A Map Of Mrs. Kims - Tumblr Posts

This is one of my most favorite stories that features 3 of my favorite Kim men! I love the world this author is creating and am so excited to read more!

A Map of Mrs. Kims | KSJ, KNJ, KTH

Pairings: Jin x female OCs, Namjoon x female OCs, Taehyung x female OCs (some POV shifts in drabbles and AUs)

Rating: Each chapter will have its own rating, but the story is a mix of PG-13 and 18 + | Mature | Explicit! 

read on ao3 | last updated: June 1

Synopsis: Mrs. Kim is tired of being accosted in the grocery store, at her art class, and even in the country club restroom about her three incredibly gorgeous but stubbornly single sons. So many women are vying for a spot on Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung’s arms, but these three boys are dead set against settling down. Hopefully, Mrs. Kim’s trusty map of the city’s fourteen top bachelorettes will finally guide them to true love.

Genres | Content Warnings | Themes: Kim line as brothers, slice of life, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, fluff, angst, and, of course, smut

Author’s Note: This is my love letter to our funny, sweet, and heartwarming ARMY, and it is particularly dedicated to all of you who have been so kind and generous with your time, your laughs, your feels, and your own beautiful stories. Can you believe we’ve been building the AMOMK world together for nearly 8 months?! It has been a hilarious, wonderful, and meaningful ride, and as always, I hope you enjoy where we end up! If this is your first foray into the AMOMK world, you can read the original ask that prompted the idea, check out the asks and snippets that have followed, and follow #amomk to check out all the still-ongoing asks / snippets / drabbles!

Parts | Chapters | Schedule:

🧭 North: 01 | 02 | 03  

🧭 South: 04 | 05 | 06 (Jun-Jul 2022)

🧭 East: 07 | 08 | 09 (Aug-Sep 2022)

🧭 West: 10 | 11 | 12 (Oct-Dec 2022)

🧭 Home (Dec 2022)

Extras:

What You Need to Know (starter packs and selected drabbles to jump into the AMOMK world!)

Bongseon’s Official Map (Mrs. Kim’s map and notes on the bachelorettes!)

Bachelorettes 1, 2, and 13 (between Chapters 02 and 03 in Y/N POV!)

Alternate Universes (more AMOMK fics by fellow ARMY!)

Unexpected Arrivals : part 1 | part 2 by @aureli-us! Who is this intriguing woman from Jin’s past?? Thank you for writing this side fic for the AMOMK universe, and excited for more!

Of Maps, Forms and Other Crazy Ideas by @sabiekay​! What is it like to fill out one of Mrs. Kim’s forms? Thanks for writing this drabble for AMOMK!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, you can add yourself here, send me an ask, or comment on / reblog this post!

AMOMK - unexpected (ar)rivals

This work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona​ and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!)

i haven’t written anything so substantial in a long time, and still can’t quite tell if this is a one-time burst of inspo or possibly a continuous one...but either way, thank you so much to @bonvoyagenoona​ for letting me use your universe and your creativity as inspiration!

Jin is holding his mother's apple cinnamon scented candle and trying to ignore the busy grocery store around him when he hears what he thinks is a familiar voice float by. Someone brushes behind him, taking extra care not to dig their elbow into his lower back. He assumes, from the voice, the woman is on the phone. Talking in Korean, but occasionally muttering to herself in English. He himself knows next to no English, but it's easy to recognize. He turns as his mother takes the candle from his hand, watching the figure pass them by. 

That voice is familiar. And that stature. Maybe it's an odd thing, to recognize someone by their body, but she's wearing things that seem familiar, too. But her hair...that's not right. He doesn't know anyone with hair dyed like that - platinum blonde, with hot pink ends that start just below her ears. The dyeing in uneven, meaning some strands reach higher than others, but it looks intentional, giving a more natural look. It looks good - better than the mint mop on Taehyung’s head. Squinting, he turns himself fully, back facing his brothers and mother, and almost steps after the woman. 

"Seokjinnie, what is it?" His mother asks from behind, touching his back - more likely, smoothing out another crease she's managed to find in his suit. "Want something?" 

"No, Eomma," he replies automatically, and gives up when the woman turns the corner. That hair had thrown him off, so it probably wasn't anyone he knew. "Just thought I recognized someone." 

"Oh?" His mother presses. "Who? Where? Point her out." He sighs. Of course she assumes her, though she isn't wrong this time. "No, they're gone," he says, waving one hand dismissively and turning back to his family. "All done?"

"Hm, I don't think so," Namjoon replies, unraveling the neatly folded grocery list and checking it over. "Eomma still had a few other things written down." 

"To the produce aisle!" Taehyung announces, tugging the cart and Namjoon with it. As they walk away, Jin checks one more time over his shoulder. The woman, her hair, her familiar clothes, and her voice have all vanished. Probably didn't know her anyway. Probably for the best.

By the time he gets to leave his parents' home that night, after dropping Namjoon and Taehyung off and telling Namjoon yes, he can drive him home after work tomorrow, yes, he'll be on time, and Taehyung noisily calls him a personal chauffeur and tries to slip a 'tip' into his belt. By the time he gets home, it's late, and he's exhausted, his mind is painfully empty. He finds himself on the verge of zoning out while he drives back to his loft, but thankfully the music he finds on the radio helps to keep him somewhat anchored. He parks in the garage and takes the elevator up, unlocks his door, and groans loudly once he hits the couch. 

Business cards? A photoshoot? He's worried about what the hell his mother is planning to do with those ridiculous photos. He's also worried that he probably looks insanely tired in each of them - but, no, that should be the last thing on his mind. Why should he care if he looks tired? What is she planning with those photos? What's the point? He's happy alone. He's happy in his expensive duplex loft with his expensive car and his tailored suits, with his hard-earned cityscape view. His eyes grow heavier the longer he spends in his thoughts, going over the list of things he's accomplished and done for himself, how well off he is, how self-made. And how annoying it'll be to find those pictures of him anywhere outside of his parents' house. Because he's happy alone, on this plush couch, falling asleep in his work clothes. He has his family and a few friends, and that's really all he needs. He'll make his own family when he wants to, on his terms. 

Because he's already happy alone. And he's already asleep.

“Kang.”

“Here.” “Kim.”

Jin wakes up to someone kicking him under the table. “He’s here as well, teacher.”

“I believe Mr. Kim can answer for himself,” the teacher drawls, leaning dramatically to one side to peer at Jin as he smothers a yawn into his hands. “Mr. Kim?” “Here,” he croaks. “Good. Let’s try to keep it that way?” The girl beside him giggles, nudging his elbow gently. “I told you to go to bed. Aren’t you paying to go to class? I don’t think you’re paying to play video games.” “You were up with me,” he objects. “Because I beat you in Smash until you started complaining and we played something else.” Stretching discreetly, Jin nudged her back. “That’s what you get with using Sora as your main.” “Sorry, I don’t take smack from Sephiroth fanboys.”

He wakes up with a horrible ache in his neck and the memory of his dream fading quickly, no matter how desperately he tries to recall it. As he scrambles for his phone to write it down, the words begin slipping, and so does the image of whoever’s face that had been. He remembers that boring class, and the more he thought about it, he remembers often being asleep or falling asleep in his seat. Kang. That had been the name ahead of his. But what was her face? Abandoning his mission for the moment, he stares at the pair of consoles stacked discreetly on his TV stand, above the fake fireplace that’s switched off for now. It’d been a while since he’d touched either of them. But he remembers preferring PC gaming anyway, no matter how much she teased him for it. Groaning as he rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, Jin stands, making a half-attempt at smoothing his shirt out. He needs to stop falling asleep on the couch. Even after his busiest days, the embrace of his queen-sized bed upstairs is surely better than leaving his head drooping over the side of the couch and his neck feeling brittle as a twig. Tonight, he promises, he will not fall asleep on his couch. But tonight is hours from now, so he kicks off his shoes, rubs his feet a bit, and then trudges upstairs to take a quick shower and go to work without breakfast.

