his back.

You've never been in this position, actually — the one where you're lying on the patient's bed and Dr. Min's looking down on you, the mix of a scowl and a small smile on his face just to appease you.

He's gentle. Much more gentle that you thought now that you're on the receiving end of his hands. Puts the least amount of pressure in holding up your head to put on a headband before setting you back down, his hands close enough to your face that you could smell the familiar scent of the clinic's hand soap.

You surprisingly melt when Dr. Min dots the cold cleanser to your face and rubs gently in small circles, expecting to flinch because of the overwhelmingly new experience, but there's just something in the way he caresses your face that puts you into ease.

“Jimin and the others prepared me a cake in the breakroom awhile ago.”

Your eyes are closed and you're relaxed and you don't entirely know if it's still a good look on you because Dr. Min's still rubbing in the cleanser, not entirely lying when he says that he's considering on rubbing in the lather to your mouth because he expected you not to talk this much considering he's already in the midst of giving you a facial.

“I pay all of you and you didn’t offer me any,” he mumbles in faux dejection, but the thought of having cake with the chocolate icing he's swiped from your jaw does sound appetizing.

“You were out on lunchbreak.”

You were out on lunchbreak with your ex-wife.

You withhold the last bit that you came to know because of Jimin, since he was on the way to Yoongi's office to invite him for your impromptu birthday lunch but couldn't even finish his invitation because Yoongi already uttered urgent lunch and Jihyo in the same sentence.

“Do you know what my wish was?” you speak meekly but Dr. Min doesn't notice the dimming hope behind it, one that's about to wear off sooner or later.

“Humor me,” he murmurs and that's when you hear the familiar beep of the steamer in your side, knowing that it would grant him 20 minutes of separation from you which he probably craves.

You've memorized it by now — steaming your face doesn't actually open your pores, and neither does washing your face with cold water close them. Steaming just loosens the pores which therefore allows products to seep in deeper and further.

Apart from that, there's one thing you've also come to memorize.

“That you’ll go on a date with me.”

Dr. Min chuckles and atleast you know that it'll soften the blow you expect by now.

“Nope. I’m watching a movie in the cinema with my friends tonight.”

You open your eyes and he closes them right back because it'll hurt to open with the hot steam, unconsciously doing it with a tut on his lips.

“It’s my birthday," you weakly offer with a pout on your mouth and you're oblivious to the half-smile Dr. Min has on his face because of course, your eyes are closed and have been threatened once again to be fired if you don't keep them closed.

“It’s my movie time.”

( ♡ )

Nothing’s going right.

You watched a movie last night with Jimin and it ended up having a cameo of Jihye, making the remaining thirty minutes in the cinema become a darkroom for all of your doubts and insecurities, while Jimin chews your remaining popcorn as silently as he could (because it would be a waste) while rubbing circles on your forearm.

You drank with him all night but he's counting his shots because he obviously has some clients to attend to the next day. It's not exactly a good look of being hung-over with his eye twitching as he completes a rhinoplasty at 1 in the afternoon.

Your car wouldn't be fixed for another week and when you hitched a ride with Jimin and passed by the shop, it's because your car's in the corner and everyone's working on a flashy blue Maserati, in which he made the off-hand comment that it looks like Jihye's but he isn't entirely sure.

Everything from last night until today makes you feel like you don't have control over anything at all. It's deflating and pitying and it adds to the ever-growing con list of what it's like to have a crush on your divorced boss.

So while Dr. Min's standing in his gown since he's assisting Jimin, and in turn you're assisting them and the two of you are alone because Jimin's still washing his hands outside, you ask.

“Go out with me?”

“Can’t.”

“Okay.”

Yoongi's eyes widen at your straightforward reply, cutting to the chase. There's no pleas, no rebuttals and most of all, there's no underlying curiosity. No sneak-handed question that inquires what exactly were his plans.

It's just a plain okay that he can't wrap his head around, making him look at you whose gaze is set on the patient's gown.

“It’s Jihye’s grandmother’s birthday today. She’s old-old — you get the point. Still thinks we’re together and we don’t wanna break her heart.”

He feels compelled to explain even if you haven't asked him remotely, preparing himself for any added questions you might have.

“M’kay. Have fun tonight.”

The question marks visibly float on top of his head and he doesn't know what he's missing, the opening of the door to the surgery suite signifying Jimin's entrance furthermore making his head cloudy.

“Yup. Gonna have a blast with my ex’s family," he says it either as a snide remark or a half-attempt in getting a reaction from you; either way, it dissipates into the air and he gets nothing.

You accept that nothing's going your way and it rarely does otherwise.

Yoongi keeps looking at you like he's never met you before.

( ♡ )

Yoongi enters the clinic, throws his bag into the air, and his eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees that it's Hoseok who's holding it.

Where are you?

It's emptying, almost. He's not hearing a skincare myth first thing in the morning and he doesn't have a warm cup of coffee on his hand, be it in a regular cup or a mug.

In fact, he's walking alone to his office and he feels the need to keep darting his head around because you must be hiding in one of the many vantage points you could spring out of.

There's a shadow set on the large couch, and he feigns his surprise that it's you who's gonna jump beside him any moment now, but it turns out to be the fake plant in the corner.

It's the big green fake plant they bought for accessories in the event that a patient of theirs would be allergic to a real one, and Yoongi's never felt this much annoyance towards an overpriced leafy hunk of plastic.

Jimin hasn't arrived yet but he assumes that it's because you're with him. You've got to be.

Jimin arrives sooner than anticipated as if to calm the curiosity in Yoongi's mind but immediately furrows his brows at him because he actually looks disappointed that he's here.

Yoongi peers at the empty spot beside his friend, even trying to peer his head further for the familiar package deal named you that he carried in mornings.

"Is Y/N with you?"

"No...?" Jimin tilts his head, genuinely confused that he's asking him about you, but is even more confused to learn that you're not here. "Is she with you?"

"No," Yoongi shakes his head no somberly, awkwardly standing as he tries to look behind him to see if you've already creeped your way there. "Weird."

He exits himself from the situation even before Jimin can question him and they both think it's the logical thing to do, especially since it's concerning you and they've been dancing around the topic of you for some time now — from the perspective of the one being crushed on and a potential love interest, the other being your best friend.

You come in some time later, still early before opening but Yoongi's not used to it at all. This is perhaps the first time he's seen you arrive later than he does, but he's conflicted if he ever wants that to happen again.

He's looking at his schedule for the day yet he can't help but peek at his window, anticipating a you who's trying to steal a glance but there's no attempts made, just walking straight past his office and into Jimin's next door.

Weird.

His whole day started off weird and his first interaction is basically omitted from his book because it doesn't start with his usual habit of fact-checking your myth, leaving a bitter taste on his mouth.

He has his own stash of his favorite snacks in his office but he plans to drop by the breakroom nonetheless after flying through all of his appointments before noon, instead accidentally (but thankfully) walking out to the whiff of your perfume because you just walked in front of him, entertaining a client that must be a walk-in.

"Taehyung?"

You walk to the familiar face you probably last saw just a few weeks ago, seeing his face register you belatedly in warmth and relief.

"Y/N, there you are! I was about to start knocking on every door to look for you," he sighs and you know he sincerely means it, thankful you've showed up just in time because he probably would've caused a ruckus by doing that.

"What do you need? I fell asleep early last night so I didn't get to answer your call."

Yoongi thinks that if he stands still enough, he could be mistaken for a fake plant with a white coat. He tries his best to fix his eyes and not be caught eavesdropping and looking, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's the best at it.

This guy calls you? At night too?

"Just my lobes. I need you to stitch them up back to normal. Tried the rubbing oil method for like a month but it barely did anything."

"Ah," you hum in recognition, gently taking Taehyung's earlobe into your fingers that makes him tilt his head to you in obedience so you could examine it closely. "You only had small gauges. 10G, right? 2.5mm is something I can work on alone."

Yoongi manages to conclude that you're somehow familiar and acquainted with this Taehyung guy, easily taking him under your wing and into an empty procedure room as if the two of you do this everyday.

It's a minor procedure. Local anesthesia and some stitches and Taehyung could walk out in less than an hour. Normally, if the gauges are bigger and therefore the earlobe's more stretched out, Jimin's called in to operate but 10G is something you can do without supervision, meaning that you and said guy would be alone together in the procedure room.

“Need help?”

As a doctor, Yoongi's just offering his supervision and guidance — that's all.

Taehyung's already well-acquainted in his position and so are you, the past fifteen minutes he's spent talking and hyping himself up to stroll in as casually as he could already meant giving you much leeway in between.

“No need doc," surprisingly, it's Taehyung who answers, a warm smile on his face which makes his shoulders vibrate in the slightest to which you tut at him. "Y/N’s used to this already.”

Yoongi's surprised but he doesn't let it show, clicking in his mind that the guy seems like a familiar face he's seen before but he can't place it exactly.

“Oh. Are you a regular in my clinic?”

“Hmm? Oh, no! I’m a first-timer here. I just meant that Y/N’s-“ he gets cut off and it's because you bump your knee into his to stop talking and moving, your voice finishing up his small explanation. "Used to stitching him up."

Tae's kind of scared to talk even more because after all, you're the one who's holding the needle to his ear, not wanting to unintentionally test you further so he just whispers to Yoongi instead.

“Exactly what she said.”

Yoongi feels like he's barging into a couple's business whom he's not a part of. He's seeing you in action as you reconstruct Taehyung's earlobes and that's where the familiarity hits him, quietly awing to himself.

Isn't this Taehyung guy famous?

You didn't take his offer up for help but he still shadows you, maneuvering himself behind you instead of standing by the door alone, not even pretending to give you pointers to fill up the uncomfortable silence (for him) because you both know you're doing a great job.

“Hey, remember when I thought that guy was flirting with you in the bakery?”

Taehyung suddenly pipes up and you have to hold still with the needle in your hand, shoulders shaking in a slight laugh.

“Of course. You ended up punching my brother.”

The two of you fondly laugh and it feels extra humorous because the two of you are trying not to move your bodies to the best of your abilities, seeing his cheeks turn red from trying to stifle his laughs as much as he could.

“He didn’t know whether he’d feel mad or proud of me that time.”

Yoongi turns up the light brighter that focuses on his earlobes that makes Taehyung squint. Normally, that's his non-verbal way of saying that the two of you should not be a having a moment right now, especially with him in the room.

He quips his lips to the side but stays quiet, his once-stable breaths dragging out extra slow.

“You free tonight? Minhyung’s staying with me for a week," he complies when you ask him to turn his head slightly, getting a response to his offer just as quick.

“Yeah, sure! Missed him anyway. He’s how old now?”

“Seven. He pokes fun at me now.”

The reminder of meeting Minhyung when he was barely a toddler versus the comparison of bullying his older brother now makes you laugh, remembering all the fond interactions you've had and continue to have with him. Just last month, Tae called you in the middle of the afternoon because Minhyung was suddenly looking for you.

You wrap up quickly and you wouldn't realize if not for Dr. Min who's been standing behind you almost the entire time, a barely-audible bite to his words. "He's finished."

Dr. Min beats you into relaying the aftercare instructions and follow-up check-up, the lax nature of how he usually explains being a stark contrast to how he sounds quick right now.

Taehyung's oblivious to the difference you could notice but he listens nonetheless, bidding you with a sweet warm smile as he exits the room.

“Thanks Y/N, see you later!”

Dr. Min shuts the door behind him and proceeds to clean up the station you've worked on, getting you into work because you don't quite understand why he even came in here in the first place.

“You didn’t tell me you had Kim Taehyung the model for a boyfriend.”

He passive-aggressively murmurs but you catch it, thinking nothing of the unusual nature your superior is exhibiting.

“You know him? He’s that famous now, huh?”

Yoongi, however, freezes. It's far from your easy chuckle and way further from the territory of peace because his face morphs into confusion. “What? I was kidding with you. He is your boyfriend?”

