Bts X Reader Angst - Tumblr Posts

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader

Content Warning: Woman in danger, roofie mention

Word Count: 3,500

It was a miserable fucking night. Granted it had also been a miserable fucking day, The rain had come down in sheets all throughout the day and well into the night, bringing the temperature down considerably. It was certainly summer, but as your thigh-high boot clicked against the wet sidewalk, you swore you could see your breath. 

I just had to fucking go out. You grumbled internally, shivering in your mini skirt and leather coat. It should have been plenty warm enough for a summer night, but even the weather seemed to be flipping you off today. Let’s just get black-out drunk, hook up with a stranger, and forget today ever happened. You hyped yourself up while rounding the corner to your favorite nightclub. 

The line was sparse, on account of the rain you supposed. Not that you ever really had to wait in line for this place anyways, you knew all the bouncers and if any gave you a hard time, you’d flash a little cleavage and be on your way. 

Despite the minimal line outside, indoors was as lively as any other Saturday night. The DJ tonight was someone local, you overheard, not bad you mused, moving through the crowd to an empty bar seat. Mostly trap beats, but his remixes were decent and the dance floor reflected his musical proficiency. 

“Y/N” The bartender, a salt and pepper man in his 40s regarded you warmly. “What will it be tonight?” 

“David.” You said back. “I thought you had a date tonight? I was expecting to see Vanessa. Sure the usual.” You slid your card forward, starting your tab. 

“You drink so many cosmos we are going to have to start calling you Nebula, you know,” David said, picking up the ingredients to your drink. “Vanessa and I switched. Date bailed. She must have known you were coming in and got jealous,” He added with a wink. 

“You flatter me.” You replied. “Nebula is too metal of a knick name for such a girly drink.” 

“Eh,” David replied, sliding your glass toward you. “I’ve seen you, you could out-drink any man in this place. Makes me feel bad for your wallet.” 

“You and I both.” You said, sipping on the pink liquid. “It’s good. Strong. Make yourself something, it’s on me.” 

“And that’s why you are my favorite customer, cheers,” David replied, before sliding off to the other end of the bar, busily helping other patrons. 

The bar seats here spun, a trait you always appreciated for easy people-watching. Picking up your drink and swiveling your seat around, you surveyed the crowd like you did most weekends. Mostly, it was boring. You watched them have fun, be messy, get into arguments, meet new friends, new lovers, it was fun, like watching a TV show of what your life could have looked like if things had been different. Some nights you’d spot a creep, someone slipping drugs into drinks or stalking ex-partners and you’d alert the bouncers to kick them out. Some nights you’d chat with someone silver-tongued and deep-pocketed to keep you interested, some nights that person would talk you into bed. 

It was cyclical if you had to really psychoanalyze yourself. The theme: unfulfillment, dissatisfaction, and unhappiness. It was easy, much easier anyway, to find comfort in these fleeting, temporary flings, to find purpose in playing superhero and saving a drunk woman from a creep, to find community in the transactional relationships held with people like David. But maybe you were thinking too much about things again, what the hell did you know? You were there, in that nightclub, just like everyone else.

You swiveled around again, signaling to David you were ready for your next cosmo. He had it ready just as soon as you could raise your hand. 

“Looks like you got something on your mind tonight. I’ll keep ‘em coming,” David said handing you your next drink. 

“Thanks.” You said, taking it from him. “Don’t forget to make something for yourself!” You called after him.

“I love drinking on your dime, don’t worry about me~” He replied with a hand wave. 

Before you can turn back to your self-centered musings, a zip of light darted through your periphery. Magic? It had been a minute since you had seen someone else use it, but surely you had to be mistaken right? Why would a place like this have magic?

You snapped and turned to the side, scanning the patrons carefully, but it only took a few seconds to realize who it was who had been casting. A man stood in the corner, tall with dark, masculine features, his shoulders were broad, his chest and torso the perfect V. He wore a plain, dark, fitted t-shirt that showed off large, corded arms. He was the picture of masculinity, attractive by anyone’s standards, and as you regarded him now, he was entirely silhouetted in magic. The silver, translucent aura was unmistakable. Glamour magic. 

He had to be an incubus right? The only other creatures capable of glamour magic like that are the tirions, but those were exceptionally rare. You could relate to that. As you pondered the possibilities, you noticed a small, curly-haired blonde woman, undoubtedly human by the way she seemed in awe of this male. You needed to get closer, you decided slipping off your seat and pushing through the bodies until you were in earshot. 

“So, why don’t you finish your drink and we can enjoy a few more at my place?” The male voice spoke. 

“Well, I - I - I uh, f-f-friend I, uh…” The female voice spoke, a mix of slurred speech and nervous babbling. 

Another wave of magic pulsed from him. 

“I think we should get out of here, beautiful.” He insisted again. 

“I think… that is… okay.” The female replied voice halted, disconnected. Stiffly and robotically you watched her put her drink on the bar top, then equally as robotically begin turn around and begin to exit.

Incubus or tirion, you would be damned if you would let them feed here. You too put your drink down on the bar top and made your way to the exiting couple. 

“Hey! Girl we were looking everywhere for you!” You walked right up to the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. You were admittedly a bit rusty, but your connection to magic was as inherent as the ability to breathe. You called forth your magic from deep in the ground, willing it to run through your body. You could see the magical charm this male held on this woman, and while willing your magic into a sword, you severed the charm. 

The woman blinked up at you, dazed and confused. “The rest of us are dancing over here!” You now link arms with the woman, her considerably smaller frame putting into perspective how powerless this woman was to this male. As you begin to walk away with her, the male voice calls out from behind you. 

“Hey.” The voice is stern, flat, and deep. More noticeable to you, however, is the overwhelming rush of glamor magic that washes over you. You will your magic up, shielding the smaller woman from its power. 

“Hey sorry!” You turn around. “We came out as a girl's night and we wanna keep it that way! No hard feelings!” With that, you pull the woman with you and away, towards the exit. 

“It’s time to go home, sweetheart. Are those your friends over there?” You ask the woman. She nods in response. 

“Come on, let's say goodbye and then I’m going to walk you to a cab.” You lead the woman to her friends, who all in a drunken stupor thank you for taking care of their friend, and forget to ask why it is she needs to leave. It is probably better that way anyway. 

You lead the woman out the door, up the stairs, and out into the cold rainy night. You held the umbrella for the two of you, walking in complete silence. 

“The taxi rank is around the corner, but this time of night and the weather I’ll bet it's empty, so I’m just going to call ahead.” You said to no one in particular. You weren’t sure if she was really listening, but you felt better saying something. 

Sure enough, when you rounded the corner, the taxi rank was completely abandoned. 

“Figures,” you grumbled, watching the poor, shivering woman stand next to you while you waited, the sound of the rain hammering on your shared umbrella punctuating your silence. Wordlessly, you shed your leather jacket and place it over her shoulders while you wait, willing the magic from the ground to keep you warm. It was totally against the rules, but hey, it had already been a weird night. 

“Do you remember your address?” You asked the woman. She nodded in response. 

“Do you have enough money to get home?” Another nod. 

“Did you drive to the club?” A shake this time. 

She didn’t want to talk, obviously, and another extended silence descended upon the two of you. 

The woman broke the silence this time. 

“What happened to me?” She asked, voice sounding hollow, hurt, and confused. 

“You were roofied.” You replied, matter-of-factly. “The man you were talking to was very bad, which is why I’m making sure you get home.” 

“I’ve been roofied before. It didn’t go away in one second. I spent the whole night puking. You touched my shoulder and the fog lifted. Isn’t that crazy?” She spouted off, looking up at you for support answers. 

You knew what she was looking for, and yet you couldn’t give it to her. “They’re coming up with new drugs all the time. Maybe this one clears your system crazy fast. I am really sorry this happened to you.” You replied. 

“Thank you for helping me.” She replied, and as if ordained by a benevolent ruler, the taxi pulled up. You helped her into the car, wished her a good night, and saw her off before turning on a heel and marching back to that nightclub. You had a bone to pick. 

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

Where the bumping music of the club before gave the area a cool, hip-hop vibe, now contributed to your fuge state fueled by rage. The male, miraculously, was stood in the same spot, tied up in conversation with another man. An accomplice perhaps, you thought. You’d figure it out as soon as you rocked this dude's shit. 

Pushing passed the crowd and shoving the man he was locked in conversation with aside, in a flash you willed your magic up to protect your fist and you let loose the meanest right hook you could muster, for that woman and all the other women you were sure this scum had victimized. 

Your fist collided solidly with his jaw, knocking him over and staggering him. You hit him hard enough that the bystanders around you audibly reacted. The male straightened back out, rubbing his jaw in pain. Looking down at you in what could only be described as bewilderment. 

“I would say there is a special place in hell for people like you, but you would know something about that, wouldn’t you?” You spit at the male. 

“So what if I do?” The male replied, voice rich and baritone. “What’s it to you?” 

“There are clubs for people like you.” You replied venemously. 

“And you…?” He replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“I am not here looking for prey.” You said, looked at him with a disgusting look. “Just because you can’t hack it in the supernatural clubs doesn’t mean you can just come out to the human clubs looking for easy pickings.” 

“Do you condemn the wolf for breaking into the lamb pen? Or do you just understand that the wolf, too, needs to eat?” 

“Ask a sheep farmer what he does to wolves in the lamb pen.” 

“Is that what you are to them? The farmer? Watching over the little sheep? Or perhaps you are just a little puppy, barking at the big bad predator” He leaned in closer. “There will come a day when your pathetic little yaps won’t be enough to chase away the big bad guy, what will you do then, little puppy?” 

“Get. Out.” You said through gritted teeth. “Or so help me I will put you back where you came from.” Rage, pure rage coursed through you, mixed with magic, you felt it zapping and prickling at your skin, your hair standing on edge as if the lighting was about to strike. 

“Now now, no need to get so wound up.” He started pushing past you, before stopping to continue. “I was going to hurt you, for taking my dinner. But now, now I hope to meet you again very soon, little puppy.” He finished, walking out the front door, a swagger in his footsteps that made you want to blast him from behind with every bit of radiant damage you could physically muster. 

“Hey.” A different male voice snapped you to the present. “You’re going to call attention to yourself. Just accept it.” 

Another wave of glamor magic washed over you, a different spell though, a calming one you readily identified having used it before. You allow the stranger's magic in, the new stream slipping in, soothing your breathing, calming your heart rate, and slowing the stream of magic through your body, before exiting. 

“You were about to make us all do the electric slide.” The man said with a chuckle. “Sorry, dated reference. I am kind of old.” 

“Me too.” You commented, still internally reeling from the events of the last hour. “It was funny, thanks for the hand.” You turned to him, finally. The man who was keeping the incubus engaged. You were calm, but you were still warry. You regarded him more carefully now, he too was exceptionally handsome, but in a less brutalistic way than the incubus was. He was also shorter than the incubus and considerably more lithe in his frame. His baggy streetwear and half up half down hairstyle betrayed a surprisingly strong body, you were willing to bet, however. “With that being said, who the hell are you?” 

“That is a complicated question with a complicated answer.” He replied. “I am sure you can relate. Shall we?” He gestured to two conveniently empty seats sitting on the corner of the bar. 

“You drink cosmos, right?” He said handing you a pink cocktail. You looked at him incredulously. 

“On a normal night, I don’t accept drinks that I didn’t watch David make, after all that what makes you think I’m going to accept this?” 

“Oh my god, you are so right. You know what I will drink this don’t even worry about it, I’ll flag the bartender and you order whatever you want and I’ll pick it up.” He replied, pulling the drink back to him. 

After a few minutes, David walked up to your end of the bar, regarding the two of you silently. 

“What will it be, sir?” David asked the man. 

“Whatever the lady will have.” 

“Whiskey. Top Shelf.” 

“Coming right up, ma’am,” David replied, pouring a glass and sliding it to you. With that, he made himself scarce. 

“How do you know the incubus?” You asked the man, keeping your tone flat, disinterested in case they were buddies. 

“Not at all, to be frank” He replied, sipping on his Cosmo. 

“When I walked in after getting that woman home, you seemed to be engaged in lively conversation with that man.” You said, bemused. “What was it that you were discussing?” 

“How we were going to hurt you.” He replied, matter-of-factly. 

“And how was that?” You asked. 

“Well, he was angry when you left with that woman, really angry. I had a feeling that you’d come back and I wanted you to get your revenge, so I placated him with stories of how I would help tear you limb from limb and eat your insides in front of this whole club, the usual.”  

“Uh-huh.” You replied, skeptically. “And why should I believe that? Maybe the two of you are waiting to jump me as soon as I leave out that door.” 

“Nah, you’d kick my ass.” He replied. “Besides, I have this.” He held up a clear, tear-drop-shaped glass pendant on a cord around his neck. Suspended in the glass were a clear liquid and a red liquid, yin and yang. “Because of this, it is impossible for me to lie.” 

“Obviously you are going to have to prove it.” You replied, scoffing and sipping your whiskey. 

“Easy.” He replied. “The sky is purp-” Before he could finish, red and blue light pulsed from the pendant, and the man doubled over in pain, grabbing his chest. “Pigs can fl-” and again, before the man could finish the sentence, he doubled over in pain clutching his chest. 

“You could have programmed it to react that way with certain voice commands.” You replied back, still skeptical. 

“Hard to convince, that’s fair enough.” He replied, shrugging. “Tell me to say something, and I will say it, scouts honor.” 

“Okay…” You replied, thinking for a moment. “Tell me I’m ugly,” you said with a smirk. 

“You’re ug- ak!” The same reaction as before. 

“Thank you I know.” You said, flicking the hair off your shoulder. A devilish smile crept across your face as another prompt crossed your mind. “Say this one and I will believe you.” 

“Anything.” 

“Say I have a tiny penis.” 

He looked at you incredulously, but nonetheless began “I have a tiny pe- ah! Enough please believe me this hurts!” 

“Good to know~” you chuckled. “Alright George Washington, what are you doing here anyway? What are you?” You asked him. 

“I am a vampire. As for what I am doing here, that question is a bit more difficult to answer.” 

“Are you looking for prey? Just like that incubus?” 

“What? God. No. I don’t need to look for prey thank you very much. I am very much mated.” 

“Mated? But you’re hanging out in a human club?” 

“Something like that.” 

“Okay, start the bigger picture then if the smaller picture is hard. What is your name?” 

“Jeon Jungkook. A pleasure.” He extended his hand. 

“Y/N. It is steadily becoming a pleasure as well.” you shook his hand. “What brings you to this city, Jeon Jungkook?”

“I live here with my mates,” he replied. “Most of us work in the city, myself included. I sing.” 

“Oh wow!” you recoiled in surprise. “What do you sing? Do you perform?” 

“No, it's a little hard to be a public persona when your face is never changing, ya know? I do backup vocals and I am the voice behind a few recording artists, some big some small.” He shrugged.  

“Some big?” You asked. 

“I can’t really talk openly about it. I’ll tell you another time.” He added with a wink. 

“Fair enough.” You replied, taking another sip of whiskey. 

“I was right behind you, by the way.” 

“Hm?” You replied. 

“Maybe I should back up a little.” He started. “I’m here, in this human club tonight, because I was called to be. By whom or what I do not know, but I knew I needed to come in. I arrived shortly after you did, I think. You were already drinking at the bar, people-watching. I saw the magic too, and I saw what he was attempting to do to that poor woman. You and I stood up simultaneously.” 

“You want a congratulations for thinking about stopping a rapist?” You scoffed at him. 

“No. No, I am explaining myself poorly. I am trying to say I had your back. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You said, giving him a half cheers with your glass. 

“At first I thought that this is what I was called here for, to save you or to dispatch this creep, then I could fuck off home and be the hero. But then I saw how powerful you were. How readily the magic came to you, how you bent it to your will like you were folding paper. It was only then I came to understand, that I think I was called here to meet you. And I am extremely glad I was.” 

You glanced at his chest and then, at the pendant hanging on his chest. The light remained dark, and when you slid your gaze up to meet his, there was an intense sincerity there that made you blush and shy away. 

“I am not really sure I understand what it is exactly you are getting at.” You state looking down at the melting cubes in your whiskey. 

“I think I might, but I will need you to go with me on this one.”  --------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi-ya this one has been cooking in my brain for like 3 years so enjoy plz! I am just going to post parts one and two consecutively because fuck it they're finished and the Ritalin hit and so I WROTE. I'm working on Intertwined, I just had to get it straightened out from this story because of their similar themes but we good, let me cook. I will update the tags as WHAT each member of BTS and Y/N as it is revealed but for now, no spoilers eheheh. Put what you think they're going to be below!

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 1

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Keep reading

The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 2

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Keep reading

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

"you would die for her, for him."

"You're dying."

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

"At this rate, you won't have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn't have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I'm afraid there's not much to do." He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future's passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair's arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, "You're an idiot, y/n."

"Fucking stupid. How could you not- I mean- how could you not tell me? I'm your brother! We're family. Blood. We're supposed to- we're supposed to tell each other these things and you just fucking- you kept it to yourself all these months! Ten months! And now I'm sitting here being the one to tell you that you're dying? That you're leaving me? I would've done something. I would've helped you, I- I would've killed whoever this person you're in love with is. y/n, please- I just-"

You don't know why, but you felt exhausted.

The ringing in your ears is deafening. Truthfully, you hadn't heard a single thing the minute you received news that you'll be, well, passing away. Not to mention, within 30 days time.

It's not as if you didn't already know about your condition, of course you did. Coughing soft pink camellia flowers every time you see the man that's brought you here is not exactly something that just simply passes a blind eye. You sense it, you feel it, and it hurts.

It really, really hurts.

You also felt awful for your brother. You hadn't meant for it to go this far. You didn't mean to not tell him. You didn't want your assigned doctor to suddenly call in sick and have your brother temporarily take his place. You didn't mean for him to find out this way - such a twisted, horrible fucking way, but here you are.

"I'm sorry, Joon. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to go this far. I just-"

"Were you ever even going to tell me?" He cuts you off, voice low and steady, almost afraid of your coming response.

Your eyes locate his across the cramped room, and one could clearly tell that it's striving its hardest to fight against desperate tears.

"I- yes, Joon. I was. Of course I was. I was gonna do it after this check in actually, but I guess God wanted you to find out sooner than I intended, though He could've just waited a little while longer and it would've been fine." You joke whisperingly, the heavy weight of your heart lightening just a small bit when you notice the corners of his lips twitch and his eyes faintly soften.

Regrettably, that was a lie. You didn’t plan on telling him, not today at least. Maybe not even ever.

The softening air lasts for only a second as his following question makes you hold back the urge to cough up another camellia flower slowly blooming its way to your throat.

"Who is it?"

Genuine, concerned, curious. These were all that he was.

But noticing the way your body went entirely rigid at his words and the way your hand clutched your clothed chest in attempt to shut down what you know will happen next, Namjoon's brotherly instincts causes him to naturally make his way towards you softly, taking small and careful strides towards your fragile state.

And once he's finally reached you, he gets on his knees gently in order for him to be of nearing same height level as you're sitting down, his hands rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting manner.

He does this all before pulling the trigger.

"Who are you in love with, y/n?"

two years back

"Jimin!"

You call out your brother's best friend loudly, who is currently in the midst of doing a one-man stage play in front of the mirror, "Joon's saying you guys need to get going now. Says he has a patient in two hours and wants to go over all sorts of documents before treating her."

Turning around, you scan the living room and dining room for the keys of your friend's car as your brother also asked you to hand them to him since the two always end up on forgetting it until they've already reached the car parked across your apartment's block.

You hear Jimin shuffle behind you, "Really? He wants to go over documents at- 9 AM in the morning?"

Smiling at his attempts of complaint, you nod your head softly in order to play along and answer his rhetorical question, "He really needs to learn how to drive doesn't he? Since he's dragging you along everywhere he goes."

Jimin laughs at your statement, which being an opinion, your brother would argue, 'driving isn't a necessary aspect of life.' But who really thinks like that? Oh right, non-drivers.

“I guess he’s getting too caught up in learning medicine that he forgot to learn how to officially become an adult.” Reaching above the kitchen top, you finally found sight of Jimin's car keys.

How did it even get up there? You think to yourself. It's really high up, so Namjoon must've been the one to leave it as to where it is.

You groan slightly, "Joon, can you get over here! I found Chim's keys but it's too far up high so I can't reach it. Hell I don't even think he can reach this-"

You are cut off when you feel a hand sneak around your waist, making you flinch and suddenly spin cautiously.

Eyes widened. Lips parted. Breath hitched. You let out an inaudible gasp as you come to the realization that Jimin is now in front of you, head tilted with an amused smile on his face, "Excuse you? I can very much reach this." He says, all the while reaching up behind you, inchly leaning forward. At this point, your body is being pressed up against the kitchen counter and his oh-so-very toned front.

This small action is enough to instigate a flaming abyss inside of you as you very much attempt to calm your alarmed heart.

You can feel the cuts and lines of his abs against your chest as he is now standing on his tippy toes, desperately trying to reach the keys on the kitchen top. Anyone that could see his posture would call him adorable, but your body is currently being sandwiched and by all that is high and mighty your mind can't even really process a single thing. Wait, what were you thinking just now?

"See? Got it." Jimin falls back in place as he jiggles his car keys in front of your stone-cold face, smile wide as he giggles softly, "Piece of cake, y/n."

He then proceeds to move on with his life like he didn't just do what the fuck he just did.

Clearing your throat, you blink about a million times in order to gather your thoughts. Your heartbeat is racing faster than the speed of light and your lips have become as dry as a desert. If you had gone standing on your tippy toes just as he did, you would've been a baby hair away from lips touching. The thought is enough to make you grow weak.

Yet as if something inside of you is suddenly turned on, no pun intended, you remind yourself that these thoughts are wrong. You can't be having these apprehensions, they aren't right. Because not only is he your brother's best friend, he also has a-

"y/n?" Jimin's soft voice calls out your name.

Breaking out of your trance, you turn to see him sitting down on the dining table, head tilted downwards with a small smile on his face. The sun escapes your pastel curtains as it slips past the window sill, reasoning with the current ray of golden yellow that has found its home on Jimin’s plump cheek, shining on the left side of his luminous face.

It's absolutely senseless how he can look as beautiful as he does simply by existing, and it makes perfect sense that your finding yourself to liking him more and more.

Just look at him.

You are broken out of your enchanted daze once more as dreaded words leave his smiling lips, "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Only then were you brought back to your inadequate reality.

“W- what?” You attempt to speak, but you notice the way your voice has suddenly become noticeably hoarse.

Jimin looks up at you with a smile, the kind that has his eyes almost disappearing.

“Sung. I’m gonna ask her to marry me tonight.”

silence.

silence.

and more silence.

Like a coward, that was all what you could muster to respond with.

And only then did you notice the velvet box on his hands, upon which he is tenderly caressing. Only then did you recognize the questionable romantic script of his one-man stage just moments earlier. Only then did you realize that the reason behind his growing smile are because of her, not you. Not because of what had just taken place.

Only then did you remember that no, you can't be having these apprehensions - they aren't right.

Because not only is he your brother's best friend,

he also has a, now upcoming, fiancé.

present time

"I already loved him then, Joon."

By this time, your brother has stood up and begun pacing back and forth the modest office, murmurs of curses towards his friend escaping past his lips, "-that small son of a bitch."

Smiling softly, you look down in reminiscence of the moments you have spent falling for Jimin. "I guess I've always been infatuated with him ever since our first meeting, but my God Joonie," you pause, inhaling a short breath in attempt to stop tears threatening to spill. "-ever since that day, when he told me that he was going to propose to her, I finally realized that like was the wrong term to use. I realized that I loved him and I just- I lost sight of everything." You cry, small sobs coming from you as you blinkingly look up to try to contain the waters forming in your eyes.

It was true. That day, when he told you about his plans to ask her to marry him, you've never felt more indignant.

Of course you faked it at first, congratulated him and consoled him into truthfully believing that she will undoubtedly say yes. But the minute he and Namjoon left your apartment, you collapsed on your carpeted floors, sobbing loudly and hitting your chest repetitively all the while cursing yourself in your head for ever even considering the tiniest of possibilities that you and Jimin could ever happen.

You also went out that night, got drunk, found a guy, slept with him, and never looked back.

Sure, this may seem like a regular night out for many, but not being the type to kiss and sleep, sex meant a lot to you.

Nothing wrong with one night stands, that just wasn't your particular chosen lifestyle. But you were wasted. You were intoxicated. You didn't know what you were doing. Had you been sober, you wouldn't have done what you did, especially with the person you did it with. So when you woke up in the middle of the night naked in bed next to a familiar face and realized what you've done, you rushingly stood up, got dressed, and left, ignoring the calls of the man you had just been with.

You went straight home and washed yourself for hours, feeling dirty and sloppy and disgusting. You can easily recollect sitting down in the showers, head tucked underneath and in between your legs, sobbing and crying loudly as the steam surrounding you from the warm water kept on worsening.

You hated what you did, and you most definitely despised the reason for what you did, - to simply get over someone else. You felt guilty. You felt ashamed. What would Jimin think? You thought to yourself. And though that truly didn't really matter, the ache in your heart kept on making you believe otherwise.

You didn't notice how your tears have fallen and stained your newly-bought jeans until Namjoon's hands holding a napkin comes within your perception.

Mumbling a small 'sorry Joonie,' you accept his offer and wipe the tears still continuously streaming down your now reddened, warm, and puffy face. As you do this, you furthermore catch sight of your brother's shadow rubbing his face in frustration, matching the groans that you also hear release from him in the background. And without meaning so, you deflate in insecurity.

Hearing the sound of air being released from a pulling force, you look up to see that Namjoon has sat back down, his elbows resting on the desk while his chin rest on his hands. "Does he know about this, y/n?"

You sigh, "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" You hear him ask once more.

Closing your eyes and sniffing lightly, you inhale a steady breath as you answer him for the second time, "I don't know, Joon."

Namjoon looks at you, eyes full of worry and concern. You don't know?

You're his sister, and he loves you. He would do anything for you. If he could shower you with all the love that you lack from Jimin, he would. And he would do it in a heartbeat. But you're dying. You're leaving him. And he doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. So how could you not know? How could you sit here, in front of him, after keeping this shit for ten months to yourself, tell him that you just don't know?

He feels frustrated. Frustrated over the clearing fact that if you don't know the answer to that simple yes or no question, then how more could you know the answer to when he asks you to make the choice?

The choice - to love or to die.

A very careful, unprecedented surgery that has been performed by professionals only a few times, yet each one has been successful. This seems easy, yeah. A surgery to save your life? Of course you'll do it! But there's a reason as to why this has been done only by a certain small count.

To perform the surgery and live, the price is not the expense, but rather the loneliness that shall come as you spend the rest of your life void of emotions. The surgery doesn't get rid of love on its own, it gets rid of everything that comes with it - happiness, sadness, trust, pain, pretty much everything that one can possibly feel. The only emotion left is indifference, yet even indifference lacks its self-sustainability.

Who would want to live like that?

Who would want to live a life where you just simply exist and nothing more?

He knows that the day will come eventually - when he offers you the choice, the chance to save your life, and he knows it will come soon. But right now, he has chosen to prioritize being a brother over a doctor. Right now, the only thing in his mind is comforting you.

"Okay." Your brother nods, making your eyes widen slightly in shock.

Okay? No scolding? No 'how could you not know?!' older brother reprimands? But then you remember, oh yeah. You're dying. And who could possibly scold their dying little sister?

"I'm sorry Joonie-" You try to apologize once more before he cuts you off again.

"No, don't apologize, y/n. It's not like you could've possibly wanted for any of this to happen, yeah?" He offers you a smile, but you could easily see past its fabricated purpose, "But instead let me ask you this. And I need you, in our deceased parent's name, to be completely honest with me."

You only nod, completely submissive and understanding of his seriousness the moment that he mentioned your passed parents.

"What you just told me, when you first fell in love with him, that was two years ago." He starts, making you nod again in agreement.

"But you were diagnosed only ten months ago."

Your heart drops, and you don't nod again.

"The Hanahaki Disease is not something that gradually begins and comes to existence over the course of time. It is an illness that is triggered. It could be by a sudden forthcoming realization or proclamation of love, or by an event that triggers the heart to completely shut down in overwhelmth. Either way, basing on the timing of what you've said, you should've been diagnosed with the Hanahaki two years ago. But you weren't."

Namjoon eyes you questioningly, but not too much to the extent that you feel uncomfortable, only just enough to remind you of the importance of this conversation, "You were only diagnosed ten months ago, y/n. Why?"

You sit still, not wanting to move, as if your stone figure would somehow make him think that you're not real or that you're a simple figment of his messed up imagination.

"y/n, what happened ten months ago?"

He finishes his question and you swallow harshly only to realize that you're parched, your throat completely dry. You then tilt your head to steal a gaze at your brother, making you catch the way his eyes suddenly widened as if he just realized something of high importance. As if he had just realized the answer to his own question. And that didn't work with you.

Clearing your throat, you are about to answer him in order to cut off his thoughts until the door swings open and you feel your throat compact, - the coughs of a camellia flower slipping its way to visibility -because there he is,

the man of the hour.

"y/n." He noticeably breathes a sigh of relief before making his way to you, engulfing you in a giant embrace. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you had the Hanahaki? How could you not let me know? How long have you had it? Who is it? I swear I'm going to murder whoever this piece of shit is that he dared ever making yo-"

"Jimin this is a professional space between a doctor and his patient." The two of you pull away almost exactly the same time as soon as Namjoon speaks up, Jimin's eyebrows furrowing, "Get out."

"What?" Jimin barely gather the voice to ask him as he is completely caught off guard of his friend's erupting vulgar attitude.

"I said-" Namjoon speaks before getting caught off again.

"No trust me, I heard what you said. But what?" Jimin repeats himself, "So you're telling me you're not prioritizing being y/n's brother right now? You're still caught up in this Doctor Kim bullshit? Like you're a real one?"

"Jimin-" You attempt to budge in, sensing that a certain trouble may suddenly come knocking.

"No, y/n. Listen hyung-"

"No, YOU listen. You small piece of shit." Your brother raises his voice, "-don't come barging in here like you own the place or like you have any authority over her. She is MY sister and this is a family matter. So it's best you stay out of it and keep in your lane."

At this point, Namjoon is in front of Jimin, a short distance separating the two of them, "And don't you ever dare speak to me in that tone again. I know you're my friend, but remember to treat me with respect. Not only am I your superior, but I'm also your hyung." He finishes with a serious voice, tone low, and message deep. His earnest eyes piercing through his friend's pained ones.

Jimin, mouth slightly agape being at loss for words and clearly confused at his close friend's unreasonable anger, storms out of the room.

But not before he drags you along with him.

Namjoon is quick to act as he tries to reach for you, but you turn back and look at him pleadingly, signaling him that it's okay and to not worry. And him being the understanding brother that he is, pulls back and holds himself steady.

You can handle him. You’re a Kim. You’re strong.

Strong enough to survive through this.

You’ll be okay.

And as he watches the two of you leave, the door closing shut right in front of him, only then does reality hit Namjoon as his legs tremble abruptly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

Falling down the floor, he reaches onto the desk for assistance as he slides his back down the wooden wall, hands painfully fisted and finding its way to cover his mouth in order to muffle the choked-in sobs perilously escaping him. He proceeds to blink away the tears and bite harshly on his lips, trying to diminish the flourishing grievance in his heart.

His sister is dying, and he doesn't know what to do.

“Doctor Kim? The next patient is ready to see you.” A knocking nurse distracts him and calls out from behind the door, “-shall I send them in?”

Namjoon sniffs heavily and sighs deeply, rushingly grabbing his glasses and adjusting his emotionally wrecked state, “One moment!”

He lets out a soft, shaky breath and reminds himself once more that you’re a Kim.

You’re strong.

You can beat this.

It'll be alright.

You'll be okay.

"IM NOT OKAY JIMIN-SHI!" You voicely whine out to your friend who is currently dragging you along the halls of the hospital and out the technologically advanced glass doors, "What is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm aggressively from his grasp as you bend down, hands resting on your knees while you hastily try to catch your breath. The camellia flower stuck just along the chords of your throat making it very difficult.

Jimin stares at you worryingly, having forgotten of your illness, "O- oh no. y/n, I'm sorry I forgot I- are you okay? Should we go back?" He stutters in concern before you hold up one finger, signaling him to shut the hell up. "-sorry."

Looking at you like this, tired and exhausted from having to put up with all his bullshit, Jimin feels a sudden urge to reach out and embrace you tightly, almost forgetting of his previous encounter with your brother.

And so that's exactly what he does.

You are caught off guard the moment you feel a hand grab your shoulder by means of pulling you closer all the while another rests just at your crook of spine, and although this first makes you stumble in a not-so-very prettily way, your destination is found to be in your friend's embrace, his fragile yet protective arms wrapped around you securely.

Not letting this moment simply pass by, you let yourself melt in his arms as you find the comfort meant to be found in his comforting hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slightly stand on your tippy toes. Somehow, your simple action makes him pull you even closer, one hand creeping behind your neck all the while his other is completely wrapped around your waist although this time is tighter than before.

As the two of you stay like this in the middle of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, crowds of unfamiliar voices passing by you and ambulances ringing endlessly against your ear, you let yourself submerge within the passion of your heart.

Amidst the chaos and cries of your nearingly counted days, you find consolation in the arms of the same man that has put you in front of death's door, and quite frankly, you wouldn't really want it any other way. You'll take what is given by the heavens above when it comes to Jimin, because well- you love him.

Unfortunately, that quick and simple thought is enough to make you lose control of your reminded disease.

"y-y/n what's- are you okay?" Jimin pulls away from you abruptly as you break into coughing fits, pastel pink camellia blossoms escaping your trembling lips.

The sight has caught the attention of many civilians, but both you and Jimin remain to be indifferent about them as you or more or less are occupied with your illness all the while Jimin specifically aims his attention on you alone.

"Alright that's it, screw your brother alright?" Jimin exclaims a bit louder than what you're comfortable with as this obviously did not benefit with the proceedingly growing public focus on the two of you, "-we're going back, y/n, it's my fault for bringing you outside so suddenly-"

"No chim, please-" You roughly attempt to speak out, your throat painfully extracting the feeling of abrasiveness, "Please just- let's just go."

"y/n.."

“Please chim,” you cut him off for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, coughing, “-please. I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Hesistant yet concerned, Jimin nods slowly as he assists your side, his hands finding its home around your waist and lower back while you both take short and careful strides. You destination is still unknown, but you didn’t mind. A journey a day with someone you love has never turned out for the worse.

At least that's what you think.

"Really?" You roll your eyes as you notice the familiar lane that Jimin's car just entered, "I asked you to get me out of the hospital area, I didn't ask for a sleepover, Jimin." You jokingly accuse him, but you can't help the smile that makes its way on your puffed-up face as you notice him smoothly take a side-glance at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well I thought that with all that bad hospital air, you might've wanted to breathe in a familiar scent," Jimin responds as the car comes to a stop.

You turn slightly to open the door and step out before you here a meek, "Jankkanman!" and perceive a 5'9 in height blondie come running around the bonnet in order to open the car door for you as a gentleman would. It is such a sweet and casual pantomime, yet an ill-patient diagnosed with an illness of the heart can never bring you any wins. Consequently, his actions only causes your throat to feel strained and compacted for the endless time.

God, how much did you love this man that such a simple gesture makes you want to cough out countless of fully bloomed flowers?

You thank the heavens above for your past endless experiences that allowed you to now be better in terms of hiding your pain as you attempt to smile genuinely, mumbling a small "thank you" in the process before making your way inside his home.

"So," Jimin starts as the two of you plop down his couch, his eyes seeking for yours as he tilts his head ever so lightly, "what should we do today... now that you're out of that hell hole?"

"Chim!" You scold him lightly, "my brother and your best friend just happens to be working in that hell hole, just in case you forgot, and- hey! You work there too, you ass." You accusingly point at him all the while hitting his arm playfully.

Jimin is was a nurse in that hospital. Your brother is a doctor.

He laughs and smiles widely, "Nope. I don't work there anymore, remember? But I did for a while, which is why I can most definitely testify that that place is indeed, a hell hole. And by the way, I'm kind of offended that you pretty much forgot my lost profession just then, y/n, like what the fuck?" He jokes endingly.

Your eyes soften slightly as he mentions his lack of job, yet you still stubbornly choose to ignore his last remark. "Well I sure hope that's not the case since I'll be most likely spending my last days there."

Oops.

The silence that ensues goes inevitably noticed by the two of you the moment those words escaped past your lips, but you paid no mind. That was the reason that you asked him to take you away anyways. You weren't hoping for some cliche romantic bullshit where the two of you simply elope and forget your real worries in your life, no. Instead you were here with the main purpose of facing it.

Besides, even if you did want to leave with him, you couldn't. Remember?

Jimin is the first to break the excessive blockade, "Don't say that y/n."