Jin makes sure not to show up too early to get Namjoon, not wanting to risk another heckling like the one from yesterday on the bleachers. Only this time, it would be schoolteachers ogling him, causing chaos when everyone is supposed to be going home, and he had no particular desire to meet Namjoon's co-workers under such circumstances. Except Yoongi, who he already knows, but Yoongi is highly unlikely to save him if he saw Jin drowning in a sea of teacher assistants. 

He waits in the parking lot, car idling and windows up even despite the nice spring breeze. Windows down is too dangerous; it’s an invitation for chatter, and he isn’t feeling up to it today. When he sees Namjoon exit the building once all his young charges are gone, carrying a brown leather bag strapped across his chest and parting ways with Yoongi, Jin shifts into drive and swings up around the edge of the lot to pick Namjoon up directly from the doors. “I could’ve walked,” his younger brother says as he tosses his bag down and then clambers in, shutting the door gently. Jin hates it when people slam his doors. “Thank you, hyung, I really appreciate it,” Jin corrects. “Thank you, hyung,” Namjoon laughs. “I do appreciate it. I know you’re busy.” They maneuver carefully through the school parking lot, mindful of any kids or parents roaming about, but eventually Jin makes it to the road and pulls a left, luckily against the grain of most traffic. Namjoon lives closest to their parents in the suburbs, but Jin and Taehyung are farther into the city proper. Part of the drive goes by in silence; he opens the windows, now safe from unwanted conversation since they’re in a moving vehicle, and lets the wind mess up his hair. His brother does the same, eyes closed in the passenger seat but not asleep, just decompressing from a long day. These moments with Namjoon are some of the best; sometimes, they operate on the same wavelength like this, and can sit in silence together for as long as they want. 

 Finally, he decides to ask. 

"Do you remember the Kang family?" He begins with, trying to appear nonchalant. But Namjoon will pick up on him sooner or later, so the facade doesn't last long. 

"Hmm...not really," his brother admits, opening his eyes to look over. "Did we go to school with them or something?" 

"They used to live near Eomma and Appa. They had a girl, she was in the same year as you." Namjoon was silent for a long time before bolting upright, clapping once. 

"Yuna!" 

Yuna. The name makes Jin hit the brakes, tossing Namjoon forward by accident. Luckily the car behind them stops as well, and Jin feels tension creep up his arms as he finds the gas again. Yuna. Yuna Kang. He had a nickname for her once - what was it?

"Why?" Namjoon asks curiously, peering into the road to see what could've possibly made his elder brother stop so abruptly. Luckily they're already moving, so Jin hopes he assumes that there was a bird or something on the pavement. "I follow Yuna on Instagram, actually. I should see how she's doing." 

"Is she back in Korea?" Jin asks, glancing over repeatedly as Namjoon takes out his phone. 

"Eyes on the road," he's reminded. "I don't know, I don't use Instagram much." Yuna. He remembers school, suddenly. He remembers college. How could he have forgotten? College...but interrupted. His memories of Yuna stopped about a year into university, when she had...left. Transferred somewhere. 

Out of the country. 

"She hasn't posted in a bit," Namjoon says, holding his phone in Jin's line of sight so he can keep one eye on the road still. "Last post is from...America." 

"Chicago," Jin mumbles, nodding to himself. He remembers now. 

"No, the west coast." Namjoon squints. "California?" That's new. Jin can feel Namjoon's eyes on him, questioning, but it takes him a while to ask. "What made you think of her? Weren't you two friends a while ago?" Yes, a while ago. That's what it's become now. Since she left Korea, contact had grown sparse, and then faded into nothing. He understood. He had dropped a few people himself that way; it was unsavory, but sometimes necessary, and sometimes just happened. Jin realizes he’s chewing on his bottom lip and promptly spits it back out. 

"I thought I saw her at the grocery store, yesterday," he admits. "Someone walked by, and it sounded like her. Her clothes looked familiar, somehow, too." He adds that last bit hesitantly, but knows Namjoon, and only Namjoon, wouldn't poke fun at him for it. Joon understands those kinds of things. "But if she's in California, then it definitely wasn't her." 

"Well, who knows," his brother replies, shrugging. "This post is from a month and a half ago." Squinting again, Joon mumbles about not being able to read English well enough to know what her caption says. "Doesn't Instagram translate?" 

"Not well."

The next day is Wednesday, and it rains. Thursday, more of the same, but the clouds part for a bit in the afternoon; by 6 p.m., it's beginning to spit, promising another downpour as the sky grows nearer to black with every minute. Jin doesn't leave the office til later than that, when the storm is back in full swing. He's too tired to cook, and doesn't feel like driving all the way to his parents to have dinner with them, so he settles on takeout, calling it in and saying he'll drop by to pick it up. He doesn't order out usually, but this place is a personal favorite - the pork bulgogi and tteokbokki are amazing, so that's exactly what he gets.

The little parking lot, which is usually full to bursting on weekday nights, is more or less empty because of the storm, leaving him plenty of space to swing around and back into a spot right by the door. He debates letting the car idle a bit, but decides to turn it off, and then jumps out, scuttling through the glass door with a bell dangling above that announces his presence. “Ah, Mr. Kim!” A woman - the daughter of the original owners, who would remember him by his voice over the phone - calls out, waving frantically from the counter. “Just a moment, please!” “Take your time,” he replies, raising one hand to wave off her worries, but before he can even complete the gesture she disappears back into the kitchen. Just as Jin considers taking a seat, his phone buzzes. In one fluid, business-like motion, he answers it without checking - it’s his personal phone, not his work one, so he trusts whoever is on the other end is someone close to him with something important to say. “Jin? Where are you?” “Hello to you too,” Jin scoffs quietly. “Do you need something, Taehyung?” “I...uhh...yeah,” Taehyung slurs into the speaker. “I’m at this party and...and one of my friends drove...but...hey, I’ve been trying to call you forever, hyung!” Jin can already see where this is going. He doesn’t mind driving, and he won’t turn his little brother down, but it does get annoying when the only thing of note he seems to have accomplished this week is driving Namjoon to and from work, their parents’ house, and now picking Tae up from some insane party deep in the city. “Send me the address,” Jin sighs. “I’m picking up dinner right now.” “Ooh, dinner? Where from? Can you get me something?” “Sure,” he says. “I’ll call you when I’m close.” He chews his lip for a moment before adding: “Stay safe until then, okay?” And then hangs up to Taehyung cooing at him and calling him a mother hen and all sorts of other things he doesn’t want to deal with right now.

Kids these days.

“Excuse me?”

He feels his shoulders tighten. What does everyone in the world want? Why is everyone on his back today? He whirls around to confront whoever has the audacity to try and talk to him right now, or try to extort money from the obviously overdressed businessman waiting in an alleyway restaurant the size of his living room, or maybe try to ask for directions, God, he can’t handle any more people piggybacking off of him this week-

“Are you...Kim Seokjin?”

When he’s silent, the woman with damp hair clears her throat and finishes wiping her glasses on her shirt.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but overhear your phone call. Your brother’s name is Taehyung, and the cashier called you Kim, so I-” she stopped and shrugged. “I must’ve had the wrong impression. My bad.”

“No,” he says automatically, gaping at her. “No, I...” I remember you. What had Namjoon said - this post is from a month and half ago. You never know. And in the grocery store...