"What?" your eyes glaze at the odd joke you wouldn't have bothered correcting in the first place because you didn't think he'd ask, much less assume, in the first place anyway. “Oh no, he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Yoongi genuinely doesn't know what to feel about that.

Is he frustrated over the fact that Taehyung isn't your boyfriend at the moment, or is it over the fact that you're exes and therefore share history together in a way he can't decipher?

He doesn't meet your gaze, the pettiness running through his bones before he could register it as such.

“I don’t believe that. Pretty sure no one would go to their ex’s place especially at night.”

The words he's just uttered basically tells you that he's eavesdropped well and even added his own analysis to it, feeling offended because as what you can recall, you didn't even ask him for his own take.

“I’m hanging out with him and his little brother.”

“Still. No one does that.”

You play off the offense you feel into nonchalance, gritting your teeth as you disinfect the area for the next patient.

“You can be friends with an ex, it’s possible, Dr. Min,” you wipe extra hard at the bed, not even knowing why you feel defensive for a situation that doesn't even involve him. “We didn’t break up in bad terms anyways so it was more than plausible that we would be friends.”

He looks up inhumanely fast, eyes trained on you as if you've grown two heads within a second.

“That’s impossible.”

You humorlessly chuckle and that's the end of it, choosing to tune him out while you clean up as quick as you could because you don't even know if you could stay in a space with him any longer.

Yoongi finds it odd that you're not searching for his gaze, stopping right in front of you when you retrieve the remaining sanitary equipment.

“Have you even checked the schedule? You agreed to him so quick. Who knows, we’d probably do overtime.”

“Then I’m reminding you that I’ve never been absent ever since I started working here, and if we need to do overtime, I’m using my leave.

Dr. Min hardens his glare at you. “That’s against the law, I’m pretty sure.”

“I can ask Tae later, his mom’s a lawyer.”

You add harmlessly as it's the truth and it does make you curious if it's just his unknown pettiness or the law that's talking, seeing his eyes roll at your quip.

“Heh," he narrows his eyes and turns his back on you, quick hands moving into a blur while he goes on his way out. “The gauze’s contaminated now. Get a new one.”

Yoongi can't explain it but he feels like something's changed in his routine and in some way, it has something to do with you.

His entrance every morning feels weird and his arm wants to give out every time he throws his bag into the air because it's not your familiar face that squeezes in so close beside him even if there's plenty of space for you to walk on.

He finds himself looking through windows and wandering through hallways just to look for a trace of you, even if it's the little chocolate nibs you snack throughout the whole day or if it's your extra handkerchief that Jimin uses because he forgets his all the time.

You’re supposed to ask him anytime now, aren't you?

You've used four of your chances in four different occasions with no exact pattern to it, but Yoongi knows. He knows and feels that it's been too long ever since the last time you asked him out (that was two weeks ago) in the procedure room and he doesn't know when the next would be.

He's sure it's a tactic of yours. It must be. You must've been doing it in a certain method that trains him to miss you and look for you unconsciously, even if he's at home and not in the clinic.

Yoongi finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you're unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy.

He thinks he's had enough when he sees you enter the clinic, just thirty minutes away from opening and goes straight to Jimin's office, walking out later in your scrubs that makes him audibly gasp in surprise.

You enter the breakroom and he finds himself tailing after you unceremoniously, not being able to wait atleast five minutes to enter.

You're just now eating your breakfast because you've had a late start to your morning, also waiting a little later for you to retrieve your car from the shop that took longer than what you initially expected.

You're mid-bite into your cereal when you see a shadow cast onto the table, looking up to see Dr. Min who avoids your gaze as soon as you catch him.

“Yes.”

You chew slowly and cover your mouth when he turns to you, arms across his chest while you try to swallow. “I’m not following...?”

He sighs heavily, not knowing he had to spell it out for you.

Yoongi sits beside you and scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his face onto his hand that makes you confused even more on how he's willingly sitting this close beside you.

“Yes, I’m going on a date with you.”

You swallow your cereal without a fuss as it registers in your head collectively, a curious and inquisitive quirk to your lips that throws him off.

“I didn’t ask, though.”

“No, this is the part where you use your fifth chance to ask me out and I accept.”

It's quite entertaining to see Dr. Min act and talk so impulsively, not used to seeing him this frustratedly determined. “But I haven’t asked.”

Yoongi closes his eyes once, his shoulders relaxing.

“Then I’m saying yes for the four previous times you asked me.”

You snort to your cereal and you're thankful that it happens before you scoop another spoonful to your mouth, shaking your head somberly.

“That doesn’t count.”

Yoongi pouts childishly, his brows furrowing at the concept of you denying him this time and not getting what he wants.

“Yes it does.”

“I can’t take you out, Dr. Min. I’m actually a little short on some date money because I’ve been buying you expensive coffee every single morning.”

"Just Yoongi," he corrects but doesn't choose to comment on the fact that you haven't been buying him coffee for two weeks now and he's unknowingly formed a dependency on the coffee and you. “Then I’ll pay for the date.”

“Then that means you’re taking me out on a date.”

“I know, which is why I’m saying yes, I’m accepting-“

You stop the flow of words that makes Dr. Min frown even deeper, looking severely dejected but the guilt doesn't hit you as much. “You can’t. That wasn’t our deal.”

“Then ask me to go out with you.”

It's a suggestion he brings up softly, uncertainty lacing his features because actually, it doesn't sound like a suggestion at all — sounds more of a plead than anything.

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think even if you already had a concrete plan for the day. “I’m busy. Dr. Park needs me.”

Dr. Min clears his throat, sitting up straighter and looks at you.

“Please ask me to go on a date with you.”

“Dr. Park needs me.”

Yoongi exhales through his nose and stands up, straightening his shirt and rearranging the bucket hat on his head before he relents, leaving you alone.

You think that's just about the end of it, but you're wrong because you see Dr. Min pop into the breakroom the moment lunchbreak starts, picking up Jimin who's sitting beside you and ushering him out of the door.

"The fuck? Yoongi! Stop — stop pushing me! You seriously can't just throw me out of the-"

Your eyes are still fixed on the door that Dr. Min just pushed Jimin out of and locked him out entirely, barely glancing to the paper bag that he put in front of you.

He occupies the chair beside you and clears his throat once again, clasping his hands tightly.

“Five takes.”

"Huh? Dr. Min, did you seriously just-..."

Yoongi pokes your cheek to get you to look at him, effectively taking your gaze out of the door.

“Give me five chances to ask you out.”

You thought he wouldn't push it to this because you swore you know him — know him well-enough that he doesn't like you and wouldn't care enough to pursue you once you've stopped.

“Why?”

He blinks owlishly because you're still asking him why when he thought he couldn't make his intentions any more clear, the two weeks without the usual you making him realize it further.

“I could say that I’m asking you this so you could give me a taste of my own medicine,” his attempt at what's supposed to be a joke makes you scoff, later chuckling when he waves his hands around desperately to clarify. “But as much as my pride would like that,” he murmurs. “I uh, I do want to go out with you.”

Hearing it from him is surreal, to say the least. It's something you've never thought to hear and it's admittedly something you've given up on trying to hear not too long ago.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m going grocery shopping later,” you tell him and it makes his eyebrows knit in confusion, lips opening apart as he understands.

Yoongi grabs the prescription pad that fits snugly to his white coat, handing it to you as he explains it could be something for you to write your grocery list on.

“Thank you Dr. Min,” you chuckle at the wholesome gesture, a lot of pages left when you could've settled for a single leaflet.

“Great! I’ll be seeing you-“ he stands up and claps his hands, effectively being stopped when you reach out for him.

Then he understands.

“No.”

“I have a rewards card that’s been accumulating points for years now! You can use it," he offers gingerly, a grin on his face.

“Thoughtful, but no.”

“I can drive the cart really smoothly and I can promise you that I won’t even bump to your foot once," he nods for a convicting effect, thinking if he'd pass this time.

“Talented, but no.”

“I can lift all the grocery bags in one trip.”

“Nice try, but no.”

“No?” Yoongi parrots you with a tilt on his head, a slight pout on his face that makes him look warmer.

“No."

Yoongi accepts it and nod his head, pulling himself out of his chair before he convictedly talks again.

“M’kay. That was take one,” he says it out loud to console himself, earning a surprised gaze from you. “Four more chances left, right?”

Yoongi wordlessly stands and grabs a plate from the cupboard, taking out the lunch he's bought for you from the paper bag and sets your favorite food (courtesy of Jimin for a price of one hug) there instead, setting and plating it in front of you.

He taps two fingers on your cheeks, a cozy smile on his face as he tries to earn himself a loving smile from you before he exits the breakroom.

“Four more chances.”

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! ♡

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me and mr. jung | jhs (m)

My embarkation ticket to The Seven Seas Collab hosted by @ressjeon. The deep blue waters can be just as messy as solid ground.

pairing — investor!hoseok x singer!reader summary — Looking to diversify his investments, Jung Hoseok decides that cruise ships are the way to go. To get the lay of the land, he embarks on a promising ship, where one of the beautiful performers has his attention immediately. genre — smut, fluff (ish), forbidden love, love at first sight au rate — 18+ word count — 7.2k warnings — explicit sexual content, pov switch, alcohol intake, power dynamics, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating if you squint. author’s note — this fic had so many plot changes, y'all 😭 Alas, it's here with all it's glory. Shoutout to Yannie for putting together this amazing collab, and for brainstorming with me <3 And yes, there will be a part two in the future.

The indigo blue stress ball was at its last leg in Hoseok’s hands. He sat behind his mahogany desk, listening to his financial adviser babble about his personal portfolio. He’d seriously considered spiking his cup, but no amount of bourbon on his coffee could make this meeting interesting.

“Listen, Derek,” Hoseok started, “As much as I love talking about money with you, we’ll have to finish this another time. I have another meeting to attend.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Jung,” Derek said apologetic, already getting up from his seat. “I’ll reschedule with your secretary.”

With Derek out of his office, Hoseok could finally roll his eyes and take a deep breath. How his father managed to get by day in and day out in this company was a mystery. Taking a short minute to rest, he placed his elbows on his desk, looking at a photo of him and his father. His mom took it on a trip to Disneyland when he was five. With big Mickey Mouse ears, and a smile that looked soldered to his face, all Hoseok wanted was to be like his father. He was sitting on his father’s lap, and the picture looked a little blurred, like he’d be jumping up and down, too excited to sit still. 

Many times over the years, Hoseok would come to this very office and see this picture that never left his father’s desk. When dad was in a meeting, he would sit on his leather chair and pretend to make important calls, sometimes indulged by dad’s secretary. All that little boy dreamed about was to be important like his father and make him really proud. 

If he only knew then about the boring meetings with stuck-up business associates, and the bootlicking, barely competent employees, maybe he’d rethink his decision to be a hedge fund manager. Yes, he did get the fun part of dressing in tailored suits every day, but the fun would end there most of the time.

Even with a boring job, Hoseok hadn’t noticed that he’d become a workaholic just like his father. Getting home too late to cook dinner, leaving too early for a proper breakfast, eating lunch at a restaurant every day. How does one become a workaholic with such a boring job? Boring job, but having a talent with numbers. Boring job, but being trained by his Ivy League education. Boring job, but being able to accurately predict the market for his clients. Boring job, but fulfilling his own dreams and his father’s dreams. Boring job, nonetheless.

“Amanda,” Hoseok called through the speaker, “Please reschedule my agenda for this afternoon, I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, sir. What should I tell them?”

“Just make up an excuse. Once you’re done with that, take the day off as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok didn’t give a second thought to his decision, just grabbing his coat and wallet before leaving. His apartment was the only place that came to his mind at that moment. No place else sounded interesting enough. 

Turning the keys to his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the mail, piling up on top of his foyer’s accent table. He took them to his couch, determined to sort them out today. He didn’t have anything to do anyway. But by bill number three, he’d given up, laying down and whining into the cushions.

Too many thoughts, too many decisions to make. Should he change his career? If yes, would that tarnish his father’s memory? Would his mom think of him as a traitor? What else was he good at? If he was going to stir the pot, it would have to be something he’s really good at, right? His mind gave him no rest, yet somehow he managed to fall asleep.