You sigh, "But it's true, chim."

"I don't give a shit if it's true or not."

"Chim.." You are slightly startled with his sudden outburst, caught off guard in the way his voice slightly raised as his attention and body language are now completely directed at you, "Wha- why are you getting mad?"

Jimin scoffs, almost irritated at your oblivious question, "Why? Because you're talking of dying like it's not a big deal, y/n!" His voice getting louder and louder by every word he spits out, "God, you know you can be so fucking insensitive sometimes. What, did you already forget the shit I suffered when I lost someone? Did you already forget all the fucking shit I suffered when death took her from me?"

At the mention of her, you pause. Speechless. Guilty. Hurt.

Of course you remember. How could you not? You remember the darkest of days as like it was just yesterday.

You remember getting that call in the middle of the night from the contact name of your brother as you slightly answered it in an irritated voice, "Joon I swear to God if you're asking me to drive you to work in the middle of the fucking night I will personally drag your ass right now to get a driver's liscenc-"

"y/n?"

You remember immediately stopping as you recognize the voice that most certainly did not belong to your brother, "Chim?"

"y- y/n."

You remember the outbreak of his sobs as you call out to him, his sniffles and cries becoming more and more prominent as you stumble on your feet, struggling with keeping your phone against and in between your ear and your shoulder as you hurryingly take off to grab a jacket and your keys, "Chim what's wrong, where the hell are you? W- where's Joon?"

You remember the way your heart dropped as your worst fear came to mind, the thought of losing your brother itself being enough to make you wobble in your feet, your heart clenching. He had your brother's phone, and he was crying.

"N-no, he- he's fine, y/n. It's not him, hyung's... hyung's fine."

You remember the way he struggled to find the right words; the way he sniffled and stuttered through forming such a simple sentence all the while you on the other side of the line breathe out a sigh of relief at the information of your brother's wellness, yet feeling slightly guilty that your emotions are in contrast with your friend's.

"It's Sung."

You remember Jimin's worst.

"It's Sung, y/n. Sh- she got in an accident on the way here to visit me during my off hours and- fuck! Some fucking demon pulled a hit and run on her. She was walking, y/n. She walked an hour here and got ran over by someone and.. they're doing an operation on her- hyung's assisting and he just- it's bad. It was really bad and she was bleeding all fucking over and- hyung, he- he left his phone and I didn't know what to do so I just called you- I didn't, they pushed me out of the room, y/n. I need you here. Please, please. Please come here because I'm losing my fucking mind and I need you here."

You remember driving to the hospital as careful as you can with the fear of the possibility of an accident occurring still in the midst of the back of your mind.

You remember reaching the doors of the emergency room and being greeted with a pair of reddened and exhausted eyes that looked up the moment you walked in, "Jin."

He stands up to greet you politely but you stop him, obviously seeing that his reaction upon seeing you is no more than a forced delight, "Let's not do this under these circumstances, okay? You're allowed to feel unwelcoming. It's okay, Jin."

He does no more than mumble a small 'thank you' before going back to his previous spot with you trudging along beside him.

You remember feeling the sorrow of the man beside you as you watch him lean his head back against the wall, fragile streaks of tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. You couldn't imagine his pain, the pain of such a situation where your sister's life is at stake. You wanted to comfort him, to softly rub his back and whisper sweet encouragements against his ear, little white lies that his sister is guaranteed to make it without a doubt. But you couldn't. You weren't here for him, regardless of your history. Regardless of the way you left him the morning after your supposed mistake.

"Uhm, have you seen Jimin?"

You remember the way his void eyes find yours and the way his lips lightly upturn as he gives you a forced smirk, trying to keep up with his image of being Kim Seokjin, Kim Sungkyung's handsome and cocky older brother, "And here I was thinking fate brought you here to me, y/n." He trails off, "-considering how you fucked me then dipped."

You gasp slightly and playfully hit his arm at the blunt mention of your regretted one night stand as you give him a small yet genuine smile, partly glad yet at the same time worried that he can make such remarks during a situation like this.

It was strange really, how everything in your life seemed to be connected. How on the day you felt your heart tore apart the time Jimin first mentioned his planned proposal, you went out and accidentally slept with the soon-to-be-bride's older brother.

Letting out a small sigh, Jin nods his head in the direction of a different waiting room, "He left when I came. Guess he was embarrassed of how fucked up he was but hey- I'm not doing any fucking better am I?" He tells you, subtly pointing at the very visible streaks of tears still falling down his now puffy face.

You get on your feet and turn to leave but not before giving one last glance at the man next to you, a hand softly reaching to rub his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jin. I wish I could stay, but-"

"It's okay, y/n. Go." Jin encourages you with a small yet noticeably forced smile, "He needs you."

And so you do, bidding him a soft goodbye before taking off, your eyes beginning to water out of the guilt of leaving a friend in that state.

You then remember being suffocated. Suffocated from the embrace that greeted you the moment Jimin entered your peripheral vision. You remember landing on your behind with a harsh thud from the struggle of Jimin's weight as he continues to seek your embrace for means of comfort, the two of you falling down the floor. You remember getting drenched from Jimin's tears as you cradle him as would a wailing child, rocking him back and forth all the while softly rubbing his back, whispering every bit of amenity that could make him feel better.

You remember feeling your heart physically ache as you fail to notice the tears that have fallen down your own eyes, blurring your sight.

To see Jimin in this state, so broken and hurt and scared, it tore you apart. You wanted him happy. You wanted him smiling. You wanted him. You loved him. And God forbid that you're admitting this in your own mind while his fiance is battling for her own life, but fuck.

You wanted nothing more than to lay down your own life for Sung so that she could continue in existence for him.

If you could, you would take here place.

You would die for her, for him.

You remember pushing back your thoughts as you put focusing on Jimin your first priority. You remember keeping him in a neverending tight embrace as he neverendingly sobs against your chest, his lips leaving prayers you could barely yet still tried to understand;

please don't let her die

don't take her away from me

i love her too much

i still have to marry her.

You then remember hearing a wail of anguish, putting a pause to both Jimin's silent pleas and your eavesdropping as the both of your heads turn to pinpoint from whom the noise came from.

You remember the way Jimin stilled.

"No."

You remember his whisper of such a small, two-lettered word, yet somehow it caused your heart to crumble.

"No no no no-"

You remember having to tackle Jimin slightly as he causes a mess of himself, punching the seats and harshly tugging on his hair all the while screaming wails of pain and suffering, "Jimin please-"

"No- get the fuck off of me! Sung?!"

You remember how Jimin lost sight of reality as he pushes you off of him, your body making in contact with the cold tiled ground.

"SUNG? SUNG! LET ME INSIDE-"

You remember seeing nurses and other staff pull the man you love back as he causes a scene, starting to become physical and violent with the people surrounding him, "PLEASE! Please- I just- I NEED TO SEE HER! SHES MY FIANCE-"

You remember seeing a man dressed in blue make his way near Jimin, a needle in his hand.

"H-hey, no!" You remember trying to catch up to the nurse, attempting to prevent them from giving whatever the shot was to Jimin, "Stop! Please-"

"y/n. D-don't."

You remember feeling a hand on your shoulder which makes you turn around instantly, only to find the culprit behind the anguished scream just moments prior Jimin's outburst.

"Jin." You start, "-they're going to sedate him. That- that's not okay."

"They have to, y/n." Another voice calls out from behind Jin, "I know how it seems and I don't like it either, b-but he's becoming violent. They have to sedate him."

"Joon." You whisper softly.

What a sick and twisted game that life is playing on you, that your brother, Jimin's best friend, Jimin's best man at the wedding being planned, is the one to give news of the bride's passing.

"Sung, is she really.." You trail off, not having the heart to finish your sentence.

It seems neither does he, as he responds with nothing but a simple avoidance of eye contact.

"HYUNG!"

You remember Jimin's faint and tired yet still firm voice as he calls out your brother, "Hyung, you saved her didn't you? You- you were part of the surgery. You saved her didn't you? Didn't you!?" Jimin is weak as he trails off his words as the effect of the syringe takes its course, but that doesn't stop him from reaching out to the three of you, "H-hyung. Tell me you saved her. P-please tell me you saved h-her."

Namjoon doesn't stop the tear that rolls down his hardened face as he only shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Jimin. We did our best. We really, really did. I'm so sorry-"

You remember the way Namjoon's voice trails off your hearing as your throat suddenly feels contracted. You remember the itching pain just within your chest as you find the struggle to breath, your hand clutching it harshly. You remember stumbling back just a little bit as you feel lightheaded, thinking that these were only from the overwhelming happenings in that moment.

But then you cough.

And you cough

and you cough

and you cough.

But no one notices you.

Not even yourself.

Your attention remains still at Jimin, who has now dropped completely to the floor, tears still continuously spilling out of his drowsy eyes. Short breaths are released from his trembling lips as he mumbles words that none of you can understand. He then begins to seemingly reach out for something, someone.

"P-please," He whispers.

And as you bend down almost immediately to attend to his calls, you cough.

And you cough

and you cough.

And still no one notices.

No one except him.

You cough as your eyes find his, barely open yet staring right at you from the lows of the floor.

You remember having to excuse yourself and run to the nearest restroom you can find, legs trembling and stumbling on your way there as you push against the winds of the almost empty halls, still coughing with every step you take. And just as you reach the doors of the restroom, you turn back slightly, just enough to catch Jimin's last sight while his body is being carried away to where you guess is a vacant patient's room, all this before his eyes ultimately close.

Eyes you found lastly staring at you.

You remember finally shutting the door and locking it, thanking God silently that you're in a family restroom hence there is no one else inside. You cough desperately, your throat beginning to feel exclusively sore and your lungs beginning to tighten from all the air being released as you cough and cough and cough again.

You reach out to the sink, gripping tightly onto the white metals as you cough and cough and cough again.

You then brushingly turn to the toilet, your eyes watering and lips numbing as you cough and you cough and you cough once more.

You practically clean the whole restroom, as disgusting as that sounds, from all the moving you made as you coughed anywhere and everywhere. You felt awful for the next person to come inside, now that your bacterium were practically in its every corner, side, and space. You cough again, this time harder, the worst one out of the previous.

You remember sensing a certain feeling rise up, something soft yet itchy, something light yet heavy.

And so you cough, and you cough, and you cough, and you cough,

and you bleed.

And amongst the red is a pink.

A single, individual pink petal from what you would soon find out is a camellia flower - the flower that is soon to be the latter symbolization of death chasing you, growing closer, inching nearer, just about to knock on your door.

So of course you remember Jimin's distraught. Of course you remember Sung's - his fiance's death.

Because her death was too, the ultimate beginning of yours.

taglist for part 2?

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again. 

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, namjoon is the sweetest brother omg, unrequited love, swearing, pining, longing, fictional added terms and effects of the hanahaki disease, really sad reader, really sad characters, and lots of angst.

word count: (read author's note)

reminder: this is a sequel. please read part one here; however, this also could serve as a stand-alone, but I would advise you read the first part as well for the full experience.

a/n: i was mauling for a long long long time over whether i should do three parts at most or just keep this one really lengthy, and since i was afraid of losing track if i chose to cut it in parts again, i just decided to make this one quite a bit long. sorry!

"let me try to love you back to life."

"Is that what you think?"

You remember the long pause before your response, a deafening silence amidst the growing tense and suffocating air that evening as you spoke.

You had known then that Jimin regretted what he said the moment he did, but it was too late. He’s already said it, and he’s hurt you.

Jimin looks at you with ache as you stare accordingly at the blank wall, noticing the way your eyes have begun to well up in tears as the familiar feeling of tightness succumbs your throat, light feathers of pink flowers forcefully being swallowed down, "Do you think that I don't remember? That I simply don't care? That I'm just on the fence playing peek-a-boo with death on my door?"

Focusing on you with a heart contrite, Jimin places his bottom lip in between his teeth, eyes meshed together amongst sorrow as he swallows in shame, feeling completely guilty at his preceding words.

"y/n I-"

You then laugh ironically, halting him to a stop.

"Forgive me, Jimin."

Your throat is furthermore burning by each passing second as you direct your gaze at the cause of your painful love, "Forgive me if I prefer to want to spend my last days in peace with the acceptance of my crushing fate. Forgive me for not wanting to die on my death bed sulking and cursing the universe and God and myself and whatever I can for this unfair hanafuckinghaki sickness. Forgive me-"

You uttered every word that night with a sense of despise, a sense of spite, each one a striking arrow shot directly at Jimin's heart.

"-if I choose to pretend to be happy and to be okay for my brother and for your sake." You spit out, last words purposely said with more effect.

Taking a few steps closer towards him, you point your finger accusingly against his chest as your tears willingly fall, lips slightly quivering as your anger all the more increases the moment you two lock eyes.

Your breath is caught at the back of your throat as you look up, finding yourself standing in the very front of Jimin's presence.

You swallow harshly, height difference being of no use as your red eyes focusedly trained on his same ones tower over him, both pairs seemingy battling for agony, "But don't you stand there and accuse me of being indifferent- fucking indifferent of all fucking things towards Sung's death. She was my friend before yours, and losing her hurt just as much as anything else."

You remember crying out, not finding an interest on holding in neither your sobs nor your coughs any longer as you did so right at his face, further recalling how you felt not even an ounce of guilt whatsoever as you purposefully reminded him of your current illness in hopes of making him feel worse.

“y/n please...” Jimin barely utters out, almost visibly fading from the way you raise your voice further in his attempts of cutting you off.

"Don't. Don’t you dare accuse me of ever forgetting that night, because as far as I remember, I was the one who kept inside the pain of losing someone close. I was the one who held you when you cried, consoling you to an unbearable extent that I forgot to console myself." Still looking at him in the eyes, you speak out words of regret as you proceed to cough lightly, the pain inside you endlessly growing that you insisted on passing it to someone else.

One word after another, you could remember physically witnessing the pain in Jimin's eyes.

The way his eyebrows were furrowed together and the glistening streaks that ran along his red cheeks were an evident proof of your success in wounding him, but you didn't care. You told yourself you didn't care. You lied to yourself in saying you didn’t care.

No. You didn't care.

For once, you could still sense that rushing feeling of wanting to lessen the burden of falling in love with Jimin. For once, you wanted to make him feel the pain you've kept inside you for the past two years. For once- for once you wanted to be the cause of his pain, not the other way around.

But that once lasted only as is, just once.

The moment you speak those words against him, your heart begins to ache all the more, the dreaded feeling of guilt and shame and love and pain all united together in rising above your limit as you abruptly collapse onto his arms, growing weak and coughing brutally as the camellias say hello to its desired lover.

You eyes begin to desperately search his as you cling onto him, head proceedingly buried against his chest all the while sobbing uncontrollably, apologies escaping past your visibly whimpering lips, “I-I'm sorry, Chim. I didnt- I don't blame you, I'm so sorry-"

You remember seeing Jimin, just seconds ago having been distraught and practically falling apart from your direct words, somehow manage to gather himself as he stands his ground, still and determined on holding you securely.

His arms are wrapped around you in a protective yet delicate manner, eyes trained worriedly on your fragile state all the while patting your back, tenderly comforting you, “Shh- shh. It’s okay, y/n. Just breathe. Focus on your breathing, that’s right.”

Your breathing has gone erratic, lifting your head a tad bit in order to look at him as you reminisce that night, when you were the one holding him as he cried. "I'm so sorry, Chim."

You remember the first few of your countless apologies which Jimin nevertheminds, holding no other concern than that of which is your state of well-being.

"It's okay, okay? We're okay. Now c'mon, walk with me to the sofa. You can do that right? On three. One, two three..”

Minutes feel like hours as you recall the way Jimin assisted you for a time on end, treating you as though you were a rare delicacy with his manner of tenderness, softness, soft whispers against your ear and soft touches along your spine as he helps you find your amity once more.

Unaware that he is just that — your amity, your armistice.

Sat on the sofa, you continue on controlling your breathing as you inhale in and exhale out, Jimin's voice supple and light by the side of your earlobe as words of encouragement slip past his lips, still slightly red and swollen from his previous cries.

You could practically feel his breath against your ear with the sheer distance between the two of you, the noticeable intimacy of both your positions making you shudder and shut your eyes in an attempt of preserving in place another series of newly blooming flowers.

Standing up abruptly, you look at anywhere but Jimin as you scan your surroundings, all before making a clear statement.

Hesitantly, you whisper, "I think I should go."

Jimin's eyes haltingly falters, confusion capitulating his entire expression before attempting to reach out to you, "So soon? I think you should stay y/n-"

"Why?" You intervene motionlessly.

Caught aback with the benevolence and lack of sentiment in your voice, Jimin unrequitedly stutters as he responds, "Because y-your condition is still not well and I-"

"My brother is a doctor, Chim. I'll ask him to stay with me."

"-I just think it'll be better for you to stay here for a while and rest-"

"Better for me?" You begin, once more keeping his words short, "Or better for you?"

You remember Jimin's widened eyes, clearly not expecting you to say what you did.

"I.." Jimin thinks before continuing, hands grazing yours just as he speaks, "I just want you here. I need you here."

At his words, you remember recalling that exact phrase spoken to you the night Sung died, just when he caught himself falling apart and firstly reached out to you.

You remember the way he stared at you with a sense of longing, a sense of yearning, deeply wanting to convey an emotion you don't- you refuse to understand.

Because you recognizes the love held not only on his eyes, but on his touch, on his lips,

making you want to kiss him, hold him, touch him.

God, you just want to love him.

“Jimin..” Your voice feels light against his face, whispers eluding past your lips as your breath leaves a wisp along Jimin’s plump cheeks, stroking the slightly pink and flushed skin from the sadness it’s undergone not too long ago.

His eyes beam longingly at you, conveying messages that seem foreign to your understanding as your heart palpitates unevenly against his grasp. But it was enough to block your mind, it was enough to drive you wild, it was enough for you to completely lose all sense and thought-process, your brain not reciprocating anything other than what the heart is yearning for.

Him.

And lastly, you remember not being able to hold yourself back as you bring to life the buried words you have kept underground for the longest time.

Your eyes trained directly at his averts down to his lips, the camellias no more blooming as it succumbs to desire, craving no more than to offer him the love you have saved in secret for the past twenty four months, "I love you, Jimin."

Lowly pronounced words as you gaze at him, breath still and steadily fanning the smile slowly forming on his lips.

"I love you too, y/n. You're my best friend."

You remember your conflict, the feeling of pure loss and distraught overtaking you as you remain still. There you were, being loved by him completely, yet it is a love that seemingly leaves you feeling incomplete. Feeling unwhole and broken, feeling void and sunken.

You remember hearing your heart physically crack as you perceive his words, your sight lingering on his own, mockingly filled with a kind of love that you didn't want.

A love that you, quite literally, didn't need.

As soon as you hear what he’s chosen to disclose, you crack an unwilling fictitious smile on your lips just seconds before a hand covers it, your body limpingly maneuvering against Jimin’s hold as you feel your throat contract once more, catching his undivided attention.

Eyebrows furrowed, Jimin calls out in confusion, “y/-”

You remember the endless coughs that had suddenly broke out of you, the worst of what is offered from the Hanahaki being at present time the moment his lips offer a chaffing smile, his concern and sincerity being your death unbeknownst to him.

Coughing vigorously, you push Jimin aside as the overwhelming feeling of sorness and torment leads you to spurt out tears by the corners of your eyes, pushing you to whimper out cryingly. Your back is turned from the origin of your agony as he calls out your name, a voice so quiet yet loud against your hearing, emotionally wounding you as you cry out in pain.

"-y/n..?"

Because you remember a one petal.

And then two, then three,

and you remember blood.

Not wanting to let him see you in such a state that shall most definitely force him to fully understand the meaning of your supposed ‘love’ for him, you run out of his home, opening the door and not bothering to shut it close as you hurryingly exit out.

You ignore all of his calls and pleas as you run

and you run

and you run

and you run

and you cough, thanking the heavens silently as you locate a bus stopped after passing a few blocks.

“y/n wait! Please!-”

You step inside the transportation with no intention of looking back, forcing yourself to cancel out the calls of Jimin's voice, muffled from the reaches of the outside bus doors. A voice that's calling you. A voice that you most definitely would run to if given the opportunity, a chance that excludes coughing and hurting and crying

-and dying.

Ignoring the whispers and talks of the three other passengers inside the vehicle, you avert you tearful sight from and to the driver's concerned gaze as you send a small forced smile his way, meekly stating,

"I don't have any cash on me, but I'm dying in 30 days. You'll let me ride, won't you sir?"

You remember that eventful day, exactly five days ago, one hundred and twenty hours since you had avoided any association with Jimin.

He's contacted you endlessly, knocked on your door several times and even stayed outside your apartment overnight during one weekend, and each time you had luckily spent it over at your brother's. The times he went there though, you were gone and so was Namjoon, leaving him calling out to your brother’s empty studio apartment.

Five days without fits of vicious coughing, yet five days without him.

Is that the sacrifice you have to make to be healthy?

Then, would that be the sacrifice you'd have to make to live?

"Jimin called me."

"AH- Kamchakya!" Your thoughts are finally cut off as you jump at the sound of both your brother's voice and the slam of the door. Stumbling backwards, you barely get the chance to hold your balance as your hand clutches your clothed chest, visibly startled at your brother's sudden presence.

Namjoon had entered your apartment nonchalantly as he shut the door close behind him with no more than a small smack, yet his strength effects the opposite of what is intended.

Eyes widened, you attempt to catch your loss of breath before bending down completely, hands now placed on both knees, "Joon what the hell?! You couldn't have knocked?" Turning aside, you conquest onto throwing the first thing you could find at the genius which he opposingly catches without a beat, throwing the tablecloth right back at you easily as he takes small steps forward, mumbling a small apology afore repeating his previous words, "Sorry. Jimin called me. For the tenth time in five days, may I add."

Rolling your eyes at his bluntness, you contrastingly fail to catch what you once threw as you walk a couple steps back, grabbing the now dirty item and attempting to hide the way your chest tightened by the mere mention of Jimin's name.

"Jimin called you. Congratulations. Would you like an award, big foot?" You joke accordingly.

Now stood up in the kitchen, Namjoon leads on to making himself at home through the means of providing himself something to eat, attempting to hide a small smile dragging its way onto his face out of gladness in finding that his little sister is not letting some pathetic disease affect her overall personality.

"Big foot? That's a new one." Reaching for the bread and peanut-butter, he calmly makes himself a sandwich, as that is the only food he can prepare without failure, all the while strategically conversing in a serious talk with you, "But don't play dumb with me, y/n. You know Jimin and I aren't on good terms right now. Since..." Namjoon trails off, wanting to obviously avoid the topic of your illness.

You sigh, chest heaving as this doesn't go unnoticed by you, of course. Yet not wanting to go down that path in the early morning either, you choose to passively ignore the way he quickly averted his eyes away from you and let him continue.

Clearing his throat surreptitiously, Namjoon proceeds to act indifferent towards the newly formed tension, "-anyway, he and I aren't okay yet but he's still called me for the tenth time, and I finally answered. You're telling me you aren't even a tiny bit curious on what Jimin and I spoke about?"

You've now sat yourself on the kitchen counter, careful not to hit your head on the overtops as you habitually clean up the mess your older brother had habitually started on creating, "I'm not curious, Joonie, because I don't need to ask."

"Mhm, is that so?" Namjoon turns around to look at you, his head somewhat tilted sideways as he proceeds to happily munch away his sloppy and disgusting-looking meal, "You already know what he said then?"

Neatly putting away all the ingredients of which your brother has taken out, you begin to shift in your spot as you look down at your now wobbling feet which you noticed have too begun to unconsciously shift and play with one-another.

You respond hesitantly, letting out another sigh, "Probably asking how I'm doing? Telling you to say sorry to me for him? A bunch of sappy stuff, I bet. He didn't even do anything wrong."

Smiling every so slightly, Namjoon nods his head meekly as he makes his way to the fridge in order to grab some water, throwing his sandwich in the trash bin in the process, "Yeah.." he pauses before chuckling softly, "-that's our Jimin.. Holy shit that sandwich was fucking disgusting by the way. Aish-" He curses before pouring some of the cool liquid on a glass and desperately chugging it down, tears forming around his eyes as he scoffs in distaste.

Confused and surprised, you check to see the bread if its begun to form any mold, which you find none.

"Huh, I wonder why. The bread is good." You say just before stepping off of the counter carefully, "-can't believe you managed to fuck up a sandwich, Joon. You really do suck at cooking, don't you? Well I guess, food in general." You addingly joke, which Namjoon, in contrast, takes complete and total offense to.

Yet just as he is about to bark back at you with a Nobel Prize winning poetic insult, you unintentionally proceed, therefore cutting him off.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to leave you the recipes of your favorites before I leave, okay?"

Smiling at him innocently, you find no flaw in your choice of words, making your brother's heart ache without warning as you look up at him with a tilted head.

"I know how much you love my cooking anyway, no matter how many times you claim that you don't." You laugh lightheartedly, "I might forget though, since I forget everything- but hey, Jimin cooks a little bit too, so just go to him whenever you miss my cooking, yeah? I know you guys fight a lot but please try not to once I'm g- mph!"

Pausing, your voice is unexpectedly muffled as your lips come in sudden contact with your brother's shoulder, completely quieting you down.

Taking a moment to fully comprehend such an unforeseen situation, it wins a small while for you to come to notice that he has completely submerged yourself in a tight embrace, both arms wrapped around your waist as his chin is placed right on top of your head.

You didn't know how to react.

It is without a doubt that you and Namjoon are close, don't get this wrong. And furthermore are there the endless comforting shoulder rubs and thoughtful words of advice from time to time, but a hug? A hug is usually where the two of you draw the line, both finding an unspoken mutual perspective on personal space.

So to find yourself in his position, with both your hands up in the air by the side of his waists as you remain frozen from the abrupt fright, you remain still, the only thought being in your head is how the last time that the two of you practically hugged this long was back from your parents' passing.

That being thirteen years ago.

Namjoon, on the other hand, does not give a flying fuck as he feels nothing but yearn for you. Your previous words has caused something inside of him to trigger and suddenly feel a certain lack of your warmth and existence, which he hates.

Don't worry, I'll make sure to leave you the recipes of your favorites before I leave, okay?

That's exactly what you had just said.

-please try not to once I'm gone.

You would have added.

His mind is in disarray, his medicinal IQ of 148 fading into an 8 as his thoughts are gathered in shambles, trying so desperately to rid of the now forming vision of a future without your not-so-bad-but-not-good-either cooking, a future without your Namjoon please get a liscense nagging, a future without your unbearable teasing, a future without-

a future without you.

How could he wake up to a future that's missing his little sister?

Namjoon is an orphan now. You both have been for thirteen years. The orphaned doctor, he would sometimes call himself.

And thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor swore as he looked upon his parents' opened casket for the last time that he will never abandon his sister. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor cried as he smiled against the clear plastic on his dead mother's pale box, swearing under oath that he could never let an accident take his sister away too. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor choked back tears as his hands leave prints against the plastic of his father's case, promising to keep the strength he trusts his dad would have asked of him to endure. Thirteen years ago, this orphaned doctor painfully smiled as he kneeled down and looked at you, your black gloves of mourning beginning to dampen as stains become visible from your attempts of wiping away your brother’s tears.

Thirteen years ago, Namjoon mentally vowed in his deceased father and mother's name to always prioritize you first, determined in a future of being his little sister’s hero as he lastly placed a bouquet of soft pink camellia flowers on top of his parents' shared grave, squeezing your smaller hand intertwined with his.

Thirteen years ago, he was only thirteen, yet he had been the father and the mother and the brother his eight-year old sister needed.

Namjoon didn’t realize when he started crying.

At this point, the both of you are now on the floor, the age difference having been confusing as you are the one cradling you older brother tenderly.

Your once frozen hands are now soft and delicately wrapped around his back, rubbing in circular motions as you mouth words of comfort against his ear. Dampness could be felt on your shoulder down to your chest as your brother maneuvers while sobbing silently, head now seemingly permanent on the base of your neck.

Does being sick always come with scenes like this? You think to yourself.

"Shh, Joon. C'mon it's okay. Shh, it's alright," You coo softly, your own tears subsiding as you don't care of much other than your brother's current distress, "Joonie, c'mon. Seeing you like this is breaking my heart."

Okay scratch that, your tears aren't subsiding, they're sliding.

"Joonie..." You whisper softly yet desperately, wanting nothing more than to console your brother ever so leniently, "-please stop crying."

Suddenly, you feel Namjoon halt as he abruptly pushes away from you at an arms length, hands holding both sides of your shoulder as his reddened eyes direct yours before making the suggestion,

"Get the surgery."

Truly, that was not the right time to bring up the surgery, of this Namjoon is certain.

And to be honest, he doesn't even have a clue whether there is a right time to bring up the surgery. But he's become overwhelmed and desperate, wanting nothing more than to guarantee your life be saved. So although the timing doesn't match, he allows the situation to happen and chooses to not take back his previous words, instead facing whatever you decide to let on. Fate shall take its course.

Caught aback, you look at your brother bewilderedly, "What?"

"Get the surgery, y/n." He sniffingly repeats, nose still red and mouth still dry from his previous and still cooling breakdown.

"What are you talking about, Joon?” You smile slightly, eyebrows knitted and confused. “What surgery?"

"y/n," Namjoon begins, voice short and desperate, "I told you about this, didn't I? I was training for medicine a few years ago, yeah? I was an intern volunteering. My superior's patient had the disease, th- the Hanahaki disease, right?" Namjoon speaks relentlessly as he becomes breathless, looking slightly crazy as he rambles over a particular memory which you have no recollection of discussing with him.

"His name was Jung Hoseok, one of the first ten Hanahaki surgery recipients. He survived, y/n. The surgery was a complete success. He's alive even to now and I also still have his contact saved in my phone. Look-"

"Wait wait wait," You shake your head, hands coming to stop his phone-reaching hands all the while trying to process the vast information suddenly provided, "-the Hanahaki surgery? The surgery you did a Science project on that I helped you with during your senior high school year? F-flower Chowder? The Flower Power?" You finish, grinning at the newly found memory yet just moments before frowning entirely,

"Joon, you're telling me to get the Flower Power?"

Namjoon inhales a short intake of breath as he looks down and shuts his eyes, dreading the soon-to-be-happening conversation, "I know this seems crazy but-"

"Yeah no shit, it's crazy."

"Just hear me out oka-"

"This is really bat-shit off the walls crazy, Kim Namjoon!"

"-it's medicine, y/n. It's not really crazy-"

"medicine. my. ass."

"-it's been successful each time it was performed, and-"

"Joon just stop it!"

"-it's the only way to save your damn life!"

With wide eyes you blankingly stare at him, scoffing in disbelief at his sudden raise of voice, "Save my life? Then what? I go to live like a fucking robot for all eternity? Lose all my emotions and live as some kind of cyborg? We aren't in a fucking sci-fi movie, Joon!"

Processing your words, Namjoon does understand your point; but he's become helpless, the helplessness making him reckless, the recklessness making him desperate, and the desperation leaving no room for understanding your point, "A robot is still alive, y/n."

All in all, a reckless mess.

"A robot is still al- what?! Joon, are you hearing yourself?" You speak incredulously.

No, truth to be told, Namjoon is not hearing himself.

"I don't know what you think this, but I am not about to turn into some kind of sim with no feelings. Both you and I know that I would rather die as I live than live as I exist to be nothing more than just that, existing." You speak threateningly, "Don't you ever make me go through that, Joon. Not even as a last resort and not even when I'm not awake anymore to defend my point."

Holding up your right pinky finger, you raise your eyebrows, staring at him expectantly, "Promise me."

Namjoon glances down at your raised finger, jaw clenched and gaze hesitant. Yet just as he proceeds to reach forward in order to seal the deal, he speaks one last time, defeated, "And what if it is the last resort, y/n?"

You look at him, eyes downcast as you begin to subconsciously lower your hand as he continues, "What if you're moments away from leaving me? What do I do? Do I just let you die? Do you really expect me to just let you die even wh- when there's an option to take where you can live?" Namjoon is breathless as he speaks, voice desperate in convincing you.

Sighing, you lower your head slightly, "Joon, I already told you that I'm okay. I'm ready. I've accepted it-"

"But I haven't." Namjoon cuts you off, his words serving a stab at your heart.

"I haven't accepted it. I won't accept it." He takes hold of both your hands, lowering his height so that the two of you are on same eye level afore smiling sadly, "I've lost both our parents, y/n. I've accepted that. I've lived with that. But you can't ask me to accept losing you either because I don't think I'll be able to keep myself sane without you around. I need you, y/n. You're my sister, my anchor, God, you're my lifeline. You've kept me going for these past thirteen years, and I love you. I love you so so so so much, nae yeodongsaeng." He finishes, your heart crumbling at the sight of his flooding eyes.

"And I'm sorry if this is somewhat unfair to you, but please." Namjoons cries out, voice barely above a whisper as he sheds diring tears, "-please choose to try. Choose to try to live.

-If not for you, please do it for me."

"Fuck you Namjoon." You curse mutteringly, voice low and steady as you stand in front of Jimin's door for the past ten minutes.

You twist and turn like a little child as you curse mentally, feeling dread throughout your entire physicality and not at all wanting to continue with your plan. Nonetheless, you remind yourself of your brother's desperation and of your reasons for doing this.

For your brother, you cheer on.

"Okay. Okay! I can do this." You jump up and down, feet bouncing lightly against the hard ground, repeating the same phrase over and over again, "I can do this."

Turning to knock, your mind then suddenly flushes with dread as you subconsciously retreat back to your car, hands waving frantically around, "I can't do this."

"y/n?"

You freeze.

Fuck.

Hands still amidst the air, you stay still, unbelieving of the situation.

"y/n? What are you- is that you? Am I seeing shit right now?" He mumbles the last words to himself, which he silently thanks goes unbeknownst to you as you stay frozen, feet glued onto the ground and heart beating out of your chest at the familiar sound of his voice.

Hesitating, you muster up the determination to slowly turn around.

Your throat tightens once more all the while your heart contrastingly does backflips as you physically see him for the first time since five days and-or one hundred and twenty hours and-or a very painful long time for someone who's in love with someone.

"Hey, Chim." You meekly call out, trying to hide the anxiety creeping in within you.

Jimin, still processing your presence after countless failure of trying to see you, steps forward lightly, eyebrows furrowed as he evidently attempts to figure out the right words to say, "Hey."

"Hey." You wince as you attempt a grin.

Jimin's lips form a tight smile, "Hey."

.

.

.

Shit, this is so awkward.

The thought enters the both of your minds as a seemingly unprecedented tumbleweed passes by.

Clearing your throat, you notice the way Jimin looks down at his fiddling thumbs and curious little pinkies as you speak out once more, trying to ease the visible tension, "So are you going to invite me in or what?" You laugh breathily, chest heaving up and down in desperation of holding in those God-awful petals.

Jimin looks up at you with wide eyes, breathing a sigh of relief as he nods his head repeatedly, "Right- right! Yeah come in. This is your home too, you know." He speaks as he holds out his keys and turn to unlock his door, not noticing the way you've weakened among with the just fallen petal that silently wisped past your lips.

This is your home too, you know.

It's insane how such light words could make a person feel so lost and contracted.

Seven simple words that were spoken without a thought have you in a dazed mentality, hand tighteningly gripping your clothed heart before faking a positive expression as he turns around to face you.

"You can head inside first." Jimin shows that beautiful smile, moving aside as he lays his hand out in the direction of his now opened abode.

You only nod in return as you waste no time in entering, mumbling a small 'thanks chim' as you pass by.

He then follows soon after, set and determined on making you feel at home as he steps forward.

Yet a sight goes inevitable as your head spins around a moment barely passing as you enter his home, catching the vision of Jimin accidentally stepping on the camellia flower, the fragment that symbolizes your unrequited love, your pain, which lay on the timid ground, cracking it in half.

It seems the universe really is telling you something.

You ponder to yourself as you gaze wanderingly, the now torn petal not leaving your sight.

Smiling ironically, the formidable occurence somehow boosts your acceptance of the situation at hand as you make your way to the sofa, speaking aloud even more so formidable words, "We need to talk, Jimin."

Just moments before sitting down, Jimin remains still, eyes glazing at you directly for a second before gathering himself and proceeding to act indifferent, "Of course."

Jimin. He thinks.

Not chim, Jimin.

"Jimin I-"

"No please-" Jimin cuts you off as you begin to speak, "Please let me say first what I've been keeping inside for this past week of being avoided by you."

You didn't know whether you were supposed to take offense or not, yet nonetheless you decide

"-just wanted to let you know that I'm getting surgery."

I can't believe she's calling me Ji- "What?"