“I had no idea you were back home, Yuna.”

AMOMK - unexpected (ar)rivals; pt 2

This work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona​ and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!)

i'm not super satisified with how this came out but PROBABLY because i wrote it when i SHOULD'VE been working on finals. anyway. i also gave jin his fluffy black swan mullet bc i'm a sucker for that look. enjoy :^) and be sure to read the original work, ofc! (also bear w me as i try to figure out the new fancy ways to format stuff on tumblr, i'm so behind lol)

Korea.

She can’t remember the last time she stepped foot in her home country - it has to be close to a decade, if not more. She left after only one year in university, went to America to pursue some dreams, and now after so, so many years abroad, she is back not only in Korea, but her hometown, the place where she grew up; the place she missed the most in all the time she was gone. It almost seems as if nothing has changed, and the whole town has stood still through time.

Not this grocery store, though.

The grocery store is busier than she ever remembers it being. Once upon a time it was a quiet little place where local parents did their shopping, everyone knew everyone else and could stop to chat in the fridge aisle to boast about their kids and make plans for the weekend. But the atmosphere - and the shop - have changed so much, she just keeps walking in circles, trying and failing to find all the items on her relatively short list.

“They moved the noodles?” She sighs, making the middle-aged woman beside her give her a quick side eye. She really does need to stop talking in English so much. But seriously, how could they have switched all the aisles around? Did that happen before they redid the floors or after? Before or after the store was expanded? Before or after they moved the entrance doors?

As if to relieve her of worrying over where to find everything for just a moment, her phone rings in her back pocket, and she’s too quick to fish it out and answer.

“Hobiiiiii,” she groans. “I can’t find anything.”

“Yuna?” Her cousin asks over the phone. “I can’t hear you.” So they redid all the floors and expanded and moved the entrance and switched the aisles, but this place still has horrible reception?

“How about now?” She asks, adjusting her basket on one arm and walking to the end of the aisle.

“Little better. Listen, are you all set with grocery shopping?”

“All set? I’ve barely started,” she mutters in English, before switching back to Korean and repeating herself. Jung Hoseok, her beloved cousin and dance twin, is silent for a moment before sighing.

“Well, maybe we can go together later? I need the car pretty soon. Sorry, Yu-yu.” She chuckles when he calls her that - despite being a cousin and two years younger than him, they’ve always operated on the same wavelength, and no one else has ever given her a nickname except once a long time ago. So long, in fact, that she really can’t remember what it was.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she replies finally. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much everything would change.” Hoseok laughs joyfully, which is a good sign. She knows he’s a busy man between his dance studio and getting ready to move into a new apartment, so her arrival back in Korea and deciding to crash on his couch is less than perfect timing.

“Don’t worry. Text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll meet you downstairs?”

“Sounds good,” she promises, and hangs up after he gives her a sing-song farewell. It’s only been a week, but she thinks Hoseok might begin to crack sooner rather than later. She needs to find a hotel or something, maybe a cheap apartment of her own, to get out of her cousin’s hair. 

Yuna swivels into the aisle parallel to the no-longer-noodles aisle and is immediately greeted with an overwhelming orchestra of scents and fragrances. On her left are scented and unscented candles, and on the right are air fresheners, little hanging car trees, Febreze canisters, and what looks like scented wipes. What for, she has no idea.

Quickly she takes her phone out again. Hoseok loves scented candles, but he’s particular.

“Hobi?”

“That was quick,” he giggles. “I’m not even dressed.”

“I’m not home yet,” she scoffs. “What kind of candle do you want?”

“Oh! Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “What do they have?”

She starts down the aisle, switching her phone hand and her basket arm to avoid the group of people clustered around the center of the aisle where all the red-colored candles are. Three men and one woman a bit past her middle years. One man is in an obviously tailored suit, somewhat out of place, and the other is dressed in a button up and slacks and glasses. The third has a mop of messy mint hair and is staring down at his phone, shifting his weight on his heels. The three form a little circle around who she assumes is their mother while the son in a suit reaches towards the top shelf for an apple cinnamon scented candle.

“Hold on,” she mutters in English, and Hoseok hums again, rustling around on the other end as he gets dressed. “What’s in French vanilla that makes it French?”

“Huh?”

“What’s in French vanilla that makes it French?” She asks again, this time in Korean. She skirts around the back of the suited man, carefully tucking her elbow in to avoid hitting the small of his back. Out of curiosity she steals a glance at the stranger, just to see if his face reveals anything as to why he’s wearing such expensive clothes in a local supermarket. With shoulders that broad. And lips that plush. Does she know that smooth face?

He begins to turn towards her and she swivels around casually, squishing her phone between her cheek and shoulder.

“So French vanilla?”

“If you want,” Hoseok replies, his voice a little far away. “I’m not a huge fan, though.”

“Oh.” She realizes he’s been talking in her ear the whole time and she wasn’t listening. “So maybe something-”

“Don’t worry about candles, Yu,” Hoseok chuckles. “I just need the car for now. We’ll go back out tonight, okay?” It’s a gentle push - she expects nothing less from her Hobi - but a push nonetheless.

“Right. I’ll just check out quickly,” she replies, a little embarrassed. The feeling of eyes on her back is strong, burning almost, but she turns out of the aisle without looking back at the suit with the shoulders or the others. Maybe she recognized the guy in slacks and the one with mint hair, too, but it’s hard to tell.

A lot of people have been almost recognizable since coming home, but she’s sure she doesn’t know as many of them as she thinks she does. A lot of people must have moved up and away by now, grown up, had their kids and spouses and gotten their houses. 

She checks out as quickly as possible and winces at the price tag for even her small basket, and then reluctantly swipes her card through. Hurrying to the car, she doesn’t linger in the parking lot to set up her aux cord before getting on the road and back to Hoseok’s apartment.

That night she and Hoseok don’t make it to the grocery store, so they go the afternoon after, just before rush hour. He’s driving with the windows down and music loud, wind whipping at their hair together and sometimes threatening to tear her sunglasses off. His current apartment is conveniently equidistant from the heart of the city and the suburbs, but to take in the nice spring weather Hoseok had decided to go into the burbs for shopping.

“Less smelly,” he had cackled as they got into the car. So far, he’s right.

His music is good, of course, and he dances a little in his seat which means they drift a little in their lane, but she doesn’t care too much. She’s happy to be taking it in with him, happy to be back in Korea where her family - not just Hoseok, but her sister and mother - are all close by.

Another car comes around the corner, sleek and shiny and looking slightly out of place in the suburban setting...more spaceship than car.

“Someone rich lost their way from the city,” Hoseok sings teasingly, but abruptly cuts himself off as the other car lurches to a sudden halt. They gasp a little in unison and then crane forward over the dashboard to peer into the road, checking to see what could’ve possibly caused the spaceship car to stop so soon; she expects some kind of animal, but there’s nothing. Just the road. Not even a pothole.

Hoseok slows down as well, scanning for something in the road, but when he sees nothing he merely mutters and finds the gas again, turning the music back up. He squints through his sunglasses as the other car passes.

“Oh, wow, I think that was the Kims,” he says as they drive by, lifting his sunglasses briefly before sliding them back down.

“You know there are a lot of people named Kim in Korea?” She laughs. “Who are the Kims?”

“You know them,” Hoseok says, glancing quickly at him. “Kim Namjoon? Weren’t you in school with him? There was another Kim brother in my class, too, the older one.”

“Namjoon?” She echoes.

She does recognize the name, but it’s a bit difficult to recall his face. She remembers a tall and lanky kid who might’ve run track or something, but not much else. They had been friends once, close friends, throughout school. But there were three Kim brothers, weren’t there? Namjoon, and two others. One of them she’d gone to university with before transferring to America and living with her dad.