Three hours later, his body still felt tired. Hoseok opened his eyes, his gray walls looking like an infinity pool. He had promised himself to buy some art as soon as possible when he moved in. Yet another chore that got pushed back to make room for meetings. He didn’t know if the sun was still up, but the pink hues of the sky clued him in.

Through his peripheral vision, he spotted something colorful on the floor. It was a little too distracting to his eyes. He was still a little disoriented, a little sleepy, but the colorless apartment helped his search. 

With blue and gold letters, an invitation.

Sweet Night Cruise Line would like to formally invite Mr. Jung Hoseok to embark on his next business adventure…

The plane from New York to Lisbon went like a blessing. No screaming babies, no dogs, no fighting couple one seat behind, no chatty passenger by his side, he even slept through the whole 7 hours. A first for this Jung. The flight from Lisbon to Málaga went much the same, fairly empty for a Friday afternoon. Hoseok wanted to take this as a good sign.

But the real showstopper was provided by Mr. Kim, sending a limousine for the one hour drive from the airport to the pier. To take the fastest route, the driver avoided the coast, driving through a small highway. He regretted he didn’t get to see much of Málaga, but that went away as they reached Venus Beach. From his window he could see the locals and tourists enjoying the beach views restaurants. He’d promised himself to come back here before his “business trip” ended.

With a keycard in hand and his luggage being delivered to his cabin, Hoseok followed the young concierge escorting him to Mr. Kim, who was hosting a crew member party before the guests arrived the following day.

“Hoseok, look at you all grown up!” Mr. Kim said, coming to greet him at the deck. Hoseok laughed as they shook hands.

“It’s been too long, Mr. Kim. I hope everything is going well,” Even if not fond of small talk, Hoseok always knew to be polite to everyone, especially to his father's close friends.

“They certainly are. Here, have some champagne,” Mr. Kim offered, waving at a nearby waiter. “If you’re not a party man, Hoseok, my crew will most certainly make one out of you,”

“I can imagine, this is looking impressive!” The party was already a rave. Cameras flashed everywhere, and the music was not awful, vanilla jazz like at his office. That already set them apart from the office crowd he knew. The canapés were to die for, the bottles of champagne just kept on coming, and he couldn’t quite see from that far, but he thought he saw some guys setting up a karaoke machine.

“There’s no crew party like Sweet Night’s. Here, let me introduce you to our staff captain.” Mr. Kim guided him towards a tall man. His black hair was carefully pushed back, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform, or anything super formal for that matter, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and gray slacks. He noticed Mr. Kim was also dressed like the captain, just with blue and black variations of colors. He immediately regretted his choice of dressing in a three-piece suit.

“Hoseok, this is our Staff Captain and my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced, “Namjoon, this is Jung Hoseok, a dear friend of mine, and possibly a future investor. He’ll be staying with us for the first half of our trip.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jung, I’m very pleased to have you aboard. I’m sure you’ll find our accommodations to your taste,”

“Thank you and please call me Hoseok. I’m already feeling like an old overdressed man, and I’m not even 30 yet.” Hoseok joked and they politely laughed.

“Nonsense, you’re dressed just fine. You have good taste in tailoring,” Mr. Kim encouraged. “Would you like a short tour of the ship? I’ll give you a proper guide as the week progresses.”

“Sure, let’s go.”

Mr. Kim showed very little of each floor. He started by going down two levels and introducing the restaurant and dining hall. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he could see the massive staircase leading to the level above it. The walnut wood was delicately carved into banisters and chairs, probably the tables too. The tables were set with cream colored linens, complimenting the blue curtains and the deep brown of the chairs. 

Going up a level, he could feel the mood switch. The stage perfectly fitted the space. What Hoseok assumed was a dancing floor, was surrounded by small black tables with four seats each, and two circular bars, with at least fifteen seats. The stage was currently tinted with blue light. It had a piano with a 50’s microphone by the side, with two more on the back. The bars were impressive, each with many LED panels on the back and glass shelves by the sides holding many brands of different liquors. 

“This place is bigger than what it looks like right now,” The nephew explained. His deep voice made an echo as they left the empty room. “I would suggest for you to come tomorrow night. It’s 50’s themed, we’re expecting for the dance floor to be full.”

“I’ll certainly come,” Hoseok promised, even though it didn’t sound that promising, as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“And we reach full circle,” Mr. Kim finished the tour. They reached back to the deck, where a big pool and two bars were located. Getting familiarized with the deck, Hoseok looked around, before locking eyes with a familiar face. He knew her from somewhere. He looked puzzled at her, and the woman looked puzzled back. Then realization hit him as they walked closer.

“Daena?” he asked, unsure if it was really her or not. A childhood friend, someone he hasn’t seen in at least 15 years. He saw her last at a pool party at her parents mansion, the summer before 8th grade. Her father was his father’s closest friend in the business world. They’d become attached at the hip for years before Hoseok went to a boarding school in Switzerland.

“Hoseok?” she asked back. When he smiled as a yes, she ran to his embrace. Her hug was as tight as he remembered and she still wore the same floral perfume.

“I’d wager you two know each other,” Mr. Kim joked, and they laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, since we were kids, actually. Our fathers were close,” Daena explained, stroking Hoseok’s arm gently. Even if time drove them apart, Daena would know that his father’s passing would always be a sore spot for Hoseok.

“Ms. Daena, I don’t think I introduced you to our staff captain. This is my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced them, and Hoseok noticed as she got shy. Her smile was curt and didn’t reach her eyes. They only nodded to each other.

“What are you doing here anyway, you workaholic?” Daena asked Hoseok, teasing him with a slap to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a country to buy or something?”

“I’m actually here as a possible investor, thank you very much,” Hoseok indulged her teasing, putting his hands on his pockets and leaning forward.

“A powerful man never stops working, I imagine,” she said tantalizingly.

“Hoseok is a man that knows how to work hard while playing harder,” Mr. Kim joined in their banter. He continued to explain how Hoseok’s visit would take place, but Hoseok was too far gone to pay attention. 

Only 10 feet away, standing by one of the bars with a drink in her hand, there was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her skin glowed and contrasted with the pink and orange shades of the sunset, as if she spent the last week being pampered by the sun. She was laughing with her friends, her summer dress flowing with the soft breeze, but still clinging to her figure. She looked well rested, her face showing nothing but enthusiasm and curiosity. 

Her lips looked soft and inviting as he noticed the shimmer of her lip gloss. What a smile.

Hoseok wanted to know that woman. He wanted to know if she smelled of fresh gardenias like he was imagining. Her eyes glistened as she spoke to her friends, and he could tell they were entranced. Must’ve been an interesting story. Or she could just be saying some bullshit. He wouldn’t judge her friends for being hypnotized. It wasn’t their fault. He turns to his group, already engrossed in another conversation, yet he wasn’t ashamed to interrupt their discussion.

“Excuse me, who is that woman in the pink dress over there?” 

“Oh, that’s Y/N, she’s one of our performers. She has a lovely voice.” The nephew, whose name he would make a note to remember, answered.

“I’m sure she does.” He could no longer take his eyes off of her. He felt Daena nudge him in the ribs with her elbows, but he didn’t care if she was going to tease him.

The singer was sipping a delicate looking drink. Maybe a Cosmo? Cranberry vodka? But that was only an afterthought. Hoseok was mesmerized by her body. Her shoulders were exposed, and that already made him salivate. Let alone the curves of her breasts, peeking through the opening of her cleavage. Her legs were another thing entirely; a central feature in Hoseok’s mind. They would be the star of his imagination for many days to come. Her beautiful feet were adorned with delicate heels, with thin straps that swirled around her calves. Sexy. Beautiful. Hot. Goddess.

“Do you want to meet the crew?” Mr. Kim asked, and Hoseok snapped out of his trance.

“If that’s not too much,” Hoseok agreed, trying his best to not break into a victory dance.

The soft wind shifted in their direction, and with it came the most delicate sweet scent. It had to be her perfume, no questions about it. Once they reached her, Hoseok had to concentrate very hard to not drool at her feet.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Kim called, “This is Jung Hoseok, he’s a dear friend and he’ll be our guest for the first leg of our trip.”

“Hello,” she said, and Hoseok felt like he could melt right there. Was that shimmering bells he heard when she spoke? “Is very nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” she offered her hand with that kilowatt smile. Concentrating very hard in forbidding the excitement in his stomach to travel to his pants, Hoseok shook her hand with both of his. Better to focus on her soft hands instead of the thrill he felt when she called him Mr. Jung.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hoseok almost whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. 

“And this is Ms. Lee Daena, another dear friend and our guest,” Mr. Kim intervened.

“Is very nice to meet you, Ms. Lee,” Hoseok was completely hypnotized, only looking at Y/N as she spoke to Daena. The softest voice. The sexiest voice. The reincarnation of Aphrodite herself. 

“Please, call me Daena,” she said, shaking the hand Y/N extended. Daena also pinched Hoseok’s arm and whispered “Get your shit together.” He didn’t. 

“I heard you have a lovely voice,” Hoseok complimented Y/N. Anything to distract the butterflies in his stomach. If it was anything like her speaking voice, Hoseok could only imagine the hold she had on the other guests.

“That’s what I hear too, but I don’t think I can agree that much,” she said with humility.

“Maybe I’ll just have to hear it and judge for myself, then,” Hoseok teased, focusing on keeping a smirk off his face.

“I guess that would be best,” she agreed, and her eyes sparkled. Hoseok couldn’t help but pay attention to the beauty of her face now that he could see it up close. Her cheeks looked as soft as her hands. He wanted to see it for himself. He almost slipped in his composure. Maybe some other time. 

“Well, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff,” Mr. Kim said, taking Hoseok off his trance again. 

Mr. Kim was right about the crew party. There would be no other like this. The food kept coming, along with the champagne. He was partly expecting to see a beer keg somewhere, and he had to remind himself he wasn’t at a college party in the 90’s. The karaoke was set at a makeshift stage, and various staff members took their turns. Hoseok also expected for Y/N to go up there and sing too, but she kept her place amongst her friends.

Hoseok was torn the entire night. He knew he was on vacation, but to everyone else he was a guest. And to stare at a staff member was wildly inappropriate. But he couldn’t help it, she was just too magnetic. She was probably a siren, taking him off his normal routes and alluring him to his death. Hoseok fidgeted the entire time he was accompanying Mr. Kim as they made the rounds. Every now and then, he’d look at her direction like a lunatic. 

“Stop staring or go talk to her. Either way, stop squirming like a little boy,” Daena whispered by his side, only playfully annoyed.

“First of all, I’m not staring, I’m just making business observations about the deck. Second of all, not while Mr. Kim is looking,” Hoseok whispered back.

“Afraid of getting caught, Mr. Boy Scout? Not much wild in you, huh?”

“Stop talking like that. We’re not in the 60’s,” Hoseok hissed, and she chuckled. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Just because,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about that. I'll distract Mr. Kim now, make a run for it.” Daena offered and immediately started an animated conversation with Mr. Kim. Hoseok didn’t waste time, and in seconds he was at Y/N’s side.

“I thought I was going to see you sing tonight at the karaoke,” he said, making her turn to look at him. 

“I thought I could give the other a fighting chance,” she answered, taking the last sip of her drink. 

“What if I was Ebony and you were Ivory?” he joked, and she snorted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe some Endless Love if you’re feeling really corny.”

“Oh, that would be just fantastic. But between you and me, I don’t know if you can hold an E-flat,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Try me,” he leaned forward too, whispering the words to her. He looked into her curious eyes, and for a moment he forgot where they were. Her cheeks looked tempting again, but they were overshadowed by her lips, plump and soft, almost parted for a kiss. He leaned even more, throwing caution to the wind.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” someone asked by their side. A tall male, one of her friends, stood there with his hands in his pockets. Y/N corrected her posture, and Hoseok was quick to do the same. The friend looked suspiciously at Hoseok, before doing the same to Y/N.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she announced, grabbing her phone and adjusting her hair. “Have a good night, Mr. Jung.” she said politely.