You smile empathetically, "I'm getting surgery, Jimin."

part 3, maybe?

taglist: @itsdingdong @honeyd99 @010op10 @chubsjmin @outropjmm @nynhope

troublemaker (트러블) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

you were trouble, everyone knew it. from the moment you entered a room, you carried an aura that demanded attention, the kind of allure that held people captive in the snare of your presence. in a world where appearances could be weapons, you were the embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype as lethal as it was beguiling. your beauty wasn’t merely skin-deep; it was a complex tapestry woven from threads of danger, allure, and an almost tangible sense of enigma.

your eyes, framed by a cascade of midnight-black lashes, were twin pools of mystery that could ensnare anyone who dared to meet your gaze. they shimmered with an intensity that hinted at secrets too dark to unveil, secrets that whispered of peril and allure in the same breath. when you walked, each step was a masterstroke of elegance and seduction, the hem of your dress swaying like the tendrils of a siren's call. the colors you wore were never just colors; they were statements, woven into the fabric of your being like the brushstrokes of a master painter’s most provocative work.

your voice, when it cut through the ambient hum of a room, was velvet and smoke—rich and inviting, yet laden with the promise of consequences that could spiral into chaos. it could lure and disarm, coaxing even the most guarded heart into the realm of vulnerability. conversations with you were like navigating a labyrinth; each word, each pause, was meticulously crafted to captivate, ensnare, and ultimately control.

in your presence, the air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, an ethereal glow that made reality seem like a mere shadow of the world you conjured. you moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, a dance that was both hypnotic and dangerous. the way you tilted your head, the slight curve of your smile—it all contributed to a spellbinding performance that kept everyone on edge. if looks could kill, you would have been executed long ago. your mere gaze was a weapon honed to perfection, capable of dismantling the strongest of defenses with a single glance. the enchantment you wielded was not merely a play of physical beauty but a deadly precision of emotional manipulation and psychological prowess. to encounter you was to walk a tightrope over an abyss, where every step was fraught with the potential for either profound enchantment or complete destruction.

you were a canvas of contradictions, a symphony of beauty and menace. each interaction with you was an intricate dance on the edge of a razor, where the thrill of the unknown mingled with the inevitable sting of consequences. In the grand theater of life, you were the lead role in a drama so intense and captivating that it demanded the audience's complete surrender. the enigma you embodied was a work of art in itself, crafted with the precision of a masterful painter and the allure of an ancient legend. you were the perfect embodiment of femme fatale—an archetype so potent that even the hint of your presence could render the most formidable of souls powerless.

you were a vision of lethal elegance, the very embodiment of danger wrapped in glamour. in the dimly lit bar, your presence was nothing short of an intoxicating spell, casting a spell that had everyone under its sway. the room pulsed with life, the throbbing beat of music mingling with the electric current of your allure. all eyes were drawn to you, some with a flicker of lust, others with a trace of envy. you anticipated this reaction with an almost preternatural certainty, knowing exactly how to wield your beauty as a weapon of desire and control.

perched on a plush velvet bar stool, you sipped your martini with an air of nonchalance, the delicate glass catching the ambient light and casting glimmers that mirrored the sparkle in your eyes. the glistening liquid within the glass seemed to reflect the dangerous playfulness that danced beneath your composed facade. every sip was a deliberate act, each moment stretched out to heighten the tension that thrummed through the bar like an electric charge.

as you savored your drink, a man, drawn in by the magnetic pull of your presence, approached you with a confident stride. his gaze was fixated on you with a mixture of desire and admiration. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur as he offered to buy you another drink. you responded with a smile that could melt steel and a purr that was as soft as it was deadly. “i’m not thirsty anymore,” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear. “in fact, i’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

your words were accompanied by a slow, deliberate exploration of his body—your knee pressed suggestively against the bulge in his pants, your fingertips tracing lazy, teasing patterns along his arm. he was ensnared, mesmerized by the intoxicating blend of your touch and your voice. with each subtle caress, you could feel his resolve dissolving, his body responding with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. you guided him with practiced ease toward the staircase leading up to the hotel above the club. each step you took was measured, each glance you cast over your shoulder a calculated part of the seduction. when you reached the room you had rented hours before, the anticipation hung in the air like a charged current.

inside the room, the atmosphere shifted from the vibrant chaos of the bar to an intimate and charged tension. you pushed him onto the bed with a combination of grace and dominance, your lips finding his in a heated kiss that spoke of all the promises and perils to come. as the passion intensified, you suddenly pulled away, a playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “wait here,” you instructed, your voice a velvet command as you slipped away to the bathroom. the soft click of the door closing behind you was the only sound before you emerged, your form now adorned only in a lacy bra and panties. in your hands, you held a bundle of rope, its coiled lengths a stark contrast to your alluring appearance. you presented it to him with a languid, almost theatrical flourish, the rope glistening in the soft light as you displayed it with a provocative grace.

his eyes were locked on the rope, his eagerness palpable as he reached out, his breath quickening with anticipation. but before he could fully grasp his desires, you were swift and unerring. the rope was suddenly around his throat, its fibers cold and unyielding against his skin. his eyes widened in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as he struggled to breathe. the thrill of the moment was palpable in the room, the transformation from seduction to danger swift and complete.

your expression remained impassive, almost detached, as you tightened the rope with measured precision. you watched with an indifferent gaze as the life began to ebb from his eyes, the struggle growing weaker with each tightening of the rope. the room was silent save for the faint, strangled sounds of his attempts to breathe, and your own calm, steady breaths as you held him in your grip.

once the light of life had dimmed from his eyes, you released the rope with a smooth, practiced motion, the finality of your actions as clean and efficient as the execution of a well-rehearsed performance. without a moment's hesitation, you retrieved your phone from the nightstand, dialing the number you knew by heart. your voice was cool and composed as you delivered the message, “the job’s finished.” the transaction was complete, your demeanor as flawless and unperturbed as ever. the power of your presence, combined with the lethal precision of your actions, left no room for doubt. your looks could, indeed, kill.

in the dimly lit ambiance of a high-end club, where shadows danced along the walls and whispers wove through the air like silk, kim namjoon emerged as a figure of compelling elegance and magnetic allure. his presence was a striking contrast to the dim setting, an embodiment of polished sophistication and commanding charm. from the moment he entered the room, it was as if the very air around him shifted, aligning with his undeniable magnetism.

his appearance was nothing short of captivating. his sharp, chiseled features were sculpted with an artist’s precision—his high cheekbones, a strong, defined jawline, and the perfectly straight bridge of his nose created a visage that could have been plucked from the pages of a fashion magazine. his eyes, dark and intense, held a glimmer of mischief beneath their calm facade. they were the kind of eyes that seemed to see through every pretense, a deep, penetrating gaze that drew people in and held them captive, like a spell they were powerless to break.

his hair was styled with an effortless grace, each strand falling into place as if it had been carefully tousled by an unseen hand. it framed his face with an artful disarray that only enhanced his allure, giving him a look that was both casually disheveled and meticulously groomed. every movement he made was fluid, a smooth, deliberate motion that spoke of both confidence and control. his attire—a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame—was a testament to his keen sense of style. the fabric draped over him with an elegance that was both understated and luxurious, the dark hue of his suit contrasting sharply with the warm glow of the club’s lighting.

as he navigated through the room, every step seemed to radiate a quiet power, his aura compelling and commanding. there was an inherent grace to his movements, a calculated ease that made him seem as though he were gliding rather than walking. women turned their heads as he passed, their gazes lingering with a mixture of admiration and desire, their reactions a testament to the impact of his presence.

he knew precisely how to wield his beauty and charm, turning it into a weapon of seduction and influence. his smile was a carefully honed tool, flashing with just the right amount of warmth and allure to disarm even the most guarded soul. it was a smile that suggested both confidence and an intimate understanding of human nature, a combination that made him irresistibly intriguing. in conversation, his voice was a smooth, velvety timbre that could both soothe and stir, a voice that could command attention or whisper promises of indulgence. each word he spoke was measured and deliberate, imbued with a charisma that made every interaction feel like a dance. he could make the simplest of exchanges seem like a tantalizing game, where every glance and every phrase was part of a larger, more complex play.

kim namjoon was more than just a man of striking appearance; he was an embodiment of an almost otherworldly charm that made him a force to be reckoned with. his beauty was not merely skin-deep but a carefully curated blend of aesthetics and allure, sharpened by a sly intelligence and a commanding presence. his very being radiated a magnetic energy that drew others to him, an aura of irresistible power and charm that made him both a captivating enigma and an undeniable force.

as he moved through the crowded club, his presence was like a magnetic force drawing the eyes of every observer, yet his attention was singularly focused on one woman. she was a vision of allure, her eyes locked onto him with an unspoken recognition of his power and charm. he approached her with a fluid grace, his every movement deliberate and poised.

he came from behind her, his touch an intimate caress that seemed to awaken a shiver down her spine. she arched into his touch, as if her body had anticipated his arrival, responding to his presence with a blend of eagerness and trust. his fingers traced a path along her delicate skin, sending waves of warmth and anticipation through her. leaning in, he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “do you wanna get out of here?” the words were laced with a promise of excitement and danger, an invitation wrapped in seductive undertones. she nodded almost imperceptibly, her lips curving into a smile of eager compliance as she allowed him to guide her through the throng of revelers.

as they navigated their way out of the club, namjoon’s hands continued their languid exploration along her back and sides, each touch a reminder of the allure he wielded with such ease. they moved together in a rhythm of anticipation, their path illuminated by the flashing lights of the city as they ventured into the shadowed recesses of an alleyway. in the quiet, obscured alley, the vibrant chaos of the club seemed like a distant memory. his whispers became more insistent, his words slipping into a darker, more provocative territory. the woman's excitement was palpable, her breath hitching as his voice wove a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

as they reached a more secluded spot, his hand brushed against his pocket, his keys falling from his grasp and clattering onto the ground. he paused to retrieve them, his movements precise and deliberate. it was in this moment of vulnerability that the woman's anticipation turned to confusion, her eyes widening as the reality of her situation began to dawn on her.

in a swift, practiced motion, his demeanor shifted from seductive to menacing. as he straightened, his hands were no longer gentle but cruelly firm. his fingers closed around her throat with an unyielding grip, his strength a chilling contrast to the tenderness he had earlier exhibited. her eyes, once filled with lust, were now wide with a horror that seemed to freeze time itself. he applied pressure with a cold efficiency, the life gradually ebbing from her eyes as she struggled against the relentless force of his grip. he watched impassively as the light in her eyes dimmed, her struggles growing weaker until her body went limp. the transition from desire to demise was abrupt, the room falling into a stifling silence as she dropped dead at his feet.

with her lifeless body at his feet, namjoon remained calm, his expression a mask of unperturbed satisfaction. he removed his phone from his pocket with the same grace he had shown throughout the evening, his fingers moving with practiced precision. dialing a number, he spoke into the phone with a voice that was as cool and collected as ever. “the job’s finished,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the passionate persona he had so masterfully projected moments before. the efficiency of his actions, the seamless transition from charm to ruthlessness, underscored the true extent of his dangerous allure. kim namjoon was a master of manipulation, his beauty and charm just facets of a more profound and deadly artistry.

the morning sun cast a golden haze across the room, its rays filtering through the gauzy curtains and illuminating the opulent space in a soft, ethereal glow. you sat gracefully at the edge of a lavish, velvet-clad armchair, a picture of effortless sophistication. in your hand, you held a glass of deep, ruby-red wine, the liquid swirling gently as you lifted it to your lips. the wine’s rich aroma filled the air, mingling with the faint hint of your perfume—a heady blend of jasmine and sandalwood.

there was a certain serenity in the ritual of your morning indulgence, despite the gnawing presence of alcohol's creeping dependence. the wine had become both a sanctuary and a torment, a paradoxical solace that masked the terror of its increasing hold over you. each sip was a delicate escape from the relentless pressure of your world, a brief respite before the day's demands unfolded.

as you savored the wine, your phone buzzed on the polished marble table beside you. the sharp, insistent sound shattered the tranquil cocoon you had wrapped yourself in. with a graceful motion, you reached for the device, your fingers curling around it with a practiced ease. the screen lit up with the name of your boss, and a flicker of tension passed through you.

you answered the call, your voice steady and composed despite the slight edge of apprehension that had begun to surface. “yes?” you intoned, your tone smooth but alert. the voice on the other end was cold, the authority it wielded palpable even through the phone. “listen closely,” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats. “we have a high-priority target for you today. this isn’t just any assignment. you’re to eliminate kim namjoon.”

the name hit you with an unexpected force, a jolt that made you sit up straighter. you had heard whispers about him, tales spun in dark corners and hushed conversations, but it all seemed like distant lore—stories of a man who was, in your mind, nothing more than an intriguing footnote. now, the reality of the task set before you was both startling and intensely personal. “kim namjoon?” you repeated, your voice a blend of disbelief and challenge. the name rolled off your tongue, testing the weight of its significance. “i’ve heard of him. he’s part of a rival team, correct?”

“correct,” she affirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “he's a significant player, a dangerous one. this job requires precision. you must understand the risks. he’s not to be underestimated. we need this done cleanly and without trace. his elimination will shift the balance in our favor.” the intensity of her words sharpened the focus of the task ahead. the air around you seemed to thicken with the gravity of the assignment, the warmth of the wine now mingling with a cool edge of determination. the threat posed by namjoon wasn’t just about personal rivalry; it was a crucial move in a broader, more intricate game.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle upon your shoulders. your resolve hardened, the initial disbelief melting into a fierce, unwavering determination. “i understand,” you said, your voice resolute. “i assure you, the job will be finished in no time.” with that, the call ended, leaving you with the echo of her command and the impending challenge that loomed large in your mind. you set the wine glass down, its contents reflecting the slivers of sunlight that now seemed to pierce through your calm exterior. the stakes had been set, the target identified, and the path forward was clear.

kim namjoon would be your next conquest, a puzzle to be solved with the precision and finesse that defined your craft. the thrill of the hunt coursed through you, blending with the calm confidence you had cultivated over countless assignments. the morning’s tranquility had dissipated, replaced by a focused intensity that sharpened your every sense. the game was on, and you were ready to meet it head-on.

the morning sun peeked through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a hazy light that filtered through the cluttered room. namjoon sat at the small kitchen table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. the rich aroma of the brew was a stark contrast to the disarray that surrounded him. his gaze was fixed on the scene before him—his disheveled roommate sprawled across the couch, the telltale signs of a wild night evident in the scattered cans of alcohol and the faint scent of stale beer that clung to the air.

namjoon’s distaste for alcohol was well-known, a preference rooted in the queasiness it induced rather than any moral stance. to him, the presence of the empty cans was a nauseating reminder of indulgences he avoided. he turned his attention back to the comforting warmth of his coffee, seeking solace in its steady, untroubled existence. the silence of the morning was abruptly broken by the shrill ring of his phone, an intrusion that jolted him from his thoughts. he glanced at his roommate, ensuring that the phone’s call wouldn’t disturb his friend’s slumber. with a deft motion, he picked up the phone, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he answered.

the voice on the other end was as sharp and commanding as ever. “namjoon, good morning,” his boss greeted, the tone both professional and serious. “i trust you’re ready for the next assignment?” he nodded, even though his boss couldn’t see him. “of course,” he replied, his voice steady and attentive. “what’s the task?”

there was a moment of silence, heavy with anticipation, before his boss continued. “today’s assignment is likely the hardest one you’ve faced. we’ve come across a particularly elusive target. her name is (y/n) (l/n), and she’s not just any case. she’s known for her lethal precision and cunning. the stories you’ve heard about her are not mere rumors; they’re a testament to her skills.”

the gravity of the warning was palpable, and namjoon’s interest was piqued. he had heard fragmented stories about a woman of your reputation, a figure shrouded in intrigue and danger. he had never expected his path would cross with someone like you, nor had he anticipated the challenge this would present. “understood,” he said, his tone taking on a determined edge. “i’m aware of her reputation. if she’s as formidable as you say, i’ll handle it with the utmost care. rest assured, i’ll eliminate her with the precision and efficiency expected.”

the conversation concluded with a sense of mutual understanding and resolve. namjoon ended the call, his mind already strategizing the best approach to the task at hand. he looked once more at his roommate, who remained oblivious to the gravity of the conversation that had just transpired. with his coffee in hand and a newfound determination, he prepared himself for the day. the sight of the alcohol-strewn room and the hungover state of his friend were now just background noise, eclipsed by the seriousness of the mission ahead. the challenge posed by you—an enigmatic and dangerous opponent—was about to become the focal point of his day, a test of his skills and resolve that would push him to his limits.

you entered the coffee shop, the soft hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping you in a warm embrace. the morning light streamed through the large windows, casting a serene glow over the rustic wooden tables and mismatched chairs. as you walked to the counter, your mind buzzed with tactical considerations, strategizing the most effective approach to handling the formidable kim namjoon. the complexities of the task at hand melded with your thoughts, each possibility and scenario swirling in your head like the delicate patterns in your latte.

you placed your order with a casual ease, the barista’s polite nods and friendly banter barely registering as you were lost in contemplation. when you finally settled into a corner booth, the quiet rustle of newspapers and the clinking of cups provided a backdrop to your musings. men around the café couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, their eyes lingering with a mix of admiration and intrigue. you were accustomed to such attention, a mere side effect of the aura you carried, but it never failed to draw your awareness.

as you were absorbed in your thoughts, a voice interrupted the solitude of your reflection. “must be tiring, isn’t it? getting looks like that all the time?” the voice was warm and smooth, laced with a hint of curiosity. you turned your head to find a man standing by your table, a friendly smile playing on his lips. he had an air of casual confidence, his demeanor effortless and disarming. you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to effortlessly attract the gaze of those around him, much like you did. offering him a measured smile, you replied, “it seems like you’re no stranger to stares yourself,” gesturing toward the group of women who were openly admiring him from across the room.

he laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and charming. “true enough,” he said with a shrug. “but it’s something i’ve chosen to ignore.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “would you like to join me? it looks like most of the other seats are taken.” without hesitation, he accepted your offer and slid into the seat across from you. As he settled in, he extended his hand with a graceful flourish.

“i’m kim namjoon,” he introduced himself, his voice steady and inviting. a chill ran down your spine as the name registered, a shockwave of realization coursing through you. was it fate? you fought to maintain your composure, your face draining of color as you processed the situation. with a controlled breath, you extended your own hand and offered a smile. “i’m (y/n) (l/n). it’s nice to meet you, namjoon.”

his eyes widened imperceptibly, a moment of surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a practiced ease. you were even more striking than he had imagined from the stories he had heard—an ethereal beauty that exceeded every expectation. his heart sank slightly, a sinking feeling that hinted at the gravity of the situation.

the two of you engaged in conversation, each of you carefully concealing your underlying tension. namjoon asked about your work, his curiosity piqued. you swallowed your nerves and fabricated a story, telling him that you worked in finance. his gaze remained steady, though the mention of your profession triggered an internal churn in his stomach. he responded with a lie of his own, claiming to work in business management—an elaborate deception. as the conversation flowed, punctuated by casual laughter and probing questions, you felt the delicate balance of this encounter shift. the façade of casual coffee talk masked the underlying intensity of your real interactions. with every exchange, you assessed his reactions, every nuance of his demeanor scrutinized as you navigated this unexpected encounter.

when the time felt right, you reached into your bag and pulled out a slip of paper, extending it toward him with a nonchalant air. “here’s my number. it would be nice to continue our conversation sometime.” he accepted the slip with a genuine smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of intrigue and admiration. “i’d like that,” he said warmly, his tone sincere. “i’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.”

with that, you gathered your things, the weight of the morning’s revelations settling heavily on your shoulders. as you stood and made your way to the door, his gaze followed you, a lingering reminder of the complex web you had just woven. the encounter had been more than mere chance; it was a delicate dance of deception and allure, setting the stage for the intricate game that lay ahead. the bell above the café door chimed softly as you exited, leaving behind the warm, inviting space and the enigmatic man who would soon become central to your plans. the city outside bustled with its usual rhythm, but within you, a storm of anticipation and calculation brewed, your path now irrevocably entwined with his.

you paced your room with a measured intensity, the rhythmic scuff of your heels against the floor mirroring the churn of your thoughts. the walls seemed to close in, laden with the weight of strategy and anticipation. every corner of the room held a potential plan, a calculated move in the intricate game you and namjoon were unwittingly playing. the persistent buzz of your phone interrupted your brooding. you glanced at the screen, recognizing namjoon’s name. with a composed breath, you answered. “hello?”

“hey, (y/n),” his voice came through with a casual warmth. “i was wondering if you’d be interested in grabbing lunch sometime today. or am i already being too clingy?” you couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that was as light as it was genuine. “i’d love to have lunch with you, namjoon. where do you want to go?”

he suggested a charming bistro not far from where you were staying, a place known for its elegant ambiance and exquisite cuisine. you agreed, and after hanging up, you turned your attention to your wardrobe. selecting a dress that clung to your curves with just the right balance of elegance and allure, you prepared to meet your unexpected lunch companion.

arriving at the bistro, you found him already seated at a table near the window, his gaze scanning the room with an anticipation that matched your own. when he saw you, his eyes widened slightly, a clear reaction to your striking appearance. the corner of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile that softened the usual sharpness of his features.

“wow,” he said as you approached, his voice tinged with admiration. “you look amazing.” you smiled, feeling a warm flush of pleasure. “thanks. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

you both settled into the cozy booth, the soft light of the bistro casting a flattering glow on both of you. the menu was soon presented, and you made a decision almost automatically. “should we start with a bottle of wine?” you suggested, the words flowing with casual ease. his demeanor shifted subtly, a fleeting shadow crossing his face as he flinched slightly at your choice. “actually,” he began, hesitating for a moment, “i’m not really fond of alcohol.”

your curiosity was piqued. “oh? why’s that?” he leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “my father was an alcoholic. it left a pretty negative impression on me. i avoid it whenever i can.”

you noted the pained edge in his voice, your own heart twisting in sympathy. “i’m sorry to hear that. let me get us a coffee instead. we can still enjoy a great meal without the wine.” namjoon’s smile brightened with genuine appreciation. “that sounds perfect. thank you.” you signaled the waiter and changed the order, opting for coffee instead. namjoon’s gratitude was evident in his appreciative nod, his eyes softening as he watched you.

the conversation flowed naturally, a gentle exchange about his father and the memories that lingered. “he was involved in some dangerous dealings,” he recounted. “the debts caught up with him, and eventually, it cost him his life. it’s a part of my past that’s hard to shake off.” you reached out, placing a comforting hand over his. “i’m truly sorry for your loss, namjoon. it must have been incredibly difficult.”

his gaze met yours, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability shining through. “thank you. it’s been a challenge, but i’ve managed to move forward. meeting someone like you today has been a nice distraction.” as the food arrived, he leaned forward to serve himself. in a moment of unanticipated clumsiness, his glass of water tipped precariously on the edge of the table. instinctively, you reached out with practiced precision, catching the glass before it could hit the floor. it fell into your grip with barely a sound.

his eyes widened as he watched the maneuver, a dawning realization of your skill and preparedness clear in his gaze. “you’re pretty adept at handling situations,” he commented, a note of surprise in his voice. you shrugged lightly, attempting to downplay the incident. “just a little bit of practice. nothing to worry about.”

with a playful smile, you encouraged him to continue enjoying the meal. as the conversation resumed, the initial tension between you seemed to ease, replaced by a genuine connection forged over shared stories and experiences. the food was delightful, and the time spent together was as pleasant as it was unexpected. both of you indulged in the meal, savoring each bite and drink as if it were a reprieve from the unspoken truths hovering just beneath the surface. the lunch was more than a simple meeting—it was an intricate dance of charm and deception, a prelude to the complexities that lay ahead.

as you and namjoon strolled back toward your place, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the natural rhythm of it making the day feel almost ordinary. the world seemed to hum in harmony, your laughter mingling with the ambient sounds of the city, creating a brief respite from the tension that lurked beneath the surface.

however, as you approached a lamppost with a memorial photo attached, you felt a sudden jolt. the image on the pole was unmistakable—the face of the man you had eliminated the previous night. his eyes seemed to stare out from the photograph with a haunting, silent plea, and you shuddered involuntarily. namjoon, noticing your abrupt halt and the sudden pallor of your face, turned with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.

you swallowed hard, struggling to compose yourself. “i knew him,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “he was a friend.” his expression softened with empathy. “i'm sorry. that must be really tough.”

you offered him a shaky smile, appreciating his kindness. “thank you.” the two of you continued walking in contemplative silence until you reached your house. you turned to face namjoon, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. it was a simple gesture, free from any ulterior motives, and as you held him close, you felt a fleeting connection that seemed both comforting and poignant.

his smile broadened as he returned the hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. “good night, (y/n),” he said softly. “i’ll see you soon.”

“good night, namjoon,” you replied, pulling away and watching him walk down the street with a bittersweet feeling.

as he made his way home, the streets began to fade into the distance, and he took out his phone. the sense of unease that had been bubbling beneath the surface now surfaced with a jolt. with a few swift taps, he brought up the details of the deceased man’s profile. his eyes widened in shock as he read the police report—the victim had been strangled to death with rope, and the case was eerily devoid of leads or footage.

his mind raced, the chilling realization of the situation dawning upon him. the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with unnerving clarity. he had just spent the afternoon with the very person who had carried out such a methodical and lethal act. the connection between you and the man on the pole was a stark revelation, and the weight of the truth settled heavily upon him. he shuddered, his thoughts spinning as he grappled with the realization of who you truly were—and what he now had to confront. the night seemed to grow darker and more foreboding as he walked, each step echoing the grim understanding that had just settled into his gut.

the next evening, you found yourself once again in the opulent embrace of the hotel. the grand ballroom, resplendent with its glimmering chandeliers and elaborate decor, was a far cry from the grim memories it held for you. the place where you had claimed your previous victim now seemed almost serene, its beauty contrasting starkly with the dark deeds that had unfolded within its walls. with practiced ease, you adjusted the earpiece nestled in your ear and connected with your boss. the cool, metallic voice of your superior resonated through the small device, crisp and unwavering.

“(y/n), are you in position?” the voice inquired. “yes,” you replied, your tone steady. “i'm monitoring the cctv feeds now. the hallways are clear, and namjoon should be arriving soon.”

“good. remember, we need to ensure the task is completed efficiently. keep your wits about you and stay focused.”

“understood,” you said, disconnecting the call and turning your attention back to the array of monitors before you. the security cameras provided a meticulous view of the hotel's layout, allowing you to track every movement with precision. your gaze was fixed on the entrance, waiting for namjoon’s arrival. when he finally appeared, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his striking features, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation. he moved with a confident grace that only added to his allure, and you watched as he navigated through the crowd.

as soon as he entered the room, you swiftly disconnected from the monitoring feed, leaving the cameras to their own devices. you made your way through the throng of elegantly dressed guests, your heart beating with an unusual mixture of excitement and trepidation. “namjoon!” you called out, your smile warm as you approached him. he turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “hey, you look absolutely stunning.”

“thank you,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “should we head to the bar? i thought we might enjoy a drink.” the two of you made your way to the bar, the conversation flowing as naturally as it had the day before. you refrained from drinking, choosing instead to sip on sparkling water, a choice that did not go unnoticed by him. he observed you with a blend of admiration and curiosity.

“why no drinks tonight?” he asked, leaning closer to you, his voice a soft murmur. you met his gaze with a calm smile. “just a personal preference. i don't wanna drink in front of you.”

his heart swelled at your sincerity. “that’s admirable. i wish i had your self-control.”

after some time spent in pleasant conversation and gentle flirtation, you glanced at him with a knowing look. “if the noise gets too overwhelming, i’ve rented out a room here. we can escape the crowd if you’d like.” he seemed intrigued and a bit relieved. “that sounds like a great idea. lead the way.”

you guided him through the bustling crowd, the stares of other guests momentarily ignored as you made your way to the reserved room. the door closed behind you with a soft click, and an almost palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. the room, dimly lit and serene, was a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the gala. as you stood there, his gaze was filled with a mix of awe and longing. without a word, he closed the distance between you, his eyes locked onto yours with a intensity that made your breath catch. he leaned in slowly, and you felt his lips brush against yours in a tentative, electrifying kiss.

you responded with equal fervor, your lips meeting his with a growing urgency. the kiss deepened, turning heated and passionate as the world outside seemed to fade away. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved with a fervent intensity. your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him as the kiss became a fervent dance of desire and need.

his hands traveled to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you to the bed. you landed softly on the plush surface, your body arching slightly as namjoon followed, his lips never leaving yours. the bed beneath you was a luxurious expanse, and the sensation of his body pressing against yours was intoxicating.

his kisses trailed from your lips to your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he explored your skin. you moaned softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of fabric as he undressed you with a careful urgency. his touches were both tender and possessive, his desire evident in every caress. “you feel incredible,” he whispered between kisses, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “show me,” you breathed, your hands pulling him closer as the night unfolded in a passionate dance of exploration and desire. the world outside became a distant memory as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment, the intensity of your connection making every touch, every kiss, a thrilling and unforgettable experience.

his fingers traced the contours of your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel worshipped. his eyes, dark with lust, took in the sight of you laid bare before him. “so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. you felt a rush of heat pool in your belly at his words, and you reached for him, eager to return the favor. your hands found the hem of his shirt, and with a quick tug, you pulled it over his head, revealing the firm planes of his chest.

his skin was warm and smooth under your fingertips, and you took a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles and the faint scent of his cologne that lingered. your eyes traveled down to the waistband of his pants, and a devilish smile played on your lips. you bit your bottom lip, and with a seductive glance, began to unbuckle his belt. namjoon watched you, his pupils dilated with anticipation.

once his pants were discarded, you took in the full view of him, your eyes widening with desire. he was already hard, his arousal clear and prominent. you reached out, your hand lightly brushing against his length, and he hissed through gritted teeth. you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. “fuck, you’re so big,” you said, a hint of wonder in your voice.

his hips rolled into your touch, and he groaned, his head falling back. “yeah, baby, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and strained. you stroked him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin, hot and velvety under your palm. “you’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. your heart raced as you felt the power of his desire in your grasp. “i want you so badly,” you admitted, your voice a breathy whisper.

his hand reached down to cup your cheek, pulling you back up for a kiss that was as fiery as the passion in your veins. you could feel his urgency, the need to claim you, to make you his in every way possible. your hand didn’t stop moving, but instead picked up the pace, your thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. “i need to be inside you,” he growled, his control slipping.

his words sent a bolt of excitement through you, and you nodded eagerly. he reached for a condom from the bedside drawer, and you watched as he rolled it on with a practiced ease. the anticipation was palpable as he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. you took a deep breath, ready for the delicious stretch as he pushed inside you.

his first thrust was slow and deliberate, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck, yes,” you moaned, your back arching to meet him. he began to move, his rhythm steady and deep, his eyes never leaving yours. with each stroke, the pleasure built, your body responding to him in a symphony of sensation.

you matched his pace, lifting your hips to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans of pleasure. his grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more forceful. “you’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice gruff with need.

you couldn’t help but let out a filthy response, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. “i’ve been waiting for this all night. need you to fuck me hard, namjoon.” your words seemed to push him over the edge, and he obeyed, his hips driving into you with a newfound ferocity. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

his thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he approached climax. you felt your own orgasm building, your muscles clenching around him. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, his voice tight. you nodded, your eyes locked on his, and together, you fell over the edge, your bodies writhing in a delicious crescendo of pleasure. his release came, moans rolling off his tongue, and you felt yourself shatter around him, the intensity of your climax stealing your breath. for a moment, you were lost in the feeling, your bodies joined as one. as the waves of pleasure receded, he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

when dawn’s first light filtered through the thin curtains, you awoke to the disorienting haze of reality. the hotel room, now bathed in soft morning light, seemed almost serene compared to the passionate chaos of the night before. you lay on the bed beside namjoon, his body sprawled in a relaxed, innocent slumber, entirely unaware of the dangerous path that had led to this moment.

the memories of last night crashed over you like a tumultuous wave. the intimate connection you had shared with him, the unexpected depth of your feelings, and the chaotic rush of desire—all of it felt like a vivid, intoxicating dream. but reality was a stark contrast. you had a mission, a job to complete, and the time for pleasure had long since passed. as you slowly and carefully disentangled yourself from his warm embrace, you glanced at him. he was completely vulnerable, his handsome face serene and peaceful, the picture of tranquility. it was then that you remembered the task that had been set before you: to eliminate him. you had let your guard down, and it could cost you dearly.

your hand instinctively reached under the pillow where you had left it the night before. your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. the sensation sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. your breath caught in your throat as you realized what you were holding—a gun. It was not your own; it was an unfamiliar weight that felt both foreign and foreboding. you pulled the gun from beneath the pillow, its cold metal a harsh reminder of the deadly precision required of your role. for a moment, your hand trembled around the grip. the thought of ending his life right then and there, of completing the mission with ruthless efficiency, was overpowering. his calm breathing, so close to you, only added to the intensity of the moment.

you aimed the gun at him, pressing it into his haie, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him. every instinct told you to pull the trigger, to end it all quickly and cleanly. but as you tightened your grip, the weight of the decision pressed down on you with crushing force. anger and frustration surged within you. it was supposed to be a straightforward task, a mere job to be done. yet here you were, paralyzed by your own conflicted emotions.

the gun felt heavy in your hand, the responsibility of the act you were about to commit weighing down on you. you cursed under your breath, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to echo your inner turmoil. your eyes burned with unshed tears as you fought with the impulse to follow through with the assassination. the gun trembled in your grasp, your resolve wavering as the reality of what you were about to do loomed large.

in a fit of anger and desperation, you hastily shoved the gun back under the pillow, as though trying to hide the physical manifestation of your internal struggle. you shoved on your dress with frantic movements, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as if it were a shield against the overwhelming emotions crashing over you. without another glance at him, you fled the room. the hallway outside seemed unnervingly quiet, each step echoing with the weight of your decision. your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as you made your way through the hotel, each step driven by the desperate need to escape the oppressive weight of your failure. the mission had become a tangle of conflicting desires and stark reality, and you were left with the knowledge that you had to confront both, no matter how painful it might be.

the morning had settled into a quiet, contemplative silence as you sank into your armchair, the soothing warmth of the wine mingling with the turmoil in your mind. the shower had washed away the remnants of the night, but it did little to cleanse the confusion and guilt swirling within you. your hair was pinned up, an effort to restore some semblance of order to the chaos you felt inside. the half-empty wine bottle on the table served as a silent testament to your attempts at solace.

as you took another sip, the doorbell’s chime shattered the solitude. your heart skipped a beat. the sound seemed to carry an unspoken promise of complication. you set your glass aside and padded to the door, bracing yourself for whatever awaited you on the other side.

opening the door revealed namjoon, his presence as strikingly composed as ever. his soft smile greeted you, its warmth contrasting sharply with the chill of your internal disarray. “i hope i’m not intruding,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle. you blinked, momentarily lost for words. “not at all,” you managed, stepping aside to let him in. as he crossed the threshold, his gaze fell upon the nearly empty wine bottle, its presence seeming to draw an involuntary frown from his lips.