“Like Kim Seokjin?”

His name sounds so unusual on her lips after so long, but there is also a tinge of familiarity to it. What did everyone call him? Jin. They had started university together; she remembers playing games late at night and studying early in the morning, getting their meals together, spending time in his dorm since he was alone...spending lots of time. She remembers suddenly the three men and their mother in the grocery store earlier, and the one in the suit with those wide shoulders. And the one in glasses. Was that Namjoon? He’s filled out nicely, if so. She wasn’t able to catch the full face of the one in the suit, but no one else had shoulders like that, in this world or any parallel version of it.

“And Taehyungie,” Hoseok adds. “I see him around sometimes, with his crazy hair.” He giggles. The mint one - that had been Taehyung? Last she saw him he had been a kid, or at least a teenager. God, how long has it been? “You look spooked,” her cousin laughs, reaching over to nudge her arm. “Feel old yet?”

“Yeah, God, I do,” Yuna mutters. “Do you keep in contact with the Kims? I’d love to see them all again. I hope their parents are doing well.”

“Oh, their mom is doing great,” Hoseok snickers. “I only have Taehyung’s number, but maybe I can text him? Dinner on the weekend when everyone’s free? I haven’t seen those three in a while.”

“Sounds good,” she murmurs, nodding absently, the Kims stuck in her mind. Dinner on the weekend. From the moment her plane touched ground in Korea, she began operating under the assumption that everyone from the past is gone, moved away, settled down or scattered on the wind. But the Kims remain. All three of them remain in their hometown, or at least nearby, probably not more than a healthy stone’s throw from their parents. Why?

Quietly leaning against the passenger side window, Yuna files that question away into the suddenly emerging folder in the corner of her brain, and lets the other memories of her last years in Korea bubble up to the surface.

On Wednesday and Thursday it rains, restricting her inside while Hoseok bounces to and from work during the day and focuses on packing at night. She makes a point to cook for him and do her best to help with the packing; this is the first move ever since he came to the apartment. Packing up your whole life from the past few years is no easy task, but she likes to think what little she does with him, sitting on the living room floor and sorting all the things non-essential to daily life into boxes carefully labeled by her own hand, helps.

Thursday night while the rain falls, she gets a text.

☀️hobi🕺(7:02 PM): Gonna be late tn! :((((( would you mind starting some dinner around 8?

YuYUUU (7:02 PM): of course :) i’ll go look to see what you have

She originally types in what we have, but she still feels guilty grouping herself forcefully with Hoseok; plus, it gives her a false sense of longevity to their current situation. She has about a week, maybe two, until she really needs to get out of her cousin’s hair. So far he’s agreed to host her even after he moves into his new place, but it’s still a one-bedroom apartment, if more spacious and with a better view and water pressure (so he claims), and the air mattress in the living room is getting old fast. He says it’s mostly selfish, since she’ll be able to help him with his move, but after that she can’t imagine he wants her around much longer.

When she walks into the kitchen and begins opening all of the cabinets, the fridge, the drawers, she quickly realizes that Hoseok has no food.

At least, no ingredients. They have leftovers that are getting suspiciously old. Instant ramyeon. Some veggies and fruit, some noodles, but nothing really substantive enough to put together a meal, especially if he won’t be home for the next hour or so. Leaning against the fridge she turns to her phone to scroll through takeout places around them, since she’s sure he won’t want to sit down anywhere. Some of the delivery charges are through the roof, though they seem almost worth it in the downpour outside.

A single name catches her eye and she puts her thumb down to stop the lazy scrolling of her screen; the picture of the front of the place looks a little different, but it’s definitely the same place she remembers from before. Seoul Food. A cute name, but definitely not the only restaurant in the country that uses it. It had been a personal favorite back in high school, when the original owners - a cute old married couple - ran it. She remembers the pork bulgogi and the tteokbokki, delicious and hot, and quickly checks the hazy PDF of the menu uploaded on the barebones website. It hasn’t changed too much, but where the names of the owners were once listed, there’s now only one name.

YuYUUU (7:17 PM): is some takeout okay? there’s a place down the street

☀️hobi🕺(7:21 PM): What about the rain?? :((((

YuYUUU (7:21 PM): it’s letting up a bit, i’ll just go there and back before it gets bad🏃

☀️hobi🕺 (7:22 PM): Only if you want! 

☀️hobi🕺 (7:22 PM): nothing in the kitchen?

YuYUUU (7:22 PM): just some really...interesting smelling leftovers

She can imagine Hoseok’s laughter when he reads that text, sudden and gleeful and full. Hopefully, despite the long day, he isn’t feeling too stressed.

It takes some rifling to find his one umbrella tucked away in the packing boxes, but when she does find it she opens it once - just to see if it’s still as broken as Hoseok claims (it is, but it’ll work.) Then she has to sort through her half-unpacked suitcase to find the rainjacket she definitely put in here somewhere, and then find her old sneakers that are so discolored and worn that it really won’t matter if they get sopping wet. In fact, it might give her a reason to buy a new pair.

The rest of the apartment building is relatively quiet, enjoying their little secluded lives behind their closed doors. She jogs down the stairs while putting her earbuds in and pulling her hood up, pushing through the unusually heavy glass doors of the lobby and out into the storm. In the end, Yuna finds she was right; it did lighten up just a bit, but the rain was still hard enough to be unpleasant. In a few moments her forehead is soaked, and the soles of her shoes are getting soggy. Definitely an excuse to buy a new pair - she can picture them now, custom platform Converse. Just before moving back home from America she’d gotten into a platform shoe phase, and bought a few pairs of inch, inch a half, and two inch sandals for the upcoming Korean spring. Heels weren’t really her thing, but modest platforms had a different kind of kick to them.

But custom platforms were, what, almost $100 in American dollars? How much was that in won? 127,000? They would have to wait until she found an apartment and a steady job over here. And that would probably have to wait until she got around to visiting her mother and sister, which would hopefully happen after her mother and sister even knew she had moved back to Korea.

The bell hanging just above the little door leading into Seoul Food rings daintily as she enters, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. A woman appears behind the counter almost immediately, smiling at her but looking a little frazzled.

“Hi, did you call ahead?” She asks, eyes scanning the small collection of large brown bags already set on the counter with receipts and names attached.

“Oh, no. I’m not in a rush, though,” Yuna replies, adding that last part quickly as the woman’s face tightens. “I’d like an order of the yachae mandu to start, and then some pork bulgogi, tteokbokki, and...the chicken bibimbap, please. For Kang, all to go.”

“Alright,” the woman says, her voice a little strained. “It’ll be about 30 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m not in a rush,” Yuna repeats, smiling at the woman. “I’ll just take a seat over here?” The woman behind the counter nods, her smile turning a little more genuine, before turning and scurrying back into the kitchen.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Yuna makes her way to the small, two-person table that’s situated against the big window near the door, looking out over the parking lot. It’s more or less empty, just two other cars. The rain is getting heavy again, beating against the glass as she squeezes the water out of her hair and pulls it back into a damp bun to get it off her neck.

☀️hobi🕺(7:52 PM): Any luck??

YuYUUU (7:53 PM): just put in an order, i’ll be back hopefully right around the time you are :)) you still like bibimbap, right?

She squints as someone’s headlights swing around and land on her through the window when a new car pulls right up to the restaurant, idling for a minute or two before switching off. Above the sound of the rain she hears the car door slam, and then the little bell rings as someone else walks in.

“Mr. Kim!” The woman from the kitchen calls out, waving one hand at the man. Yuna smiles to herself - there really are a lot of Kims in Korea. “Just a moment, please!”