“Have a good night, Y/N.” 

A lot of mantras went by Y/N’s head during the past three weeks. Ignore the way he’s looking at me. Do not bite your lip right now. Stop imagining yourself on your knees. Stop staring at his lips. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. They all seemed worthless in the end. She could only listen to the last one. 

“Again, another great set,” Hoseok complimented, reaching for her hand. She took it as she walked down the stairs by the side of the rehearsing stage. Ignore the way it feels when he holds your hand. If he could only read her mind… “You do know how to put a setlist together.”

“Well, thank you,” Y/N said, “I am a fan of the 70’s, so I had to go all out.”

“You say you’re a fan of the 70’s and yet I see no Bee Gees in there,” Hoseok teased.

“That’s because I actually have a personality.”

“Oh really? With all that ABBA? You say I don’t have a personality, but if you really want to talk about something generic…” Hoseok continued, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N gasped, pulling her hands off of his to playfully slap his arms multiple times. “You did not just call ABBA generic!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed freely, trying to avoid her hits.

“Just when I was starting to like you, and you say stuff like this,” Y/N whined, crossing her arms. She pouted, shaking her head. She thought she was looking pathetic, but anything to flirt with him.

“Aw, look at you pouting,” Hoseok whined, teasing her. “Would you forgive me if I apologized?” he said softly, stroking her arm with one hand, grabbing her chin with the other. She let him guide her eyes to him, and he smiled softly. 

“Maybe,” she encouraged him, maybe batting her eyelashes a little. He squinted his eyes when he saw the playful smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for thinking ABBA is boring and generic,” he said mockingly, a big smile plastered on his lips.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” she said, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying that,” he countered, with the bickering yet defying voice he always had.

“Yes, you are,” she chanted, her smile only getting bigger. She thought he would be used to it now. It’s not like that was the first time he made fun of her musical taste.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” he said, sighing heavily after.

“How did that taste like?” she asked, already knowing he hated saying those words.

“Like vinegar,” he frowned. “So, am I forgiven?” he probed.

“Yes, you are,” she said softly.

“That’s good,” he whispered. She then felt Hoseok caress her cheek, ever so tenderly. His thumb left her chin and grazed her jaw, before his hand traveled to her neck. 

She took in a sharp breath. No one was around to witness any of that, Y/N was always careful to talk to him without anyone around. She wanted this to be the moment where she finally gave in to her desires. To finally kiss his lips, that looked so soft and inviting. He leaned forward, his nose touching hers, his sweet breath hitting her face.

“We can’t,” she whispered. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t move an inch away from her.

“Why not?”

“You’re a guest,” she started, “And I could-”

“Don’t think of me as a guest,” Hoseok interrupted, taking a step back to look into her eyes.

“I don’t have any other way to see it,” she continued, shrugging, “I can’t jeopardize my job like this.”

“You won’t,” Hoseok said, taking her hand back in his. “I kind of work here anyway, so you should think of me as a coworker.” He insisted and she laughed nervously.

“I can’t, that’s not what you are. You are a guest, and possibly my future boss. My love life needs to be separate!” 

“I get that, I really do,” Hoseok sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, I’m not thinking clearly.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, kindly. She sighed and he joined her. Maybe if her decisions existed in a bubble, where one couldn’t interfere with the other… 

“In the spirit of being honest, I just wanted you to know that I find you really attractive,” Hoseok said, sounding apologetic. “And I see that it was very unprofessional of me to put you in this position, and I respect your decision. And when I was flirting with you, I thought you were flirting back. It’s my mistake that I-”

“I was flirting back,” she whispered, not wanting him to apologize for something she also had a hand in.

“Okay then,” Hoseok sighed. She looked deeply into his eyes. She could feel the sorrow being expressed in her own face. “I really wanted to kiss you,” he said softly, “and maybe do some other stuff too,” he continued jokingly, and she chuckled.

“I really wanted to kiss you too,” she reassured him.

“So it’s a no to the other stuff?” he teased, making her roll her eyes. “If you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first one to know,” she promised.

Y/N spent the rest of the day in her cabin, thinking about Hoseok. She was starting to regret her stupid, stupid decision to not kiss him. His lips were right there, no more than an inch apart with his hand at her neck. All she had to do was lift her chin a little to reach paradise. The lips she had been dreaming about for weeks. She could finally pull his hair and moan to his lips. So what if she was going to lose her job? She could always find another one. She would not find another set of arms that she would like to be in. At least not this much. The arms that would pull her to his chest, maybe even squeeze her hips. 

But that door was closed. It needed to be.

Laying down on her small bed, she closed her eyes and traced all the memories she had of his hands with her own. Those damn hands. The way he touched her neck with just the tip of his fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek and jaw. He was driving her to insanity. His hands would also caress her arms, tender strokes that she wanted to feel in every inch of her body.

She wished he was there with her. She wished she could guide his hands through her body. If he was going to drive her to insanity, at least drive her to orgasm too. Too worked up to look back, she imagined his hands cupping her breasts. Her breath caught, and she felt her nipples getting hard through the fabric of her dress.

She also wanted him to touch her thighs. His palm would travel up and down her legs, before settling at her hips. She quickly pulled down her underwear, not wanting to lose the momentum of her imagination. She also wanted him to kiss her inner thighs, but her fingers would do for the moment. Moving up and down softly through her inner thighs, she whispered his name.

Her fingers reached her folds, and she hissed once she realized the pool that formed. Slowly circling her clit, she moaned his name again and again. She imagined what his lips would feel like. She wanted to grip his hair for him to stay put, and his tongue would go up and down per her request. 

Her fingers picked up the pace, and she curled the sheet with her free hand. She wanted to feel him moan against her cunt, beg for him to suck her clit. The knot in her stomach got tighter and tighter, and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She moaned his name again, loudly this time, as the climax reached her body. 

“Shit,” she whispered. She knew at that moment it was impossible to ignore the way he affected her. She honestly didn’t want to.

“I ain’t got no money… I ain’t like those other guys you hang around,” Y/N sang the first lines of her last song of the night. The crowd was exceptionally encouraging, she would give credit to her stage presence. At first they mostly drank at the bar, and some couples danced together, but at that moment they all paid attention to her performance, she was giving it her all. She could pull all that passion from personal experience. “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was only the cherry on top, to end the night in a funky mood. But the true crowd pleasers were “If You Really Love Me”, “If I Were Your Woman”, “Let’s Stay Together”, and “Touch Me In the Morning”. Oddly timed.

Did she really have to set up all of those love songs on the same night she decided to not deny her desires? And to make matters worse, she knew he was watching. She moved her body the way she knew he liked it too. Swinging her hips this way and that. Dancing and tapping her hips to the beat of the drums. She was also feeling herself in her bell bottom jeans with bell sleeve tie top. A dangerous combo, but she wanted something out of that night. She wanted him. 

So she decided to let him know. He would need to pay attention to that moment.

“Before we end this beautiful night, I just wanted to dedicate this next song to a friend of mine,” she started saying before the band could leave their marked places. She found him in the crowd quickly, locking his eyes easily. The unscripted message got his attention. “I hope he’s paying attention. I’ll know he’ll like this one.” She took a deep breath and started acapella.

“Me and Mrs. Jones,” she started the first notes and the crowd cheered, some couples went back to dancing, enjoying the slow pace of the song. “We got a thing going on,” the band followed her lead, one by one until the song was luscious and lustful.

“We both know that it’s wrong,” Piano.

“But it’s much too strong to let it go now,” Base.

“We meet every day, at the same café,” Guitar.

“At six thirty, and no one knows she’ll be there,” Sax.

“Holding hands, making all kinds of plans, while the jukebox plays our favorite song,” The song progressed and Hoseok got closer to the stage, leaving the shadow of the bar where he sat every day to watch her perform. “Well, it’s time for us to be leaving. It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside.” He was standing in front of the stage by that point, hands in his pockets, a confused look on his face. She needed to make herself clearer. 

“Now she'll go her own way and I'll go mine,” She stared directly into his brown eyes, she said everything she wanted to in her head, in hopes it would translate to her eyes. He had to understand. “But tomorrow we’ll meet at the same place, at the same time,” The confused look was gone, and a smirk replaced his features. He winked and she fell like swooning, but she could only watch while he walked away, “Me and Mrs. Jones…”

The song ended, and she wished the crowd goodnight, excusing herself before the band could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer. She started to walk around the bar and the dance floor, politely nodding while people congratulated her performance. He was nowhere to be found. She would scream his name on every floor if it were necessary. 

She walked towards the elevator, but the influx of people was too big, it would take forever; she’d have to do a one-eighty and bolt for the stairs. Looking at her feet, trying not to fall in heels, she went up the steps as fast as she could.

“Excuse me, miss,” she heard a male voice in front of her, but she didn’t look up. The man was insistent and held her arm, halting her steps. She turned to face him, angry words almost coming out of her lips. But at the step behind her, Hoseok was smiling angelically, his eyes glistening under the lights of the room. “Can I have your autograph?” he continued, climbing up a step to get leveled with her.

“Yes, you can,” she replied, all traces of anger gone from her features. 

“I don’t have pen and paper with me. Do you mind going to my cabin so we can find one?” He whispered to her ear, before quickly kissing her earlobe. A shiver went up and down her spine, and she had to control every movement of her body. Having sex in public was still illegal. 

“Yes, we can do that,” she whispered back. 

Hoseok wasted no time in guiding her to his cabin. They walked through a secluded hallway from the bar to a private elevator. She’d never been there before, but she knew it led to the VIP lounge. She barely saw the keycard hit the touch screen, and Hoseok pressed the buttons quickly. He was in a hurry too. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, facing each other.

“Are you sure about this?” Hoseok asked, tapping his foot to the ground, he looked a little nervous.

“I’m sure.” 

The elevator door opened, and he guided her through the lounge and inside another hallway. They walked too quickly, she was certain someone was watching closely through the security footage, but her decision didn’t waiver. He opened his door for her, and she stood facing his ocean view window. She could only see the blackness of the night, but she was sure it would be beautiful during the day. She heard noises in the back and turned to see Hoseok pouring two drinks from his mini fridge.

“For confidence?” He offered her a glass, but she shook her head.

“I don’t need it.” She whispered, the shaky feeling of what she was about to do finally setting in. He put the glasses down and came to her side, holding her hands to his heart.

“It’s okay if you change your mind,” he said, and she chuckled, but her stomach felt restless. She was finally getting what she wanted. His lips were close, and this time she didn’t want to say no. She didn’t have to. She was committing to that moment.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she answered, taking a step further with a small smile. Her breasts touched the fabric of his light blue suit, and she remembered earlier in the day, with her imagination unfettered. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be only imagination anymore. “Hold me,” she ordered. She didn’t open her eyes when his arms held her waist, hugging her figure to his chest. “Kiss me,” she whispered. And he did.

His warm lips were just as soft as she imagined. His tongue caressed her bottom lip, and in a quest to taste his breath, her own tongue met his. Her hands, firmly pressed against his arms, went to stroke his hair and neck. She pulled his hair, and he moaned at the sensation, holding her tighter against his body. She bit his lower lip, doing the best she could to press her hips against his own. She had his help when his hands gripped her hips and ass.

They both let loose. His jacket was on the floor in a second, and his hands were quick to untie her blouse, exposing her bra. Her hands traveled down his chest as she opened the buttons of his shirt. He stripped her pants and panties off while he kissed her jaw and neck, until he could lick and suck on her cleavage. She opened his belt and unzipped his pants in the process, massaging his cock as soon as she reached his boxers. 

In a flash, she dragged his pants and boxers down his legs, and found herself to her knees, reenacting the most famous scene of her imagination. He hissed when she kissed his tip and licked his length. She spat in her hand and stroked him up and down, before doing the same with her mouth. He growled, and his deep voice excited her even further. Her walls clenched when she felt his full size inside her mouth. It filled her perfectly. She sucked him faster and faster, getting aid from her hand. She was salivating for more, clenching in anticipation. Her hand left his cock to massage her own clit. She needed no support from her wet hand, her folds were already pooled. 