“do you drink this often?” he inquired, a note of concern edging his tone. you offered a wan smile, trying to mask the discomfort brewing beneath the surface. “i drink as often as i can,” you admitted, trying to sound casual despite the tumult within you.

his eyes softened as he looked at you. “how about we lighten the mood a bit? any plans for today?” relief washed over you at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the wine. “actually, no plans at all,” you said, feeling a flicker of hope. “would you like some breakfast? i could use the company.”

his smile broadened, and he agreed readily. “i’d love that.” you led him to the kitchen, your heart racing with an unsettling mix of anxiety and anticipation. as you prepared breakfast, the knife felt heavier than usual in your hand. each slice through the vegetables seemed to echo with the weight of your thoughts. you clenched the knife tightly, struggling to maintain composure, but namjoon’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“are you uncomfortable with what happened last night?” his question was gentle, but it carried an undertone of concern that only deepened your internal conflict. you tensed momentarily, the knife’s grip tightening in your hand. “no, not at all,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “what about you?”

his smile was reassuring, but it did little to ease the knot in your stomach. “i enjoyed it quite a bit,” he admitted, his eyes holding a glint of sincerity. his compliment, however genuine, did little to dissolve the worry gnawing at you. you could feel his gaze on you as you worked, his presence a constant reminder of the dangerous duality of your situation. yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but appreciate his genuine demeanor.

as you plated the food, you made a conscious effort to push the wine bottle out of sight, its dark contents now a symbol of a past you wanted to distance yourself from. the wine in your glass met the sink’s drain, a small but significant act of cleansing. namjoon’s eyes widened slightly at the gesture, and he offered a look of quiet gratitude.

the breakfast was pleasant, if a bit tense. as you neared the end of the meal, an idea took shape. “would you be interested in going to the local fair with me?” you asked, trying to offer a distraction from the lingering unease. namjoon’s face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. “that sounds like a great idea. i’d love to.”

as you finished clearing the table, the simple, shared activity brought a momentary respite from the tangled web of your thoughts. the fair, with its bright lights and cheerful bustle, seemed like a perfect escape—a chance to savor normalcy amidst the chaos. little did you know, the fair would bring its own set of revelations and challenges, testing the fragile truce you had established with yourself and with namjoon.

the fair was alive with vibrant hues and lively sounds, a kaleidoscope of lights and music weaving through the crisp evening air. the scent of popcorn and cotton candy mingled with the excitement of the crowd, creating a sensory tapestry that seemed to momentarily lift the weight from your shoulders. namjoon’s presence beside you was both comforting and disconcerting, a constant reminder of the complexity of your situation.

as you strolled past the myriad of stalls and attractions, his enthusiasm was infectious. his laughter rang out, mingling with the ambient noise of the fair, as he pointed out various games and food stands. “you have to try that one,” he said, gesturing toward a colorful stall where a shooting game was set up. curiosity piqued, you followed him to the stand. The game was simple: shoot a gun at moving targets to win a prize. the booth was adorned with bright lights and plush toys, each one more garish than the last. the carnival worker handed namjoon a toy gun with a grin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he took it with casual confidence.

his demeanor was relaxed, his face lit up with a childlike excitement as he aimed at the targets. the way his fingers wrapped around the gun was almost graceful, and you could see the focus in his eyes as he lined up each shot. goosebumps pricked your skin, an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the moment. the steady click of the gun punctuated the otherwise joyous cacophony of the fair. each shot he took was precise, hitting the center of the targets with unerring accuracy. his movements were fluid and practiced, a testament to his skill and composure. as he finished, he set the gun down with a satisfied nod, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“you’re really good at that,” you commented, trying to mask the unease that had settled in your chest. his smile widened, and he reached over to collect his prize—a large, plush stuffed toy, its bright colors and oversized eyes almost comical. he turned to you, his expression a mix of pride and affection. “here,” he said, extending the toy toward you with a charming grin. “i think this is for you.”

your fingers brushed against his as you took the stuffed toy, and you could feel the warmth of his touch linger on your skin. the toy was soft and absurdly large, its beady eyes staring up at you with an innocent expression. despite the cheerful facade, you couldn’t shake the cold, creeping sensation that the toy represented something far more ominous.

you accepted it with a smile, but your mind was racing. the stuffed toy felt like a symbol, a reminder of the precarious balance between your roles as predator and prey. you stared at the toy, its bright, plush exterior now a stark contrast to the dark reality that lurked beneath the surface. his gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. “i thought it might make you smile,” he said, his voice tender. “do you like it?”

you forced a smile, nodding as you clutched the toy a little too tightly. “it’s very thoughtful,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. the toy seemed to loom larger in your hands, a reminder of the mission that still awaited you. you had promised yourself that you would finish what you had started, but in that moment, amidst the lights and laughter of the fair, you found it increasingly difficult to reconcile your feelings.

his expression remained hopeful, his gaze never wavering. “let’s walk around a bit more,” he suggested, seemingly oblivious to the internal battle raging within you. you nodded, trying to push your worries aside and focus on the present. as you continued to wander through the fair, the toy felt like a weight around your neck, a reminder of the danger and deception that hovered just beneath the surface of your seemingly normal day. the fair was a fleeting escape, a chance to revel in the illusion of normalcy, but the shadows of your true mission loomed ever closer, threatening to shatter the fragile peace you had managed to cultivate.

the two of you eventually found a bench situated beneath a canopy of fairy lights, their gentle glow casting a warm aura over the space. the bench offered a moment of respite from the sensory overload of the fair, and you both settled down, the lively sounds of the carnival muted by the small oasis of tranquility.

as you sat side by side, you watched the children running around with boundless energy, their laughter mingling with the distant music of the fair. the sight brought a soft smile to your lips, a fleeting sense of nostalgia for something you had longed for but never quite had. “i’ve always wanted to be a mother,” you admitted, your voice almost wistful as you watched the joyous chaos before you. “seeing these kids, it just makes me realize how much i’ve dreamed about it.”

namjoon turned his gaze from the playful scene to you, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth. “i can’t imagine you not being a wonderful mother,” he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “you have such a kind heart. i’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

the compliment warmed you more than you expected, and you glanced at him with a tender smile. “thank you. that means a lot coming from you. what about you? have you ever thought about being a father?” namjoon’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow of something deeper flickering across his features. he took a deep breath before responding. “yeah, i’ve thought about it. i always wanted to be a dad someday. i just don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

you could sense the weight of his words, the way they tugged at his heart. “you’re nothing like him,” you assured him, your voice firm yet gentle. “i’ve seen how you are with people, how you handle things. you’re kind, thoughtful. you’re not defined by your father’s mistakes.”

a pang of vulnerability flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked lost in thought. he managed a small, grateful smile, though it was tinged with sadness. “it’s hard not to feel like i’m stuck in his shadow sometimes,” he admitted. “but hearing you say that—it helps.” the sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “you’re creating your own path, namjoon. you have your own values and your own way of being. don’t let his past define your future.”

his smile widened slightly, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. “thank you. i guess i needed to hear that.” you both sat there for a moment, the carnival’s vibrant activity humming softly in the background. the connection between you felt genuine and poignant, the weight of your respective burdens momentarily lifted by shared understanding.

as the evening drew on and the lights of the fair glimmered around you, the conversation deepened, weaving a tapestry of hope and reflection amidst the backdrop of the carnival. the simple joys of the fair seemed to highlight the more profound truths you both were navigating, bringing a sense of clarity and closeness that neither of you had anticipated.

the evening had passed in a tranquil haze, and as you finally arrived home, the comforting stillness of your home seemed to envelop you. the echoes of laughter and joy from the fair faded behind you, leaving only the soft hum of your own thoughts.

you were in the midst of unwinding, removing your shoes and loosening your coat, when the sharp ring of your phone broke the serene quiet. the caller id displayed your boss's name, and a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. you answered, the line crackling with the unmistakable edge of frustration. “where have you been?” her voice cut through the air like a blade, its harshness bringing you back to the present with a jolt. “you were supposed to be focused. the mission isn't over. it’s crucial that you finish it.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the surge of guilt and urgency her words stirred. “i understand. i was preoccupied, but i’ll get back on track immediately.” the silence on the other end was brief but heavy, her displeasure palpable. “you have a job to do. this is not a game. you’re dealing with someone who’s as dangerous as they come. i need results, not distractions.”

with a firm sigh, you replied, “i’ll get it done. i promise.” the call ended abruptly, leaving you with a lingering sense of urgency. your gaze drifted to the drawer where you had carefully stored your weapon. with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, you walked over and pulled it open. your fingers closed around the cold, metal grip of the pistol, its weight a stark reminder of the gravity of your task.

you took a moment to steady your breathing, the echoes of the evening’s warmth fading into the background. the contrast between the peaceful day and the chilling reality of your mission was stark. As you clicked the safety off and checked the chamber, a steely determination took hold. tonight, you promised yourself, the job would be done. the warmth of your recent encounters would be set aside, replaced by the icy focus necessary to carry out your orders. the boundaries between personal and professional were blurred, but you had to navigate the dangerous dance with precision.

the night air was crisp and sharp as you approached his house, the weight of the pistol heavy in your hand. each step felt deliberate, every breath a careful measure against the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the street was quiet, shadows playing tricks in the moonlight as you neared the front door, which stood ajar. your heart raced as a chill of apprehension ran down your spine.

you hesitated, the open door a harbinger of foreboding. had he anticipated your arrival, or was something else afoot? the usual calm of his home felt eerie in its silence. you stepped inside, the creak of the floorboards loud in the stillness. you moved with practiced stealth, checking each room with growing trepidation. the soft murmurs you heard drew you upstairs, the sounds of struggle and muffled voices leading you to his bedroom.

the door was slightly open, and you pushed it gently, your pulse quickening. the sight that greeted you was one you hadn’t anticipated. the room was a disarray of empty beer cans, a stark contrast to the polished image you had seen earlier. namjoon was pinned against the wall, his roommate's hands wrapped around his throat in a desperate, violent struggle. the scene was raw, the tension palpable.

for a moment, you were frozen, shock and horror warring within you. but the urgency of the situation jolted you into action. with a swift, practiced movement, you pulled the pistol from your holster. the shot rang out, a sharp crack that cut through the chaos. the roommate crumpled to the floor, his body going limp as a bullet found its mark in his head. namjoon fell to his knees, gasping for breath, tears streaking down his face.

you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him. “namjoon, are you okay? What happened?” your voice trembled with a mixture of fear and concern as you pulled him into your arms. hee clung to you, his sobs muffled against your shoulder. “he was an assassin,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “a part of a rival group. he came after me—and i couldn’t stop him.” his voice broke, the weight of his words pressing down heavily.

you looked around the room, the sea of empty beer cans now a grim symbol of his internal struggle. “what’s with all the beer cans?” you asked, trying to piece together the fragments of the night’s horror. namjoon swallowed hard, his voice strained. “he drank—a lot. the alcohol, it brought up old memories. bad ones,” he hesitated, a pained expression crossing his face. “i killed my own father, you know. it was me who took his life. the alcohol made him violent, it twisted his mind. i couldn’t stop it.”

the revelation hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling. the man you had come to care for was entangled in a web of violence and guilt. you tried to offer comfort, your own shock mingling with the empathy you felt for him.

“did you know about me? about who i am?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you nodded slowly, unable to meet his gaze. “i did.”

he seemed to digest this, a troubled look crossing his face. “and i knew about you too. i left the gun under the pillow, to see if you would use it. when you didn’t, i knew you wouldn’t kill me.” the admission struck you hard. his confession left you feeling as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet. the intricate dance of deceit and truth that had bound you both seemed to unravel in an instant. your heart pounded painfully in your chest as you grappled with the realization.

despite the turmoil inside you, holding him in your arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt strangely precious. the notion of completing your mission seemed to fade in the face of his vulnerability. you tried to fight it, but the connection you felt was undeniable. his presence, despite everything, seemed more valuable than the task at hand.

as you held him close, the night’s darkness seemed to swirl around you, a reminder of the tangled, violent path that had brought you together. in the midst of the chaos, one thing was clear: the boundaries between duty and desire had blurred, leaving you both grappling with the consequences of a night that had irrevocably changed everything.

you held him close, the weight of the night crashing down on you as you tried to steady your racing heart. his tears mingled with yours as the gravity of your shared truths settled around you. his face was flushed, eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and sorrow as he clung to you.

in a moment of aching tenderness, you cupped his face gently, your fingers trembling. you leaned in, pressing a soft, bittersweet kiss to his lips. the kiss was delicate, a fleeting touch that conveyed a world of regret and unspoken emotions. the taste of his lips lingered, a painful reminder of everything that had led to this moment.

tears streamed down your cheeks, the sorrow overwhelming. you pulled back, the anguish in your eyes mirrored in his own. “i’m so sorry, namjoon,” you whispered through your sobs. “i’m so sorry.”

his confusion deepened, the words you spoke only adding to the turmoil. as you stood up, a fresh resolve hardened in your chest. with shaking hands, you pulled the gun from your side, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your tears. you raised it slowly, pressing the barrel to his forehead. his eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as he stared up at you.

but you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. you turned away, the enormity of your actions crashing over you like a relentless wave. your fingers tightened around the trigger, the weight of your decision feeling unbearable. the muffled sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room, reverberating through your very soul. the finality of it struck you hard, and you stumbled backward, feeling as though your heart was being wrenched from your chest.

standing amidst the wreckage of your emotions, you fumbled for your phone. with a final, heavy sigh, you dialed your boss's number, each ring a jarring reminder of the mission that had led to this. the call connected, and your voice was shaky but resolute.

“it’s done,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “the job’s finished.”

✧.*

a/n: this hurt to write omg if yall want a happy ending lmk bc...

spoiled (스포일드) — kim seokjin (김석진)

part two can be found here

✧.* 18+

money was the silent orchestrator of the world, an unseen force that dictated the rhythm of life, the rise and fall of empires, the ebb and flow of fortunes. it was a creator and a destroyer, a source of power and a symbol of ambition. the inheritance of wealth could mold a person in myriad ways, breeding either foolish heirs who squandered their legacy or brilliant minds who elevated it. you were among the fortunate ones, born into affluence, but you were no fool.

your mother, a luminary in the fashion industry, had built an empire with her own hands. her name was synonymous with elegance and innovation, and her company was a testament to her relentless drive. you inherited not only her stunning beauty but also her formidable intellect. gorgeous, stunning—you were the epitome of grace and allure, turning heads wherever you went. yet, beneath that captivating exterior lay a mind sharper than any blade. you were the top of your class, the one whose name was always at the pinnacle of academic achievements. fluent in four languages, you navigated conversations with a fluidity that left others in awe. a scholarship awaited you, a testament to your hard work and brilliance, promising a future as bright as your past.

but intelligence and beauty weren't your only traits. there was a darker side to you, a part that thrived on power and control. you were mean, perhaps even rotten to your core, wielding your sharp wit and cutting remarks with a precision that left others reeling. it wasn't enough to be the best; you had to ensure everyone knew it, had to see the fear and admiration in their eyes. you relished in the power, in the way others bowed to your will, and it fed a part of you that nothing else could satisfy.

the grand estate was bathed in the golden hues of the late afternoon sun, its light filtering through the crystal chandeliers and casting intricate patterns on the polished marble floors. the opulence of the room was undeniable, from the sumptuous velvet drapes framing the expansive windows to the luxurious silk cushions adorning the elegant settee. the air was suffused with the delicate scent of blooming orchids and the heady fragrance of high-end perfume.

you glided through the hallways with the poise of someone accustomed to navigating both luxury and expectation, your steps silent on the plush carpet. you approached your mother’s sitting room, a space as meticulously curated as her latest fashion line. there, amidst a clutter of fabric swatches and sketchbooks, sat your mother—an embodiment of grace and precision. she was engrossed in her work, her slender fingers expertly tracing designs on a sketchpad.

“mother, what do you mean you’re getting married?” your voice was a blend of disbelief and irritation, piercing through the serene atmosphere of the room. she looked up momentarily, her gaze cool and dismissive. “you’re the only person making a big deal out of this, (y/n). have some respect. focus on your own engagement instead of mine.”

the mention of your engagement to kim taehyung—a union orchestrated purely for the benefit of your families’ business interests—sent a wave of frustration through you. it was a marriage neither of you had desired, yet it loomed over both your lives like a specter. “you have no shame, do you?” you couldn’t help but ask, the words escaping through gritted teeth. her eyes, sharp and unfeeling, met yours with a chilling calm. “while you’re at it, find a dress to wear for tonight. you’ll finally meet your step-brother in person.”

the term “step-brother” felt like a sharp jab. kim seokjin—whom you had long despised—was a man as ruthless as you were, a counterpart in cruelty. his reputation for being merciless and calculating was matched only by your own, and the thought of him entering your already complicated life was a bitter pill to swallow. you stared at your mother, her attention already drifting back to her sketches, and felt a mix of rage and resignation. that was your life—an intricate tapestry of beauty, wealth, and intelligence, all entwined with the demands and manipulations of those who wielded power without a thought for your personal happiness.

in the opulent confines of your dressing room, you moved with practiced ease among the racks of high-end garments. the room was a haven of luxury, with walls lined in elegant silk and shelves overflowing with an array of couture dresses. you sifted through the exquisite fabrics, your fingers grazing the soft silk and intricate lace as you searched for something suitable.

your mother’s voice, though distant, was still audible, her sharp instructions hanging in the air like an unwelcome perfume. “and don’t forget to accessorize properly. it’s important that you look presentable.” you rolled your eyes, dismissing her instructions with a wave of your hand as if to shoo away an irritating fly. your gaze landed on a stunning, midnight blue dress—a floor-length creation of silk and satin that flowed like liquid night. it was the perfect blend of sophistication and understated elegance, its deep hue accentuating your striking features. you slipped it on, the fabric hugging your figure with a sensual grace.

just as you were adjusting the dress, the shrill ring of your phone pierced through the ambiance of the room. glancing at the screen, you saw taehyung’s photo staring back at you, his image frozen in a charming, if somewhat distant, smile. you answered with a scoff, the irritation in your voice palpable. “hello?”

his voice came through, cold and casual. “what are you doing?” you rolled your eyes again, your tone dripping with venom. “getting ready to meet my step-brother.” the words were laced with a disdainful emphasis, meant to irritate your mother, who was still buried in her work.

there was a pause on the other end, followed by taehyung’s cautious inquiry. “is it official, then? will kim seokjin really become your step-brother?” you snorted derisively. “don’t ever call him that again,” you snapped, unable to hide the venom in your voice. “he’s nothing more than a nuisance.” with that, you ended the call abruptly, the screen darkening as you tossed your phone aside. you returned to your reflection in the mirror, adjusting the neckline of your dress with a mixture of resignation and defiance. the evening ahead promised to be another stage in the endless drama of your life—a life where every interaction was tinged with power plays and unspoken rivalries.

you accompanied your mother through the opulent corridor leading to the restaurant linked to kim hyunsoo’s grand hotel, the weight of your irritation palpable with each step. the opulence of the hotel’s interior did little to soothe your mood. the lavish decor—gold leaf accents, polished marble floors, and crystal chandeliers—felt like an elaborate facade, masking the discomfort you felt.

“this is absolutely ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, the words escaping through gritted teeth. “i can’t believe i have to endure another evening of this charade.” your mother, walking beside you with her usual air of practiced elegance, offered no comment. she was focused on her phone, perhaps finalizing details for the evening or merely avoiding the exchange of pleasantries.

as you reached the entrance to the restaurant, your eyes fell on kim hyunsoo standing at the threshold, his imposing figure framed by the grand entrance. his presence was magnetic, a blend of authority and charisma. the moment he saw your mother, his face broke into a warm smile. he stepped forward and greeted her with a tender kiss on the cheek, a display of affection that seemed almost theatrical.

you couldn't suppress the scoff that escaped your lips. the gesture seemed to be as much a performance as it was genuine affection, a mere piece of the elaborate play that was your life. hyunsoo turned to you, his smile unwavering. “ah, (y/n),” he said warmly, his eyes surveying you with an appraising gaze. “you’ve certainly inherited your mother’s looks.”

the comment made you cringe inwardly, though you maintained a polite smile. “thank you,” you replied, forcing a touch of gratitude into your voice. your gaze shifted to the table where kim seokjin sat, his presence commanding attention even from a distance. he was seated with a relaxed posture, a faint smirk playing on his lips—a smirk you knew all too well. the dynamic between him and his father was palpable; hyunsoo’s authoritative demeanor was mirrored by the cold distance he maintained with his son.

“seokjin, please stand up, don't be rude” his father instructed, his voice tinged with an almost imperceptible note of command. seokjin rose with a practiced grace, his smirk never faltering. as he approached your mother, he greeted her with a display of chivalry, his smile polished and disarmingly charming. “good evening, ma'am. it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

he turned his attention to you, extending a hand with a smirk that seemed to say he knew all your secrets. “haven’t seen you in a while, sister.” you couldn’t help but scoff at the nickname, the term dripping with insincerity. “how’s my friend, the fiancé?” he asked, his voice laced with a teasing edge.

you rolled your eyes, though you tried to keep your tone even. “taehyung has been well, thank you for asking.”

your mother, sensing the undercurrent of tension, quickly intervened. “let’s not stand on ceremony. please, everyone, let’s sit down and enjoy our meal.” with that, the group moved to their seats, the evening set to unfold in the lavish surroundings of the restaurant. the table, elegantly set with fine china and crystal glasses, seemed to promise a night of carefully orchestrated politeness and hidden animosities. as you settled into your chair, you braced yourself for the intricate dance of social niceties and familial politics that lay ahead.

the dining room, bathed in the soft glow of hanging chandeliers, was a tableau of refined elegance. the table was adorned with pristine white linens, crystal glassware, and polished silver cutlery, each element meticulously arranged to complement the luxurious surroundings. as you and the others settled into your seats, the clinking of silverware and the murmur of polite conversation filled the space.

hyunsoo, with his air of effortless charm, took the lead in the conversation. “so, (y/n),” he began, addressing you with a casual interest, “how do you and my son know each other?” you placed your fork down, your gaze steady. “we attend the same high school,” you explained, your tone even. “he used to be friends with taehyung, my fiancé.”

hyunsoo turned his attention to his son, his eyes narrowing slightly as he posed a question. “seokjin, why did you two stop hanging out?” his son, sitting with an air of casual defiance, responded with a scoff.

“i’d rather not talk about it,” he said dismissively. he then directed his gaze back to you, his smirk reappearing with an almost predatory gleam. “do give him my best regards,” he said with an insincere sweetness that made your skin crawl.

the conversation was beginning to wear on your patience. the façade of civility, the undercurrents of tension—it was all too much. with a sigh, you decided it was best to excuse yourself. “i’ve lost my appetite,” you announced, standing up with a decisive motion. “i’ll be leaving now.” without waiting for a response, you made your way out of the restaurant, the cool evening air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the allure of retail therapy beckoned. you needed to blow off steam and escape the artificial pleasantries of the evening.

just as you were contemplating how to leave without drawing unwanted attention, you heard the sound of footsteps echoing behind you. turning around, you saw seokjin approaching, his smirk as unwavering as ever. “planning to see lover boy?” he asked, his voice carrying a taunting edge. you arched an eyebrow, the irritation in your tone barely concealed. “i’m going shopping. i can’t stand this anymore.”

his expression shifted slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips as he leaned in closer. “i hate it as much as you do,” he admitted in a low voice. “but there’s nothing you can do about it. you’ll just have to make peace with being my sister.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his audacity. “and why should i take advice from you?”

he gestured toward a sleek motorcycle parked at the curb, its dark surface gleaming under the streetlights. “the mall’s too far away, princess,” he said with a casual shrug. “good luck walking there.” he turned and began to walk toward the motorcycle, his smirk growing wider.

you hesitated for a moment, the prospect of walking a long distance against the backdrop of your frustration compelling you to reconsider. with a resigned sigh, you caved and followed him. he glanced over his shoulder, a satisfied gleam in his eye as he handed you a helmet. “climb on,” he instructed. “and hold on tight.”

you mounted the motorcycle with a scoff, feeling his smirk radiate through the air. as he settled into place in front of you, the rumble of the engine beneath you provided a thrilling contrast to the evening’s earlier tension. you gripped the edges of his jacket, readying yourself for the ride. his presence, though infuriating, was about to take you away from the constraints of the evening’s charade and into the night’s liberating possibilities.

the rumble of the motorcycle beneath you was a steady, rhythmic pulse as seokjin maneuvered through the city streets, heading towards the mall. the cool night air whipped past you, mingling with the hum of the engine and the occasional flash of neon lights from the passing storefronts. the journey was a blend of discomfort and unexpected exhilaration, with his occasional glances over his shoulder adding a touch of irritation to the otherwise liberating ride.

when the motorcycle finally came to a stop in front of the gleaming mall entrance, you dismounted, the solid ground beneath your feet a welcome change from the bike’s vibrations. you turned to him, eyebrow raised in surprise. “where do you think you’re going?” you asked, catching sight of him sliding off the motorcycle with a casual grace. his smirk was as unwavering as ever. “accompanying you,” he replied, arching an eyebrow with a nonchalant air. “it’s the brotherly thing to do, after all.”

you rolled your eyes but chose not to argue. with a huff, you headed towards the entrance of the mall, the anticipation of shopping lifting your spirits slightly. the vast interior of the mall was a labyrinth of luxury boutiques, department stores, and specialty shops, all bathed in the soft, ambient glow of recessed lighting.

you wandered through a myriad of stores, each one a treasure trove of fashion and accessories. from high-end clothing to chic accessories and luxurious makeup, you filled multiple shopping bags to the brim. each time your arms began to tire, you’d hand the bags over to seokjin, who wore an expression of resigned defeat.

his initial smirk had faded into a look of palpable exhaustion as he struggled to juggle the growing collection of shopping bags. “is this really necessary?” he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. you smirked at him, reveling in his discomfort. “it’s the brotherly thing to do,” you replied with a teasing inflection, mimicking his earlier words. he merely scoffed, but he complied, following you through store after store. the evening wore on, the mall’s atmosphere a dizzying blur of bright lights and vibrant displays.

as you perused a selection of skirts, you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. you turned, surprised to see taehyung striding towards you with an expression of concern. seokjin’s scoff was barely audible beside you. “you’ve gotta be joking,” he muttered under his breath.

taehyung approached, his gaze shifting between you and seokjin with evident disapproval. “what are you doing with him?” he asked, his tone edged with tension. before you could respond, seokjin wrapped an arm around you, his smirk a mocking contrast to taehyung’s serious demeanor. “shopping with her brother,” he said smoothly. “we’re just bonding. why the long face?”

taehyung’s eyes narrowed in response. “call me when you get the chance,” he said, his voice softening as he turned to you. he leaned in and planted a brief, affectionate kiss on your cheek before stepping back. seokjin scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain. “how touching,” he remarked sarcastically.

the display of affection felt hollow, a forced gesture that did little to alleviate the artificiality of the evening. you turned to seokjin with a glare, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “you haven’t told him, have you?”

he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “what? that you slept with me?” he asked, his tone nonchalant. “can’t say that I have.”

the memory of that night—the one you had hoped to keep buried—flashed through your mind, bringing a wave of discomfort. you grimaced, your voice sharp with a sudden edge. “keep it that way,” you snapped. “for both our sakes.” his eyes narrowed slightly, though his smirk remained. “consider it done,” he said with a shrug. “but don’t expect me to be quiet forever.” as he turned to follow you once more, the tension between you felt almost palpable, the facade of familial civility wearing thin. the revelation, unexpected and intense, hung in the air like a dark cloud over the evening's strained politeness, promising that the complex web of relationships and hidden truths was far from over.

the ride back to your place was a strained silence punctuated only by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional rush of wind. seokjin’s grip on the handlebars was steady, but the tension between you was almost tangible. the city lights flickered by in a blur, the streets now quiet and calm after the evening's earlier hustle. as he maneuvered the bike into the parking lot of your residential complex, you could see the familiar outline of your building emerging from the shadows. the cool night air greeted you as you dismounted, the weight of the evening's events heavy on your shoulders.

your mother was waiting outside, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips, the smoke curling lazily into the night. her face lit up with a practiced smile when she spotted the two of you. “oh, what a lovely surprise,” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with insincerity. “i’m so happy to see you both bonding.” seokjin gave a polite nod, his expression a mask of courteousness. “good night, ma'am” he said, preparing to leave.

but before he could pull away, your mother called out, her tone shifting from casual to inviting. “oh, seokjin, why don’t you stay the night? you might as well make yourself comfortable, since you and your father will be moving in soon anyway.” you let out an audible scoff, your annoyance clear. “mother, that—”

his initial inclination to decline was evident, but when he caught sight of your reaction, a calculating smirk slowly crept onto his face. “i’d be honoured,” he said smoothly, addressing your mother. the shift in his demeanor was immediate, and you felt your face fall in horror. the realization of what this meant settled over you like a cold, heavy blanket. your mother, oblivious to your distress, beamed with delight. “wonderful!” she exclaimed. “come inside, both of you.”

you turned to him with a glare, your frustration palpable. “what do you think you’re doing?” you demanded. his smirk widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “just keeping my sister company,” he replied, his voice dripping with insincerity.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on your heel and headed towards the entrance of the building. “fine,” you said curtly. “you can start by carrying the bags in.” the satisfaction of seeing his grimace as he picked up the bags was a small consolation as you walked inside, the weight of the evening’s revelations settling heavily over you. the prospect of having seokjin as a constant presence in your life, particularly as your step-brother, was an unsettling twist that promised to complicate things further.

as you prepared for bed, the hum of conversation from the living room seeped into your room. the voices of your mother and seokjin intertwined in a nauseating symphony of pleasantries and false intimacy. the sound of his laughter, insincere and mocking, only served to heighten your irritation. you could imagine the sickeningly sweet exchange taking place just beyond the door: your mother’s fluttering giggles and his carefully measured compliments.

you stood in front of your mirror, the soft, silken strands of your hair cascading over your shoulders as you brushed them out. each stroke was a deliberate motion, a small attempt to maintain a semblance of control amid the chaos that had abruptly entered your life. the pale light of the bedside lamp illuminated your reflection, casting delicate shadows on your features.

suddenly, your mother’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “(y/n), come to the living room for a moment.”

your heart sank as you walked down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. the living room’s soft, warm light contrasted starkly with the cool, calculating presence of seokjin, who was lounging comfortably on the sofa. his eyes met yours with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

“oh, there you are,” your mother said with a bright, if forced, cheerfulness. “seokjin proposed such a wonderful idea. we should invite taehyung for breakfast with the whole family tomorrow.” the words felt like a punch to the gut. your stomach churned, and you felt your face pale as you glared at him. the smirk on his face was almost predatory, a silent taunt that he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s been a while since i've seen him,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, feigning nostalgia.

your mouth went dry, and you struggled to maintain your composure. “taehyung’s been busy with the company,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. your mother’s eyes narrowed with impatience. “nonsense,” she said dismissively. “he always makes time for his fiancée. don’t be ridiculous, (y/n).”

seokjin chimed in, his voice laced with an undercurrent of venom. “i’d think so too. it would be nice to catch up.” biting back the retort on the tip of your tongue, you managed to force a strained smile. “i’ll give him a call and see if he can make it.”

your mother’s face lit up with unrestrained delight. “perfect! we’ll all have a lovely time.”

with a final nod, your mother headed towards her bedroom, leaving you and seokjin alone. you retreated to your room, your mind a tumult of frustration and unease. as you resumed brushing your hair, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. he was standing just outside your door, watching you with an unsettling, predatory gaze.

“are you out of your mind?” you snapped, not turning around. his smirk widened as he stepped into the room, his presence exuding a palpable tension. he moved with deliberate slowness, his footsteps almost silent against the polished floor. as he approached, your breath quickened, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm against the back of your neck. he gently pushed your hair aside, his touch lingering just a little too long.

“what’s the issue?” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “are you so afraid of your fiancé finding out about our little rendezvous? or perhaps you’re concerned your mother might discover that her perfect daughter has a rather troubling fondness for her new stepbrother?”

you stiffened in front of the mirror, your heart racing. desperately trying to maintain a facade of calm, you replied, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he chuckled softly, the sound resonating with dark amusement. “oh, i’m sure you don’t,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “well, good night then. i look forward to seeing my brother-in-law tomorrow.”

as he walked away, the soft click of the door closing behind him left you in a charged silence. the intensity of the moment lingered, leaving you with a tangled mix of dread and apprehension. as you stared at your reflection, the night’s revelations swirled around you, setting the stage for the complex and treacherous path that lay ahead.

as the clock ticked away into the early hours of the morning, you found yourself hunched over your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you typed out a message to taehyung. the screen’s dim glow illuminated your face, casting shadows that only seemed to deepen the anxiety pooling in your stomach.

“hey, taehyung. i’ve arranged for breakfast with my family tomorrow. it would mean a lot if you could join us. i hope you’re free.” you stared at the message for a moment, the words feeling like a leaden weight. the last thing you wanted was for him to be in the same room as seokjin, but you couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to cancel the invitation. with a resigned sigh, you hit send, hoping for an excuse to emerge from somewhere, anywhere. throwing your phone onto the bedside table, you buried your face in the cool sheets and forced yourself to sleep, even as the anxiety kept your mind racing.

when morning light filtered through the curtains, you reluctantly dragged yourself from the bed. the day stretched before you, fraught with the tension of what awaited. you moved through your morning routine with mechanical precision, each movement a choreographed dance of necessity rather than joy. dressed in a sleek, sophisticated outfit—elegant yet understated—you made your way to the dining hall. the murmur of conversation and the clink of cutlery reached your ears before you even stepped inside. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the encounter, and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

the scene that greeted you was like a punch to the gut. the dining table was a tableau of familial warmth and cheer, a stark contrast to the tumult brewing within you. your mother sat at the head of the table, a vision of radiant composure, while seokjin and his father occupied the seats on either side. the sight that nearly made your heart stop was taehyung, seated directly beside seokjin, his expression a mix of discomfort and forced politeness.

the moment you entered, seokjin’s eyes lit up with a devious glint. his smirk widened as he called out in a tone laced with mock cheerfulness, “there’s my sister! finally decided to join us?” your stomach dropped as your mother’s face brightened. “oh, you’re just in time!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with enthusiasm. “we’ve been waiting for you.”

seokjin’s father turned to you, his gaze appreciative as he remarked, “you look stunning this morning.” you offered a strained smile in return, your insides twisting with a mixture of frustration and dread. with deliberate steps, you crossed the room and took a seat directly across from seokjin. the breakfast spread was a feast of opulent proportions, but your appetite was long gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.

turning to taehyung, you forced a pleasant smile. “good morning, taehyung.” his response was a carefully controlled, if equally false, smile. “good morning, sweetheart.”

the term of endearment seemed to have a magnetic effect on seokjin, who looked at taehyung with an expression that flickered between amusement and something darker—resentment, perhaps. the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were about to say something, but he restrained himself, the hint of a smirk still playing at his lips. your mother’s cooing only served to heighten the discomfort. “oh, you two make such a lovely couple. it’s wonderful to see you both getting along so well.”

seokjin’s eyes were a dark pool of satisfaction as he observed the interaction, clearly reveling in the discomfort he had orchestrated. the breakfast proceeded with strained conversation and polite laughter, each bite of food tasting like cardboard, each exchange of pleasantries feeling like a forced performance. the morning air was thick with the pretenses and tensions that lay just beneath the surface. each passing moment felt like a countdown to the inevitable fallout, and you could only hope that somehow, someway, this precarious balance would hold until you could escape the confines of the gilded cage.

the clinking of cutlery against fine china created a rhythmic backdrop to the strained conversation. your mother, ever the adept conversationalist, turned her attention to you and taehyung with a gleaming smile. “so,” she began, her tone warm and honeyed, “have you two given any more thought to the wedding plans? i’m sure there’s so much to organize, but it’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

taehyung, his expression a mask of polite detachment, nodded. “yes, we’ve been working through the details. there’s a lot to consider, but we’re managing.” you offered a non-committal shrug. “it’s just a formality, really. the details don’t matter much to me.”

your mother’s smile faltered slightly but she pressed on. “oh, but it’s such an important day. you’ll want everything to be perfect.” seokjin, who had been watching with a calculating gaze, leaned in with a fabricated sincerity. “you two are such a precious couple. it’s heartwarming to see you both so committed.”

you shot him a glare, your eyes narrowing in warning, but the intensity of his smirk only grew. unbeknownst to the others at the table, his hand began a slow, deliberate journey up your hamstring, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of your ankle before tracing along your heel. a shiver ran up your spine, not from pleasure but from the shock of his audacity. his touch was both tender and invasive, a contradictory blend that left you feeling unnervingly exposed. his eyes flickered toward taehyung, who was deeply engaged in conversation with your mother, oblivious to the silent exchange happening under the table.

with a determined calmness, you shifted your foot, removing the heel from your shoe. you pressed your bare sole gently against his clothed crotch, the contact eliciting a subdued grunt from him. the sound was enough to draw the attention of everyone at the table.

your mother's head snapped toward him, a frown of concern etched on her face. “is everything alright?” seokjin cleared his throat, a mask of discomfort now in place. “just a bit of a cramp,” he said, his voice strained but controlled. “i’ll be fine.”

your mother’s eyes softened with concern. “do you need an ice pack, dear?” he shook his head, though his eyes remained locked with yours, a smirk barely contained. “no, thank you. i’ll manage.”

as you slipped your foot back into your heel, the smug satisfaction on your face was palpable. the brief encounter had been a dangerous game, but you had managed to assert some measure of control. the exchange was subtle, yet charged with an intensity that left your pulse racing. taehyung, still watching seokjin with a mixture of worry and suspicion, glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. he seemed to sense that something had occurred, but the details eluded him. you met his gaze with an innocent, if somewhat strained, smile.

seokjin’s gaze lingered on you, his smirk now a twisted symbol of triumph. the underlying tension was almost tangible, a dark thread weaving through the seemingly mundane breakfast conversation. despite the outward civility, the air crackled with an unspoken challenge, a game of dominance played out in the guise of a simple family meal.

as taehyung prepared to leave, you approached him with a practiced grace, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the gesture, though routine, was met with enthusiastic coos from your mother and her new husband, their faces lighting up with approval. seokjin, however, observed with a dark intensity, his gaze locked with taehyung’s in a silent, menacing exchange. the atmosphere crackled with unspoken hostility as he departed, leaving you standing at the threshold of your room.

once alone, you retreated to your room, eager to change out of your breakfast attire. your wardrobe offered a range of options, but you were immediately drawn to a sleek, pink dress. as you pulled it from the hanger, a voice, cold and commanding, cut through the quiet. “don’t wear that one. too short.”

startled, you turned to see seokjin standing in the doorway, his smirk taunting. you rolled your eyes and tossed the dress aside with a dismissive flick of your wrist. “it’s none of your concern.” his amusement only grew. he sauntered closer, the confidence in his step both unsettling and provocative. his next question was blunt, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. “have you and taehyung fucked yet?”

you recoiled, a flush rising to your cheeks as you scoffed at his vulgarity. “you’re disgusting,” you decided to do what you did best—you lied. “but if you must know, yes, we have.”

his smirk never wavered as he drew near, his breath warm against your ear. “oh, really? was he good?” your heart raced, but you forced yourself to respond with practiced nonchalance. “the best i’ve ever had.”

before you could register the full impact of your lie, his hands were on your hips, his touch sending an involuntary shiver through you. his fingers grazed the fabric of your dress, moving with deliberate slowness. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, igniting a frisson of unwanted pleasure. the sensation was overwhelming as his finger slipped beneath the hem of your dress, brushing your clit through your underwear. a sharp yelp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto his arm, your grip tight as if to anchor yourself in the face of his audacity.