“Take your time,” the newcomer replies, and his voice is surprisingly young. 

☀️hobi🕺 (7:55 PM): of course 🤪 what else did you get?

The newcomer’s phone rings before he can look around for a seat to take, and she watches from the corner of her eye - he’s standing a decent distance and slightly behind her - as he takes it swiftly from his pocket and lifts it to his ear.

“Hello to you too,” he mutters after a moment. “Do you need something, Taehyung?”

And Taehyungie.

Maybe there are a lot of Kims in Korea, maybe too many, but she only knows one Kim Taehyung. Carefully, Yuna adjusts in her seat so she’s sitting sideways on it, legs outstretched parallel to the table. The man is in a tailored suit and shoes that look like they really shouldn’t be worn in this weather. He stands with one in hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, his back to her. The spitting image of that man in the grocery store with the wide shoulders and business clothes, with the same silky-looking black mullet that looks a little frizzy from the humidity of the rain.

“Send me the address,” he sighs. “I’m picking up dinner right now.” He waits. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll call you when I’m close.” He chews his lip for a moment before adding: “Stay safe until then, okay?” And then hangs up with a disgruntled sigh.

“Here you go, Mr. Kim,” the woman at the counter says as she reappears. The eldest Kim brother doesn’t seem to hear, staring down at his phone and the post-call screen for too long. At that moment Yuna decides to stand up, patting her scalp to press down any stray hairs and adjusting her rain jacket.

“Excuse me,” she says, and watches the muscles in the back of his neck tense and move as he lifts his head. After a second he turns, a little too forcefully, but she doesn’t move. “Are you Kim Seokjin?”

Seokjin is silent. But she’s sure it’s him. She recognizes his smooth face, his soft jawline, his American doll lips and his dark eyes. His hair is a little longer, but the mullet looks good on him. Surprisingly. He’s grown up. His nose is still cute. His neck is still thick and strong. His eyebrows are still envy-inducing.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but overhear your phone call. Your brother’s name is Taehyung, and the cashier called you Kim, so I-” she stops herself and gives a little shrug, her wet rain jacket rustling hollowly.

“No, I-” he speaks for the first time, and his voice is a little different too, probably a little deeper and more relaxed, but still somehow exactly as she remembered it. His eyes finally move, quickly tracing over her face and her hair and her clothes. “I had no idea you were back home, Yuna.”

He fumbles a bit with her name. Didn’t he have a nickname for her once?

“Mr. Kim?” The woman calls again, and Seokjin’s left shoulder jumps as he turns, hurriedly taking his wallet out as he walks over.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he swipes his card, and takes the big bag she hands him once the payment goes through. “Have a good night.”

“Stay dry,” the woman says, smiling at him. Her eyes linger a little too long when his back finally turns on her and he walks back towards Yuna, but then she flies back into the kitchen.

“Wow, Yuna, I really had no idea,” Seokjin starts again, bag under one arm. He looks utterly lost. “Are you in a rush? How long have you been here?”

“No, I’m just waiting,” she replies. “I moved back about a week ago.”

“And you’re here permanently?” He asks. He keeps staring at her without blinking. “Or at least for now?”

“Here to stay,” she nods, smiling up at him. He’s average by American standards, but tall in Korea. He certainly feels tall. “Wow. It really has been a long time.” Seokjin’s lips curl into a polite smile before he looks around the restaurant.

“Maybe we should sit? I have some time,” he tells her, though judging by that phone call she isn’t quite sure how true that is. Either way, she gestures back to the little table by the window and he eagerly takes the seat across from her, placing his food on the wooden top.

The silence after that edges near awkward.

“You look great, Seokjin,” she says kindly, disbanding the quiet between them with ease. “I like the hair especially.” He chuckles a little shyly - was she always so direct with people? - and runs one damp hand through his hair. “Do you make a habit of wearing suits to get dinner?”

He’s still entranced by the way she says his name. His full name. People rarely ever call him Seokjin, just Jin. Seokjinnie or any variant of it from his mother doesn’t count. But Seokjin tumbles so easily off her lips, like she never stopped saying it even after so many years away. So smooth, so effortless, unlike the way he had struggled through Yuna earlier. It just feels unfamiliar, but as much as he searches his brain, he can’t figure out what else there was to call her.

“Not usually,” he chuckles. “I just got out of work. Late night. I wasn’t expecting it to rain so much these past few days,” he adds, looking out the window, squinting at his car through the water running down the glass. “You look soaked - did you walk here?” The rain has made her hair - a platinum blonde, he notices, with pink highlights, just like at the grocery store - wet, even though she’s pulled it back from her tan face into a little bun. Some errant strands still stick to her temples and the sides of her neck. And she has a septum piercing, a small silver ring resting against her philtrum. It looks good.

“Yeah, though now I’m regretting it a bit,” Yuna giggles, looking out the window too. “Hobi lives just down the street, and I’ve been staying with him until I can get my own apartment.”

“Hobi?” Jin mutters. “That’s right. Tae said he was moving out.” 

In her absence he’d totally forgotten that she and Jung Hoseok, dancer extraordinaire, were cousins. Jin didn’t keep too much contact with Hobi, though they had been in school together; they’d occasionally acknowledge one another in local stores, and he was sure he’d seen Hobi out driving a few times, but only Taehyung talked with him more or less regularly. Taehyung always talked about bringing Hobi for dinner, but it never seemed to happen.

“Ms. Kang?” The cook calls her name, placing another big bag on the counter. Jin stands after she does and mingles around the door as she gets her food, watching her face hover unusually long above the little card reader before she pays.

It felt unreal. When she left him at university, he never expected to see her again. Moving across the world was no small feat. It had made him sad, and then angry, and after years alone he had finally given up feeling anything about it at all. She left to pursue her dreams, to live her life, to do her best, and he had to do the same. He had given up, and then he had forgotten.

She doesn’t look too different; she’s tanner, but still shorter than him, and her face is equal parts soft and well-defined, her eyebrows are still that perfect. Her green eyes seem lighter than before, but he doubts that’s possible. Her damp skin gives off a certain ethereal glow in the calm restaurant lighting, and when she sees him waiting for her, the smile she gives is so pristine, so model-like, so dimpled, he wonders how he forgot it at all.

“If you’re close, I don’t mind driving you back,” he says, putting one hand on the door. “It’s just getting worse as the night goes on.” She stands beside him, examining the black sky outside and listening to the rain pound away against the glass. Suddenly he feels like he’s at university again, but the feeling fades as quickly as it comes. “Plus, I’d love to talk some more.”

“That’d be great,” she agrees after a moment. “I appreciate it a lot. I don’t know what Hobi would say if he came home to soaked pork bulgogi.” His chest seems to swell at the fact that they got the same food; how could he not remember how many times they ate together before?

“Ready?” She asks, looking up at him with a playful raise of her eyebrow.

“If you are.”

He pushes open the door in one hard shove, making the bell rattle frantically, and they both dart out into the rain just as a massive clap of thunder shakes the sky overhead, so close it’s deafening. Jin hears her yell a little as she jumps off the sidewalk and hustles to the passenger side door.

“It’s locked!” Yuna cries.

“Shit,” Jin hisses, reaching into his pocket and fumbling with the key fob while he hunches over his takeout bag. “Ah, shit!” Her laughter drifts over the top of the car to him as lightning lights up the parking lot. His shirt is soaked. “There you go!”