“Yes,” he hissed, moving his hips in harmony with her mouth, “touch that pretty cunt, baby,” he held her in place by her neck, thrusting his hips further down her throat. They moaned in unisson. He took his cock out of her mouth, the long saliva trail dripping on the floor. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered, begging. She nodded her head fiercely.

He helped her get up to her feet and guided her to the sofa by the window. She took her top and bra off and laid down, eyes wide with expectation. He opened her legs widely, and placed himself in between, holding one thigh to his waist. He used her wet labia to lubricate himself, sliding his dick up and down. She hissed as his tip stroked her clit. She clenched as he slowly entered her core, and her breath caught. She moaned his name.

“Yes, baby, call for me,” he said to her ear, catching her earlobe with his teeth. She moaned his name again and again as his strokes got faster and faster. His hand squeezed her thigh, and he grunted. The vibrations of his voice sent chills down her spine. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispered.

His pace never slowed, and they moaned each other's names. She felt the knot build up in her abdomen, and her breath got shallow and quicker. “Fuck me,” she scremead, breathing harder. His hips picked up the speed, the sound of their hips meeting getting louder. She felt free to moan louder as he grunted more and more. “I’m close,” she whispered, “Let me cum on that dick, Mr. Jung,” she whined. He squeezed her thigh harder, grunting incoherently. She then felt the warmth of his jizz inside of her.

“No,” he said, breathing heavily. His hips settled still.

“W-What?”

“You’re going to cum on my mouth,” he said, readjusting her body so she was sitting. He kneeled on the floor, placing her thighs on his shoulders. His tongue went to her clit, and she gasped, placing her hands on his hair. He swirled the tip of his tongue, sliding two fingers inside her filled pussy. She hissed with the sensation. He curled his fingers, massaging her spot.

“Suck on it,” she begged. He complied immediately. His free hand massaged one of her tits, and she pulled her head back, overwhelmed with pleasure. The familiar knot came back, and she sucked a quick breath. “I’m so close,” she repeated, and Hoseok increased the pressure. She tugged his hair as she felt the warm release of the knot, and in a final moan, she fell limp on his couch.

Y/N heard the birds chirping outside. Was it morning already? She felt an unfamiliar stroke up and down her back, and was suddenly alarmed. She sat up quickly in the bed, only to see a confused Hoseok laying down by her side.

“Nightmare?” he asked, worried. She rubbed her eyes, looking around his room. The memories started to flood her head. The unplanned serenade, the quick walk down his hallway, the couch. The shower that led to a second round. The bickering over her use of his shirt to sleep. “Y/N?” he repeated, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’m okay,” she affirmed, she looked into his eyes, and he was still not convinced. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just not used to waking up with someone else on the bed,” she confessed.

“Come here,” he asked, patting the place she’d just left. She agreed, laying her head against his chest. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Mornin’,” she replied, stretching her arms and legs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Feeling good,” she replied, stretching her neck to kiss his lips. “Real good,” she continued playfully, wiggling her eyebrows. He chuckled.

“How about some breakfast in bed?” he offered, hugging her tighter to his side.

She felt her body tense, and she stayed silent. As good as it was, there were still consequences she would have to deal with. What was going to happen to her job? For all she knew, Mr. Kim could be right outside waiting to fire her while she was dressed in her panties and Hoseok’s button up. And what about the future? What did the future held with this strange man she just had unprotected sex with?

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“Are the regrets knocking at your door?” he asked softly, back to stroking her back.

“Yes, and no,” she admitted, and Hoseok took a deep breath.

“Talk to me,” he prompted.

“My job…” she started, sorrow seeping through. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said matter of fact. “Your job is safe.”

“What do you mean?” she probed.

“Just trust me,”

“I want to, but you’ll have to tell me,” she pushed, getting up and supporting her weight in one elbow. “What did you do?”

“It’s a long story, okay?” he answered, pushing his hair back. “I can tell you what I know over dinner, tho,” he offered, smugly. “Tomorrow night. Let’s take advantage of the fact that we are in France, and I’ll fly us to Paris for a date. What do you say?” he continued, his eyes sparkling like a puppy dog.

“I say you’re insane,”

“Well, at least I’m hot,” he joked, and she snorted.

“Hoseok, be serious.”

“I am,” he declared. She started to get up, but he stopped her, holding her arm. “Please, just listen to my offer. Let’s just say that in the hypothetical situation where your job is safe, and no one knew we just had the hottest sex of my life, would you go out with me?” She looked at his begging face for a minute, and he pouted cutely as she pondered. “Or was this just a one night thing? You don’t have to pretend you have feelings or anything. I’m a grown man.”

“I don’t want this to be just a one night stand,” she confessed.

“Okay, good, neither do I. Then back to the hypothetical scenario,” he said, cheerful, sitting up by her side.

“And that’s only if my job is safe and sound,” she threatened. 

“Okay. If your job is safe and sound, would you be willing to date me?” he asked.

“I guess…”

“You guess?” he asked, shocked.

“If my job is safe and sound, I don’t want to jeopardize it…”

“So?” he prompted.

“So, any dating would have to happen far and outside from the ship.”

“Fine by me.”

“And while inside the ship, we have to pretend like nothing is happening between us.” she continued, a little more shy this time. Maybe this would be too much for him. Maybe this would be too much for her. She didn’t know if she was capable of pretending nothing was happening.

“That’s also fine by me,” he promised. “With that out of the way, do you want to go to Paris with me?”

“I’ll meet you outside of the pier by 5.”

---

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

---

nine to five

pairing: jimin x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: dr. park jimin's unbreakable when it comes to skill, dedication, and work ethic; meanwhile, you jump between part-time jobs for the fun of it. he's just trying his best to look out for you — too bad he sucks at it. (spin-off to take five!)

alternatively, you're friends with benefits with jimin and you always kiss him on the cheek before he leaves — but one day you stop.

[ mutual pining, 30% angst (there is Redemption I Swear), smut, fluff n wholesomeness, jimin's rude + out of touch towards ppl outside of his tax bracket for a hot minute, minor injuries (dog bites n scratches, bruises, blood, etc.) sustained from part-time jobs ]

notes: inspired by workman on youtube!! you don't necessarily have to watch it in order to read this <3 a lot of people told me they started watching hospital playlist after reading take five, so i'm doing the same with this to try and convert u into my emotional clutch shows agenda :D also a reminder that i am in no way making fun of any of the jobs mentioned below!!

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 :)

It's not easy to throw Jimin off.

Simply to say, his tolerance is as good as boundless. He just continuously endures and although it doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s passive, he just chooses to let things slide. He, of all people, would know that constantly furrowing your brows speeds up one’s wrinkling process. It’s not like Jimin doesn’t care enough — it’s just that he’s almost always unfazed.

He remains calm and doesn’t yell any louder than necessary when he’s dragged into haunted houses and escape rooms. If he was being blunt, he’d say that anyone who willingly puts themselves through it and scream bloody murder, must have never learned about the concept of cause and effect. You pay to get scared and in turn would go through the experience, and you still have the nerve to be surprised about it?

Tiny internal rant aside, Jimin is still calm.

He's patient with pranks and laughs it off, no matter how impractical they could be. It’s as impractical as his parents spending two hours in the crack of dawn to fill up his room with balloons on his 15th birthday, and it is a little lame, but Jimin isn’t heartless — of course he wakes up laughing! The little stretches of his genuine laughter outweighs his knowledge that he had been hearing latex squeaking since two hours ago.

All throughout their medical careers, if Dr. Min is known to be patient, then Dr. Park is known to be a saint. He was the junior that every senior wanted to tuck under their wing, and the senior that every junior wanted to bag with them. There was a time in their fellowship when Yoongi kept replacing Jimin's stethoscope with a toy version of it right when he was about to do rounds, for a whole week, and the most reaction he got was a flick to the forehead at the end (read: surrender) of his prank.

Jimin’s just so unbothered to the point that it’s unnerving.

He’s not exactly clueless with the way that the people in his life still strive to throw him curveballs; in fact, it’s amusing.

Was it annoying that Yoongi moved every piece of furniture in the clinic two inches to the right to try and grit at his co-owner’s gears? Yeah. Was it fulfilling to pretend that he didn’t keep bumping his hip into table corners and mess up his depth perception, just for the sake of frustrating Yoongi? Completely.

Sure, it did tick his nerves a little when Hoseok kept paging him into the lobby, only for the receptionist to tell him that he didn’t call his name. It must have went for only ten times, and the only reason Jimin went for the previous nine was because he wanted to save face! What would the dozens of clients in the lobby think when their doctor doesn’t come when asked for?

Yoongi is far from giving up.

Hoseok is long done.

The latter is what completely confuses Jimin.

Jimin had never been caught off-guard this badly and when it happened, he tried to reel himself in the moment he came back to his car.

It's when he's getting dressed to leave after the best, most fulfilling, and only sex he's had in a long while, making conversation with you while he makes himself coffee to drink while driving back home.

Jimin thought that since you’re Hoseok’s friend, he must’ve put you to the task. It’s not that far off to think that for the three months you’ve been fucking, all of it was his friend’s plan to throw him out of his rhythm.

What’s more confusing, is that he’s beyond certain that what you did was sincerely done out of your own accord. No one dear to him could faze him to this extent.

But you? You throw Jimin off.

You do it in such a genuine yet nonchalant way that Jimin thinks he must’ve conjured the whole scenario in his head at one point.

It’s surreal to think about because you lean into him with ease, a gentle hold on his forearm as if he just didn’t blow your back out minutes ago.

All of his senses shut down and the remaining control he has left is all used into squeaking a goodbye, speed-walking out of your door and holding his breath until he reaches his car.

He’s far from calm and he’s the furthest thing from collected. There’s no reasonable explanation to anything that happened in the last two minutes, and that’s as far as his mind could go.

You kissed Jimin on the cheek.

( ♡ )

Did Jimin lose sleep over you kissing him on the cheek? Without a doubt. He’s been jumpy since this morning and it’s beginning to startle everyone in the clinic — everyone.

Awhile ago, Yoongi was being observant and good-natured as usual that naturally, he tried pointing out to Jimin that he sees a pimple forming on his cheek. He only poked it for the sake of locating it, and he was just about to offer treating it for him, when Jimin jumped two feet away from him the moment his cheek (the one you kissed) was touched.

True enough, there is a pimple forming and with abrupt agreements, Jimin told Yoongi to do his magic with it the moment he gets a break. He did wear a mask to try and avoid unnecessary attention, but of course someone just had to startle him even more.

“Ah, you look sleazy with that mask on. Kisses? Really?” Hoseok squints his eyes, unaware of the way Jimin’s eyes bulge in panic. All he cares about is sitting on the comfiest chair in the breakroom and eating his lunch, but that plan’s steadily bound to be overthrown.

He’s pointing to the pattern of kisses on his face mask, a spare stock of what all the staff wore back for valentine’s day. Hoseok knows that he’s pertaining to the design, but Jimin clearly doesn’t.

“Y-you know?” he mutters under his breath, caught breathless in a situation he’s unsure to whether or not it favors him. At his surprise, Hoseok has an inkling that they’re not on the same wavelength at the moment.

Not at all.

“What do I know?” Hoseok tilts his head, still grasping at nothing with how Jimin’s now doubting him.

“Are you faking?” Jimin counters, swallowing the lump on his throat. They’re literally going nowhere and he wants to get somewhere at least before the day ends, atleast starting off with someone who knows you better than him. “Listen, what if we both say what we think we’re talking about at the same time?”

It’s a half-baked idea but Hoseok just shrugs it off, saying the first thing that came to his mind the moment Jimin started counting down.

“Aren’t we talking about your pimple?”

“You know that Y/N kissed me?”

Hoseok groans in annoyance at the instance the words leave his friend, putting his head on his hands to try and shrug the image off his brain.