“stop,” you whispered urgently, your voice trembling. “anyone could come in.”

seokjin’s eyes glinted with cruel satisfaction as he withdrew his touch, his fingers lingering in the air for a moment. he turned toward the door, but not before performing a slow, deliberate motion that made your stomach churn. he brought his finger to his mouth, licking it clean with a sensuous, unhurried stroke. “just wanted a taste,” he said softly, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “breakfast wasn’t enough.”

with that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him. you stood frozen, your mind racing as you processed the invasion of privacy and the degradation you had just endured. the room felt oppressively quiet, the tension of the encounter leaving an acrid taste in the air. you hurried to your mirror, your reflection revealing a flush of lust and humiliation. your hands trembled as you grasped the discarded dress, the weight of his touch lingering in your senses. desperately, you tried to compose yourself, to regain some semblance of control as you prepared to face the rest of the day.

the day had dawned with a biting chill, but you were too preoccupied with the turmoil from the night before to pay it any heed. as you slipped into your uniform, the short, beige skirt clung uncomfortably to your hips. you meticulously dusted off the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you could. the skirt, although practical, felt like an unwelcome reminder of the escalating tension between you and seokjin.

stepping out of your room, you were met with your mother’s beaming smile. she was already preparing to offer you a ride, her cheerfulness a stark contrast to your inner turmoil. but before she could extend the offer, seokjin appeared beside her, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of approval and something darker.

“i’ll take her,” he announced smoothly, his voice carrying a confident, almost commanding tone. your mother’s face lit up with delight. “oh, that’s a wonderful idea, jin! i’m sure you two will have a pleasant drive.”

you tried to voice your protest, but the words seemed to die on your lips as you followed him to the entrance. as you walked, you felt his hand graze your thigh—a touch both intimate and unnervingly casual. a shiver ran up your spine as he let out a soft tsk, his gaze sliding down to your skirt. “this skirt's much too short,” he commented with a feigned air of disapproval. you fought the urge to flinch at his touch, though it left a disconcerting sensation in your stomach. rolling your eyes, you replied, “it’s not short enough.”

his sharp look silenced you instantly, his eyes narrowing with an intensity that made you want to shrink away. without a word, he reached into the compartment of his motorcycle and pulled out a helmet. the sleek, black visor seemed to glint with a dangerous promise. he handed it to you with a barely perceptible smirk. “here,” he said, “you’ll need this.”

you took the helmet with a resigned sigh, slipping it over your head. as you adjusted it, seokjin mounted his motorcycle with practiced ease. he gestured for you to climb on behind him. with a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around his waist, the feel of his body against yours both unsettling and strangely thrilling. his touch was almost absent as he guided the motorcycle out of the driveway, his movements smooth and fluid. the engine roared to life beneath you, and you felt the vibration travel up through the seat, connecting you in a way that was both intimate and intrusive. as the bike picked up speed, the wind whipped around you, a harsh reminder of the precarious balance between control and chaos in your relationship with him.

the motorcycle finally rolled to a stop outside the grand gates of your school, a prestigious, modern private institution that towered above you with its gleaming glass façade and intricate architectural details. the building seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reflecting the morning sun in a dazzling display of light. you dismounted quickly, feeling seokjin’s presence just behind you as you surveyed the sea of students who turned their heads to watch.

with a practiced air of indifference, you strode towards the entrance, the clack of your heels against the pavement sharp and commanding. seokjin matched your pace, his stride relaxed yet unmistakably assured. his presence only amplified the scrutiny from your peers, their eyes flitting between you and him as they whispered amongst themselves.

the hallways of the school were just as opulent as the exterior, decorated with sleek marble floors and walls adorned with modern art. you approached your locker with the familiar weight of the day’s burden pressing on your shoulders. as you spun the combination, the soft murmur of voices from two girls near the lockers caught your attention. “did you see that?” one whispered, her tone tinged with awe and curiosity. “she’s with kim seokjin.”

“yeah,” the other replied, “i heard he’s going to be her stepbrother. and what about taehyung? is he still her fiancé?” you froze momentarily, your mind racing. you snapped your head in their direction, the edge of your gaze sharp enough to cut through the uncertainty that hung in the air. the girls fell silent, their eyes widening as they avoided your stare.

“speak up,” you demanded, your voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “i can’t hear you properly.” the two girls exchanged terrified glances before they hastily gathered their things and hurried away, their retreating footsteps echoing down the corridor. you slammed your locker shut with a decisive bang, the sound reverberating through the hallway. the echo of their whispers was replaced by the gentle, almost mocking chuckle of seokjin beside you.

“you know,” he said with a smirk, his voice low and teasing, “you might want to consider being a bit nicer. you’d have less to deal with if you did.”

you shot him a look that could have frozen fire, your expression a mix of annoyance and disdain. “dealing with you is a death sentence itself,” you retorted sharply. his amusement only grew as he followed you down the hallway, his laughter a low, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate in time with your quickening pace. the halls were filled with a soft hum of activity as students bustled about, their chatter and laughter creating a backdrop to your tense exchange.

the bell chimed with its usual, resonant clang, signaling the beginning of your literature class. the room, with its rows of wooden desks and high-backed chairs, settled into a hush as students rustled through their notebooks and textbooks. the light from the large windows spilled across the floor in golden patches, warming the space and casting a serene glow over the scene.

the professor, a middle-aged woman with a penchant for dramatic flair, stepped to the front of the class. she adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat, her eyes twinkling with the promise of intellectual challenge.

“today,” she began, “we will be delving into the complexities of shakespeare’s works. i want to start by discussing hamlet. can anyone tell me about the significance of the ghost in the play?” the room was filled with a heavy silence as students exchanged glances, their faces betraying a mix of uncertainty and reluctance. you could almost feel the collective hesitation hanging in the air. with a soft, derisive scoff, you raised your hand.

“yes, (y/n)?” the professor prompted. “the ghost of king hamlet represents the unresolved issues and the sins of the past,” you began smoothly, your tone both confident and nonchalant. “he acts as a catalyst for hamlet’s quest for revenge and moral reflection, underscoring the play’s themes of corruption and madness.”

the professor nodded appreciatively, and you continued to field the subsequent questions with equal ease. your responses flowed effortlessly, the knowledge gained from countless hours of studying shakespeare’s intricacies and nuances evident in your answers. each question seemed to melt away beneath your adept grasp of the material, leaving the professor and the class in a state of quiet admiration—or, perhaps, envy.

throughout your impromptu display of literary prowess, seokjin sat at the back of the room, his gaze locked on you with an expression of bemused amusement. his smirk widened with each correct answer, his eyes sparkling with an inscrutable mixture of pride and mischief. the way he watched you, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual elegance, made it clear that he enjoyed every moment of your intellectual dominance.

then, breaking the relative silence of the lecture, his voice cut through the air with a deliberate casualness. “professor,” he began, his tone smooth and deliberately casual, “will the class be covering cymbeline at any point?” your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the play. you froze, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk as your eyes shot towards him. his gaze met yours, and the smirk on his lips was infuriatingly smug.

the professor, momentarily taken aback, adjusted her glasses and thought for a moment. “ah, cymbeline,” she mused. “it is indeed a romance about the struggles and complexities of unrequited love between the characters of cloten and imogen, who, as it turns out, are stepsiblings. we will be covering this play in our syllabus, and you’ll have the opportunity to discuss its themes and characters in the near future.”

as she spoke, you felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. the connection he had made—whether intentional or not—was impossible to ignore. the irony of discussing a romance between stepsiblings while seated next to him, the future stepbrother in your life, was nearly unbearable. you buried your face in your hands, the heat of mortification blending with frustration. seokjin’s amusement was palpable. he leaned back, his smirk widening as he relished in the discomfort he had stirred. his eyes glinted with satisfaction as he observed your reaction, finding some twisted pleasure in the way you squirmed beneath his gaze.

the bell rang, its sharp peal reverberating through the hallways of the private school. students began to shuffle out of the classroom, their voices mingling into a hum of chatter as they made their way to their next destination. you, with a determined stride, pushed through the crowd, eager to escape the claustrophobic confines of the literature class.

just as you were about to leave the classroom, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“impressive as always, sister” seokjin said with a mocking inflection in his tone. “your knowledge of literature, your prowess in speaking four languages, and let’s not forget your mathematical skills. quite the renaissance woman.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and quickening your pace. “not now, seokjin,” you muttered, focusing on the path ahead.

with his characteristic blend of confidence and insolence, he wasn’t easily deterred. he kept pace beside you, his footsteps echoing your own. “oh, but wait,” he continued, a sly smile curling his lips, “such brilliance, and yet—”

he paused dramatically, letting his words hang in the air. you shot him a wary glance, your irritation mounting. “and yet?” you prompted, trying to keep your voice steady. “so smart,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “until she’s on her knees for her stepbrother.”

you froze mid-step, the echo of his words reverberating in your mind. the hallway seemed to close in around you, the chatter of students fading into a distant murmur. you whirled around to face him, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “keep it down, asshole” you hissed, glancing around to ensure no one else could hear. “anyone could hear you.”

his smirk widened, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you. without warning, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you back towards him. you stumbled slightly, your back pressing against his chest as he held you close.

“don’t you want to have lunch with your stepbrother?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. the proximity made your pulse quicken, a mixture of fear and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. you shivered, both from his touch and the implications of his words. “let go, asshole,” you said, struggling to free yourself from his grip. “this isn’t funny.”

he didn’t release you, though. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “come on,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine. “you can’t avoid me forever.” reluctantly, you sighed and resigned yourself to the situation. “fine,” you muttered, “let’s go.”

his grip on your wrist loosened, and he finally released you, though he maintained a close proximity as you both made your way to the cafeteria. the hallway was bustling with students, their faces a blur of excitement and chatter. he walked beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the tension between you. as you entered the cafeteria, the noise level surged. The scent of various foods—freshly baked bread, savory meats, and sweet desserts—filled the air. the large room was filled with long tables, some already occupied by groups of students engaged in animated conversations. you and seokjin made your way to an empty table in the corner, away from the more crowded areas.

he pulled out a chair for you with an exaggerated flourish, his smirk never fading. “after you, dear step-sister,” he said, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

you sat down, your eyes narrowing at him as you took in the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him. his presence was both intimidating and infuriating. as you began to look over the food options, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you, you could feel the weight of his words and actions pressing down on you. “why are you doing this?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached for a plate. his eyes sparkled with mischief. “doing what?” he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eye betrayed his true intentions.

“playing games,” you clarified, your frustration palpable. “why make things so difficult?” he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you. “it’s not about making things difficult,” he said casually. “it’s about making things interesting. besides, it’s not every day i get to spend time with my step-sister.”

as you both waited for your food, the cafeteria buzzed with the chatter of other students, the atmosphere filled with a vibrant energy that contrasted sharply with the tension between you and him. the clash of his casual demeanor against your stiff, frustrated silence created a palpable tension in the air, one that neither of you seemed willing to break.

as he leaned back in his chair, his casual demeanor never faltering, you turned to him with an edge of exasperation in your voice. “seokjin,” you began, your tone sharp, “stop calling me your step-sister. it’s not funny.” his smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “oh, but it is funny,” he said, a mischievous tone threading through his words. “besides, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

before you could retort, the cafeteria doors swung open with a familiar creak. taehyung walked in, his expression taut with displeasure. his eyes locked onto yours and then to seokjin. he approached the table, his gaze stern. “what’s going on here?” he asked, his voice low and controlled but clearly irritated.

seokjin, seemingly unfazed, looked up at him with a smirk. “isn’t it obvious?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug. “i’m simply enjoying lunch with my sister.” you shot him a withering glare, feeling the flush of humiliation creeping up your neck. taehyung’s patience seemed to wear thin as he turned to you.

“get up,” he said firmly, extending his hand. you stared at him in astonishment. “what? why?”

“just get up,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. reluctantly, you stood, but before you could move, seokjin’s hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising force. “sit back down,” he commanded, his voice icy.

taehyung’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “if you don’t let her go,” he said through gritted teeth, “i’ll knock your ass out clean.”

seokjin’s smirk remained, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement. “please,” he said, gesturing towards the other students who had begun to watch the scene unfold. “let’s not make a scene.”

mortification washed over you as the stares of the students pierced through you like daggers. “cut it out, both of you,” you said, your voice rising in desperation. “this is ridiculous.”

taehyung’s frustration was palpable as he reached for your wrist, pulling gently. “let’s go,” he said firmly. but just as he began to lead you away, seokjin yanked you back by your other arm, his grip unyielding. the two men locked eyes, the tension between them nearly tangible.

taehyung’s jaw clenched. “watch what you’re doing,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. seokjin’s smirk only deepened. “oh, i’m just having a little fun,” he said, his tone taunting. “if you think you can do something about it, feel free to try.”

before taehyung could make a move, you interjected, your voice trembling but resolute. “seokjin,” you said firmly, “i’ll be right back.” his eyes flashed with reluctant understanding, though his smirk remained. he released his grip on your arm but maintained a watchful gaze as you began to follow taehyung. as you moved away, the atmosphere crackled with an unspoken challenge between the two of them. you glanced back once, catching seokjin’s smirk as he watched you go. taehyung, leading you away, was clearly trying to keep his anger in check, his grip on your wrist tight but not painful.

he led you outside the front doors of the school, the crisp afternoon air hitting you with a sharpness that matched the tension between you. he didn’t release his grip on your wrist until you were standing under the shadow of a large oak tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. “what’s your problem?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the surge of anger and hurt. “why are you being such an asshole? neither of us wanted this engagement, so why does it matter what i do?”

his glare was as cold as steel. “it matters because my reputation is on the line,” he snapped, his voice edged with frustration. “i didn’t agree to this engagement, but i have to uphold a certain image. seeing you so close to seokjin makes me look weak and unreliable. that’s something i can’t afford.”

the hurt in your chest felt like a physical blow, but you held your tongue as he continued. “i don’t care what you do behind closed doors,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “just keep it out of the public eye. my reputation is at stake, and i expect you to be more mindful of that when others are around.” his words cut deep, leaving you standing there, stunned and wounded. the weight of his disapproval pressed heavily upon you, making it hard to breathe. as he turned on his heel and walked away, his stride confident and unyielding, you were left grappling with his harsh words.

as you stood there, processing the sting of his words, you felt a familiar touch on your shoulder. you turned to see seokjin standing behind you, his gaze sympathetic yet carrying an undercurrent of coldness as he watched taehyung retreating in the distance. “come on,” he said gently, his tone soft but firm. “i’ll take you home.”

you nodded, unable to muster more than a weary sigh. seokjin’s presence was a mixed blessing—his offer of support came with its own complexities, but right now, it was a comfort. as he guided you back towards his motorcycle, the silence between you was thick, filled with unspoken words and shared tension. you both walked in silence, the rustling leaves and distant hum of traffic filling the void. the drive back to your place was equally quiet, with his driving marked by an attentive, almost contemplative air. you glanced occasionally at him, but his eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable.

when you finally arrived at your place, the familiar surroundings did little to ease the turmoil inside you. seokjin parked the motorcycle and turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and sincere. you nodded, though the ache in your chest told a different story. “i’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a small smile. “thanks for the ride.”

his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a short nod. “if you need anything,” he said softly, “just let me know.” with that, you both stepped out. as you made your way to the door, his presence was a steady, albeit complex, support. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the comfort of your home offering a momentary reprieve from the emotional storm.

the evening settled over the house, casting long shadows across the rooms as you moved through the kitchen, tidying up for dinner. the comforting hum of the dishwasher filled the space, a soothing background to the tumultuous thoughts racing through your mind. you wiped down the counters with mechanical precision, trying to keep your mind occupied and away from the earlier confrontation with taehyung and the underlying tension with seokjin.

as you finished cleaning, you joined your mother and seokjin at the dining table. the air, which had once held a certain playful charm, now felt dense and suffocating. the weight of your mother’s earlier conversation with taehyung and the ensuing emotional turmoil clung to you like a shroud.

she seized the opportunity to delve into a discussion about your engagement. “you know,” she began, her tone casual yet probing, “i was thinking about the wedding preparations. we need to finalize the guest list and decide on the venue soon. It’s such an important event, and i want everything to be perfect for you and taehyung.” you nodded, though the words felt like daggers. “i’m sure everything will work out,” you replied, your voice tight with suppressed emotion.

seokjin, sitting across the table, cast a sympathetic glance your way but said nothing. he seemed to sense the delicate balance of the conversation and watched as your mother continued.

“and i know it’s a big adjustment,” your mother continued, her voice gentle but insistent. “but you’ll find that once you get used to the idea, it'll all fall into place. taehyung is a wonderful man, and i’m sure you’ll both make a great life together.” each word felt like a pinprick against your already raw nerves. you could barely maintain your composure as she spoke, her words a relentless reminder of the life you were being forced into. the suffocating weight of her expectations and the impossible situation you were trapped in pushed you closer to the edge.

finally, the strain became too much. “i don’t wanna hear about taehyung anymore,” you blurted out, your voice trembling with emotion. “it’s more than enough that i’m being forced into a life i don’t want. i don’t need to be reminded of it every minute.” your mother’s eyes widened in shock, her fork halting mid-air. seokjin’s gaze shifted from your mother to you, his expression softening as he took in your distress. the silence that followed your outburst was thick and uncomfortable, the air charged with the weight of your raw emotion.

tears welled in your eyes, and you tried to blink them away, but they came anyway, spilling down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i just can’t do this anymore.” without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound. you hurried out of the room, not daring to look back. the cold comfort of your room was a small relief, a place where you could be alone with your thoughts.

you shut the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. the tears came freely now, each sob a release of the pent-up frustration and despair that had been building inside you. the crushing weight of your situation, the unrelenting pressure from your mother, and the complexities of your relationship with seokjin all converged into a single, overwhelming storm of emotion. outside, the house was eerily quiet. his sympathetic gaze had not gone unnoticed, and you could only hope that his understanding extended beyond the surface. as you cried into the softness of your pillow, you felt a small pang of gratitude for his presence, even as you wished desperately for the strength to face the days ahead.

you lay on your bed, your face buried in the pillow as the tears continued to flow. the muffled sound of your sobs was the only noise in the room, and the heavy silence was a stark contrast to the chaos in your heart. the warmth of the tears against your cheeks and the soft, wet fabric of the pillowcase were the only things grounding you in that moment.

you didn't hear the soft creak of the door opening, nor the quiet footsteps that followed. seokjin entered the room with a silent grace, closing the door behind him with a careful click. the dim light from the hallway cast long shadows on the floor, barely illuminating his figure as he approached. sitting beside you on the bed, he placed a comforting hand on your leg. his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions. “you’re gonna ruin your makeup,” he said softly, attempting to lighten the mood. his voice was warm, but there was an undertone of genuine concern.

you managed a watery laugh, the sound escaping through your tears. you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, struggling to regain some semblance of composure. when you looked at him, his gaze was unwaveringly sympathetic. he gently brushed away the tears that had escaped your attempts to dry them, his touch tender and reassuring. his eyes softened as he studied your face. the image of the woman before him, so vulnerable and distressed, was a far cry from the spoiled, spoiled girl he had initially perceived. there was a depth to you now, a raw honesty in your pain that challenged his previous assumptions.

“you’ll find a way out of this,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “any guy would be lucky to have you.” you shook your head, a defeated gesture. “i don’t want to be taehyung’s fiancée anymore,” you confessed, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “i can’t stand this life.”

his expression hardened with resolve. “i know,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ll find a way out of it for you. i promise.”

before you could respond, he leaned closer. his lips brushed against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. the initial touch was gentle, a mere whisper of contact, but it quickly grew more intense. as his lips pressed more firmly against yours, the kiss became heated, filled with a passion that had been bubbling beneath the surface.

his body hovered over yours, the warmth of his form radiating against your own. his hands cupped your face, tilting it slightly to deepen the kiss. each movement was deliberate, his touch both commanding and tender. the kiss conveyed a mix of comfort and desire, an unspoken promise in every press of his lips against yours. the world outside faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips and the comforting strength of his presence. the kiss was a blend of urgency and tenderness, a moment of escape from the oppressive reality that had been suffocating you. seokjin’s hands roamed gently, his touch setting your skin aflame even as it soothed the storm within.

as the kiss continued, you found yourself responding, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders. the heat of the moment enveloped you, the kiss becoming an intense exchange of feelings that neither of you could fully articulate. his grip on your face tightened slightly, his kisses growing more fervent as he lost himself in the shared passion. “any man would be lucky to have my stepsister, right?”

you gasped against his mouth, nodding, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue delved deeper, tasting you thoroughly. seokjin’s hands began to wander, tracing the contours of your body with a hungry touch. his palms slid over your breasts, kneading gently before he reached for the hem of your shirt. you didn’t resist, allowing him to lift it over your head, baring your chest to the cool air. his eyes raked over your exposed skin, a look of pure lust in his gaze.

his mouth left yours to blaze a trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. your body arched, a soft moan escaping as his teeth grazed your collarbone. your skin was on fire, every nerve ending alight with a need that only he could satisfy. as his kisses grew more insistent, his hands worked at the button and zipper of your skirt, pulling it down over your hips. his warm breath against your skin was intoxicating, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

his eyes locked with yours as he slid your underwear aside, revealing your wet, swollen pussy. without hesitation, he leaned down to bury his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at your folds with a hunger that surprised even him. you bucked against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming, your hands gripping the bedcovers tightly. his tongue flicked and probed, his expert touch driving you wild. “told you i needed a taste,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

his mouth closed around your clit, sucking gently as his fingers slid into your tight heat. your breath hitched, a whimper escaping as he began to fuck you with his digits, setting a rhythm that matched the strokes of his tongue. the room was filled with the sounds of your passion, your cries muffled by the pillow you’d buried your face in. he ate you out like a starving man, savoring every drop of your arousal, his own need growing with every passing second.

his words were dirty, a stream of vulgar praise that had you squirming with pleasure. “you’re so fucking perfect, baby. so sweet and tight for me. gotta fill you up, make you scream my name. tell me you want it, tell me you’re mine.” his voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the gentle laps of his tongue.

you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body taut with anticipation. you whispered a shaky “yes, seokjin, yes—promise i'm all yours,” urging him on, begging for release. his pace increased, his tongue circling your clit faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you with an unyielding rhythm. your thighs trembled, your entire body tightening as the orgasm built within you.

finally, with a muffled scream into the pillow, you came, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. seokjin didn’t stop, his mouth working tirelessly to extend your climax, his fingers still moving within you. when the last tremor had passed, he kissed your inner thighs before standing up, his eyes dark with desire.

his own clothing was quickly discarded, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his length nudging at your entrance. “are you ready for me? need your step-brother that bad?” he growled, his voice low and animalistic.

you nodded, your eyes wide with need. “yes, please, yes.” he didn’t wait for further invitation, thrusting into you in one swift motion. your walls clenched around him, trying to accommodate his size. a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure slipped from your lips, but you didn’t protest. this was what you needed, what you’d been craving.

his strokes were deep and hard, claiming you as his own. his hands held your hips in a firm grip, keeping you in place as he drove into you without mercy. the room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your moans of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. he didn’t hold back, fucking you with an intensity that left you breathless.

his eyes never left yours, the connection between you two palpable as he fucked you with an unbridled passion. your pussy was soaking wet, welcoming his every thrust, and with each push into you, seokjin felt a sense of power and ownership that he hadn’t experienced before. you were his, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

his hips pistoned against yours, his cock plunging deep inside you. your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that would later remind him of this illicit encounter. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had you writhing beneath him. “you’re so tight, baby. just need you to be quiet for me, don't let your mom hear us.” he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

his words only served to drive you higher, your breath coming in ragged gasps. your walls tightened around him, the friction building as he hit all the right spots. your body was his playground, and he was playing you like a maestro conducting an orchestra of desire. “you like that, don’t you? wonder what your mom would think, if she saw you like this—fucked out just for her step-brother's cock.” he taunted, his voice a mix of praise and degradation.

you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirlwind of sensation. all you could do was moan, your body a slave to the pleasure he was giving you. you felt yourself building up to another orgasm, the tension coiling in your belly like a tight spring. “yes, yes, yes,” you encouraged, your voice raw and desperate.

his rhythm grew erratic as he felt his own climax approaching. his grip on your hips tightened, his strokes becoming more frenzied. “i’m gonna cum inside you, baby. i’m gonna fill you up with my cum, mark you as mine.” his words were a declaration of ownership, a claiming that sent a thrill through your core.

you felt yourself tumbling over the edge once more, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. as it crested, you felt him tense above you, his cock pulsing as he released his seed deep within you. the warmth of his cum filled you, mixing with your own juices, creating a deliciously obscene mess. his breathing was harsh, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. he leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue invading your mouth as he continued to pump his hips, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. when he finally pulled out, he collapsed beside you, both of you panting and slick with sweat.

the room was filled with the scent of your shared passion, the air thick with the intimacy of your connection. he turned towards you, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if sealing a promise. “you'll find a way out of it,” he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. “and you'll always have me by your side.”

you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. his words were a lifeline in the storm of your emotions, a promise of unwavering support and love. the weight of the world seemed a little lighter with him there, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. his eyes were filled with an earnest sincerity that made your heart ache. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. the warmth of his body against yours was a comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in this. as you nestled into his chest, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly ebbing away.

“i can't be taehyung's fiancée anymore,” you whispered, the words barely audible. he tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “i know,” he replied gently. “i promise you won't be.”

his reassurance was a soothing balm to your battered spirit. you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax in his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace. the future was still uncertain, but with seokjin by your side, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. the bond between you, forged in the fires of your shared struggles, was unbreakable. and as you lay there, wrapped in his embrace, you knew that no matter what happened, you would always have each other.

✧.*

a/n: should i end it here or make a part 2 lmk

teach me (가르쳐줘) — kim taehyung (김태형)

✧.* 18+

in a world where wealth often dictated worth, knowledge was your key to navigating the labyrinth of societal expectations and ambitions. your university was a microcosm of this world—an elite institution where the corridors were lined with the whispers of inherited fortunes and the echoes of legacies. the ornate hallways, adorned with grand portraits of alumni who now ruled industries and nations, seemed to breathe with an air of superiority, as if money alone had the power to shape destinies.

yet, amidst the polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers, you knew that the true power lay in knowledge. money could buy access, but it couldn’t purchase wisdom or the relentless drive to understand the world in its myriad complexities. that belief was your anchor, keeping you grounded as you moved through the shadows of privilege and pretense.

the midterms were a pivotal moment, the culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. the classroom buzzed with a mix of anxiety and determination, students fidgeting in their seats as they awaited the start of the exam. the professor, a stern figure whose reputation for rigor was well known, stood at the front of the room, surveying the gathered students with a critical eye.

“ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice slicing through the murmur of conversations, “today’s midterm will account for sixty percent of your final grade. this is your opportunity to demonstrate not just your understanding of the material, but your ability to apply it under pressure. i expect nothing but your best effort.”

he paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “the rules are simple: no talking, no electronic devices, and no looking at your neighbor's paper. any violation will result in an immediate failure. you have two hours to complete the exam. good luck.” with that, he began to pass around the sheets of paper, the crisp sound of pages being distributed echoing through the room. you took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. it was your domain, your battlefield. the stacks of notes, late-night study sessions, and countless hours spent in the library had all led to this moment.

as you glanced to your right, you saw your friend. jimin gave you a knowing smile and a thumbs up, his confidence in you a silent reassurance. you returned the gesture, grateful for his unwavering support. he had always been a source of encouragement, his cheerful demeanor and kind heart a comforting presence amidst the cutthroat competition. you had spent most of your life being his friend, you had grown up together.

to your other side, however, sat kim taehyung. his posture exuded an effortless arrogance, a king holding court among his loyal subjects. he laughed with his friends, seemingly indifferent to the gravity of the situation. you recognized a few of them—jungkook, with his athletic build and easy charm, and hoseok, whose bright smile belied a sharp intellect. the rest were a blur of designer clothes and privileged backgrounds. you couldn’t help but scoff quietly, turning your attention back to the exam in front of you. taehyung’s nonchalance was infuriating, a stark contrast to the dedication you poured into your studies. but today, you would show that hard work and intellect trumped arrogance and entitlement.

the first question stared back at you from the paper, a complex equation that required not just rote memorization but a deep understanding of the underlying principles. you picked up your pen, the familiar weight a comforting anchor, and began to write. the numbers and symbols flowed from your mind to the page with practiced ease. you broke down the equation methodically, each step a testament to your meticulous preparation. the anxiety that had gripped you earlier faded, replaced by a focused calm. it was your element, where your true strength shone.

question after question, you navigated through the intricacies of calculus, the nuances of economic theory, and the subtleties of advanced physics. each problem was a puzzle, and you relished the challenge of piecing together the solutions. your pen moved swiftly, leaving behind a trail of precise calculations and thoughtful analysis.

as the minutes ticked by, you occasionally glanced around the room. jimin was hunched over his paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling. his earlier bravado had evaporated, replaced by a look of frustration as he scribbled haphazardly, his confidence cracking under the pressure. you allowed yourself a brief moment of satisfaction before refocusing on your own work. it was your time to shine, and nothing would distract you from achieving your goal.

the final question was a long-form essay, asking you to analyze a complex scenario and propose a comprehensive solution. you paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before diving in. your fingers flew across the paper, articulating your ideas with clarity and precision. you drew upon everything you had learned, weaving together concepts and theories into a cohesive argument.

the room was silent except for the sound of pens scratching against paper and the occasional rustle of pages. time seemed to stretch and compress, a fluid continuum that you were both acutely aware of and blissfully oblivious to. you lost yourself in the flow of knowledge, each answer a piece of your intellectual tapestry.

when the professor finally called for the papers to be handed in, you leaned back in your chair, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. you had given it your all, leaving nothing to chance. as you gathered your belongings, you caught jimin’s eye once more. he smiled, and you knew he shared in your sense of triumph. taehyung, however, looked defeated. the swagger was gone, replaced by a quiet resignation. his friends patted him on the back, offering empty reassurances, but you could see the doubt in his eyes. for the first time, the golden boy of the university had encountered a challenge he couldn’t charm his way through.

the hallways were still bustling with the residual energy of the midterms as you made your way to your locker. students exchanged their thoughts on the exam, some expressing relief, others despair. the echo of footsteps and the dull hum of conversations filled the space, but your mind was serene, buoyed by the confidence of a job well done.

jimin was right beside you, his ever-present smile a beacon of positivity. “so, how do you think you did?” he asked, though his eyes twinkled with the certainty that you had aced it. you smiled back at him, the sense of accomplishment still fresh. “i think I did well. i felt pretty confident about most of the questions. how about you?”

he nodded, his smile widening. “it’s my realm of knowledge too, remember? i think i did pretty well.” before your conversation could continue, you both turned to see jieun walking towards you. her eyes were fixed on jimin, a mixture of affection and relief in her gaze. she was infatuated with him, a fact that was evident in every glance and touch. yet, beneath that infatuation was a simmering dislike for you. as jimin’s best friend, you were a constant presence in his life, and jieun was a firm believer that boys and girls couldn’t be just friends. but it was hard to hold her animosity against her. jieun’s jealousy was expressed in the cutest, most endearing ways, making it impossible to truly dislike her. she was adorable in her insecurities, her emotions laid bare for anyone to see.

“hey, how'd it go?” she asked jimin, her tone a mix of concern and expectation as she wrapped her arms around his. “it went well,” jimin replied, his voice softening as he looked at her. “i think i did pretty good.”

her face lit up, her eyes sparkling with pride. “i knew you would! you’re the best.” their dialogue was playful, filled with the kind of light-hearted banter that only couples share. she clung to his arm, her possessiveness almost comical in its intensity. you watched them, an amused smile playing on your lips.

“so, are we walking home together?” jimin asked, turning his attention back to you. his question was innocent enough, but it was enough to make jieun frown, her jealousy flaring up again. “you can't walk home alone with her,” she protested, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. it was adorable, her attempts to hide her jealousy only making it more obvious.

you chuckled softly, meeting her gaze with understanding. “i’d like it only if jieun comes along,” you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. her face lit up for a second, a flash of surprise and happiness crossing her features before she tried to mask it. “i’m only coming because of jimin,” she insisted, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes.

the three of you made your way out of the building, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the campus. the air was crisp and cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees lining the path. jimin and jieun walked ahead, their playful banter continuing as she clung to his arm. they were a perfect picture of young love, their affection for each other palpable. you walked a few steps behind, content to observe their interactions. despite her jealousy, you knew her feelings came from a place of deep love for jimin. and jimin, for all his easygoing nature, was equally devoted to her, his every gesture filled with tenderness.

the late afternoon sun bathed the streets in a golden hue as you, the three of you had quickly approached your home. the warmth of the sun was a welcome contrast to the cold, tense atmosphere of the exam room. your house loomed ahead, a comforting presence amidst the day's whirlwind of activity.

as you reached the front steps, jieun turned to you, her expression a mix of curiosity and cautious intrigue. “you know,” she began, her voice tinged with a hint of challenge, “i’ve heard people asking about your background. have you ever thought about answering those questions?” jimin shot her a warning glance, his eyes narrowing slightly in a silent plea for her to tread lightly. you caught the look but knew there was no malice behind her question, only a genuine interest that bordered on prying.

you paused for a moment, reflecting on the many questions that had been thrown your way over the past months. the whispers about how someone like you had gained entry into such a prestigious school had been relentless. the curiosity had always seemed to stem from a place of disbelief, as if your presence there was an anomaly that needed to be explained. you remembered how jimin had advised you to avoid discussing your background, especially since the truth—that you had earned your place purely through your academic achievements rather than wealth—could spark envy and hostility among your peers.