They flop into their seats together. Jin winces as he thinks of his dripping wet shirt sticking to his seats, and her rain jacket, shit. But he doesn’t say anything - he can’t, not when he’s also soaked head to toe. Yuna is giggling breathlessly as she adjusts in her seat, gesturing for his bag and placing it on the floor between her feet while holding her own in her lap. The car comes to life with a low, vibrating hum, and Yuna eyes the dashboard as it lights up.

“Fancy,” she comments, “reminds me of a spaceship.” Jin rolls his eyes hard, groaning when he sees that the backup camera is so blurred by rain it’s basically useless.

“Everyone says that,” he replies, twisting around and placing one hand on the back of her seat to watch behind him as he backs out. The front of his shirt is slowly dampening against his chest as water drips off his hair and runs down his neck. “You, Namjoon, Eomma, Appa. Everyone.”

“Because it’s true,” she snickers, gliding one finger along the interior of the door. “How is Namjoon, by the way? And Taehyung?”

“Joon’s doing well,” Jin says, shifting the car into drive and fastening his seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. “Left or right?”

“Left. Is he teaching, like he wanted to?”

“Yeah, he’s got a teaching job at a school a bit outside the city. As far as I can tell he’s enjoying it a lot. Taehyung is...well, he’s doing Taehyung things.”

“Which is?”

“Mostly good. Left or right?”

“Right,” she instructs. “I’m glad to hear they’re doing okay. I think Namjoon follows me on Instagram, I see him like all my posts.”

“He said he did,” Jin chuckles.

“You aren’t on Instagram, right?”

“Not really. I have one, but I never use it.” He ticks the windshield wiper speed up. “Pretty sure my profile picture is still just the default blank.” She smiles to herself - that sounds just like him.

“And you?” Yuna asks, looking at him as he drives. “How’s Seokjin doing?” His plump lips grin a little and his eyes do a full cycle between the dashboard, rear view, her, and driver’s side mirror.

“Seokjin’s doing fine,” he replies. “A little wet, though.”

“A little?” She snorts. “I’m sorry about the seats, by the way. I hope these aren’t real leather.”

“They aren’t,” he assures her, and she feigns relief. Lying to avoid making her feel guilty also sounds just like him. “Are we close?”

Yuna leans against the window and spots Hobi’s humble apartment building cozied between the lower-lying buildings around it, and then leans towards the dashboard to point it out to her driver.

“Oh, Hobi lives here?” Jin wonders aloud, leaning over the wheel to squint through the rain. “Where’s he moving to?”

“Somewhere a little closer to the city. I haven’t seen the new apartment yet.” The eldest Kim brother nods after a moment in approval - the action reminds her vaguely of his father -  then sidles the car right up to the sidewalk in front of the building, pulling it into park. “Can I give you gas money or something?”

“No way,” he laughs. “You want to tip me for driving you a few minutes down the road?”

Yuna rolls her eyes at him as she unbuckles her seatbelt and wraps one arm around her bag. “I know you like driving, but I figured I’d offer anyway.” Though, judging by his suit, he likely doesn’t need her pocket change to pay for gas anyway. “Thank you, though.” She hesitates, looking at him, feeling his eyes staring at her again, and then leans over the center console to offer a polite hug.

He returns it, albeit hesitantly. His touch is light and cautious, not really a proper hug. She understands, and doesn’t linger.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Jin,” Yuna says, one hand on the door handle. “Let’s meet up properly sometime soon, okay?”

“I’d love to,” he replies, nodding. “Do you want my number or something? So we can...?” he trails off and shrugs, extending his phone towards her.

“Oh! That’s smart,” she giggles. “Yeah, hold on.” She fishes her own phone out of her pocket and unlocks it before handing it to him. His Samsung is sleek and doesn’t have a case on it, which is stress inducing, but Kim Seokjin is not nearly as clumsy or prone to dropping things as his younger brother Namjoon is.

🌈Yuna✈has been added to your contacts list.

“All set?” Jin asks, holding her phone back out to her. Why the plane emoji?

“No contact name?” Yuna snickers. “Do I get to choose?” He shrugs.

“You’ll know it’s me either way,” he replies.

He’s right.

She says goodbye and then clambers out of his car back into the rain, waiting for a brief moment before scurrying back into the lobby. Wiping her wet shoes on the rug, she trudges to the elevator, and hits the button for the fourth floor.

KSJ has been added to your contacts list.

“Tae, send me the address, I’m on my way,” Jin says into his phone. Taehyung’s voice crackles over the speakers, filling up the car at once.

“Yeah, okay. Just a sec.” A message appears across the top of his screen, a long address, and when he enters it into Google Maps it’s nearly half an hour away. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Be there soon, okay?”

Instead of a response, he gets the dull triple beep that tells him he’s been hung up on. The call screen vanishes and brings him back to the last open page, his contacts, where Yuna’s name is sitting at the bottom of the list.

But he had given her a nickname, once, hadn’t he?

Jin taps her contact and goes in to edit it, smiling to himself as he props his phone back up on the dashboard and shifts into drive to pull away from the curb. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long, long time. 

🌈Yunnie✈has been added to your contacts list.

AMOMK - Of Maps, Forms, and Other Crazy Ideas

This work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona​ and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!). All rights regarding this universe of characters are credited and belong to her.

I originally sent her an ask for this story a while back, and this drabble idea based on it would not leave my head. Thank you again to the wonderful @bonvoyagenoona for letting me play in this universe for a bit! <3 You can also read this particular drabble on A03 here!

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that could happen? If you get selected, you get to go out with some of the hottest bachelors around. Be in the running to be a future Mrs. Kim! Did I mention they’re hot? Super hot brothers?”

You stared pointedly at Ji-a as you bit into another french fry. “Is that all that matters? Looks and status? What about their dreams? Personality? Surely that’s important in this whole application thing too…”

Ji-a laughed and shook her head slightly. “I mean, of course you want a good man to be your husband. But what’s the harm in having a little fun on the way? Besides, my Eomma is desperate for me to finally settle down, and both our families are regulars here – the Kims seem to be some of the nicer rich boys in this crowd.”

Your fries turned colder by the second as you contemplated her scheme. Call it being a romantic, but you wanted your future husband to not only be your soulmate, but also have more brain capacity than a microwaved potato. To have him support your own interests and dreams seemed to be little more than a pipe dream at this point. Hell, even your dating app profile was covered in cobwebs – you thought you saw a tumbleweed roll through your empty inbox the other day. You honestly couldn’t do much worse than a mother’s matchmaking plan. You didn’t have the time or patience for boys who only cared about “the thrill of the chase” or “let’s not put a name on what we have, even though we’ve exclusively been seeing each other for a while now”. If you go along with this application idea, you probably wouldn’t even get ghosted. Probably.

“Plus, it’ll get your mind off of Museum Boy….”

You groaned as your head fell into your hands. “I never should have told you about him…”

“It’s been what? A few months of polite nods and simple smiles?” Ji-a chuckled as she grabbed another fry. “Just ask him out already! I’d even settle for a name at this point!”

Museum Boy was almost a legend among your friend group. For the past month or so you’d see the same young man at the local art museum near your place. It was almost a routine by now – check out the new exhibits, run into Museum Boy at some point on your way to your favorite painting in the Natural World section, give each other a polite nod as a greeting from a distance. Once you were alone again, you would congratulate yourself on not staring at the beautiful man like a creep and keeping your feelings to yourself. No one needed to know your mini crush on Museum Boy. After the first couple of times, you wouldn’t say you actually knew him, but at least just acknowledged each other as fellow patrons of the arts. But you don’t talk to people in an art museum. It’s quiet, made for reflection and appreciation. Or at least that’s how you’ve convinced yourself not to walk up to him yet.

A sudden snap of fingers in front of your face jolted you in your seat.