Sure, he has an inkling that the two of you looked at each other a little too suggestively for your first meeting. He introduced you to Jimin when you came into the clinic bearing his homemade birthday lunch (one that you’ve been making yearly for him the past five years), and it’s not like he regrets introducing you! Both you and Jimin are good people; he just didn’t want to know too much information.

"Gross. Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear about your sex life with my friend."

"But she kissed me," Jimin half-whispers and half-whines, gripping into Hoseok’s arm as if it was his lifeline. The receptionist doesn’t budge him off, but his furrowed brows are telling enough that he wants the conversation to be over soon.

"Okay...? What do you want me to say to that?"

Jimin grows exasperated, tempted to throw a tantrum as he runs his hand through his hair.

"Hoseok, I meant she kissed me in like, a lover way and not a friends-with-benefits type of way!"

There’s obviously too much information being shared with yours and Jimin’s mutual friend, and mutual friend does not like it, but said mutual friend now knows too much to the point that he’s invested.

Hoseok pauses his eating, blinking slowly with no malice peeking from his tone.

"But don't you like Y/N in a lover way?"

Jimin’s not mad that Hoseok’s caught on to him this quickly, the emotion isn’t even in his vocabulary when it comes to you. It’s just that he’s torn and confused and wary — all the other three feelings that he despises going through.

"Yeah but like not completely, y’know? I still said I was unsure if I really do have those feelings for her," he admits with a shake of his head, his cheeks puffing in a sigh out of recollection about what he was really discussing. “A cheek kiss! She kissed me on the cheek before I went out of the door."

"Again, Jimin," his friend rolls his eyes, setting down his chopsticks after a large bite because he knows the younger won’t stop talking anytime soon. "What do you want me to say?"

Jimin quirks his lips to the side, looking down on his lap. What does he want Hoseok, a friend to you first and a friend to him second, to say? He doesn’t necessarily know if he wants him to hyper-analyze your actions. He can’t tell if he wants advice. He’s unsure if he wants to be reassured.

He goes with the first question that pops into his head, no matter how blunt it sounds.

"Don't you find it weird? Who kisses the guy they fuck on the cheek after sex?"

Now that he phrases it that way, Hoseok sighs deeply, shaking his head in passing. Quite frankly, even he doesn’t know what to say to that.

"Dunno. Never happened to me before," he shrugs his shoulders, waving his hand off to further prove his upcoming input. "Calm down. It's probably nothing."

"But it's something!" Jimin rebutts, eyes widening now that he realizes that the reassurance he wanted to hear does not comfort him at all.

"Well now you sound like you want it to be something,” Hoseok snorts, electively humming to provide background music to Jimin’s mini meltdown.

"Why would she kiss me on the cheek?"

"Eh. She kisses me on the cheek too,” he says as a matter of fact, thinking that the tidbit of information is gonna help calm his friend’s nerves down and stronghold him into letting him eat without interruption.

Jimin narrows his eyes, a quiet scoff leaving his lips as he crosses his arms.

"Why would she kiss you on the cheek?"

"Now you're just jealous."

Hoseok stares Jimin down and the look of emotional constipation on the latter’s face makes him hiccup, making the former chuckle while raising his hands in surrender.

"God, I don't know! Friends can kiss each other on the cheek, Y/N's affectionate like that. Don't think too much of it."

Right. Of course Hoseok’s right!

Friends kiss each other on the cheek all the time and it just so happens that your love language is physical touch and affection. It all just happens to be and you don’t actively make it happen.

That’s probably the answer that Jimin of five minutes ago would’ve wanted to hear, but the Jimin of now is unsatisfied, the plausible explanation still not tickling his brain in the way he thought it would.

Just as if on cue, Yoongi enters the room, audibly gasping at the sight.

"Ugh. Breakroom gossip without me?!" he whines, pouting at the door in irritation.

"Yoongi! Finally. I need your opinion on this one," Jimin beckons him over and Yoongi doesn’t waste a single second, immediately replacing Hoseok in the throne of his comfortable chair.

"Good. You deal with him," Hoseok mutters, but not before swiping Yoongi’s coffee on the way out.

Jimin clears his throat to repeat his previous narration, instantly getting a wince not even two sentences into his recollection.

"Do I really need to know about your sex life?"

"You don't need to but of course, you just have to be sulky when you're left out with breakroom gossip, don't you?" he rolls his eyes, his coat sleeve being tugged in franticness when he pretends to stand up.

Yoongi straightens his posture, giggling whilst shaking his head.

"Kidding, kidding. Don't leave me out ever again," his voice deepens, leaning closer with knitted eyebrows to hear the gossip he sensed that’s been brewing since this morning. "I'm listening."

( ♡ )

Yoongi is not the devil’s advocate.

However, he is an occasional asshole that really just wants to get on Jimin’s nerves every once in a while.

He cares about his friend’s feelings, he really does, but Yoongi thinks that Jimin just really isn’t looking at his problem in the right way. His girlfriend would call him out for meddling but really, all that he’s doing is merely teasing — a tiny bit of teasing won’t hurt, especially if he knows it would launch Jimin into a different yet positive spiral (but it’s still a spiral nonetheless).

“What if it was a cheek kiss out of pity?”

Now in hindsight, maybe that wasn’t Yoongi’s brightest idea up to date.

He said the words playfully and yet Jimin sits shocked as if he cussed his family tree out, mouth slightly part open at the syllables that keep ringing in his head. What’s worse is that he misinterprets the shock as amusement, going much further this time.

“Kinda like a participation certificate, y’know? A thanks for showing up badge.”

Out. Of. Pity.

“I’m just uh, I- well would you look at the time? Lunch break’s over,” Yoongi awkwardly excuses himself, looking at his bare wrist that’s not even adorned by a watch today. The look of distress is just too overwhelming on Jimin’s features that it makes him squirm, too preoccupied in giving him space that he doesn’t fully realize that it’s perhaps the first time he’s seen him in such disarray.

He breezes through his schedule for the day and honestly speaking, he wasn’t even paying half the attention he usually would to his clients. Barely engaged in small talk and if that wasn’t enough, he also managed to call a client (or two) the wrong name.

It was an indelible loop that keeps playing in his ear, the buzzing so obnoxious that he physically has to shake his head to block it out.

Did he not satisfy you enough?

Jimin, against probable and rational judgement, calls if he can come over — not to talk, but to rather prove himself instead.

You look beat as soon as you come home to your apartment, fatigued eyes widening in surprise to see that Jimin, against patience and virtue, really did take your offer of letting him in with a spare keycard.

You told him you would be coming home late awhile ago and he hummed in recognition. By late, you meant an-hour-overtime late and not the usual fifteen minutes that you’d warn him about.

Jimin’s been waiting for you in your own home for an hour straight.

It’s odd, to say the least. The whole context is weird but what’s even more weird is that you’re not surprised at all to see that true to his word, he waited for you patiently. There’s not a single thing out of place — the only space being occupied being your couch, and particularly in that specific spot he always sits on.

Jimin’s sneakers are placed next to yours on your shoe rack. His car keys are placed on your counter, in the same tray you’d also put yours in. He’s wearing the sweatpants he’d wear inside his own place.

Jimin looks like he belongs to your home and in all honesty, you don’t hate one bit of it.

“Hiii.”

You drawl in recognition as soon as you enter your front door, immediately padding towards Jimin while he smiles at the sight of you. He doesn’t even know that an hour has passed already since he let himself inside your apartment, and he isn’t even aware that not once did he look at the time in impatience.

“Tired, baby?” he asks gently, humming as he puts his hand on your lower back out of instinct, a chuckle involuntarily leaving him when you decided to sit on his lap.

It isn’t even sexual to begin with. You sit on his lap because you’re tired and he’s warm and in the little time you decided to initiate skinship with him, you melt.

Jimin feels you get comfortable in his lap and he has no qualms in bundling you in his arms, hugging you as he realizes it belatedly.

He doesn’t hate one bit of your warmth.

“Mhmm. Lifting candy makes you so tired,” you murmur to his neck, trying to fight away the sleep that’s weighing down on your eyelids. You try to fight it by realizing that you’re dirty from being outside and you need to take a shower before heading to bed, but the lingering scent of Jimin’s perfume on his neck says you don’t necessarily need to break from his grasp now.

“Candy? I thought you worked in sports,” his eyebrows knit in confusion, turning his head to look at you to confirm his knowledge, but you’re just so close that all he sees is your cheek; so close to the point that the tip of his nose nudges it.

You hum in response, unabashedly nudging your head closer to Jimin’s neck to breathe in his scent that calmed you to no end. “The court cleaner gig? Ah. That was from a week ago.”

He blinks earnestly, pausing from looking at you to look at your framed certificate on the console across the room.

“Didn’t you graduate with a double major in finance and accounting?” he knows the information to heart because it was the first thing he learned about you from Hoseok, so he doesn’t know why he looked at your certificate.

Actually, Jimin doesn’t even know why he’s so curious about it, because the last time he checked, he came here to disprove his insecurities and prove himself to you — even if you know nothing of the matter. “Never mind that. Are you sore, hmm?”

“Very,” you wince at the reminder that the entirety of your arms are aching, the sensation reminding you why you even accepted Jimin’s meek question if he could come over.

“Jimin,” you mumble and he perks up attentively, using everything in your strength to will yourself at prying your face away from his neck just so you could deliver your request sincerely. “Fuck me to a good night’s sleep, please.”

He buffers.

He buffers for one, two seconds — and it doesn’t help that you go back to nuzzling into him as if you didn’t ask of him to basically fuck you into next week.

In fact, Jimin even forgets that he’s here for that exact reason. He thought that he was here to be your furnace as you sit on his lap because you’re spent from lifting candy all day, but he’s obviously not opposed doing the other, first-most reason.

He chuckles at your choice of words now that it really sinks into him, feeling you peek one eye open with a faux mocking look.

“Can you do all the work?”

“Can I do all the work?” he lilts his voice and it’s enough to know that he’ll deliver on your request, a content smile forming on your face the moment you feel his hands roaming to undress you.

Jimin chooses not to move you because it’s clear to him that you already have a favorite spot at the moment (on his lap regardless if he’s naked or not), and just makes the reminder to carry you back to bed once you’ve finished.

“Up,” he lifts you by your thighs, taking off both your pants and your underwear in a few swift motions. He feels your sigh elongate in contentment because you return to his warmth once he sets you back down, immediately making quick work of massaging your thighs from standing up all day. “How many hours do you sleep?”

“A minimum of eight if I sleep late on the weekends.”

Jimin can’t help but to chuckle at your prompt answer, shifting his thumb closer to your heat when you hum to his ear. He finds you moving yourself closer to his hand that’s removing his sweatpants, flattered enough that he doesn’t even try to lift you a little so he could undress himself easier.

“It’s only nine in the evening.”

He finally acknowledges the time on the clock behind you but you don’t even follow his gaze, simply just groaning and making an off-hand comment that the candy industry is just not for you.

“What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Jimin nudges you by your thighs again to shift, this time to put his straining cock in you. It’s merely an innocent question at first glance, even if he grunts the second you put all your eagerness into sinking down on him slowly to savor the stretch.

He’s amused with the way you chuckle with your chest even if he’s already cock-deep inside you. It isn’t in his routine to you know, normally talk and make conversation while he fucks! It throws him off his distraction so for any other occasion, Jimin just resorts to showing his presence by letting out absentminded grunts while chasing his climax.

The two of you are exclusively fucking, by the way.

It’s all just so casual and easygoing with you that even if you’re half-asleep and wholly turned on at the moment, Jimin finds no real rush.

“I wanna say one in the afternoon, maybe?”

He clicks his tongue, audibly groaning to look down where the two of you meet. Nobody takes him as well as you do and Jimin really can’t be willed to test that fact with anyone else.

“1 PM on a Saturday?” he repeats for clarification, grunting when your pussy clenches around him, your core already done with adjusting to his.