“i’m not really sure,” you finally answered, your tone thoughtful. “if the truth ever comes out, i guess i’ll just have to deal with it.” she nodded, her gaze softening as she took in your words. despite her evident discomfort with your close friendship with jimin, she had always respected your privacy and had never shared anything about your background with others. her understanding of your situation, despite the unspoken tension, was something you silently appreciated.

jimin placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “don’t worry about it,” he said with a comforting smile. “just focus on doing your best, and everything will work out.” you smiled back at him, grateful for his support. “thanks, jimin. i’ll see you later.”

jieun pouted, a playful yet slightly exasperated look on her face. “no, you won't,” she said, though there was no real bitterness in her voice. before you could respond, she took jimin’s arm and tugged him gently away. the two of them walked off together, their steps in sync as they shared a quiet, intimate conversation. the sight of them walking away, their connection evident in every gesture, left you with a warm feeling of contentment.

as you stepped through the door of your modest home, the familiar scent of worn wood and lingering fabric softener greeted you. the house was small, a humble abode that spoke of years of wear and a life lived within its confines. the walls were a faded, pastel yellow, their color dulled by time and the constant scuffing of shoes and furniture. the linoleum floor, scuffed and stained, added a touch of imperfection to the otherwise simple decor.

your mother was sprawled on the floor, her head resting against the small, weathered bucket of soapy water. her hand was still immersed in the suds, clutching a piece of fabric that she had been scrubbing with tired diligence. the sight of her dozing off in the middle of her chores tugged at your heart. gently, you knelt beside her, brushing a strand of graying hair from her face. “mom,” you whispered, your voice tender yet firm. “wake up. you need to take a nap. i’ll finish this for you.”

she stirred slowly, blinking awake to find you kneeling beside her. a sleepy, grateful smile spread across her face as she sat up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and love. “oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. “thank you. you don’t have to.”

you helped her to her feet, guiding her gently towards the small, worn-out couch that occupied one corner of the room. it was a modest piece of furniture, its cushions flattened and its fabric faded from years of use. “just get some rest,” you urged, your tone soft but insistent. “i’ll take care of the rest.”

she nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude. before she settled down, she placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, her touch warm and reassuring. “how did the exam go?” she asked, her voice laced with concern and curiosity. you couldn’t help but smile, a wave of relief washing over you as you recounted the details. “it went well. i’m confident i passed.”

her eyes lit up with pride and relief. “i’m so glad to hear that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “you’ve brought honor to the family. with your grades, i’m sure you’ll make something of yourself and find a great job.” you felt a lump form in your throat at her words. her unwavering faith in you was both comforting and humbling. “i promise, mom,” you said, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “the first thing i’ll do is pay off the hospital bills.”

her face softened, and she reached out to clasp your hand. the debt from the hospital had been a heavy burden on your family, a constant reminder of your father’s passing and the financial strain it had left behind. the bills, mounting and relentless, were a stark reminder of the medical costs that had drained your family's savings and plunged them into debt. your father’s illness had been a long and painful journey. he had spent months in the hospital, his condition deteriorating despite the best efforts of the doctors. each visit to the hospital brought a new set of bills—emergency room fees, surgical costs, daily hospital charges—that piled up with an unrelenting ferocity. his death had left your mother grappling not only with grief but also with the crushing weight of financial instability.

the hospital bills were a reminder of the dreams that had slipped through your fingers, replaced by the harsh reality of debt and loss. your mother had done her best to keep the household running, working tirelessly to make ends meet while trying to keep the financial strain hidden from you. now, as you promised to alleviate that burden, you could see the relief in her eyes. “i know you will,” she said softly. “you’ve always been so determined and strong.”

you embraced her, holding her close as you both shared a quiet moment of understanding. The weight of responsibility, the pressures of academic success, and the promise of a better future all seemed to coalesce in that one tender hug.

with a final squeeze, you pulled away and headed towards the door, your part-time job waiting for you. it was a job that helped pay the bills and put food on the table, a small but significant contribution to the family’s well-being. as you stepped out into the crisp evening air, you took a deep breath, the coolness invigorating you. the streets were quieting down, the hustle of the day giving way to the tranquility of the night. you walked briskly towards your scooter, the one reliable means of transport for your job. the scooter had seen better days, its paint chipped and its engine wheezing with each start, but it was yours, and it served its purpose faithfully.

you mounted the scooter and revved the engine, feeling the familiar hum beneath you. the streets opened up as you navigated through the city, each delivery a step towards your goal. as you worked, the weight of your promise and the hope for a brighter future kept you motivated. each delivery was a reminder of the resilience and determination that defined you, and with every mile, you felt a step closer to fulfilling your dreams and easing your mother’s burdens.

the evening air grew cooler as you continued your shift, the rhythmic clatter of plates and the soft hum of conversation filling the air. the restaurant, a modest establishment with its own unique charm, was busy enough to keep you on your toes. you moved from table to table, wiping down surfaces and ensuring that each customer was satisfied with their meal. the work, though exhausting, was a necessary part of keeping your family afloat, and you approached it with the same dedication you applied to your studies.

as you polished the last table, your boss called you over, his voice cutting through the din of the restaurant. “i need you to make a delivery,” he said, handing you a paper with an address and an order. “it’s an auto workshop. they’ve got a few burgers and fries waiting. here’s the address.” you took the slip of paper, noting the address and the order. the workshop’s location was a bit out of the way, but you nodded and took the bag of food. it was a familiar routine, but today had a different edge to it, a faint sense of anticipation and unease.

mounting your scooter, you adjusted your helmet and revved the engine. the city lights flashed by as you sped through the streets, weaving between cars and pedestrians with practiced ease. the workshop wasn’t far, but the journey seemed to stretch longer with every passing minute. your mind wandered back to the upcoming challenges and the promise you’d made to your mother, fueling your determination.

arriving at the auto workshop, you parked the scooter and approached the entrance. the workshop was a large, industrial space filled with the clinking of tools and the scent of motor oil. the floor was stained with grease and the walls adorned with faded posters of car parts and maintenance tips. you called out the name on the order, your voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. “delivery for min yoongi.”

it wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice reply that your heart skipped a beat. min yoongi. the name was unmistakable, and the man who emerged from the back of the workshop was someone you had seen around school. his presence was accompanied by a sense of authority, and his clique, always in tow, exuded an air of indifference that you had noticed from afar.

as he stepped into view, his gaze locked onto you, and a smirk slowly spread across his face. the sight of him, in the midst of his domain, only heightened the sense of unease that had settled in your stomach. you stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in.

“what’s a private university student like you doing delivering burgers?” yoongi’s voice was laced with a mix of curiosity and condescension. his smirk widened, making you feel even more out of place. you ignored his question and held out the bag of food, your tone steady as you stated, “here’s your order. the total is thirty dollars.”

his smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. he took out the money, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bag as he handed it over. “let’s hope you’re not part of the school’s social care,” he remarked, his tone dripping with mockery. “that’d be bad for both of us.” his comment stung, a thinly veiled threat masked as casual conversation. you could sense the underlying tension in his words, a warning that there was more to his presence here than just a casual delivery.

without responding, you took the money and turned to leave, the unease in your chest growing with each step. you mounted your scooter once more, the engine rumbling to life as you prepared to head back to the restaurant. yoongi’s parting words lingered in your mind, a reminder that the social dynamics at school were more complicated than you had anticipated.

the hours at work seemed to stretch on interminably, each minute marked by the steady rhythm of your duties. you cleaned tables, took orders, and delivered food with the practiced efficiency that came from months of experience. the work was grueling but necessary, a means to an end that kept your family afloat. as your shift finally drew to a close, you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

returning home, the small house welcomed you with its usual sense of comfort and familiarity. the night had settled into a quiet calm, and you found your mother fast asleep on the couch, the soft light of the lamp casting a gentle glow over her face. the sight of her peaceful rest made you smile. you carefully covered her with a light blanket, ensuring she was warm and comfortable before retreating to your own room. pushing yoongi’s unsettling words to the back of your mind, you sank into your bed and pulled the covers over you. aleep came quickly, a welcome escape from the day’s stresses.

morning arrived with the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains. you stirred, stretching and yawning as you greeted the new day. a quick kiss on your mother’s forehead served as both a farewell and a gesture of gratitude. “have a good day, mom,” you whispered before heading out the door.

the walk to school was uneventful, the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps on the sidewalk providing a steady cadence. however, as you approached the school, a strange atmosphere greeted you. the usual buzz of students was replaced by an uneasy silence, punctuated by hushed whispers and furtive glances. your heart raced, an uneasy thought crossing your mind—could yoongi have said something? the idea lingered for a moment, only to be overshadowed by the sight of jieun running towards you, her face alight with excitement.

“hey! did you see the bulletin board?” she called out, her voice brimming with energy. you followed her, your curiosity piqued. pushing through the crowd of students that had gathered around the bulletin board, you felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety bubble within you. jieun guided you to the front, and as you finally reached the board, you were met with a sea of names and scores.

your eyes scanned the list quickly, and then, as if by instinct, they were drawn to your own name. there it was—first place. you gasped, the reality of your achievement sinking in. before you could fully process the news, jimin appeared beside you, his hand coming down with a hearty slap on your back. “congrats! i knew you’d do it!” you laughed, the joy of your accomplishment mingling with the relief of seeing your hard work recognized. jieun was quick to join in the celebration, her cheerfulness contagious as she congratulated jimin, who had secured second place.

turning your attention back to the board, your eyes couldn’t help but find the name of the one who had caught your attention earlier—taehyung. his name was prominently displayed at the bottom of the list. the shock of seeing him in last place among one hundred students was palpable. the whispers around you seemed to intensify as people took in the surprising result.

as you glanced over towards him, you saw him surrounded by his friends, their laughter ringing out with a mix of disbelief and amusement. jieun’s own laughter seemed to merge with theirs, her reaction a stark contrast to your own. the scene unfolded like a tableau of contrasting emotions, with the weight of the academic competition creating an unexpected drama.

behind taehyung, your gaze met yoongi’s, his smirk unmistakable. he stood a little apart from the group, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement. the sight of him sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the tension that had lingered from your encounter at the workshop. you quickly looked away, unwilling to let him occupy any more of your thoughts.

the morning continued with an air of restless energy, each classroom you passed seeming to hum with the aftermath of the midterm results. you navigated the hallways with a sense of purpose, your focus fixed on reaching your next class. the excitement of your accomplishment had yet to fully settle, overshadowed by the buzz of gossip and the unsettling encounter with yoongi.

as you rounded a corner, preparing to merge into the flow of students heading towards your classroom, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than min yoongi. he stood directly in your path, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, as if he had been waiting just for this moment.

his smirk was immediately apparent, a self-satisfied curve of his lips that seemed to carry both amusement and challenge. “congratulations, delivery girl,” he said, his voice dripping with a casual mockery that sent a chill down your spine. you tensed, the unwelcome familiarity of his presence causing your heart to race. the public setting, combined with his smirk and condescending tone, made the interaction feel all the more uncomfortable. you had hoped to avoid any further confrontations, especially in the midst of the day’s academic frenzy.

without a word, you attempted to sidestep him, hoping to continue on your way without escalating the situation. however, his presence seemed to block your path as if he was determined to make this encounter linger. “thought you’d enjoy a little recognition,” he continued, his tone suggesting that he found some perverse pleasure in this interaction. “didn’t expect the top scorer to be working part-time as a delivery girl. quite the contrast, don’t you think?”

his words were a pointed reminder of the social divide that separated you from the elite circles he moved in. the insinuation that your hard-earned success was somehow diminished by your job was clear, and it stung. you took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. “thank you, yoongi,” you managed to reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “i’ve got to get to class now.”

turning on your heel, you walked away with a purposeful stride, your heart pounding as you moved past him. the hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, the echoes of students' voices blending into a cacophony of sounds that barely registered as you focused on putting distance between yourself and him. each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of his words and the sting of his mocking tone. the confrontation had left you unsettled, but you refused to let it deter you. your goal remained clear—excel in your studies, support your family, and rise above the social constraints that sought to define you.

the day had passed in a blur of lectures and fleeting moments of camaraderie with classmates. as the final bell rang, signaling the end of your classes, you made your way to your second job at the coffee shop, a cozy nook tucked away in a bustling part of town. the transition from academic focus to the steady rhythm of coffee brewing was familiar, a comforting routine that helped ground you.

the shop was a warm haven, filled with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and the soft murmur of conversation. as you slipped behind the counter, you spotted jieun and jimin already seated at their usual corner table. they looked up with welcoming smiles as you approached, ready to take their orders.

you went through the motions of preparing their drinks—jieun’s caramel macchiato and jimin’s classic espresso—with practiced ease. as you worked, the lingering sting of yoongi’s earlier comments occupied your thoughts. his condescending tone had echoed in your mind, a reminder of the social divide that you had been trying so hard to ignore.

jieun’s voice cut through your reverie as she scoffed, her expression darkening. “that yoongi is such an asshole. what does he know about you, anyway?” you tried to brush off her concern, but her words struck a chord. you finished up their drinks and handed them over, forcing a smile. “it’s nothing. he doesn’t have anything concrete against me. i can handle it.”

jimin nodded in agreement. “yeah, just don’t let him get to you. he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. besides, he doesn’t know the full story.” you nodded appreciatively, feeling a bit of reassurance from their support. with a brief exchange of pleasantries, you returned to your tasks, the steady hum of the coffee shop filling the background as you immersed yourself in the rhythm of the job.

meanwhile, in a world far removed from the warmth of the coffee shop, taehyung was enveloped in a cold, imposing atmosphere. his family’s manor was a testament to opulence, its grandiose architecture and expansive rooms a stark contrast to the modesty of your own home. the study where taehyung found himself was no exception—a vast room adorned with dark wood paneling, ornate furnishings, and a large mahogany desk that dominated the space.

his father, seated behind the desk, wore an expression of barely concealed frustration. his mother, standing beside him, placed a comforting hand on taehyung’s shoulder, her eyes filled with concern. his older brother stood across from him, arms folded, a look of disapproval etched on his face. the tension in the room was palpable as taehyung’s father began to scold him. “you’ve disgraced the family name with this abysmal grade. how could you allow yourself to fall to last place?”

his face reddened with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, father. i was distracted—there were personal issues,” his older brother cut in sharply, “distracted? you’ve been distracted for the past twenty years of your life. this isn’t just about one exam.”

his mother interjected, her voice soothing but firm. “that’s enough. we need to find a solution.” taehyung’s father nodded, the decision clearly made. “very well. it’s time to bring in a professional. we’ll hire a tutor.”

the mention of a tutor seemed to deflate taehyung even further, but he knew better than to argue. “who was first place?” his father asked, turning to his wife. he struggled to recall the name. after a moment of tense silence, he managed to remember. “some girl, (y/n) (l/n).”

his father’s eyes narrowed in a mix of disbelief and irritation. “a nobody managed to outdo the entire school, and you let that happen?” he chuckled derisively, shaking his head. “very well. a tutor it is. we’ll see if this (y/n) is really as impressive as the results suggest.” the conversation was clearly over, and taehyung felt a wave of frustration.

he needed to speak with his brother, if only to express his own feelings. he rushed after him as he stepped out, hoping for a moment of understanding or support. however, his brother’s response was anything but comforting. “don’t touch me,” he snapped, “i’m busy running a company, and you’re acting like a child. it’s pathetic.” with those harsh words, his brother turned and left, leaving taehyung standing alone in the corridor, his heart heavy with the weight of his family’s expectations and his own sense of inadequacy. the sense of isolation was nearly overwhelming, and as he turned back towards the study, the realization that his problems were far from over settled heavily upon him.

the day had been long and tiresome, but the knowledge that you were about to share some good news with your mother made every ache in your muscles feel worth it. as you finally clocked out from your shift, the streetlights flickering to life around you, a sense of anticipation accompanied you on your walk home. the cool evening air felt refreshing against your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment to smile, thinking of the joy you were about to bring.

arriving home, you noticed the house was quiet, the kind of stillness that suggested your mother was resting. you eased the front door open and slipped inside, your heart racing with excitement. you called out softly to your mother, but she didn’t respond. walking into the small, dimly lit living room, you found her sprawled on a worn-out rug, her body relaxed in a rare moment of rest. beside her lay the small bucket she used for washing clothes—a testament to the long days she spent keeping up with the household chores.

gently, you shook her shoulder. “mom, wake up. i have something to tell you.” she stirred and blinked up at you, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. “did you finish work?” you nodded, trying to suppress your excitement. “yes, and i have great news. i passed the exam with flying colors.”

her eyes widened slightly, and she sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “i already knew. one of the other parents called earlier today.” confusion clouded your features. “one of the other parents? who?”

she took a deep breath before answering, her tone tinged with a mix of pride and concern. “it was kim taehyung’s family. they’re requesting you as an immediate tutor for their son.” the news hit you like a sudden chill. taehyung’s name echoed in your mind, mingling with the unsettling memory of yoongi’s smirk. you felt a knot form in your stomach, a mix of anxiety and disbelief. “not a chance. i don’t think i’m the right fit for that.”

her eyes softened with understanding but held a firm resolve. “i know it might seem daunting, but think about it. the pay is excellent, and it’s an opportunity to showcase your skills. it could be a big step forward for you.”

you hesitated, the weight of your mother’s words clashing with your own apprehensions. as you stood there, the grim reality of your family’s financial situation loomed large. the hospital bills, the constant struggle to keep up with expenses—it all came flooding back. the thought of turning down a lucrative opportunity, despite your reservations, was untenable. swallowing hard, you sighed and finally gave in. “alright, i’ll do it. i understand why it’s important.”

a smile of relief and pride brightened her face. “good. i already promised them you’d take the job. they’re expecting you to start as soon as tomorrow.”

you looked at her, a mixture of astonishment and determination crossing your face. “you promised?” she nodded, her gaze steady and reassuring. “i did. i knew you’d make the right decision. this is your chance to show everyone what you’re capable of.”

you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the unease settling in your chest. “alright, i’ll do my best.” your mother reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “i know you will. i’m so proud of you, no matter what.”

you gave her a quick hug, the comfort of her embrace a small solace against the wave of new responsibilities that loomed ahead. as you prepared for bed, your mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming tutoring job and the challenges it might bring. the prospect of working closely with someone like taehyung, coupled with the potential scrutiny from his circle, was daunting. yet, as you settled into your bed, the promise of better days and the chance to make a meaningful difference kept you hopeful. the night was quiet, the stillness only interrupted by the occasional creak of the old house settling into its nighttime routine. as you drifted off to sleep, the anticipation of what lay ahead mingled with the remnants of exhaustion from a long day, leaving you with a bittersweet sense of resolve.

the path to the manor was both exhilarating and daunting. the ornate iron gates, flanked by towering stone columns, seemed to mark the boundary between your humble life and the opulence that lay beyond. the directions you had received were simple enough, yet they did nothing to prepare you for the grandeur of the estate that greeted you.

as you approached the manor, your eyes widened in awe. the estate was a sprawling, neo-classical structure with ivy-clad walls, arched windows, and an intricate array of columns and sculptures that spoke of a bygone era of grandeur. the meticulously manicured lawns stretched out like a lush green carpet, bordered by pristine flower beds and elegant fountains. your heart fluttered with a mix of nervousness and wonder.

you walked up the grand stone steps and knocked on the imposing wooden door, its surface adorned with elaborate carvings. a moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman with an air of effortless grace greeted you. her attire was refined yet warm, and her smile was genuine as she introduced herself as the chairman’s wife.

“welcome! i’m mrs. kim. you must be the student who scored first place,” she said, her eyes twinkling with curiosity and admiration. you offered a polite smile and introduced yourself, “yes, i’m (y/n). it’s nice to meet you.” her face lit up with a beaming smile. “we’re delighted to have you here. please, come in.”

as you stepped inside, you were immediately struck by the sheer scale and elegance of the interior. the foyer was vast, its high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers that bathed the room in a warm, golden glow. the walls were lined with tasteful artwork and intricate tapestries, and the floors gleamed with polished marble. she led you up a grand staircase, its polished wooden railing glistening under the light of the chandeliers. the journey up felt like a passage into a different world, a world you had only seen in magazines and dreams. you followed her through a long corridor, each step echoing softly against the walls.

when she reached taehyung’s room, she paused at the door and knocked lightly before opening it. the sight that met your eyes caused your cheeks to flush with surprise. taehyung, shirtless, was lounging on a luxurious couch, his toned physique partially obscured by a half-open shirt draped over the back of the couch. her eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise. “oh, taehyung! i didn’t realize, sorry.”

taehyung, seemingly unbothered, pulled the shirt over his head with a nonchalant grace, his gaze shifting to you with a hint of curiosity. you quickly averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. “i’ll leave you two to it,” she said, her tone a mix of embarrassment and encouragement. “good luck.”

as the door closed behind her, you took a deep breath and turned back to taehyung. he had finally put on a shirt, and you allowed yourself to relax slightly.

“you know, it must be your first time seeing a guy shirtless,” he said with a scoff, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. you rolled your eyes and dismissed his comment with a wave of your hand. “just take out your textbooks. we have work to do.”

he complied, sitting at a large, ornate desk cluttered with papers and textbooks. you took out a piece of paper and set it in front of him. “let’s start by figuring out what you’re struggling with. what seems to be the problem?” he hesitated, his gaze wandering. after a moment, he sighed and said, “everything.” you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at his blunt honesty. “alright, we’ll start with algebra then.”

you began to explain the basics, your voice steady and patient. as you spoke, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, his attention wavering between the lesson and you. it was clear he was struggling to focus, and you found it both amusing and a bit unsettling. he was clearly distracted, and you wondered if it was your presence or something else that was keeping him from fully engaging with the material.

when you asked if he understood, he snapped back to reality, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “what are you doing in such a prestigious school if you have nothing to offer?” his question caught you off guard. you hesitated, your mind racing through the multitude of reasons you had never openly shared. finally, you decided to be honest. “i got in because of my grades. i work part-time to help my mom. we’re in debt because of my father’s passing, and i wanted to make a better life for us.”

the room fell silent for a moment, and taehyung looked genuinely taken aback. his usual aloof demeanor seemed to soften. “i’m sorry to hear that. i didn’t realize.” you were surprised by his reaction. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

he nodded, his gaze shifting back to you with a newfound respect. “i promise I won’t tell anyone. let’s focus on your teaching. i need all the help i can get.” you smiled, relieved and grateful for his understanding. you continued with the lesson, writing down an equation and handing him a pencil. the brief touch of skin as he took the pencil from you made his heart flutter slightly. you encouraged him to solve the problem, watching as he hesitated but eventually made an attempt.

when he finished, you reviewed his work and told him he had solved it correctly. “you’re smarter than you think. you just need to put your mind to it.” a genuine smile spread across taehyung’s face, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely encouraged. “thank you. i haven’t heard that in a while.”

the days of tutoring taehyung continued, each session bringing its own set of challenges and small victories. you had settled into a routine that balanced your part-time job and your responsibilities as a tutor. taehyung, once aloof and distracted, had shown significant improvement. he was attentive during your lessons, engaging with the material, and his grades were steadily rising. the initial awkwardness between you had faded, replaced by a more comfortable, albeit professional, rapport.

on a crisp afternoon, you were working your shift at the coffee shop, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filling the air. you moved from table to table, serving drinks and chatting with regular customers, the rhythmic hum of the café providing a comforting backdrop to your busy day.

as you bustled around, your attention was drawn to a familiar face that had just entered. it was taehyung, looking relaxed in casual attire—jeans and a well-fitted shirt. he scanned the café, his eyes landing on you with a grin that made your heart skip a beat. he approached the counter, and you greeted him with a smile. “hi, taehyung. what can i get for you today?”

he glanced at the menu and made his choice with a casual, “i’ll have a cappuccino, please. and, uh, could i get some help with a problem?” you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what kind of problem?”

with a playful smirk, he pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen, then showed it to you. “it’s a number i can’t figure out. your number, actually.” you laughed, the sound light and amused. “what could you possibly need it for?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “you never know. might need it for homework.” you shook your head, still smiling as you took down his phone number. you hesitated for a moment before typing your own number into his phone, making sure to set clear boundaries. “only text me for emergencies. got it?”

he nodded, his smile widening. “got it. i’ll make sure to use it wisely.” as you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. he watched you with an easygoing smile, seeming to enjoy the brief interaction. there was something undeniably pleasant about the way he looked at you, and it made you wonder about the nature of his interest.

you were busy wiping down the counter when the bell above the café door chimed, announcing a new arrival. you looked up and your heart sank as you saw yoongi walking in. his expression shifted from surprise to a knowing smirk upon seeing you. the brief moment of recognition made you tense, but you masked your unease with professional composure.

yoongi approached the counter, and you could feel yaehyung’s gaze following the interaction. “well, if it isn’t the delivery girl turned bartender,” he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “is there anything you can’t do?”

you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the provocation. “what can i get for you?” you asked, keeping your voice steady. he ordered a coffee with a hint of casual curiosity in his tone. “and maybe an explanation while you’re at it.”

your brow furrowed in confusion. “i’m not sure what you’re referring to.” yoongi’s expression darkened slightly. “don’t play dumb. i’d suggest you explain yourself soon, or you might find the whole school talking about why you’re working part-time.”

before you could respond, taehyung stood up from his table, his eyes locked on yoongi with an intense glare. he walked over with a purposeful stride, clearly agitated. “take your coffee and leave,” he commanded, his voice sharp. yoongi didn’t flinch. instead, he gave a mocking smile. “oh, don’t be so brazen. you almost scared me.”

taehyung moved closer, his irritation palpable. “i said, leave.” yoongi’s gaze shifted between the two of you, amusement evident in his smirk. “i wonder which would be more shocking—the prestigious student working part-time, or the younger kim son dating said student?”

your heart raced at the insinuation, and you quickly interjected, “we’re not dating.” yoongi’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “really? so i can have your number, then?”

you hesitated, feeling the weight of your situation. taehyung looked as if he wanted to protest, but when he met your eyes and saw the determination there, he fell silent. with a resigned sigh, you gave yoongi your number, knowing the importance of keeping things under control. his smirk widened as he took your phone, typing in the number. he handed it back to you along with the money for his coffee. “keep the change,” he said with a hint of mockery. “you probably need it more than i do.”

with that, he turned on his heel and walked out, his exit leaving a palpable tension in the air. taehyung’s eyes narrowed in frustration as he watched yoongi leave. once the door closed behind him, he turned to you, his voice laced with anger. “why did you give him your number?”

you met his gaze, feeling a pang of sadness mixed with resolve. “i can’t afford to be a laughingstock. you wouldn’t understand. you’re from a different world where these things don’t matter.” taehyung looked taken aback by your words, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and hurt. he stood silently as you turned back to your work, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between you.

the following morning, you walked to school with a sense of weariness settling over you. the events of the previous day replayed in your mindyoongi’s taunting remarks and taehyung’s confusion. you were lost in thought when a sleek black car came to a halt beside you, the window slowly descending.

taehyung’s familiar face appeared, framed by the open window, his smile bright and inviting. “good morning,” he greeted, his tone cheerful. “need a ride?” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by the unexpected offer. “what are you doing?” you asked, casting a wary glance at the car.

“get in,” he said, motioning towards the vehicle. “i’ll give you a lift to school.” a twinge of anxiety made you hesitate. “no, thank you. your family could see us.”

taehyung’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of mischief and reassurance. “that’s why you should get in quickly.” defeated by his insistence, you reluctantly slid into the back seat, the leather upholstery cool against your skin. his gaze was fixed on you as he settled beside you. he leaned in slightly, his voice soft and curious. “did you sleep well?”

you brushed off his concern with a shrug. “why are you doing this? you don’t have to.” he feigned innocence, his expression playful. “doing what?”

“giving me a ride,” you clarified, a note of exasperation in your voice. “why?” before he could respond, you told the driver to stop as you neared the school. however, taehyung quickly intervened. “no, go straight to campus,” he instructed firmly.

you stared at him, a mix of frustration and disbelief on your face. “are you out of your mind? i don’t want to draw attention.” with a dramatic gasp, he pointed behind you. “look!”

confused and curious, you turned your head to see what had caught his attention. as you glanced back, taehyung took the opportunity to lean in closer, his head resting lightly on your shoulder. the warmth of his breath on your skin sent a shiver down your spine. when you looked back at him, your eyes widened in shock. his satisfied smile was the only hint of his triumph. the closeness between you was unexpected, and his casual display of affection left you momentarily stunned. the car ride, once a mundane task, now seemed fraught with unspoken emotions and shifting dynamics.

the driver navigated the streets smoothly, and as the campus loomed into view, you felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation. you had hoped for a quiet, uneventful start to your day, but taehyung’s presence had turned that expectation on its head. when the car finally pulled up to the entrance of the school, he sat up, his demeanor effortlessly casual. “here we are,” he said, his voice warm.

as you and taehyung stepped out of the car, a hush fell over the school grounds. the sight of him, the younger kim son, walking beside you—someone who had been, until now, a mere acquaintance—was enough to set the student body abuzz. whispers and incredulous glances followed you both, and you could feel the weight of their stares pressing down on you. “is that kim taehyung?” a student murmured, eyes wide with disbelief. “what’s he doing with her?” another voice asked, tinged with curiosity. “looks like they’re pretty close,” a third student speculated.

taehyung walked with an air of casual confidence, his posture relaxed despite the scrutiny. you glanced around, noticing yoongi standing amidst the crowd. his eyes were locked on you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. jungkook, standing beside him, seemed equally intrigued.

“what’s taehyung doing? who is she?” jungkook asked, his gaze shifting between taehyung and you. yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly as he replied, “that’s what i’m trying to figure out.”

you quickly averted your gaze, focusing on reaching your locker. taehyung followed close behind, his presence both reassuring and unsettling. as you approached your locker, jieun and jimin came running up to you, their expressions a mix of excitement and concern. “what are you doing with him?” jieun asked, her eyes shooting a skeptical look at taehyung.

“i’m his tutor,” you explained, trying to sound casual despite the intensity of the situation. jimin’s laughter erupted unexpectedly, drawing taehyung’s attention. “seriously? that’s hilarious. you’re his tutor?” his amusement was evident, but taehyung’s glare cut through the mirth.

“what’s so funny?” he demanded, his tone sharp. jieun stepped in, a defensive glint in her eyes. “watch how you talk to him. that's my boyfriend.”

taehyung raised his hands in mock surrender, a wry smile on his face. “i’m shaking in my boots.” jimin chuckled, shaking his head. “i’ll catch up with you later. i have class.” he glanced at jieun, who followed him with a playful sigh, “and don’t think you’re getting out of class either.”

you laughed softly as they walked away, the tension easing slightly. turning to taehyung, you started walking toward your class. he fell into step beside you, curiosity evident in his eyes. “you and jimin seem pretty close,” he said, breaking the silence. “what’s your relationship?”

“he’s my best friend,” you replied, smiling at the memory of your long friendship. “we’ve known each other since childhood.” taehyung’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “so many years, and you’ve never dated?”

you scoffed lightly. “of course not. boys and girls can be friends without dating.” taehyung’s expression shifted, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue crossing his face. “i don’t believe that’s true.”

you looked at him, puzzled. “why not?” he gave you a small, enigmatic smile. “no man of yours could be just a friend and nothing more. there’s always something else.”

his words hung in the air as he veered off towards his own class, leaving you standing there, stunned. the notion that a simple friendship could be questioned so easily made you reflect on your own relationships and the assumptions others might make. as he disappeared down the hallway, you shook your head and turned towards your own classroom, the thoughts of his comments mingling with the buzz of the day’s events. the unexpected dynamics and the shifting perceptions only added to the whirlwind of your life at school.

as the final bell of your psychology class rang, you gathered your belongings with the usual routine: slipping textbooks into your bag, organizing notes, and shutting down your laptop. the classroom was starting to empty, the chatter of students preparing for their next classes filling the air. you were just about to sling your bag over your shoulder when a figure loomed in your peripheral vision.

you looked up, startled to find yoongi leaning casually against your table, his smirk unmistakable. “what do you want?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. yoongi shrugged nonchalantly. “an explanation would do it.”

“of what?” you replied, confused. his presence and vague statements were unnerving. before he could answer, jieun walked in, her eyes immediately darting between you and yoongi. “what’s going on here?”

yoongi’s smirk widened. “perfect timing,” he said, his tone dripping with malice. Without another word, he grabbed your bag, yanked it off the table, and dumped its contents onto the floor. books, notebooks, and pens scattered across the tiles. you were stunned, your mind struggling to process what was happening.

jieun’s eyes widened in shock. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, her voice laced with anger.

ignoring her, yoongi reached for her bag and, before she could react, emptied it onto the floor next to your scattered items. her possessions—a sleek wallet, a tube of lipstick, and an assortment of decorative items—joined the mess. the contrast between your straightforward, practical items and jieun’s high-end accessories was glaringly obvious. the classroom’s atmosphere grew tense as students started peeking through the open door, their murmurs rising in volume. yoongi turned to them with a mocking smile, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “did you all see that?” he asked, his voice carrying.

you felt a wave of humiliation wash over you, your face burning with embarrassment. jieun quickly knelt beside you, helping you gather your things with a mix of frustration and urgency. “i can’t believe this,” she muttered as she worked. yoongi’s gaze shifted back to you, his smirk unwavering. “so, who exactly are you, (y/n) (l/n)?” he asked, his tone both curious and taunting.

as the students watched the scene unfold, one hurriedly made her way to the nearest classroom, breathless and urgent. “yoongi’s causing a scene with (y/n) and jieun!” she shouted, pushing open the door and interrupting the lecture. taehyung’s head snapped up at the news. without a moment’s hesitation, he stood, his expression a mix of concern and determination. the classroom fell silent as he strode out, his steps quick and purposeful. he navigated the crowded hallways with urgency, his heart pounding in sync with his hurried pace.

as he arrived at the scene, the chaos greeted him like a tempest. the classroom was filled with murmurs and gasps, the students huddling near the door to catch a glimpse of the unfolding drama. taehyung’s gaze swept over the scattered contents on the floor, jieun standing beside you with a look of frustrated disbelief, and yoongi smirking triumphantly.

without wasting a second, taehyung’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. “everyone out,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. the students shuffled out of the room, their faces a mix of curiosity and apprehension. the door closed with a soft thud, leaving just the three of you and yoongi in the room.

yoongi turned to face taehyung, his smirk still intact despite the hostile atmosphere. “always meddling in things that don’t concern you,” he said dismissively. taehyung’s eyes flashed with anger. “shut up,” he retorted, his voice low and dangerous. he turned to you, his expression softening as he handed you your bag with a reassuring smile. “are you okay?”

you nodded, though your heart was racing. “yes, thank you.” taehyung turned back to yoongi, his demeanor shifting to one of steely resolve. “if you have an issue with (y/n), then you talk to me about it,” he stated firmly.

yoongi’s gaze darkened, and he stepped closer, his voice dripping with venom. “know your place. your own brother doesn’t love you—what makes you so sure she will?”

the taunt was the final straw. taehyung’s face flushed with anger, and before anyone could react, he swung his fist, landing a solid punch to yoongi’s jaw. the impact echoed in the room, sending yoongi staggering backward. he caught his balance, his eyes narrowing in fury. he retaliated swiftly, his own punch connecting with taehyung’s cheek. the force of the blow made him stumble slightly, but he quickly steadied himself. the two of them were now fully engaged in a brutal exchange of punches and kicks, their movements fast and chaotic.

you watched in shock, your body frozen in place as the fight unfolded before your eyes. taehyung’s normally composed demeanor was replaced with raw aggression, each punch fueled by a mixture of anger and frustration. yoongi’s smirk had long vanished, replaced by a scowl of determination. the sound of fists connecting with flesh, grunts of pain, and heavy breathing filled the room.

taehyung’s punches were powerful, driven by his anger at yoongi’s provocation. he landed several blows, each one more forceful than the last. yoongi, though initially caught off guard, fought back with equal intensity. his movements were quick and calculated, aiming to exploit any openings in taehyung’s defense. the classroom was now a makeshift arena, the desks and chairs pushed aside in the frenzy. you watched helplessly, your pleas for taehyung to stop lost amid the chaos. the students who had remained in the hallway were pressed against the glass of the door, their faces etched with a mix of horror and fascination.

just as the fight seemed to reach its peak, a stern voice cut through the commotion. “enough!” the principal commanded, her tone authoritative and unwavering. taehyung and yoongi immediately froze, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. the principal stepped into the room, her expression a blend of sternness and concern. her presence alone was enough to command immediate compliance.

“both of you, come with me,” she said, her voice brooking no argument. “we’re going to the office.” taehyung and yoongi exchanged one last, heated glance before reluctantly following her out of the classroom. the students who had been watching from the hallway slowly began to disperse, their murmurs growing louder as they speculated about what they had just witnessed.

in the principal’s office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. taehyung and yoongi sat across from the principal’s desk, their faces flushed from the recent altercation. her stern gaze swept over them, her demeanor one of controlled irritation. “now, what exactly happened?” she demanded, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

yoongi leaned forward slightly, his posture relaxed despite the seriousness of the situation. “i’m truly sorry, principal kim,” he said with a hint of insincerity in his tone. “it’s common for friends to have disagreements and fights. it won’t happen again, i assure you.”

her eyes narrowed. “it may be common for friends to argue, but this was not just a disagreement. this was a violent altercation in the middle of a classroom, and you both need to understand the severity of your actions.” she turned her gaze to taehyung. “and you, kim taehyung, will fall off if you continue to let your temper control you. i expect better from you.” his jaw tightened, but he remained silent, clearly restraining himself.

the principal leaned back in her chair, her expression softening slightly as she concluded, “you both need to leave my office now. consider this a warning. any further disruptions will be dealt with more severely.” as they exited the office, the weight of the principal’s reprimand hung heavy in the air. taehyung’s face was set in a grim line, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. yoongi, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips as he followed him out into the hallway.

once outside, taehyung rounded on yoongi, his voice low but edged with menace. “stay away from (y/n).” yoongi clicked his tongue, his smirk widening. “i can’t do that,” he said, pausing for effect. “i’m just as interested in her as you are, old friend.”

the words hung in the air, their implications clear. with a final, mocking glance, yoongi turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. taehyung watched him go, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. his fists remained clenched, his knuckles white as he tried to steady his breathing. the conversation with the principal had done little to quell the storm brewing inside him. the mention of your name by yoongi had only fueled his anger further, intensifying the protective instincts he felt toward you.

back in the opulent study of the kim family manor, the air was heavy with disapproval. the room, lined with dark mahogany bookshelves and bathed in the muted glow of a desk lamp, seemed to amplify the sternness of the chairman. taehyung stood near the grand mahogany desk, his posture stiff and eyes lowered, as his father paced behind it, a frown etched deeply into his features.