“You were just thinking about him, weren’t you?” Ji-a sighed. A rush of heat to your face gave her all the answer she needed. “Okay, that’s it. We’re getting those forms.”

She grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of the chair with barely any time for you to grab your purse. You looked back at the abandoned table, half a plate of fries still sitting untouched. Ji-a huffed slightly as she dragged you back to the table, grabbed the plate of fries, then dragged the pair of you inside.

You should have known Ji-a had an ulterior motive when she suddenly invited you to the country club she was practically raised in. You, in your nicest bargain bin sweater and jeans, were now fully inside the ornate lounge surrounded by the city’s elite. Specifically, a beautiful woman and 4 of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Your first mistake was trusting Ji-a at all, who only said you were going there to have some lunch and catch up from your busy work schedule. She left the room as soon as she got her form for Kim Taehyung. That traitor.

Your second mistake was requesting all of them when given the choice of which one to fill out after your introductions. You weren’t expecting physical copies, complete with printed out photos of each boy. It reminded you of your daily tasks as a receptionist – everything neatly organized by name and in their own respective folder. Digitally, it was all fairly anonymous so you could just hedge your bets and hope that someone you clicked Like on would do the same. But in person? You were worried you seemed greedy or didn’t care about them as individuals.

“We should have all of these back online soon, but for now just fill these paper ones out,” Mrs. Kim said with an elegant (but tired) smile. “The website keeps crashing, so we’re just waiting for the new server to take over.”

You nodded respectfully, while trying to figure out just how many people are involved in this entire process. Ji-a mentioned it was like a real-life version of a dating app, but there had to be hundreds of people applying daily for only 3 people in order for an entire server to crash. You were starting to feel like a tiny drop in an ocean, but it honestly tracked with how your dating life was going at the moment.

“Coming to the store without buying anything, huh?” one of the boys joked as you were handed 3 forms. You wanted to die on the spot.

“Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim cried as some of them rolled their eyes.

“We’re not for sale, hyung,” another one quietly declared, nudging Seokjin in the arm.

“Speak for yourself. Name your price,” a third boy replied as he stared directly at you. You knew this one to be Kim Taehyung, based on how Ji-a gazed at him earlier. He seemed to be her type anyways.

“I just wanted to be thorough in my decision…” you mumbled, holding the stack of folders delicately in your arms. Suddenly another form was placed on top, identical to the other ones.

“Here, take this one too,” he said, a hint of dimples showing through his polite smile. A quick glance through the folders showed his name was Kim Namjoon. You thought he looked familiar, but from where? It was bothering you ever since Ji-a dragged you into the lounge. Was he an executive at the financial company you worked for? An old college classmate? It had been about a decade since you graduated university, surely you had forgotten a face or two.

A shorter man next to Namjoon had pulled his lips into a straight line, but didn’t look in your direction. You thought you heard him whisper something along the lines of “stop it.” Looking at the new form, you saw it read the name Min Yoongi. Maybe he was a cousin who got dragged into this idea too.

You took a deep breath as you readjusted the forms in your grasp, trying to take control of the situation as best as you could. You liked forms and lists. They comforted you in a way with how straightforward they were. Forms didn’t yell at you for being a single woman in her early 30s when most of your peers were already married with kids; lists didn’t call you a failure for starting over with an entry level job at your age.

“Do they fill out forms too? It’s only fair that if you all get to learn everything about me from a piece of paper, I get to learn things about you too, right? Like sunsets vs sunrises, favorite type of dates, favorite songs that make you cry, and all that,” you asked, looking right at the group in front of you.

You thought you saw something sparkle in Mrs. Kim’s eyes. “Oh of course, they did fill out some forms too - it’s all on the website and in those folders. But there’s always more questions they can answer. I might have a few more ideas…”

“Eomma! No more lists!” Seokjin whined, but it didn’t seem to be out of malice or purely negative feelings. You smiled as you could see the love this family had for each other.

“Okay, good to know. I’ll just go…fill these out now. Do I just turn these back in to you or mail them in..?” you asked as you shuffled in your spot, adjusting the forms in your hands to make sure nothing dropped.

“There’s an address listed on the business card inside each of the folders that you can mail it to. You don’t have to rush it. Just take your time, think about your decision,” Namjoon responded with a polite smile and nod. Suddenly something clicked in your mind.

“Yes, please really take your time!” Seokjin laughed, but you didn’t quite hear him. You quickly said your goodbyes and turned away, rushing to go anywhere to be alone.

“Happy shopping!” Taehyung called after you as you booked it to the hallway. You lightly pressed your head against the wall, hardly believing what just happened – maybe some deity was messing with you or something. Because you just made your third and possibly biggest mistake of the night.

You had grabbed an application to date and possibly marry Kim Namjoon – aka Museum Boy. Who probably now thought you were a gold digging stalker. Great.

AMOMK Drabble 2 - Of Rambling Thoughts and Too Many Choices

Just like the first drabble in this AU spinoff, this work was based on the original story A Map of Mrs. Kims (and the drabbles that started it all!) created by @bonvoyagenoona​ and various members of the Tumblr BTS fanfic community! (You can also read it on ao3!). All rights regarding this universe of characters are credited and belong to her. I honestly did NOT expect to write a second little drabble in this universe, but almost a year later here we are...thank you so much to @bonvoyagenoona for letting me play in this little world for a bit again, and you can also read this particular drabble on A03 here

Names swirled through your head, mocking you with every thought. Kim Seokjin. Kim Taehyung. Min Yoongi. Kim Namjoon. You could hardly focus on your work when all your brain could do was loop those 4 names – those forms – over and over again. Now that you had them in hand, were you really so selfish to grab all 4 applications? Were you no better than someone at a cattle auction, waiting to nab the best in show? After all, it was one application out of dozens, possibly hundreds, to win the mere chance to go on a date with these men. To try to be a good, noticeable, outstanding candidate, to prove to these strangers that yes, you could be a good wife in the future. As if that’s all you needed in life.

But then again, that seemed to be what modern dating was nowadays. Click on a profile, read a basic summary, see a few photos, and swipe right. Pray that the person on the other end wasn’t a creep or a bot. On the dating apps, you didn’t have to see the humanity behind the screen; just one click and move onto the next. Hope for a match. Hope that profile leads to something more. Find another if you don’t. To walk up to these very real men and ask for every list and form available – in front of their mother no less! – now forced you to face the apparent greed of your actions. That maybe you should have been firmer in your decision, to just pick a profile and pray for the best.

Kim Seokjin. Kim Taehyung. Min Yoongi. Kim Namjoon. It would be all too easy to blame Ji-a. After all, it was her crazy idea to apply in the first place. However, she already made her choice – the singular application for one Kim Taehyung was filled out and submitted the second she got home from the country club. So why were you waffling around like someone staring at a takeout menu at 2 am?

It could also be the lingering embarrassment from realizing Kim Namjoon was Museum Boy. There was no telling how you’d live that realization down. You’d even changed when you visited the museum because of it. Ji-a squealed when you told her – she insisted that this was fate, that this just was evidence you and Namjoon were meant to be, how your only choice now was to fill out the pre-destined application and make it official, just like her favorite romance stories. But all you wanted to do was hide. How could you face him? Before, Museum Boy was a concept. Just a handsome man with similar tastes in art. He was safe, distant, a small constant in your hectic life - like when the barista already knows your order at your local coffee shop. But now? Now you could only imagine just how crazy you looked from his point of view: a woman just so happens to run into him at a museum several times, enough to be recognized. Then she shows up once again at the same exact country club at the same exact time he happened to be there. Then saying “Uhh…. all of them?” when asked which application she wanted…Ugh, no wonder he probably thought you were a stalker. Numerous true crime documentaries have proven people would do much less for attention.