He gets a first shallow thrust up into you, the position burying him into you deeper than he normally could. You feel so good that it makes his bottom lip quiver, ripping away a shaky moan from his throat.

“Yeah, no problem. I can fuck you good enough tonight to knock you out until tomorrow noon.”

True to his word, Jimin fucks you good — more than good. He thrusts into you slowly and deeply while he holds you just as tightly, kissing your lips more than he ever did before and it's all too euphoric.

Maybe the question all along wasn't about if he satisfied you enough.

Maybe it's about if he appreciated you sufficiently.

Jimin carries you to your bed and cleans you up, going the extra mile to tuck you in with pillows on either side of you. He fills up the bottle on your bedside table with cold water so it wouldn't be room temperature by the time you wake up tomorrow. He arranges his house slippers next to yours, preparing to tell you good night when you beat him into asking.

“Driving home tonight?” you ask even if you already know the answer, no hint of malice in your tone.

“Yeah. Early morning tomorrow." He's apologetic but he just doesn’t know why. He never apologized before for leaving, because after all that's what friends with benefits do, but the reminder of the status doesn't calm him like he expected it would.

Jimin looks lost and you don't know why, and you want to know why, but your head is just too fuzzy to bring it up and you figure that no one likes an existential question after a head-splitting climax — so you reserve the question for next time.

“Come here.”

You beckon him over because you’re clearly too tired to stand up, and for a second, you don't even know why you ask him to do so.

Jimin doesn't know why he complies either, but he does it nonetheless.

You kiss him on the cheek, again.

“Drive safe.”

Jimin tenses up, an involuntary squeak leaving his lips that you mistaken it for words you can't even place just because with how blurry your mind is, taking it as his goodbye for you instead.

“If I wake up even a minute earlier than one in the afternoon tomorrow, I’m blocking your number.”

He breathlessly laughs, holding on to your side table for support. You've already closed your eyes even before he can leave your room, the belated realization that you kissed him on the cheek after sex, again, making him clutch at his hair.

You wake up the next day at 2:03 in the afternoon.

Jimin barely got any sleep throughout the night.

( ♡ )

One thing that Jimin can't do is be discreet.

He can't hide his nosiness when he's curious. He physically just can't keep it to himself no matter how small or big is the information intentionally withheld from him, considering that the ones closest to him know how inquisitive he could be.

Jimin particularly can't be discreet when he sees Hoseok at the next workday, only pretending to look at the logbook for a grand total of five (5) seconds before he caves in and rushes behind the receptionist booth to sit next to his friend.

“Where does Y/N work now?”

Hoseok sighs, having already foreseen Jimin's nosiness the moment he stepped foot into the clinic. He keeps his eyes at the monitor though, double-checking and organizing the booked appointments for today.

“She’s a window cleaner at Lotte at the moment.”

“The World Tower?" Jimin scrunches his nose, tilting his head because maybe the new angle would make him understand better. Hoseok wordlessly nods, making him shriek in surprise. "You mean the high-rise?!”

Jimin's too loud and the clinic hasn't even opened yet so there's no establishment music nor client chatter to act as buffers, the sound whole enough to make Hoseok wince.

He grunts, furrowing his brows because they both know they're on the same page but Jimin keeps skimming to the next one.

“Yes...? What windows do you want her to clean?”

“But she was making candy a week ago!” he stammers in reply, the confirmation coming from your best friend further plummeting him into disbelief.

Hoseok tuts, nodding understandingly. He surely remembers your candy job because he became your tester, remembering the taste of caramel that was too bland and watermelon candy that oddly enough, didn't taste like watermelon.

“Ah, yeah. That was last week though.”

Jimin's not hearing things. You did work as a part-time ball and mop cleaner for a basketball team last month, you did work as a candy maker last week, and now you do work as a window cleaner for a high-rise.

It throws him off-guard completely, his curiosity unable to be contained at this point.

“Why does she do this?” he blurts, face scrunched up in confusion. “Jump from one part-time job to another, I mean.”

The additional thought crosses his mind and Jimin really tries to reel himself in, the side comment slipping from his lips before he could notice. “Or if you could even call them jobs at this point.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue in distaste, rolling his eyes.

“Heard that.”

He's typing a little too loudly now and even Jimin notices it, meekly apologizing for the comment. He just waves him off, turning to the next spreadsheet at hand to keep himself occupied. “You want me to call her and ask that? The signal might be good on the 83rd floor.”

“Why’s Y/N like that?”

Jimin asks again this time but the genuine wonder is more evident this time compared to the condescension, making Hoseok indulge him begrudgingly.

“The cheek kisses or the career shifts?”

“I think you could hardly call them careers.”

“Jimin,” Hoseok scolds, his tone warning him to not cross the line any further than he's already doing.

He frowns, fiddling with his fingers but relenting later on. “I’m just being realistic, Hobi.”

“Shh. Don’t speak on it," he asserts. Hoseok finally stops what he's doing to give his undivided attention, spinning with his chair to face Jimin. "Y/N just loves doing the things that she wants, alright? Don’t ruin it for her.”

Your best friend did just say to Jimin to not ruin it for you, but maybe one last interjection won't hurt to point out. After this point, Jimin swears he'll shut his mouth.

“A cum laude. Double-major in finance and accounting. And your best friend’s cleaning windows on a high-rise!”

“And I’m proud of her,” Hoseok means sincerely but says nonchalantly, pursing his lips. “That job pays, by the way. Eight hours for three days and her wage is like, yours and Yoongi’s combined.”

Jimin, finally, shuts up.

He'd be the first to admit that knowing your new job at the moment, or even just knowing a somehow 555m high life update about you but doesn't come from you directly, makes him miss you more.

Getting the update from Hoseok may have made him take his phone out and text you, asking if you have any plans for lunch. Friends with benefits shouldn't ask the other to go to lunch together, and friends with benefits shouldn't agree when the other asks them for lunch.

Neither of you adhere to the supposed FWB etiquette.

At this point, maybe (and the two of you are well-aware now) you aren't just friends with benefits.

"Jimin! There you are. Jeez, I almost went dizzy out there."

You attach yourself to Jimin's side the moment you spot him, his face lighting up in recognition. He's been trying to locate you for the past two minutes assuming that you were wearing something from your closet that he's already familiar with, but of course, he forgot that you work here.

He locates you not a second later because of course, he wouldn't miss you who's wearing a neon orange jumpsuit and is jogging towards him.

Jimin bites his cheek and wraps his arm around your waist in greeting, the urge to do so being so natural that it feels like a second instinct.

He could've went to see you without lunch being involved but seeing that he used the latter as an excuse, Jimin brings you up to the café upstairs and orders for the both of you.

He only left you for a total of five minutes and the moment he comes back, there's a guy sitting on his seat. The guy with the red hair is probably familiar to him, judging by the way you're motioning to him slyly with a knowing smile, but Jimin is just too annoyed to play courtesies.

“Get out. Go search about enemas on your own and shit,” he mutters his remarks based on the tidbits he managed to overhear, tapping the back of his seat impatiently.

Jungkook, your friend, hurriedly gets up from the chair. He only sat in briefly because he's been sitting alone prior to your arrival and of good nature, and also because he wants to ask if your current part-time job has any more openings, he decides to make himself comfortable at the chair opposite to you.

Jimin, however, does not wait for Jungkook to leave before he talks about him to you directly. "Didn't you work with him in that café?"

“Did you mean éclairs?” Jungkook mutters, correcting the extremely different assumption of Jimin as to what he was talking about. Jimin clicks his tongue and groans audibly, making him equally as irritable to go out. “I’m going, I’m going! God, I’m completely harmless to your girlfriend, jeez!”

You freeze upon hearing, but the guy who's now in his rightful chair doesn't.

Jimin doesn't correct him.

( ♡ )

It's only a matter of time before something else entirely throws off Jimin.

He's no longer bothered about the cheek kisses, the gentle pecks on his skin unable to make him lose his sanity at this point in time. He came to accept that you just happened to love giving them to him, and although he could do something about it if he really wanted to, he chooses not to.

He came to accept that you're the only one, if not one of the few people who manage to throw him off his track without prior notice. It's not as if your life's goal was to get under his skin, but it feels like it.

No, Jimin doesn't hate the cheek kisses — he’s bothered about something else now.

Your part-time jobs.

It's been boggling his mind for months now. He didn't necessarily hate each job you've been willingly putting yourself in, but what he hates is that it's completely unnecessary. He'd understand jumping from one job to another if it's what pays the bills, but what he doesn't understand is you don't need to do these jobs at all.

In all fairness, even if you needed them to get through, you could just find part-time jobs that were normal in a sense that it didn't require you to look like a fool or risk your safety.

You simply just like making a fool of yourself and Jimin hates it.

He hates it especially like that time when you asked him out for dinner and you didn't show up, or atleast that's what he thinks of in the first ten minutes. Turns out you signed him up for a floating restaurant that's suspended 70 ft. into the air with a crane — and you showed up! You showed up, not to be his date, but to be a floating restaurant staff member.

Jimin remembers gritting his teeth when you secure his seatbelt and harness, all with an excited grin on your face and whispering "It's me, Y/N!" as if he couldn't pick you out in a sea of a thousand people.

He doesn't remember if he was gritting his teeth because he made the mistake of looking behind him and realizing that maybe he does have a fear of heights or if it was because the food he's been served looks undercooked. What he does remember is getting the fright of his life when you playfully pretend to trip over the edge, but it was all just part of a skit, and Jimin yelled out your name in panic for nothing.

Jimin hates your jobs especially like that time when you worked as a K-9 apprentice trainer. On the first day, your boss asked you to test out the prototype dog bite suit they were trying to patent, and as soon as the agitated Belgian Malinois comes charging after you, you could feel its teeth. Of course the bite neither broke your skin nor the suit, but what you and your boss didn't anticipate is the other German Shepherd who broke out of its cage to tackle you from behind.

It's a miracle that they immediately let go of you after some stern commands, but that didn't exactly mean you came out unscathed. There was one particular scratch on your calf that you think would scar, so you immediately come to the clinic where Hoseok works.

Sure, he was the receptionist for Serendipity Aesthetics but that doesn't mean he's batshit clueless when it comes to the products they carry. Hoseok's clearly intrigued to see you drop in his workplace all of a sudden, but he's even more baffled when you reveal the story and the accompanying marks to it.

Without a word, he tells you he'll take you to the inventory where they keep all their products, but turns out he takes you straight into Jimin's clinic.

He doesn't ask, doesn't even talk, as he cleans up your injuries. You didn't ask him to do that for you, but you don't want to tell him to stop either because for some reason, Jimin looks mad at you. The whole time that he aids you, his jaw is clenched and his grip on you is firm, not making eye contact with you once.

Jimin hates your affinity for taking ridiculous part-time jobs especially like that time when you part-timed as a diving guide. There was a special opportunity for clients in your program wherein an hour prior to their dive, you would hide special gold coins for them to hunt and later exchange for prizes.

You were doing just that in your full-body scuba suit, and Jimin just happened to meet you by chance because he didn't know you would be on the beach at the same time as him. What he didn't expect to happen was to see you and realize that you're wincing out of pain because a fucking jellyfish had stung the bare portion of your skin that was showing.

You were frantically asking him to pee on you because you've heard that it's effective in taking the sting out, and you haven't actually tried that for yourself, but Jimin is just so panicked that he actually considers doing it until your head instructor finally finds you.

No, the jellyfish sting on you isn't fatal.

No, the peeing-on-a-jellyfish-sting myth is pure bullshit.

Yes, Jimin actually feels like passing out from the whole ordeal.

Everything is just too ridiculous that Jimin can't handle seeing you in this state. You said explicitly to him that you were having fun but he isn't.

There's nothing fun seeing you go about your part-time jobs like they're children's cartoons who promoted nothing but risky behavior without a glimpse of dire consequences. There's nothing entertaining seeing you have fun despite knowing the risks.

It's like you weren't even concerned for your safety. All you're after is your enjoyment and the next big thing that would make your heart race.