“taehyung,” his father began, his voice stern, “i heard about the altercation at school today. explain yourself.”

his heart raced, and he hesitated, struggling to find the right words. he swallowed hard before speaking, his voice tinged with distress. “it was yoongi. he said something about my brother, about our family.” he trailed off, not wanting to delve into the specifics of yoongi’s taunts or his own actions that followed.

his father’s expression shifted from anger to a weary frustration. “taehyung, you must learn to control your impulses. acting rashly only undermines your position and creates unnecessary complications.” taehyung nodded, barely able to meet his father’s gaze. “i understand.”

as he turned to leave, the door opened, and taehyung’s older brother stepped into the study. for a fleeting moment, taehyung’s heart leapt with hope. perhaps it was a sign of reconciliation, or at least a chance for meaningful conversation. his joy was short-lived, however, when his brother’s icy tone cut through the room.

“taehyung,” his brother said sharply, “don’t ever make a fool of yourself like that again.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving taehyung standing there, his heart sinking with each step his brother took. the weight of disappointment and isolation settled heavily on his shoulders as he left the study.

meanwhile, in a starkly different setting, yoongi was engaged in a rigorous judo practice session with his father in the family dojo. the dojo, a spacious room with polished wooden floors and walls adorned with traditional Korean art, echoed with the grunts of exertion and the rhythmic thud of bodies hitting the mat.

yoongi, dressed in a white judogi, faced his father across the mat. his father, a formidable figure with an aura of authority, was already in a stance, his eyes sharp and focused. the session began with intense speed, both men moving with practiced precision. yoongi aimed a swift foot sweep at his father, who countered effortlessly with a firm grip, twisting yoongi’s arm and forcing him to the mat.

breathing heavily, yoongi rolled to his feet, his movements fluid despite the strain. “father,” he said as he reset his stance, “i want to explain what happened with taehyung today.” his father’s eyes narrowed. “very well, but remember, actions speak louder than words. show me.”

they resumed their fighting stance, and yoongi executed a series of rapid movements—a throw followed by a high kick—trying to subdue his father. his father, however, was a step ahead, using yoongi’s momentum against him. he deflected his attempts with ease and threw him to the mat again. “taehyung threw the first punch,” he said between gasps for air as he scrambled to his feet. “i just reacted.”

his father, now visibly annoyed, grabbed him and pinned him down with a decisive maneuver, his face contorted with a mix of anger and disappointment. “you're weak,” he spat out, “it's the reason you can’t beat taehyung. it’s why you’ll never beat me.”

with a final, forceful move, he released yoongi and left him sprawled on the mat, breathless and defeated. he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his father’s words echoing in his mind. the lesson was harsh and uncompromising, a stark reminder of the high standards and expectations he was constantly under. as he gathered himself, he could feel the sting of failure mingling with the bruises forming on his body.

the evening had settled into a soft twilight as you made your way up the grand stairs of taehyung's manor. the mansion, with its opulent decor and sprawling architecture, was a stark contrast to the modesty of your own surroundings. you held a medical kit and a stack of textbooks close, a determined frown on your face. the events of the day lingered in your mind, especially the bruises and cuts you’d seen on him.

as you reached his room, you hesitated for a brief moment before knocking. the door swung open to reveal him, his face bearing the marks of the day’s earlier confrontation. the bruises on his cheek were a dark, purpling hue, and a cut above his eyebrow was still fresh, blood oozing sluggishly. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something—perhaps embarrassment or discomfort—before he masked it with a casual smile.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the shock you felt. “i brought this. let me clean those cuts up.” he raised an eyebrow, his smile slightly wobbly. “you don’t have to go through all that trouble. i’m fine.”

“not a chance,” you replied firmly, stepping into his room. “sit down. you look like you’ve been through a warzone.”

with a resigned sigh, he sat on the edge of his bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze on you as you unpacked the kit. he watched with a mix of curiosity and something softer in his eyes. as you approached him with a sterile wipe, he flinched slightly at the sting of the antiseptic. “stop being such a baby,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “it’s just a little sting.”

he chuckled softly, the sound a low, soothing rumble in the quiet of the room. his eyes wandered over your face, taking in the way your brows furrowed in concentration and the way you bit your lip as you worked. there was something almost tender in his gaze, though he masked it with a casual smile.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, glancing up at him as you dabbed at a particularly stubborn cut. “you,” he said with a grin. “you’re just pretty, that’s all.”

your face flushed a deep shade of pink. “cut it out,” you said, trying to sound exasperated but unable to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “open your book. we have some studying to do.”

taehyung complied, opening his textbook to the physics section you’d discussed earlier. you settled next to him, placing the medical kit aside and spreading out your textbooks and notes. you pointed out the relevant formulas, meticulously writing them down on a notepad. his eyes followed your movements, occasionally flicking up to meet yours with a look of appreciation.

as you explained a particularly tricky concept, you could feel his gaze lingering on you. it was an unspoken compliment in his eyes, and every so often, he would nod thoughtfully, taking in the information you provided. after a while, you handed him a practice problem. he worked through it with a furrowed brow, his concentration evident. when he finally looked up with a grin, having solved the problem correctly, you couldn’t help but beam with pride.

“well done,” you said warmly. “you learned well.” his smile widened, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “my tutor taught me well,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

the atmosphere in the room softened, the earlier tension dissipating into a comfortable setting. you continued to go over more problems with him, your laughter and his occasional teasing filling the space between you. each smile and laugh seemed to draw you closer, making the evening’s tutoring session feel less like a task and more like a shared moment of genuine connection.

as the night grew darker, and you packed up your things to leave, taehyung walked you to the door. he looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and something more, a hint of admiration that made your heart flutter.

“thank you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sincerity that warmed you. “i really appreciate this.” you nodded, your cheeks still slightly flushed. “anytime. and next time, try not to get into any more fights, alright?” he laughed, a sound that felt like a promise of brighter days ahead. “i’ll do my best.”

as you left the manor, the evening air was crisp and carried with it the faint scent of blooming flowers from the surrounding gardens. the grandeur of the manor faded behind you, its tall gates closing with a soft clang. you were lost in thought, replaying the warmth of the evening and the unexpected kindness you had shared with taehyung.

but as you walked past the wrought-iron gates, a loud roar of a motorcycle broke through your reverie. you turned, your heart sinking as you saw the sleek black motorcycle pull up beside you. the rider, clad in black leather and a helmet, stopped just a few feet in front of you. the world seemed to slow as the rider dismounted, and the helmet was lifted to reveal his familiar smirk.

“well, well,” yoongi drawled, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “am i dreaming, or did i just see you leaving kim taehyung’s house?”

your heart sank further, frustration bubbling up inside you. “i’m his tutor,” you said tersely, trying to keep your voice steady. his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his smirk widened, turning into something more sardonic. “really? is it that bad that you need to stoop so low? are you that desperate for money?” his words were like sharp thorns, pricking at your patience. you clenched your fists at your sides, feeling a surge of anger rise up. the world around you seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the night air suddenly feeling colder.

“you have no idea,” you snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “i’m broke. i work multiple jobs to support my mom because my dad passed away. i didn’t get to eat off the same silver plate you did. i don’t care what you think or what you do with that information. i’m done playing your games.”

his smirk faltered, his expression shifting to one of stunned silence. for a moment, he stood there, caught off guard by the raw honesty of your words. the night air seemed to grow heavier between you, charged with the weight of your confession. you pushed past him, not giving him a chance to respond. the cool breeze of the evening felt soothing against your heated cheeks as you walked away, each step a release of the pent-up frustration you’d been holding. you could feel yoongi’s gaze on your back, but you didn’t turn around.

the next day at school, the morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long, warm shadows across the hallways. you made your way to your locker, the familiar hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter from students filling the air. as you approached, your phone buzzed in your pocket, its screen lighting up with yoongi’s name.

you sighed, your fingers reaching for your phone just as it began to ring. you were about to swipe to answer when suddenly, taehyung appeared beside you, his hand moving with quick precision. before you could react, he snatched your phone from your grasp. you opened your mouth to protest, but he had already answered the call.

“stop calling her,” his voice was firm, cutting through the background noise of the school. yoongi’s voice came through the speaker, laced with casual annoyance. “you never seem to know where your place is. i just wanted to ask her to have lunch with me.”

taehyung’s response was immediate, a scoff escaping his lips. “she’s not hungry.” with that, he ended the call abruptly, his expression a mix of irritation and resolve. he handed your phone back to you with a dismissive air. you stared at him, taken aback by the sudden and assertive interference. “are you out of your mind?” you demanded, frustration lacing your tone. “what was that about?”

taehyung’s face remained stern, his gaze intense as he met your eyes. “i don’t want you talking to yoongi.”

“why?” you asked, bewildered. “what’s the big deal?” he hesitated for a moment, as if grappling with how much to reveal. “i like you,” he said finally, his voice softer but earnest. “i don’t want to see you with other guys.”

a flutter of butterflies took flight in your stomach at his confession, but you tried to keep your composure. “you’re from a different world,” you said with a scoff, despite the flurry of emotions bubbling up inside you. “it’ll never happen.”

his eyes didn’t waver, and he seemed unperturbed by your words. instead, he continued, his voice steady, “do you feel the same way?” you shook your head, feeling the weight of his question. “it doesn’t matter how i feel. your family would never accept it.”

a heavy silence fell between you. taehyung’s expression hardened slightly, a look of determination settling over his features. before you could say more, he stepped back, giving you space but still watching you intently. with a sigh, you turned and walked toward your next class, the day stretching out before you. the butterflies in your stomach continued to flutter, their presence a constant reminder of his unexpected confession. each step felt heavier than the last, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions and uncertainties.

as the professor’s announcement echoed through the classroom, excitement rippled through the students like a wave. the camping trip was to be a weekend adventure, an opportunity to escape the confines of academic life and immerse themselves in nature. a chorus of enthusiastic voices filled the room, with students already speculating about the activities and sharing plans for the trip.

you, however, felt a knot of apprehension forming in your stomach. the idea of spending an entire weekend away, particularly with the tension and complications of your current situation, left you feeling uneasy. as you scanned the room, your gaze met taehyung’s. his expression was a complex blend of sternness and something else—perhaps resignation or frustration. he watched you with a defeated look, his eyes reflecting the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

on the other side of the room, you felt yoongi’s gaze on you. the smirk playing on his lips was unmistakable, a self-assured glint in his eyes as if he relished the drama of the situation. his attention seemed solely focused on you, adding an extra layer of discomfort to your already fraught emotions.

jimin placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his voice, light and teasing, cut through the tension. “did you get into an argument with your student?” he asked, his tone playful. you scoffed, a mix of frustration and amusement surfacing. “you're the worst.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. “come on, lighten up. you should have fun while you can.” his words were meant to be comforting, but they did little to ease the knot in your stomach. you offered him a weak smile, appreciating his attempt to lift your spirits, though the weight of the upcoming trip felt heavy on your shoulders.

for the rest of the day, taehyung maintained a deafening silence around you. his demeanor was distant, almost cold. whenever your paths crossed, he would quickly avert his gaze or walk away, his avoidance palpable and disheartening. his usual warmth and playful banter were replaced by an impenetrable barrier, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of his withdrawal.

the forest was a breathtaking expanse of verdant splendor, a living tapestry of emerald hues and dappled sunlight. tall, ancient trees stood sentinel, their leaves whispering softly in the gentle breeze that wove through the forest canopy. the ground beneath your feet was a soft carpet of moss and fallen leaves, muffling your steps as you walked. the air was crisp and fragrant, filled with the earthy aroma of pine and the faint, sweet scent of wildflowers.

as you meandered along the winding path, your heart sank with every glance that failed to catch sight of taehyung. the weight of his absence was palpable, a dull ache that gnawed at you as you took in the beauty around you. the forest, though enchanting, seemed to mock your solitude, its serenity juxtaposed with your inner turmoil.

walking alongside you were jimin and jieun, their cheerful conversation a stark contrast to your pensive mood. jimin was animatedly recounting a humorous story from a past camping trip. his laughter was infectious, and jieun’s giggles provided a lighthearted counterpoint.

“remember that time i tried to roast marshmallows over an open flame and ended up setting my sleeve on fire?” jimin said with a chuckle. jieun burst into laughter, shaking her head. “how could i forget? i had to put out the flames with my water bottle.”

jimin grinned sheepishly. “well, at least we didn’t end up in the hospital that time.”

“you’re lucky i was there to save the day,” jieun teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

you managed a small smile at their interaction, their relationship a brief respite from your worries. despite their light-hearted banter, you could feel the tension of yoongi’s gaze boring into you from behind. his presence was a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the unresolved tension between you. his dark eyes seemed to follow your every move, and you could sense his scrutiny even without turning to look.

jungkook, walking beside him, appeared to be curious about his friend’s fixation. “what’s the deal with you and her?” he asked, his tone casual. yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at his lips. “i wish i knew. there’s just something about her that catches my interest.”

jungkook squinted his eyes as he assessed you from a distance. “she’s not bad. don’t blame you.” the comment earned him a sharp glare from yoongi. “careful,” he warned, his tone edged with irritation. “don't make me beat your ass, too.”

jungkook raised an eyebrow but said no more, sensing the undercurrent of tension. he focused instead on the beauty of the forest, the towering trees and the dappled sunlight creating a picturesque backdrop.

as you continued along the path, you tried to push yoongi’s gaze to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the tranquility of the surroundings and the lively conversation of your friends. the forest was enchanting, a sanctuary of natural beauty that was meant to be savored. yet, despite its allure, your thoughts remained with taehyung, and the emptiness of his absence cast a shadow over the otherwise perfect setting.

the school gymnasium was an expanse of silence, the usual echoes of bouncing basketballs and student chatter replaced by the soft rustle of fabric and the faint hum of air conditioning. taehyung lay sprawled on the floor, his back against the smooth wooden surface, while his friend sat cross-legged beside him. the overhead lights cast a warm, artificial glow, illuminating the deserted space with a gentle radiance.

namjoon glanced over at him, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “so, why didn’t you tag along on the camping trip? i’d give a lot to go on a trip like that again,” he said, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity. taehyung let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “being a senior must suck, huh? no more spontaneous trips,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

namjoon shot him a mock glare. “yeah, thanks for the sympathy,” he retorted, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration. “but seriously, what’s your excuse for skipping out?”

taehyung’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted into a more serious posture. “i wanted her to miss me,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. “i thought maybe if i stayed behind, she’d realize how much she needs me.”

namjoon raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild incredulity. “you do realize you left her with yoongi, right?” the weight of his words hit taehyung like a physical blow. his eyes widened as the realization sank in, and he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat. the silence of the gym seemed to press in on him, amplifying his feelings of regret and frustration. “i forgot,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric of his palms. “i didn’t think about how much trouble yoongi would cause. i just wanted to make sure she felt my absence.”

namjoon’s gaze softened with a mix of sympathy and exasperation. he patted his back gently. “look, man, you can’t always control how people react to you. sometimes, you have to trust that things will work out on their own.” taehyung sighed, lifting his head to look at him with a rueful smile. “i know. i guess i wanted to be the one she thought about, the one who made her day better.”

namjoon gave him a reassuring smile. “you still have a chance to show her that, but not if you sit here and brood. maybe you should go find her. let her know that you’re here and that you care.” taehyung nodded, a renewed determination in his eyes. “you’re right. i need to make things right.”

the forest surrounding your campsite was a picturesque canvas of lush greens and earthy browns, the towering trees providing a serene canopy that filtered the soft rays of the setting sun. the air was crisp, filled with the invigorating scent of pine and the distant murmur of a flowing stream. you were in the midst of setting up your tent, your fingers fumbling with the fabric and poles, your mind more preoccupied with recent events than the task at hand.

as you struggled with the stubborn tent pole, a voice suddenly cut through your concentration. “you’re doing it all wrong.” startled, you turned around to find yoongi approaching you, his expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. he looked effortlessly composed, the rugged outdoor setting only enhancing his enigmatic charm. his presence was both unnerving and oddly reassuring, a strange paradox that made your heart race.

“here, let me help you,” he said, stepping closer and taking the tent pole from your hands with an ease that suggested he had done this many times before. you stood there, momentarily frozen, watching as he expertly assembled the tent, his movements fluid and precise.

“thank you,” you managed to say, your voice tinged with genuine gratitude and a hint of surprise. you hadn’t expected him to offer any assistance, especially after your recent interactions. to your further astonishment, he smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually intense demeanor. “if you want to thank me,” he began, his tone carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place, “you should stop.”

you blinked, confusion clouding your thoughts. “stop? stop what?” yoongi scoffed lightly, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he turned his attention back to fixing the last bit of the tent. “stop driving me crazy,” he said, his voice low and almost tender, the words carrying a weight that hung in the cool evening air.

with that cryptic remark, he stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands, and walked away, leaving you standing there, stunned and bewildered. the forest around you seemed to echo with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds, a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. the forest grew quieter as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced in the dimming light. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and calm your restless thoughts. the camping trip had barely begun, and already it was proving to be more eventful than you had anticipated.

as the sun set and the shadows grew longer, you found yourself standing by the campfire, the warmth of the flames casting a comforting glow on your face. the crackling fire filled the air with a sense of camaraderie, but your thoughts were elsewhere, swirling with confusion and curiosity about yoongi's earlier words. just then, a hushed conversation from the nearby tent caught your attention. you turned slightly, trying to make out the voices.

“did you see her with taehyung earlier?” one girl asked, her voice dripping with curiosity. “no, i saw her with yoongi,” another replied, a hint of scandal in her tone. “she’s such a slut,” the third girl sneered, her words cutting through the night like a knife.

your heart sank, and you felt a rush of anger and humiliation rise within you. before you could react, you felt something soft and warm being pulled over your head. you turned around to find yoongi standing there, his hoodie now draped over your shoulders. his face was set in a scowl, eyes dark with protective anger. “don’t listen to them,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “don’t let them get to you.”

you were too stunned to speak, only able to nod as his words resonated with you. the girls continued their snide comments, oblivious to yoongi’s presence. you watched as his gaze flicked to the front of their tent, where their sneakers were lined up neatly. without a word, he walked over and snatched the shoes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “what are you doing?” you whispered, following him as he strode purposefully toward a nearby bucket full of water.

he glanced at you, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “teaching them a lesson,” he replied, before dumping the sneakers into the water. you couldn’t help but gasp, a mix of disbelief and amusement flooding you. “why would you do that?” you asked, half-laughing despite yourself.

he turned to you, his expression serious. “because nobody gets to pick on you. except for me,” he added with a smirk, the playful edge returning to his voice. you felt a strange warmth spread through you at his words. It was a peculiar kind of protectiveness, one that left you feeling both cared for and slightly exasperated by his audacity. the girls' voices ceased abruptly when they discovered their soggy shoes, their shrieks of outrage echoing through the campsite. yoongi’s smirk widened, clearly pleased with the chaos he had caused.

the night had deepened, the flickering campfire casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. uou and yoongi sat by the flames, a strange bond forming in the silence between you. just as you were beginning to feel a tentative peace, a familiar voice shattered the tranquility.

“have you had enough?” the voice asked, tinged with an unmistakable edge.

you turned, your heart stopping for a moment when you saw taehyung standing there, his expression dark and unreadable. yoongi scoffed, his irritation clear. “you always find a way to ruin things, don't you?” he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain.

taehyung ignored his taunt, his eyes fixed on you. before you could react, he strode forward, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you away from the fire. yoongi’s voice followed you, laced with a smirk. “you make me want her even more,” he called out, the words hanging in the air like a challenge.

perplexed and a bit alarmed, you allowed taehyung to guide you into the forest, the sounds of the camp fading behind you. his grip on your wrist was firm but not painful, his silence heavy with unspoken words. finally, you found your voice. “what’s your problem?” you asked, frustration bubbling to the surface.

taehyung stopped abruptly and turned to face you, his eyes blazing. “i don’t care what my family thinks,” he snapped. “it’s no reason for me not to like you.” his words took you by surprise, and you felt your heart soften. “taehyung,” you began, unsure of what to say. “i don’t know what to say.”

“don’t say anything,” he interrupted, his voice raw with emotion. without warning, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. you were stunned, your mind racing, but as the initial shock faded, you found yourself relaxing into his embrace. tentatively, you wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug. his warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. the forest around you was quiet, the rustle of leaves the only sound accompanying your racing heartbeats.

you could feel the tension in his body slowly dissipating, replaced by a vulnerability that he rarely showed. his grip on you tightened, as if he was afraid to let go and lose this moment. you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the silence between you filled with a thousand unspoken words.

the morning sun bathed the forest in a golden glow as your group made its way along the winding path towards the hotel for breakfast. the air was crisp and cool, filled with the scents of pine and earth. you walked beside jieun and jimin, their light-hearted banter a soothing background to your thoughts. “did you sleep well?” jieun asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

you nodded, offering her a small smile. “as well as one can in a sleeping bag,” you replied, trying to match her cheerful tone.

jimin chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “we should have a competition for the worst bedhead,” he joked, ruffling jieun's already tousled hair. taehyung walked a few steps behind you, his presence a comforting weight on your mind. every now and then, you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t turn around. Instead, you focused on the path ahead, trying to keep your thoughts from wandering too far back to the previous night.

further back in the group, jungkook was busy going through the photos he had taken with his camera. his fingers deftly navigated through the shots until he stopped at a series of pictures. they were candid shots of you and yoongi by the campfire, your faces illuminated by the dancing flames. he smirked as he showed the photos to yoongi. “look at these,” he teased, nudging him playfully. “you look like a lovesick puppy.”

yoongi glanced at the photos, a faint smile playing on his lips. “so that’s what i look like,” he mused softly, almost to himself. “when I’m looking at her,”

jungkook’s eyes widened in horror as yoongi’s smile grew, a rare and genuine expression that made his usual aloof demeanor melt away. “are you serious?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on the photos. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm and resolute. “maybe i am,” he said simply, his smile never wavering.

as the group continued walking, the path began to widen, revealing glimpses of the hotel ahead. the building was nestled among the trees, its rustic charm blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. the sight of it brought a sense of anticipation, a promise of warmth and comfort after the chilly morning hike. you could feel the mood lighten as the group neared the hotel. conversations grew livelier, and laughter echoed through the trees. jieun and jimin were deep in a playful argument about the best breakfast foods, their voices rising and falling in a familiar rhythm.

you smiled at their exchange, grateful for the distraction. but even as you laughed along with them, you couldn’t shake the feeling of taehyung’s gaze. every now and then, you glanced back, catching his eye for just a moment before looking away. when the hotel came fully into view, the group quickened its pace, eager for the promise of a hearty breakfast. the warm light spilling from the windows was inviting, and you could already imagine the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods.

as you reached the hotel entrance, jimin held the door open with a flourish. “ladies first,” he said with a grin, gesturing for you and jieun to enter. “such a gentleman,” she teased, giving him a playful shove as she walked past. you followed her inside, the warmth of the hotel wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. the dining area was cozy, filled with the chatter of other guests and the clinking of cutlery. you found a table near the window, the morning light casting a soft glow over everything.

the morning sun hung high in the sky, casting shimmering reflections on the surface of the pool outside the cafeteria. the earlier excitement of the camping trip had faded, replaced by the persistent whispers and judgmental looks from the same girls who had tormented you the night before. their voices, though hushed, reached your ears, making your breakfast sit like a lead weight in your stomach. frustrated and fed up, you abandoned your plate and left the cafeteria, seeking solace in the quiet by the pool. you stared into the water, trying to calm your racing heart. the tranquility of the scene was short-lived, however, as you felt a presence behind you. turning around, you were met with the sight of yoongi, his usual smirk playing on his lips.

before you could retreat, he was already upon you, his hands grabbing yours in a firm grip. you gasped in shock, trying to pull away, but he was too strong. his smirk widened as he dangled you over the edge of the pool, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“going somewhere?” he asked, his tone mocking and playful. you looked at him in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. the world seemed to slow as you realized what was about to happen. before you could protest, he let go, and you plunged into the cold water. the shock of the impact stole your breath, and you surfaced, wiping the water from your eyes.

he crouched by the edge of the pool, laughing. “sorry, i slipped,” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

as you blinked the water from your eyes, you saw the commotion his actions had caused. students were clamoring inside, drawn by the spectacle. in an instant, taehyung stood up from his seat in the cafeteria and walked out, his expression darkening with each step.

before he could react, taehyung reached him and, with a swift movement, kicked him into the pool. “sorry, i slipped,” he said, with the same amount if insincerity.

jieun and jimin rushed out, their faces a mix of concern and amusement. jimin extended a hand to help you out, but jieun frantically pushed him away. “no, no, take my hand,” she insisted, her eyes wide with worry. you took her hand, and she pulled you out of the pool with surprising strength. water dripped from your clothes, and you felt the eyes of the crowd on you, adding to your embarrassment. you locked eyes with taehyung for a brief moment, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper that you couldn’t quite place.

“are you okay?” jimin asked, his voice soft and soothing. you nodded, though you could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “i’m fine,” you managed to say, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you. taehyung’s eyes never left you as you walked away, wet and humiliated. the laughter and whispers of the students faded into the background, and you focused on putting one foot in front of the other. you needed to get away, to find a quiet place where you could collect yourself.

as you walked, your thoughts swirled. the events of the past few days had been overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread about what was to come. taehyung’s concern for you was touching, but it also added to the confusion in your heart. you couldn’t deny the flutter of butterflies when he was near, but the differences between your worlds seemed insurmountable.

you found a quiet corner behind the hotel, away from prying eyes, and sat down, letting the sun warm your wet clothes. the silence was a balm to your frayed nerves, giving you a moment to breathe and process everything that had happened. taehyung’s words echoed in your mind, his declaration of not caring what his family thought. it was a bold statement, one that filled you with equal parts hope and fear. you knew that your feelings for him were real, but the complications seemed endless.

lost in thought, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. you looked up to see taehyung standing there, his eyes soft and filled with concern. “are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you nodded, unable to find the words. he sat down beside you, his presence a comforting weight. the silence between you was heavy with unspoken words, but for now, it was enough to simply be there, together.

“thank you,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. he smiled, a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “anytime,” he replied, and in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope.

the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the mansion as you made your way to taehyung's room. the echoes of the day's events lingered in your mind, but you pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. you had a job to do, and you intended to do it well, despite the growing complications of your feelings.

his room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a desk lamp casting a warm light over the scattered books and papers. he sat at his desk, his gaze distant as he stared at the open textbook in front of him. you could sense his restlessness, the usual intensity in his eyes replaced by something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

you settled into the chair across from him, opening your notes and preparing to dive into the evening's lesson. “alright, taehyung, let's start with the themes of this chapter. i think—” you paused, noticing that his eyes were not on the book but on you. he was staring, an unspoken tension hanging in the air between you. “what's wrong?” you asked, your voice soft yet curious.

he sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “you're too damn distracting,” he said, his voice low and rough with frustration. the words took you by surprise. before you could respond, before you could even process what he meant, he stood up and crossed the small distance between you. his movements were swift, almost desperate, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

for a moment, you were stunned, frozen in place by the suddenness of his action. but then something within you surrendered, and you allowed yourself to melt into the kiss. it was tender and fervent, filled with all the pent-up emotions that neither of you had dared to voice. as the kiss deepened, his hands found their way to your waist, lifting you and guiding you onto the bed. the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, the heat of the moment consuming everything else. you clung to him, your hands tangling in his hair, your heart pounding in your chest.

but then, a sliver of rationality cut through the haze of passion, and you broke the kiss, gasping for breath. “taehyung, we can't,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “your mother might hear.” he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “then you’ll just have to be quiet,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours once more.

his gentle touch ignited a fire in you, and you couldn’t help but respond. he was so careful, so attentive, as if he could sense every nerve ending, every soft sigh that escaped your lips. you felt your resolve slipping away as his hands roamed over your body, peeling away layers of clothing like petals from a rose. his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

you lay back on the bed, allowing him to take control. his mouth followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and chest. every caress, every suck of his lips sent waves of pleasure crashing through you. your hands found his shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to anchor yourself in reality. but the room was spinning, the air thick with desire.

his kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazed your skin as he moved lower. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. you felt the warmth of his breath against your stomach, and then lower still, and your entire body arched off the bed. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with need, and whispered, “do you trust me?” without a second thought, you nodded.

his mouth was on you, and the world disappeared. you could only feel the exquisite sensations he was creating, the gentle pressure of his tongue, the soft sucks that sent your senses soaring. your hands clutched at the bed sheets, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you had never felt anything so intense, so consuming. every stroke was a promise, every kiss a declaration. and when you finally reached the peak, it was with his name on your lips, his eyes holding yours in a silent understanding.

his gaze was soft as he kissed his way back up your body, his touch tender as he brushed the hair from your face. you could see the question in his eyes, but you didn’t need words. you reached for him, pulling him closer, and he settled between your legs, his own need palpable.

his hand stroked you gently, his eyes never leaving yours, until you nodded, giving him the go-ahead. and then he was inside you, filling you in a way that made you feel complete. he moved slowly at first, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, but all you felt was an overwhelming need for more. you wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper, your hips moving in tandem with his.

the room was filled with the sound of your muffled moans and the slick sound of skin on skin. taehyung whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. his touch was both gentle and firm, a perfect mix of tenderness and passion that had you teetering on the edge once again.

his pace quickened, his breaths growing harsher as he approached his own climax. and when he finally reached it, you felt his whole body tense, his muscles coiling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

you lay there, panting and spent, his weight a comforting presence on top of you. for a moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling of him, in the warmth that surrounded you. but as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom. the line between student and tutor had been crossed, and there was no going back.

he seemed to sense your unease. With a gentle sigh, he shifted beside you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your arm. “we should get dressed,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

you nodded, biting your lip as you sat up. the remnants of the passion lingered in the air, but the urgency of the situation tugged at your mind. taehyung slipped out of bed and began to gather your clothes, handing them to you with a soft smile.

“here, let me help,” he offered, his touch tender as he helped you slip into your clothes. his fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. as he fastened the buttons of your blouse, he paused, his eyes locking onto yours. “don’t worry,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “everything will be okay.”

just as his reassuring words began to settle your nerves, the door burst open with a loud bang, causing both of you to jump. there, standing in the doorway, was his mother, her face a mask of shock and fury. the air seemed to freeze, tension crackling like a live wire. “i knew it,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage and disbelief. “i knew it.”

you and taehyung were too stunned to respond at first, the reality of the situation crashing down on you with a brutal force. she turned her gaze on you, her eyes blazing with contempt. “i gave you a job, and this is how you repay me?”

“mother, please—” he began, but she cut him off, her words sharp and venomous. “and you,” she spat, rounding on him. “i raised you better than this, taehyung. how could you? she's a different breed, not one of us.”

his expression hardened, a defiant fire lighting up his eyes. “i like her,” he declared, his voice strong and unwavering. “and you’ll just have to deal with it.” his mother's face twisted in fury. “pull yourself together, taehyung. this—this cannot happen.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the scene, the weight of the situation crashing down on you. “i'm so sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “i never meant to—” but the words died in your throat as you saw the heartbreak in taehyung's eyes. with a final, tearful glance at him, you turned and fled the room, the walls closing in around you as you ran down the hallway. the sound of his mother’s angry tirade echoed behind you, but all you could focus on was the pain of leaving him behind.

your heart pounded in your chest, each step a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume you. the mansion felt like a labyrinth, but you kept running, tears blurring your vision. you had to get out, had to find a way to breathe again. finally, you burst through the front doors and into the morning light, the crisp air a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. you stopped, gasping for breath, the tears streaming down your face as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened.

yoongi stood at the end of the long, winding path leading to your house, your student id clutched tightly in his hand. it had fallen straight out of your pocket after he pushed you into the hotel's pool. his heart pounded as he took in the sight before him. your home was small, much smaller than he had imagined, a stark contrast to the grandeur he was accustomed to. the modesty of it all made his heart ache, a pang of guilt and sadness settling deep within him.

as he approached, your mother appeared on the porch, her kind eyes squinting slightly as she called out, “who are you?”

“i’m yoongi,” he introduced himself, bowing respectfully. “i’m a friend of your daughter. she dropped her student id, and i wanted to return it.” her face lit up with a warm smile. “oh, thank you so much. please, come in. you must be hungry.”

he hesitated, not wanting to intrude, but her insistence was unwavering. “no, really, it’s fine. i just came to drop this off,” he tried to protest, but she waved him off, ushering him inside with a firm yet gentle hand. “nonsense. you came all this way. the least i can do is offer you a meal.”

he found himself seated on the floor, legs crossed as your mother moved about the small kitchen, preparing an array of dishes. the homely aroma filled the room, bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that was almost foreign to him. it had been a long time since he had experienced something so simple, yet so profoundly touching. when she finally set the food before him, he was taken aback by the spread. simple, yet lovingly prepared dishes adorned the low table, and his heart hurt at the sight. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft as he picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.

your mother watched him with a gentle smile, her eyes filled with a motherly concern. “is it good?” she asked, her voice hopeful. he nodded, swallowing the bite he had taken. “yes,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of emotion he hadn’t expected. “it’s just like my mother used to make.”

your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, replaying the events of the day over and over. the embarrassment, the hurtful words, the confrontation with taehyung's mother—it all weighed heavily on your heart. you felt tears welling up, but you forced them back, determined to keep your composure until you were safely inside the sanctuary of your home.

as you approached your house, you noticed an unfamiliar pair of shoes at the entrance. puzzled, you stepped inside, your heart skipping a beat when you saw yoongi standing in the small living room, his expression equally shocked to see you. he looked different here, out of place but somehow softer in the homely environment. he stepped forward, his eyes immediately catching the tears brimming in your eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

the question snapped something inside you. all the emotions you had been holding back came rushing to the surface. “please, stop toying with me,” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. “i don’t know what i did to make you hate me so much.”

his eyes widened in shock, the hurt in your voice piercing him deeply. before he could respond, you turned and slammed the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the small house. your mother, who had been in the kitchen, rushed over, her face etched with concern. “what happened?” she asked, her voice soft and worried.

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. the tears you had fought so hard to keep at bay finally spilled over as you collapsed into her arms. “i’m sorry,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “i’m so sorry for liking taehyung.”

your mother’s face softened with understanding. she held you close, her hand gently stroking your hair. “no, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice filled with love and regret. “i’m sorry i couldn’t give you a better life.” the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your sobs gradually subsiding into quiet sniffles. the weight of your mother’s words hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the struggles you had both faced. she pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” she said firmly. “loving someone isn’t a crime, and you deserve to be happy, no matter what.” you nodded, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. the warmth of your mother’s embrace and her unwavering support gave you a sense of solace, a momentary reprieve from the turmoil of the day.

the next day at school, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, making it difficult to focus on anything else. as you walked down the hall, the lively chatter of students felt distant, like a muffled background noise. jieun walked beside you, her usual cheerful demeanor tempered by the worry etched on her face.

“hey, are you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle but filled with concern. “you haven't said a word since we got here.” you barely registered her words, your mind lost in a haze of confusion and heartache. she tried again, her hand lightly touching your arm. “come on, talk to me. what happened?”

you remained silent, your eyes fixed on the floor as you continued walking. jieun's worry deepened, and she was about to press further when jimin came running up to the two of you, his expression a mix of confusion and urgency. “fired? why’d you get fired?” he asked, his voice louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby students.

you stopped in your tracks, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “how do you know?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “because they offered me your position the minute you got fired,” he said, his tone incredulous. “now tell us, what happened?”

you took a deep breath, the pain of the previous night bubbling up again. “i got fired simply because i liked him,” you said, your voice trembling as you forced the words out. jieun gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “i can't believe it,” she murmured, shaking her head. “that's so unfair.”

jimin's expression softened, a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "this is messed up," he said, his voice low but firm. "you don’t deserve this." as the three of you stood there, you noticed taehyung walking into the school. the sight of him was like a punch to the gut, and without a word, you turned and walked away, your heart too heavy to face him.

jieun watched you go, her eyes filled with disbelief and sadness. “i just can’t believe it,” she repeated, more to herself than to anyone else. jimin turned his gaze towards taehyung, his jaw set in determination. “you need to make this right,” he said, his voice carrying a note of command.

taehyung's eyes followed your retreating form, a deep regret etched in his features. he nodded, more to himself than to jimin, and started to follow after you, his steps quickening as he realized the gravity of the situation. you reached the courtyard, your favorite spot for some semblance of peace, and sat down on one of the benches, burying your face in your hands. the events of the past day played over and over in your mind, each memory a sharp sting to your heart. you didn’t notice him approaching until he was standing right in front of you, his shadow casting a long, somber line over your form.

you could feel the weight of the world pressing down on you. the leaves rustled softly in the breeze, their whispering a cruel reminder of how insignificant your problems seemed in the grand scheme of things. your heart felt heavy, each beat a painful reminder of the day’s events. your eyes, swollen from crying, were fixed on the ground, as if seeking solace in the worn path beneath you.

the sound of footsteps approached, but you barely noticed, lost in your own grief. it wasn’t until taehyung's shadow fell across your bench that you looked up, your tear-streaked face meeting his intense gaze.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with urgency. you shook your head, your frustration evident. “there’s nothing to talk about,” you said, your voice cracking with the strain of your emotions. you stood up, ready to walk away from him, from the pain, from everything.

but before you could take a step, his hand reached out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. you turned back to face him, a mix of surprise and defiance in your eyes. “everyone is an obstacle,” he said, his voice resolute. “i know you’re different from me, but i want to learn. do what you’re good at, teach me. i don’t want to spend the rest of my life mourning you.”

his words cut through the haze of your despair, a sudden burst of clarity amidst the fog of your emotions. the sincerity in his voice was palpable, each word a desperate plea for understanding and connection. you stared at him, your heart racing as you processed his confession. his eyes, usually so confident and sure, were now filled with a vulnerability you had never seen before. it was as if he was laying his soul bare before you, revealing a depth of feeling that had been hidden beneath his strong exterior.