Kim Seokjin. Kim Taehyung. Min Yoongi. Kim Namjoon. Each attribute, likes, and dislikes gave you a small glimpse into who they were – you’d practically memorized them by how many times you’ve agonized in making your choice:

Seokjin, eldest of the Kim brothers, loves to cook, visiting farmers markets, and to go fishing on his few days off. A hard worker and dependable, every detail jotted down in his profile just screamed “Perfect Husband Material”, and it would be all too easy to imagine a simple, domestic life with him.  

Taehyung, baby of the family and massive flirt, listens to jazz and is a photographer by trade. A creative soul, you could tell just by reading each response that he would be fun and adventurous, each day just as spontaneous as the last.

Yoongi, not even related to the Kim brothers but still somehow has his own form, writes songs and plays both piano and guitar when he’s not teaching. Each answer seemed direct, but thoughtful, something you’d sorely missed in your last couple relationships.

And Namjoon, middle child and Museum Boy extraordinaire, teaches middle school, is passionate about music and writing, and loves having deep philosophical discussions. You could imagine talking to him for hours, delving into the inner workings of the arts, letting those conversations lead you to explore more about yourself and the world you live in.

Maybe you were surrounded by too many choices – on paper, they all seemed amazing, almost too good to be true. You wanted to get to know them individually. You wanted to wait and form some sort of plan. You needed to get out of your head and make a damn decision already. At this rate they might already be married by the time you decide to apply.

The serene painting in front of you was your favorite for this very reason. It seemed simple from far away – a watercolor scene of lotus flowers floating in a pond – but it always felt immersive. You could lose your thoughts as the colors flowed in and out of each other. Imagine the golden light of sunset warming your body. Whenever you were stressed or upset, you would just sit at the bench directly in front of it and mediate, forget about the outside world for a little while. Your troubles started to melt away, thoughts of applications joined the very paint on the canvas.

“Hey stranger, haven’t seen you around here in a while,” a voice suddenly called. You nearly reached the ceiling as your trance was brutally interrupted. To your left stood Kim Namjoon.

“Gah! I – uh – hi! Hi,” you undignifiedly sputtered in response.

“Hi,” Namjoon laughed, the smile never leaving his face. You knew you were sunk if you stared at his dimples for too long. “I thought you might have found a new hangout spot. Usually, our semi-regular greetings are a bit more…well…regular. You’re Y/N, right?”

You looked toward the floor as you nodded, your face already feeling warm. “I didn’t want to seem like a stalker…”

“Don’t stalkers change their patterns once they’re caught?” Taking a quick shocked glance was all you could do as he gave a cheeky smirk, his eyes bright and mischievous. “But no, never thought you were stalking me. I just figured you were a fellow patron of the arts. What brings you here on a Wednesday afternoon?”

“There were severe issues with my work’s telecom system, and rather than let the big wigs think we’re not doing anything or pay us to just sit there waiting for repairs, we were all sent home. What about you? Playing hooky?

“Legally allowed hooky, yes. It’s a school holiday and I somehow managed to get all of my meetings done before sunset. So I'm celebrating and taking a small break before I have to go drown in lesson plans.” Namjoon then gestured to the seat next to you. After you nodded your agreement, he sat a close but respectable distance from you.

“Are you doing okay? You seemed really lost in thought there.”

You didn’t give much of an answer, unable to look at him quite yet. A sigh escaped as you stared at the painting ahead. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind. But it seems so stupid now…”

He turned more toward you, a calm demeanor radiating from his body. “If you feel comfortable talking, I’m all ears.” There was an inkling that he was like this with his students. You hesitated despite the warm invitation, contemplating what you were going to say.

“It’s just….” You started, subconsciously smoothing your hands over your knees. “These damn dating applications that I got from your mother is stressing me out and It’s so dumb because I can’t seem to make a choice. I should be able to just…make up my mind and turn something in if I was so determined to do so at the start. It’s been weeks! But no, here I am, being so ridiculous and overthinking something that I might not even get accepted or chosen for in the first place. I’m a tiny piece of the puzzle, why am I freaking out so much?”  

Namjoon nodded as you rambled, a brief flash of recognition crossed his face. “I totally understand. And your feelings are absolutely valid. But from one overthinker to another, why should you have to make a choice right now? Or even make a choice at all? Why do you even have to choose one single application to complete?”

“It all seems so final, doesn’t it? Like this entire process is some sort of life test or fate or something. My friend was able to just go forward, know which one she wanted to go after, and just fill out the form, so I should be able to do the same, right? But now I just feel greedy, like I’m just lumping you and your brothers together, as if you are some sort of interchangeable trophy to win. That’s not fair to anyone. If I need to make a decision, I just want to be sure of it, you know?” You knew you were rambling, but your brain just couldn’t stop. If this was a life simulation game, you just hoped you wouldn’t see the negative friendship points flash over Namjoon’s head. Why couldn’t you stop rambling?

To his credit, Namjoon only chuckled. “Well, it’s definitely something to think about. And it’s great that you see all of us as separate human beings instead of just the Kim boys or a full unit. Your heart seems to be in the right place. But you have a few options – you could just apply for all of us and take a chance. It might be exciting, like a going on some blind dates, right? You could think about what you want in a relationship, use that to determine which one of us you want to pursue. Or you just walk away, forget about maps and dates and applications. But, if you’re so sure about making a single choice…. would it be easier if I tell you why you shouldn’t date each of us?”

“What…?”

“Yeah, just take a look at my hyung, Seokjin. He’s the best older brother anyone could ask for. Kind, loyal, a hard worker. Takes charge but in a more subtle way. But his jokes are terrible. You’d be forced to listen to the absolute worst dad jokes this side of the world. And that’s before he likes you enough to force you onto a fishing boat before sunrise.”

An eyebrow raised was all it took for Namjoon to continue on.

“Yoongi is my best friend, and is such a romantic at heart. But when he’s focused on a project or work, it’s like he’s dead to the world. I’m actually not even sure he really sleeps at night. And Taehyung is such a thoughtful guy, will do anything for those he loves, and lives life to the fullest. He loves life, you know? But as much as I love him, sometimes he can be downright weird. There are days I wish I could just see what’s going on in his brain. Some people might find him too much to handle.”

Giggling at every description, you could see how much love and respect Namjoon for each of them.

“So, what about you? Why would you be deemed undatable?”

Namjoon paused, a small hint of something unreadable flashed over his face. Perhaps a bittersweet memory? Something sad he wanted to forget? Whatever it was, he didn’t let it linger for long. Just as quickly as that brief emotion arrived, he replaced it with another half-smile. “Well, I’m a middle school teacher who likes fine art. I’m afraid the only dates I’d be able to afford involve takeout and free events.”

A light laughter filled the room as you both focused on painting in front of you. Namjoon checked his watch, sighing as he stood up.

“Unfortunately, break time is over. If I don’t get started on those lesson plans now, I’ll never get them done on time. But hey, don’t dwell too much over whatever you decide, okay? Flip a coin if you need to. Take your time to think, but if that’s all you do, you’ll find opportunities will pass you by. Bye, Y/N! See you when the new exhibits premiere.” With a wink and a wave, Namjoon lightly waved his goodbyes as you continued to sit on the bench, going over every word.

Kim Seokjin. Kim Taehyung. Min Yoongi. Kim Namjoon. A deep breath escaped as you grounded yourself for the task ahead. The mailbox loomed in front of you, challenging you to be brave, to take a chance. With eyes closed, you placed the large stamped envelope inside, ready to let your fate reveal itself. 4 names, 4 completed applications. You just hoped you knew what you were doing.