Even now, Jimin feels like you can't take him seriously because the bruise on your elbow says so. A bruise you obtained from your part-time aquarium job because you tripped over a fucking penguin, from running away from another penguin who was trying to attack you.

“Get a grip, Y/N! Can’t you just for once in your life do something mundane? Something boring? Something that I don’t know, pays your bills without having to make a fool out of yourself?!”

“I like what I do, Jimin.”

You whisper in reply but you don't even know why you're whispering out of shame. No one had particularly called you out before, because everyone dear to you supports you — from your parents, to Hoseok, and to even previous co-workers who cheer you on.

Everyone dear to you loves seeing you do what you want to do — everyone except Jimin.

“For god’s sake, you were grooming sheep two months ago! Then a week after that, you were making soap and massaging people’s hands! Hell, even this month you’re working in that aquarium! You put on a scuba suit, wipe the glass, and for what? To swim with some fucking shrimp and shit like that?”

He's only been angry with you once, atleast what you know of, but it's now that you don't like Jimin the most. Perhaps you took his little smiles and breathless chuckles as affirmations that he loves what you do. Perhaps if you just looked a little closer without the blind expectation that everyone tolerates you because you could be a little too much for some, maybe you could've seen that the smiles were grimaces and the chuckles were groans.

“Y/N, I’m saying this because I care about you,” he runs his hand through his hair, exhaling deeply to look at you in the eye. “But please just grow up. You’re only a few years younger than me but just– look! Look! You graduated the top of your class for a real degree. Please do something useful.”

Please do something useful.

Do something useful.

Now do you realize that you can’t keep grazing your elbows on repainting daycares and have your pants frayed from volunteering at animal pounds. You can't keep doing spontaneous jobs for the sake of them because in simple terms, they're just not useful.

Jimin's perhaps the smartest guy you know and if it comes from him, you know to believe him. Perhaps he's the smartest guy you know amongst everyone dearest to you because from all of them, he's the only one that ever spoke to you this way.

In this brutally honest, albeit painful, way.

“Okay," you nod definitively, swallowing the lump the lump in your throat. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I should do something normal.”

Jimin purses his lips in regret because now that you put it that way, it sounds more cutthroat and unforgiving.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I think you should get going,” you squeak, humming to yourself as you turn away from him, vaguely pointing to the door so he could see himself out. “You made a good point. I just need to be alone right now, try to get my shit together, y’know?”

Jimin really should've kept his mouth shut.

He should've heeded Hoseok's advice to not ruin it for you. But judging by the way you avoid his eyes and walk away from him, he knows he's already done that and more. He doesn't want to leave but you want him to leave, and if it's any consolation for you to help ease the pain he's caused, he'll do it this time. “Okay.”

He doesn't know why he's still expecting at this point, but Jimin feels heavy getting out of your door — without a kiss on his cheek, and with the knowledge that he had hurt you.

( ♡ )

Unsurprisingly, Jimin hasn’t heard from you in awhile.

It's been almost a month that he hasn't seen you. He had apologized numerous times over text, to which you only reacted to with an emoticon but didn't reply to, and that was it. He felt uncomfortable to ask to see you in-person because even he is ashamed of himself, mad at himself if in case his presence reminds you of his words.

Yoongi's pissed at him because Jimin definitely does not have a say in what you do and what you love, especially considering that he isn't your boyfriend, regardless if your feelings for each other were requited.

Hoseok’s angry at him. Not you-just-hurt-my-best-friend angry, but "not only did you hurt my best friend but you also changed the trajectory of her life, possibly for the worst, even if she didn't ask you to" angry.

Jimin's also furious at himself for the most part. He was selfish and projected his own frustrations to you because perhaps there was a tiny little part of him that envied you.

The tiny little green part of him that envies just how much happy you are even if you earn much less than him. He likes his job and he likes his salary, don't get him wrong, but no matter how shallow he sounds when he admits it — doing the same stable thing felt like a routine more than it was a passion.

You're carefree and Jimin isn't and it's wrong for him to hate that. He loves his job and he hates that he just had to make you miserable by grounding you only to your degree. He hates himself for saying that neither of the things you've done are useful because he subjected you as comparison.

He risks it ultimately when one day he texts and asks to come over. He didn't know if you would be mad at him and terminate your communication completely because after all, he still has the gall to ask you that despite the things he did.

He didn't know what to feel when you reply in less than an hour and tell him to just let himself in with the keycard you’ve left at his place accidentally, because you’ll be running a little late.

It's all too familiar because this has already happened before.

He wishes that it's familiar.

When you come home and he's waiting for you on your couch, he didn't know how to react seeing you look so manufactured.

You're as beautiful as always even if you're in a corporate suit, from a pink button-up to a leather pencil skirt to a pair of high heels.

You're you and you recognize yourself more than he does, but to him, you look off. The version that stands in front of him is unlike you; you’re not wearing overalls or chicken shop uniforms or wearing anything that resembles you.

“What’s with the get-up?”

It takes a few seconds for the question to buffer in your brain, a genuine laugh leaving your lips as you shrug off your heels.

“I work in stocks now,” you clear your throat, adding to the silence when Jimin remains still. "I'm the top fund manager in my company. Yay."

Your anger for Jimin has already passed which is why you didn't hesitate letting him wait for you in your apartment. Sure, the anger did pass but the ghost of it remains.

You're thankful that he gave you a fresh new perspective, but you just wish he could've done it a little more gently. Delivered the take a little more coddling. You wish he gave you a little more time for you to come to your senses by yourself.

“I’m sorry for everything I said,” Jimin speaks thickly into the air, the gravity of his previous words now just singeing a little worse. “You shouldn’t have to change. You were happy doing what you love the most and I gave you shit for it.”

In your head you've already forgiven him. It was a new, brutal perspective he had given you out of sincere concern. Even if there's truth to his words and you've come to accept it, it didn't necessarily mean that he was solely on the right.

“I’m happy now,” you offer with a weak smile, shrugging your shoulders carelessly.

“I’m not as happy as I was, but I’m still happy now. Besides, I have like a ton of money now,” you add playfully, giggling to yourself. “I could pay my monthly rent and your clinic’s yearly lease and still have extra.”

Jimin tries to find it in him to laugh, the return of your giggles easing him a little, but it's just not the same.

He's not gonna try and take credit for your change, but he does know that he's a large variable. He's remorseful and the guilt still doesn't leave him even if you let him into your home, the thoughts playing out in his mind like clockwork.

He thought he hated your part-time jobs but now, he realizes that he remembers every single one. He remembers every single bit of them that you tell him, all from the quirks of your job to the flaws of it.

“But you’re not bottle-feeding baby goats," he murmurs, looking down on his lap. “You’re not in a ski resort wearing duck feet to make children look for you.”

Your resentment for Jimin for presenting you a realistic truth may have already passed, but he hasn't. He's still strongly, and irrevocably, angry at himself.

“Is this still you?”

You throw off Jimin in both the best and worst ways possible but nothing beats the relief you provide for him either, but he knows that for the time-being, he's not entirely deserving of the latter.

“Still me,” you nod, unable to keep the next words to yourself as it hits you once again. “Just a more rational, useful me.”

( ♡ )

You and Jimin don’t talk as much these days.

If you were to describe your current state, it would be steady. It’s not much, but it’s honest.

The two of you would be lying if you deny that your previous relationship was strictly in a friends with benefits state. You both knew and shown (he clearly did) just how concerned you are for each other, never skipping a beat.

It’s been weeks since he last dropped into your apartment to personally apologize and after a long, agonizing yet much-needed conversation, you weren’t even sure if the two of you would progress after basically calling off your previous status with each other.

Until Jimin shows at your doorstep at one in the morning, right before you go to sleep.

“Jimin? What are you doing here?”

He’s dressed up in formal wear, still complete with a boutonnière on the lapel of his suit jacket. His hair’s gelled back but it probably went through much action because now it looks a little unkempt, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol he had.

“I took home way too many brownies,” he blurts as if it would explain why he suddenly manifested at your front door at a godforsaken time, laughing at himself before clearing his throat. “I volunteered to be a wedding singer for my friend’s ceremony. He let me have the first pick at the reception buffet.”

“Cool. Thank you for these,” you chuckle at the suddenness of the situation, taking the silk-wrapped container from his hands. It’s heavy, really heavy, and it’s endearing to think how Jimin’s first thought was to give this much to you. “Huh. These are really... a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. I know you like experimenting,” he smiles, scratching behind his ear belatedly at the double meaning, “with flavors and things like that.”

He took atleast five of each flavor and the buffet table stretched long, ignoring the appalled looks from the servers behind the booths. He’s certain that he picked up enough food to last you for three meals a day, for atleast a week and a half.

Jimin looks at you while you look at him and he remembers, even if it’s never left his mind, that you’re his dreamboat. It’s not just the alcohol talking, but it’s his truth even before a single drop of liquor.

“I’m taking a one-month sabbatical.”

He pipes in, immediately getting a whistle from you because even at the dead of one in the morning, perhaps the two of you miss each other that you’re ready to talk about anything.

“One month? That’s huge.”

“Yup.”

The silence stretches and although it’s not comfortable, Jimin’s still thankful that he gets to spend it with you. The thing he wanted to talk to you about since this morning finally pops up, eyes widening in realization before he forgets.

“I’m part-timing as a water park attendant two days from now, by the way.”

You want to say you’re confused but the pieces fuse together before they even separate. Jimin takes a one-month sabbatical from his duties as a doctor and instead of resting, he’ll be using it to work.

He’ll be using it to work part-time jobs.

“Can I call you tomorrow for some advice?”

The smile appears in your face before you could even stop it. You’ve only tried part-timing as a diving instructor once, but atleast it’s in the aquatic industry somehow.

“I haven’t tried that job before.”

“We could try together,” Jimin offers, unable to resist a giddy smile that makes his eyes crescent. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Your mental calendar is long-checked by your mouth before you can even pretend to think about it, a chuckle leaving you in return. “I uh... I actually am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you parrot, eyes unblinking while you stare at Jimin. The two of you must have been staring at each other for a minute until you’re interrupted by the sound of your floor’s elevator dinging, snapping you both out of your dazes. “Drive safe.”

You’re sheepish as you bid him goodbye, cutting the interaction short even if you think it’s the perfect end to your night, or rather the start of your morning.

Jimin hums in acknowledgment but just before he goes, even if it’s the first of many, and hopefully the rest in a greater and better context than this is.

He’ll make it up to you somehow.

He stays rooted in his position and you don’t make a move to close your door either. You’re about to ask him if he’s fit to drive himself home but just before you do, you tense in the same way as he did before.

Jimin kisses your cheek.

---

Sail Away [Seokjin x OC ( ft. OT7) ] 🔞

✦Seokjin x OC* ( ft. OT7) 🔞 

*OC was intended to be Reader but it sounded weird to use second person in this format, so I switched to using “she” instead of “you”. 

✦Note: The story is told from Seokjin perspective. It takes place in the 60s.

✦ Read on Ao3

✦Tags: smut; comedy; historical!AU; captain!Seokjin; old flames to lovers; (kind of) forbidden romance; a little cheesy; a little fluffy; + there is a little twist

✦Word Count: ~15K

✦Summary: Seokjin is appointed captain of ‘Epiphany’ - the biggest, largest, most pompous ship to ever cross the Atlantic. Yet, everything gets awfully wrong when ‘Epiphany’ hits an iceberg…

Now the ship is sinking, a person hits Seokjin on the head, he gets tied to a pipe and he might end up at the bottom of the ocean… But, hey, a man must never lose hope; or lose an opportunity to kiss the woman he loves.

✦Warnings: explicit sexual content [both (♀️)x(♂️) + (♂️)x(♂️)] ; light bondage (use of handcuffs); oral sex; unprotected sex and other sex stuff. 

✦IMPORTANT Warnings: This story shouldn’t be taken too seriously under any circumstances. It’s an old, experimental draft I found in my folder and spontaneously decided to finish. It might contain typos as I edited it in a hurry.

ENJOY! :)

Keep reading

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