“taehyung,” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words. “you don’t understand. this isn’t just about us. it’s about my life, my job, everything i’ve worked for.”

he shook his head, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as if to anchor you both in this moment. “i do understand,” he said, his voice fierce with conviction. “i know i’ve made mistakes, and i know i’ve hurt you. but i don’t want to lose you. not like this.” the raw emotion in his eyes mirrored your own pain, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. the bustling sounds of the school, the murmurs of students passing by—all of it fell into silence as you focused solely on him.

“you’re asking me to forgive you,” you said softly, the weight of his words sinking in. “but forgiveness isn’t something that can be given so easily.” taehyung’s expression softened, his gaze filled with regret and hope. “i’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, his voice barely audible. “i’m asking for a chance. a chance to show you that i can change, that i can be different. i need you to teach me, to help me understand.”

his plea resonated deep within you, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. the anger and hurt that had consumed you were slowly giving way to a flicker of hope, a glimmer of the possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. “you really want this?” you asked, your voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

he nodded, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce intensity. “yes,” he said firmly. “i want to learn. i want to be someone who deserves you.” you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you considered his words. the path ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and obstacles. but as you looked into taehyung’s earnest eyes, you saw a glimmer of the person he was trying to become—a person you could perhaps have a future with, despite everything.

with a weary sigh, you nodded slowly. “alright,” you said, your voice soft but resolute. “but it’s not gonna be easy. it'll take time, and a lot of effort. are you ready for that?”

his face lit up with a mixture of relief and determination. “i’m ready,” he said, his voice steady. “i’ll do whatever it takes.” as you stood there, your heart still aching but with a newfound resolve, you knew that the road ahead would be difficult. as the weight of his words settled between you, a profound silence enveloped the both of you. it was a silence filled with the promise of change and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. your heart still ached from the day’s events, but there was a new flicker of hope in your chest, ignited by his earnest plea.

without a word, taehyung stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your face. his touch was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the coldness you had felt earlier. slowly, as if savoring the moment, he pulled you into his arms. the embrace was tender and full of emotion, his heart beating steadily against your own. you rested your head against his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. the comforting pressure of his arms around you was a balm to your weary soul. the world outside seemed to blur into insignificance as you held each other, finding solace in the shared warmth.

taehyung’s grip tightened slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “thank you for giving me a chance. i promise i won’t let you down.” his words were a soft, heartfelt promise that echoed in the quiet space between you. you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of vulnerability and hope. the depth of his feelings was reflected in his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

as if guided by an invisible force, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. the kiss was tender at first, a sweet exploration of the feelings you both had kept hidden. as the kiss deepened, it became a fierce declaration of the emotions that had been building between you. when you finally pulled away, breathless and with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, his eyes shone with a mix of relief and affection. he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and tender.

from the edge of the path, where the shadows of the trees mingled with the late morning light, yoongi and jungkook watched the scene unfold. yoongi’s eyes were fixed on you, a look of sadness etched deeply into his features. his gaze held a mix of defeat and resignation as he observed the moment.

jungkook, standing beside him, broke the silence with a quiet observation. “damn, you must be bummed,” he said, his tone almost casual. yoongi shook his head, his expression softening with a resigned acceptance. “he beat me to it,” he replied quietly, his eyes never leaving you. “but it’s okay. she’s happy.”

despite the resignation in his voice, the sadness never fully left his eyes. as he watched you, his own heart seemed to bear the weight of what could have been.

✧.*

a/n: this was so corny bye i'd like to thank the heirs

el dorado (엘도라도) — min yoongi (민윤기)

✧.* 18+

the sun had barely risen, casting its first golden rays upon daegu as you stood on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, overlooking the city. the view was both magnificent and disheartening. from the north, the cityscape gleamed with the brilliance of affluence. skyscrapers glittered like diamonds, their glass facades reflecting the morning light. luxury cars, sleek and polished, glided silently along the pristine roads, while high-end boutiques and gourmet cafés beckoned from below.

yet, beyond the northern skyline, the stark contrast of south daegu lay sprawled in muted colors. there, the city’s essence was raw and unrefined. the buildings were worn and aged, their facades bearing the marks of countless years. streets teemed with vendors selling their modest goods, and the air carried the hum of industrious activity mixed with a tinge of despair. the people moved with a sense of quiet resignation, their eyes reflecting a daily struggle for survival.

in the comfort of your penthouse, surrounded by opulent decor and the finest amenities, the divide between north and south daegu felt as though it was etched into the very fabric of the city. it was not merely a physical separation but an emotional and social chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. you sipped your coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, and contemplated the weight of your father’s legacy and the monumental task ahead.

the less fortunate lived on the other side of this divide. min yoongi's world was a reflection of the south—a realm defined by resilience and resourcefulness amidst hardship. it was in these gritty streets that he had forged his path. his life, a stark juxtaposition to yours, was marked by constant striving for a break from the shackles of poverty. his family’s modest home, with its peeling paint and cramped quarters, bore witness to years of struggle. yet, amidst the scarcity, there was a certain warmth, a community spirit that thrived even in the face of adversity.

el dorado—the very name conjured images of opulence and mystery, a shimmering city of gold nestled somewhere beyond the known maps of the world. in the realm of myth and legend, el dorado was not merely a place but a symbol of ultimate wealth and grandeur. it represented the unattainable dream of countless adventurers, a beacon of hope and avarice that has captivated imaginations across centuries and continents.

visions of el dorado were as varied as they were vivid. imagine a city where the streets were paved with gold and the walls of grand palaces were adorned with intricate mosaics of precious metals. rivers of liquid gold flowed through lush, verdant landscapes, and the very air sparkled with the dust of untold riches. in that imagined paradise, luxury was not an aspiration but a reality woven into the fabric of daily life. the legend assured that only the worthy could come across the city of gold, and you were sure it was your destiny.

the rain fell steadily, its rhythmic patter blending with the mournful strains of a distant funeral dirge. the sky, a dismal gray, wept alongside the mourners who had gathered to pay their respects. the gravesite, a somber and serene expanse, was blanketed by a fine mist, rendering the scene both melancholic and ethereal.

you stood alone beside your father’s freshly turned grave, the elaborate marble headstone gleaming under the droplets of rain. the memorial photograph of your father, framed in an ornate silver plaque, looked back at you with a serene yet distant gaze. his eyes, forever captured in a moment of composure and strength, seemed to echo the weight of the legacy he had left behind.

tears traced paths down your cheeks, mingling with the raindrops as you stared at the photograph. the sight of his image brought a piercing ache to your heart, an overwhelming flood of grief that threatened to consume you. the grandeur of his achievements, the opulence of his life, and the unfulfilled promise of his dreams all seemed to converge upon this solitary moment.

in the midst of your sorrow, you sensed a presence—a subtle shift in the atmosphere. turning slightly, you caught sight of min yoongi standing nearby. he was positioned just a few feet away, his figure slightly obscured by the veil of rain. unlike you, who was consumed by the weight of personal loss and duty, yoongi’s attention was fixed intently on the grave.

he was soaked through, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes clinging to him in a manner that mirrored your own state of disarray. yet, his focus was unwavering, a silent vigil in the midst of your personal anguish. his posture was rigid, his gaze unblinking as he regarded the headstone, the significance of the scene seemingly etched deeply into his expression. you could not quite discern the thoughts behind his solemn demeanor. his presence, though unexpected, seemed to be an unspoken tribute to your father, perhaps a testament to the respect he had for the man who had employed him. there was no hint of intrusion or disrespect; instead, there was a quiet solidarity in his silence. you couldn't place the look on his face. then again, you didn't know him all that well, having had only one encounter. you removed your gaze from him, your thoughts drifting back to a memory that seemed both distant and vivid.

it was a hazy afternoon, the sun casting dappled shadows on the gentle waves as you slept on the deck of your family's yacht. the tranquility of the boat had lulled you into a peaceful slumber, the soft rocking of the vessel a gentle cradle. the serenity of the moment was abruptly disrupted by a muffled sound, a soft rustling that stirred you from your nap. blinking groggily, you opened your eyes to find the boat's interior bathed in a soft, golden hue from the afternoon light. it was then that you noticed a figure moving stealthily near the scuba gear locker. you immediately recognized him.

he was hunched over, his movements deliberate but not quite smooth, as if he were trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. your curiosity piqued, you sat up, the slight creak of the boat’s deck betraying your awakening. as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, yoongi glanced up and froze, his expression one of startled surprise.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and mild amusement. the question hung in the air, and for a moment, yoongi seemed at a loss for words. he fumbled with the equipment, a sheen of nervous sweat glistening on his forehead. “i’m just topping off the tanks,” he stammered, his voice wavering. his eyes darted to the empty, wet scuba gear spread across the deck, and a flash of panic crossed his features.

you raised an eyebrow, noting the strange sight of the wet, empty gear. “topping off the tanks?” you repeated, your tone laced with skepticism. “why is everything soaked and empty then?” his panic was palpable now, his usually composed demeanor shattered by your direct questioning. “please, don’t tell your father,” he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper. there was an earnest desperation in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

you studied him for a moment, the gravity of the situation mingling with a growing sense of mischief. “caught his employee red-handed,” you said with a teasing smile. the amusement in your voice was barely concealed, and you watched as yoongi’s face turned an even deeper shade of worry. his eyes widened, and he took a hesitant step toward you, his hands wringing together nervously. “i’m really sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “i didn’t mean to—”

seeing the sheer anxiety in his eyes, you decided to ease the tension. “relax,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i won’t say a word. consider it a secret between us.” a look of immense relief washed over his face, and he let out a soft sigh of gratitude. “thank you,” he said earnestly, his gaze meeting yours with genuine appreciation. “i promise it won’t happen again.”

in that fleeting moment, the air between you shifted. the playful teasing had given way to a quiet, unspoken bond—a shared understanding that transcended the usual dynamics of employer and employee. yoongi’s smile, though nervous, was heartfelt, and it lingered for a moment longer before he turned back to his task, working diligently to restore the equipment to its proper place.

the penthouse, usually a haven of opulence and comfort, felt uncharacteristically hollow as you walked through its vast, echoing spaces. the grandeur of the high ceilings and the sweeping views of the city did little to ease the emptiness that weighed heavily upon you. your father’s presence, once a commanding and reassuring force, was now conspicuously absent, leaving behind a palpable silence.

you wandered aimlessly, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpets that stretched beneath you. each room you entered seemed to whisper reminders of him—the elegant furnishings, the carefully curated artworks, the personal touches that spoke of his life and personality. yet, despite the luxury and the meticulous design, the place felt colder, more distant, without him.

as you moved through the penthouse, you found yourself drawn to his study—a room that had always been shrouded in an aura of secrecy and reverence. it was a place you had rarely entered during his lifetime, a domain reserved for his most private thoughts and intricate dealings. you hesitated before the door, a feeling of intrusion gnawing at you. but curiosity, combined with the pressing need to understand the extent of his plans, urged you forward.

with a deep breath, you pushed open the door, and the scene before you struck you with a jolt. the study was in disarray, a stark contrast to the usually immaculate order that characterized your father's workspaces. the once pristine desk was now cluttered with scattered papers, some strewn haphazardly across the floor. the large window on one side of the room had been shattered, the jagged edges glistening ominously. rain had begun to seep in through the broken glass, pooling on the hardwood floor and mingling with the debris.

you stepped further inside, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. the chaos was overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the turmoil that had consumed your father in his final days. you moved cautiously, your eyes scanning the room for any clue that might shed light on his final projects.

approaching the desk, you began sifting through the papers. most were invoices, financial reports, and documents related to his various investments. yet, amidst the mundane clutter, one document caught your eye. it was partially crumpled and stained, its edges rough and disheveled. bold, black letters emblazoned across the top read, “el dorado.”

your pulse quickened as you carefully unfolded the paper. the document revealed an intricately detailed map, its aged surface marked with symbols and annotations that hinted at a journey. the map depicted a labyrinth of rivers, mountains, and dense forests, converging on a central location that was highlighted in a golden hue—a conspicuous nod to the legendary city of gold. as you studied it, the countless stories your father had told you about el dorado surged back into your memory. you had always dismissed them as fanciful tales, embellishments of adventure and myth. the allure of the lost city seemed trivial compared to the realities of his empire.

but now, seeing the map and the evident planning that had gone into it, the fascination with el dorado took on a new, unsettling significance. it was not merely a whimsical obsession; it was a meticulously orchestrated pursuit, a strategic endeavor to uncover something of immense value. the realization dawned on you that your father’s fascination was, in fact, a grand plan—a plan that had been in motion for years, driven by a desire to find the lost city and secure its treasures.

the weight of this discovery pressed heavily upon you. the idea that your father had been so consumed by this quest, to the point of neglecting other aspects of his life, was both astonishing and disconcerting. yet, it also clarified your path forward. the map was more than just a relic of his dreams; it was a tangible link to his legacy, a call to action.

yoongi sat on the edge of the docks, the cool evening air ruffling his hair as he took a slow drag from his joint. the sky was a muted canvas of twilight hues, the fading light casting long shadows over the wooden planks beneath him. beside him, his friend leaned back against a crate, his own joint smoldering between his fingers. the gentle lapping of the water against the pilings below created a rhythmic, soothing backdrop to their conversation.

hoseok broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity. “so, now that your employer’s gone—how do you feel about it?” yoongi exhaled a plume of smoke, his expression guarded. he scoffed lightly, not entirely surprised by the question. “don’t joke about it,” he said, his tone more serious than hoseok’s casual demeanor suggested. “the man was alright for a chaebol.”

hoseok chuckled, his eyes narrowing with a hint of cynicism. “they’re all the same, are they not? it makes no difference whether they’re alive or dead. they’ve got their own world, and it’s nothing like ours.” yoongi’s gaze shifted to the water, his attention wavering as he became lost in thought. hoseok, noticing his friend's distracted demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “what’s on your mind, yoongi? you seem a bit off.”

yoongi took another drag from his joint, the embers glowing softly in the gathering darkness. he let the smoke curl around him, his eyes distant. “gold,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. hoseok laughed, a hearty sound that seemed to echo off the water. “isn’t that what we’re all thinking about? gold’s always on our minds.”

yoongi shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small, enigmatic smile. “gold, the city of gold.” hoseok’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of puzzled interest. “the city of gold? you mean that old myth?”

yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he met his gaze. “it’s not just a myth. i overheard him talking about it before he passed. he was obsessed with it, claimed he was close to finding it.” hoseok’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “you’re not serious, are you? that’s just another tall tale.”

yoongi’s expression was resolute. “no, i’m serious. there’s something to it. i’m going to be the one to find it.” hoseok’s skepticism remained evident, but curiosity was clearly piqued. “and how exactly do you plan to do that?”

a smirk played on yoongi’s lips as he took a final puff from his joint, the smoke drifting lazily into the twilight. “the way to a father’s heart,” he said, his tone almost conspiratorial, “is through his daughter.” as the sun dipped below the horizon, the night deepened around them, casting the docks in shadows. the promise of adventure and discovery hung in the air, mingling with the scent of the sea and the lingering smoke. yoongi’s resolve was palpable, his plans set into motion by a mix of ambition and strategic maneuvering. the city of gold was no longer a distant dream, but a tangible goal.

you lay on the couch in your father’s study, the room dimly lit by the desk lamp that cast a soft, golden glow across the walls. the study, once a place of bustling activity and intense focus, now felt oddly still and desolate. the silence seemed to amplify your thoughts, turning them into an echoing din that made it impossible for you to drift into sleep.

staring up at the ceiling, you found yourself lost in the labyrinth of your mind, the weight of your father’s death and the revelation of his secret quest pressing heavily on your shoulders. the map of el dorado, now carefully hidden away, was a constant reminder of the journey that lay ahead—a journey you felt compelled to undertake in his memory.

just as the darkness of the room began to weigh on your eyelids, a sudden crash shattered the stillness. your heart leapt into your throat, and adrenaline surged through you, jolting you into action. you threw off the blanket and forced yourself out of the couch, your footsteps quick and quiet as you approached the source of the noise. the study door creaked as you pushed it open, and you peered into the hallway. the light from the study illuminated only part of the corridor, leaving the rest shrouded in shadow. the crash had come from further down the hall, and you moved cautiously, every sound magnified in your heightened state of alert.

as you rounded the corner, you saw a figure bending over a cluttered pile of papers. without a second thought, you sprang forward and tackled the intruder to the ground, your instincts driving you to protect your father's possessions. the person let out a startled yelp, and in a swift, unexpected move, they flipped you onto your back.

you found yourself staring up at a familiar face, eyes wide with equal parts surprise and disbelief. it was yoongi, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. he was sprawled on top of you, his body tense, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“this is the second time you're breaking in,” you murmured, struggling to regain your footing as you pushed against his chest. he blinked, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find an explanation that would make sense. he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the scattered papers on the floor. “i’m looking for clues,” he finally admitted, his voice a blend of awkwardness and sincerity. “about the city of gold.”

you wriggled out from beneath him, sitting up as you processed his words. “the city of gold?” you echoed, the phrase taking on new significance. “you mean el dorado?” he nodded, his expression earnest. “yes, el dorado. are you familiar with it?”

you met his gaze, your mind racing as you considered the implications. “i am. i found a map in my father’s study. i plan on finding it to honor his memory.” there was a brief pause as the weight of your statement settled between you. yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing his next words. “i wanted to find it too,” he said slowly, his voice revealing an undertone of determination. you studied him, trying to discern his true motives. there was a hunger in his eyes, a drive that went beyond mere curiosity. yet, you were willing to overlook his hidden agenda if it meant achieving your own goal.

taking a deep breath, you considered what your father would have wanted. the thought of working with yoongi, despite the tension and underlying motives, seemed like a practical step forward. he had valuable knowledge and skills that could aid in the search, and his involvement could provide insights that you might otherwise miss. “i think,” you said finally, your voice steady, “that we should find it together.”

he looked taken aback by your suggestion, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. “are you serious?” you nodded firmly, your gaze unwavering. “yes, i am. if we work together, we might stand a better chance of finding it.”

he studied you for a moment longer, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue. slowly, a small, hesitant smile began to form on his lips. “alright,” he said, his tone softening. “let’s find it together.” the agreement, though tentative, marked the beginning of an unexpected partnership. as you both stood up and began to gather the scattered papers, the realization of the task ahead settled over you. the search for el dorado would be fraught with challenges, but with yoongi’s help, you felt a renewed sense of purpose.

yoongi’s gaze swept across the study, taking in the chaos that had taken over the room. the once meticulously organized space was now a disheveled mess, with papers strewn haphazardly across the floor and a window shattered, letting in a cold draft. he arched an eyebrow as he observed the scene, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“what happened here?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. you shrugged nonchalantly, brushing a stray piece of paper from the edge of the desk. “i assumed someone broke in. the place was like this when i arrived.”

his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the room, his gaze lingering on the scattered documents. his attention shifted as you approached the desk and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a rolled-up piece of paper with a careful touch. the map was worn but unmistakable, its edges frayed from years of handling. as you spread the map out on the table, his eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “is that really it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

you smiled, nodding as you smoothed out the creases. “this is the map. the one my father was obsessed with. it’s supposed to lead to el dorado.” yoongi joined you at the table, leaning in to examine the map closely. his fingers traced the intricate lines and markings, his expression one of awe and admiration. “south america,” he murmured, glancing up at you with a look of impressed disbelief.

your satisfaction was evident as you watched him study the map. however, your attention was soon drawn to a piece of paper lying beneath it, partially obscured by the map’s bulk. the paper was covered in scribbles and notes, and yoongi’s eyes fell on it, scrutinizing the words written in a frantic scrawl. “tocord ele boosin,” he read aloud, his brows furrowing in confusion as he deciphered the jumbled letters.

you scanned the same paper, noting the erratic handwriting and the repeated name. “it seems like a display of a meltdown,” you said, your tone nonchalant. “my father must have been trying to piece something together, but it looks like he lost control.” yoongi shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the paper. “no, this address looks familiar. i’ve seen it before.”

you turned to him, intrigued by his sudden revelation. “really? where?” his gaze sharpened as he tried to recall the information. his eyes widened as he connected the dots, the seemingly random scramble of words taking shape in his mind.

“doctor lee soobin,” he said aloud, the name forming clearly on his lips. a jolt of recognition struck you, and your eyes widened in surprise. “how do you know that name?”

he shook his head, his expression a mix of skepticism and irritation. “doctor lee soobin is infamous in the south. he’s considered a madman by many, but he calls himself a scientist. his research is unconventional, and he’s been the subject of numerous rumors and gossip.” you considered his words, the implications settling heavily in your mind. “so you’re saying my father was involved with this doctor soobin?”

yoongi nodded, his gaze serious. “it’s possible. if this address is linked to him, then it could be a significant clue. he might know something about el dorado or at least be connected to the search in some way.” with the map and the mysterious paper in hand, you and yoongi began to organize the information, your minds focused on the path ahead. the study, once a place of solitude and grief, had transformed into a hub of discovery and anticipation.

as yoongi began to gather his things, preparing to leave the study, you hesitated. the urgency of the moment had given way to a more practical concern. you cleared your throat, trying to mask the unease you felt. “wait.” he paused, looking back at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion. “what’s up?”

“it’s late,” you said, forcing yourself to sound casual. “it’s not safe for you to walk back to the south at this hour. you should stay the night.” his eyebrows lifted in surprise, his expression shifting from confusion to something akin to amusement. “are you serious? you’re offering me a place to stay?”

you nodded, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “yes. it would be safer. i don’t want you risking your safety just to chase after a lead.” his gaze softened, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets with a thoughtful smile. “seems like you just want an excuse to sleep with me,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

you scoffed, a reflexive smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “as if,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. but as you caught sight of his playful grin, you hesitated. “or maybe you’re just looking for a chance to get out of walking back.” he chuckled, the sound a warm contrast to the chill in the air. “well, when you put it that way, who am I to argue?”

he seemed genuinely appreciative, and you could tell he was touched by the gesture. you took a deep breath, holding his gaze. “you can either thank me or leave. your choice.” yoongi’s grin widened, and he gave you a nod of gratitude. “thank you. i’ll stay the night.”

as you prepared the guest room for him, your thoughts were occupied by the unexpected turn of events. the night, once marked by sadness and solitude, now held the promise of collaboration and discovery. you couldn’t deny the strange comfort in having yoongi nearby, and the prospect of working together on this quest gave you a sense of purpose you hadn’t anticipated.

the first rays of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stirred, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and turned to see yoongi still sprawled across the guest room bed, his breathing slow and even. you scoffed quietly, a mix of amusement and exasperation tugging at your lips. as much as he claimed he didn’t need it, it seemed he did appreciate the comfort of a bed after all.

slipping out of bed, you padded softly down the hall to the kitchen. the house was still, the quiet punctuated only by the soft sounds of your movements. you set to work, the familiar ritual of brewing coffee providing a comforting rhythm. the rich aroma filled the air as you prepared two cups, your hands moving deftly as you thought about the day ahead.

you were just reaching for the ice cream when you felt a presence behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling before you heard the quiet, raspy voice. “do you really plan on having ice cream for breakfast?” yoongi’s voice held a note of bemusement, startling you slightly.

you turned, a small smile playing on your lips as you saw him leaning against the doorway, hair tousled and eyes still half-lidded with sleep. “it’s not ice cream for breakfast,” you corrected, holding up the carton. “it’s called an affogato.” he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a skeptical smile. “i’ve never heard of it.”

“then you’re in for a treat,” you replied, turning back to the counter. you scooped chocolate ice cream into two glasses and poured the hot espresso over them, watching as the ice cream began to melt and swirl with the coffee. he watched you, curiosity piqued as you handed him one of the glasses. he took it hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment before he lifted it to his lips. his eyes widened slightly as he took a sip, the unexpected blend of hot and cold, bitter and sweet, surprising him.

“do they really not sell these in the south?” you asked, taking a sip of your own affogato and savoring the way the flavors danced on your tongue. yoongi shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “no, the best we get is a black coffee. this is different. good different.”

“i’m glad you like it,” you said, warmth spreading through you at his approval. you both sipped in silence for a few moments, the quiet companionship settling comfortably between you. once you had finished, you set the glasses aside and began discussing the day’s plans. the journey south loomed ahead, the thought of it filling you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

“we need to figure out the best way to get there,” you said, pulling out the paper with the address. “do you know the area well?” his eyes flicked to the paper, and he nodded, a confident gleam in his gaze. “i know it by heart. just follow my lead.”

you handed him the paper, trusting his assurance, and began gathering your things. as you moved around the kitchen, preparing for the journey ahead, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. yoongi’s presence, once so enigmatic and distant, now felt like a steady anchor. with your bags packed and the house secured, you both stepped out into the crisp morning air. the world outside was waking up, the city stretching and yawning as it greeted the new day. yoongi glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to follow him.

the morning air was cool and crisp as you walked side by side with yoongi, the city slowly waking up around you. the streets were beginning to fill with people, the sounds of daily life rising to a gentle hum. you followed him to the train station, the two of you moving in comfortable silence. when you arrived, he fumbled with his pockets, searching for his wallet.

“damn it,” he muttered, pulling out his wallet only to find it empty. he looked at you with a sheepish grin, “looks like i’m broke.” you couldn’t help but smile at his predicament. “don’t worry about it. i’ll cover the fare,” you assured him, stepping up to the ticket counter and purchasing the tickets.

the train ride south was a journey into another world. as the landscape outside the window changed, you were struck by the stark difference between the two sides. the bustling, affluent north gave way to a more rugged, hardscrabble environment. the buildings were older, many in disrepair, and the people looked worn and weary. it was a side of the world you rarely saw, and it filled you with a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

yoongi broke the silence, his voice low and serious. “you should really talk to the police while you’re here, about your father’s office.”

you scoffed, not bothering to hide your disdain. “i’m well aware someone broke in.” he looked at you, a frown creasing his brow. “you should find out who the asshole is.”

“i’ll think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive. you could feel his eyes on you, trying to understand your reluctance. he couldn’t quite grasp why you wouldn’t use your influence to get the police to do your bidding, but he didn’t press further.

as the train approached the station, you felt a sense of apprehension settle over you. exiting the train, you stepped into the southern town, the stark reality of it hitting you hard. the streets were rough, lined with potholes and crumbling sidewalks. the people moved with a wary kind of urgency, eyes always on the lookout.

passing by the police station sent chills down your spine. the building was imposing, a reminder of authority and power, but also of the corruption and fear that often came with it. you met yoongi’s gaze, seeking reassurance. “do you know where to find the doctor’s house?” he nodded, his expression serious. “yeah, follow me. watch your step.”

you took in the south, grimacing at just how rough people seemed to have it. the poverty and struggle were palpable, a sharp contrast to the world you knew. the journey to the doctor’s house was a winding path through narrow, crowded streets. the further you went, the more apparent it became just how different life was here. when you finally reached the doctor’s house, you were taken aback. the building was old and beat-up, its once-white paint now peeling and faded. the windows were cracked, and the front steps sagged with age and neglect. it was a far cry from the pristine, well-maintained homes you were used to.

“is it safe to enter?” you asked, eyeing the dilapidated house with suspicion. it looked as though it had been abandoned for years, the once-white paint peeling and the windows dusty and cracked. yoongi chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “when we were kids, we used to dare each other to knock on this door. no one ever had the guts to actually do it.” he saw the grimace on your face, the look of horror that flickered across your features, and laughed. “don’t worry. it’s not as bad as it looks.”

you hesitated, watching as he approached the door and knocked. the door swung open with a creak, revealing the shadowy interior. “see? open already,” he said, glancing back at you with a reassuring smile. you trailed behind him, the wooden floorboards creaking under your feet as you called out, “doctor lee?” your voice echoed in the empty space, but there was no answer. the house was a mess, furniture overturned and papers strewn everywhere. it was clear someone had broken in.

“this is a bad idea,” you started to say, turning to him. but before you could finish, a man tumbled out of a closet, wild-eyed and desperate. he tackled yoongi to the ground, hands tightening around his throat with a feral intensity.

you locked eyes with yoongi, his expression shifting from surprise to helplessness under the man’s strangling grip. your heart raced, and you frantically looked around for something to help. spotting a crowbar on the floor, you grabbed it and swung at the man’s head. the blow wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to loosen his grip.

yoongi pulled himself free and pinned the man down as he thrashed. you approached cautiously, meeting the man’s fearful gaze as you crouched beside him. “i’m (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your voice steady as you showed him the letter you had found in your father’s study. the man stopped thrashing, his eyes widening. “are you—his daughter?”

you nodded, and yoongi loosened his grip as the man calmed down. “my father recently passed away,” you said, pausing to steady your voice. “i’m here on his behalf, for the city of gold.”

the man sighed, gesturing to the trashed room. “as you can see, i’ve had a few uninvited visitors.” you nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. “my father’s study was broken into as well.”

he gestured for you both to take a seat, offering you cups of water. “were you friends with my father?” you asked, curiosity tinged with sadness. he scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. “we were, until money got the better of one of us.” he paused, noticing your discomfort. “though i regret not attending his funeral.”

yoongi cut through the tension. “so, where do we go from here?” the doctor analyzed the letter, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. “you have the map, so you’re more than close to the gold. all you need now is the gnomon.”

you frowned, puzzled. “what are you talking about?” he leaned forward, his expression serious. “the map is nothing but a guide to the temalacatl. the gnomon, if found, comes with a translation. once placed on the temalacatl, if the timing is right and the moon hits it, the final clue to el dorado is revealed.”

you and yoongi exchanged stunned glances. “how do we get the gnomon?” he asked. the doctor leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “in the south’s museum. the gnomon is one of the artifacts. no one has suspected it to be a clue, but rather a display of el dorado’s existence.”

you turned to yoongi, your mind racing. “how do we get it?” he shrugged, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “you have money, just buy your way in.”

you sneered at his teasing, but before you could retort, the doctor cut in. “no amount of money could match its value. your best bet is to break in,” he paused to adjust his glasses. “i have a friend who monitors the cameras, someone who owes me a favor. he’ll turn a blind eye.”

you smiled, feeling a step closer to your goal. “thank you,” you said, gratitude coloring your voice. “be careful,” the doctor warned, his eyes serious. “this journey is more dangerous than you can imagine.”

with renewed determination, you and yoongi left the doctor’s house, your minds set on the path ahead. the stakes were higher than ever, but you felt a sense of purpose guiding you. the city of gold was within reach. you trailed after yoongi, watching him closely as he navigated the streets with ease. he suddenly changed direction, and you couldn’t help but ask, “aren’t we going to the museum?”

he shook his head, his expression serious. “we need to go to the police now.” you rolled your eyes. “it’s no big deal, yoongi.”

he stopped, turning to face you with a look of determination. “after seeing the pattern in the doctor’s house, it’s too dangerous not to. we can’t take any chances.” you sighed, accepting defeat. there was no arguing with him when he had that look in his eyes. “fine.”

you followed him back to the border, the path to the police station feeling longer and more daunting with each step. as you approached the building, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. yoongi noticed your hesitation and opened the door for you, his presence a small comfort. the room fell silent as you entered, all eyes turning towards you. the heavy atmosphere was suffocating. then, you locked eyes with him. his gaze was icy as it settled on yoongi, a cold glare that sent shivers down your spine.

“what are you doing here?” jungkook’s voice was laced with hostility. yoongi turned to you, confusion evident on his face. you took a deep breath, deciding to break the tension. “this is yoongi, my friend. and yoongi, this is jungkook, my ex-boyfriend.”

jungkook’s displeasure was palpable, but so was yoongi’s. the air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. you cleared your throat, trying to diffuse the situation. “we’re here to report a break-in.” jungkook looked shocked, his cold demeanor softening slightly. “why didn’t you come in sooner?”

you shrugged, attempting to downplay the situation. “i thought it was no big deal.” he sighed, frustration mingling with concern. “it’s always because of the gold, isn’t it?” he shook his head before saying, “i’ll report it further.”

you turned to leave, but jungkook grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. yoongi’s eyes narrowed, his stance becoming protective. “be careful,” he said, his voice softer, a hint of the old familiarity breaking through his stern facade. you met his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the past. “you too, jungkook.”

you and yoongi left the police station, the tension from the encounter lingering in the air. he remained silent, his mind clearly preoccupied. you walked side by side, the city’s noise fading into the background as your thoughts consumed you. “ex-boyfriend?” he finally asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, though the encounter had left you rattled. “dad forced us to break up, long time ago,” you paused to smile, but there wasn't a trace of humor on your face. “didn't approve of him being from the south.”

your words seemed to be a reminder to him, one that made his gaze harden and his throat close up. one that told him—no matter how close you were, no matter how nice you were to him, you would still be different at the end of the day. you would be the one with money and food on a silver platter, while he would be absolutely no one.

the two of you headed back in the right direction, the urgency of your mission weighing heavily on your minds. you turned to him, breaking the silence. “it’s too early to break in,” you said thoughtfully. he nodded, considering your words. “do you have any suggestions?”

you paused, your eyes drifting over his attire. his clothes made it painfully obvious that he was from the south. a smile tugged at your lips as an idea formed. “there’s no way you’re gonna blend in dressed like that.” his eyes widened, a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “what are you on about?”

you took his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “point me to the nicest clothing store you know. i’ll be your sugar mommy for the week.” he looked defeated, a sigh escaping his lips. “i can’t believe you’re gonna customize me.”

feigning offense, you raised an eyebrow. “are you so against being my barbie doll?” he feigned sympathy, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “i assure you, i’ll be the perfect lab rat.”

you pulled him into the most expensive store you could find, which was a challenge in itself given the area. the saleswoman looked stunned as you entered, her professional demeanor momentarily slipping. “what can i help you with?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. beaming, you placed your credit card on the table. “bring out your most expensive attire for my good friend here.” she looked delighted, probably not used to customers willing to spend so much money. “of course,” she agreed eagerly, glancing at yoongi with a gleam in her eye.

you sat on the plush couch in the waiting area, enjoying the luxurious surroundings. yoongi’s look of betrayal made you smile. the first outfit he tried on was a sleek black suit with a narrow tie. you shook your head, unable to suppress a chuckle. “too funeral director.” next, he stepped out in a flamboyant red ensemble, complete with a matching hat. you winced, struggling to keep a straight face. “too circus ringmaster.”

the third outfit was a gaudy, bedazzled jacket and pants combo that sparkled under the store’s lights. you laughed outright, shaking your head. “elvis, can i get an autograph?” his expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement, but he finally emerged in a classic, well-tailored navy suit that fit him perfectly. you stepped forward, adjusting his tie with a satisfied smile. “now, this is perfect.”

he smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “glad to hear it, because it’s my turn to customize you.”

your turn to look mortified, you opened your mouth to protest but he was already leading you to the women’s section. the first outfit he chose was a frilly pink dress that made you look like a cake topper. he grinned as he saw your expression. “my little pony, where've you been?” you nodded, rolling your eyes. the next outfit was a tight leather ensemble that made you feel like a character in a spy movie. “too dominatrix,” he remarked with a smirk.

the third was an extravagant, sequined gown that you could barely move in. “too disco ball,” he said, laughing at your discomfort. finally, you stepped out in a simple, elegant dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. his eyes widened, and he stared at you, stunned. “you look stunning.”

blushing under his intense gaze, you mumbled a thank you. you paid for the outfits, the saleswoman’s eyes gleaming with delight at the hefty commission she’d just earned. as you left the store, you couldn’t help but feel a newfound confidence in your new attire, matching yoongi’s sophisticated look.

he looked around, assessing the bustling streets, then turned to you. “it’s still too early for anything,” he said thoughtfully. you glanced at him, reminding him with a gentle smile, “you didn’t have anything for breakfast. how about lunch?”

he hesitated, a tinge of guilt in his eyes. “i feel bad for leeching off you.” taking his hand, you squeezed it reassuringly. “we’re working together, aren’t we?” his heart fluttered at your touch and words, an unwelcome reminder of the emotions he tried to suppress. he hated how he felt, knowing there was no logical reason for his heart to react this way. you were out of his league, a fact he couldn’t forget.

you both opted for a local restaurant, a cozy place with a warm ambiance. as you sat down and began perusing the menu, you couldn’t help but comment, “there really aren’t any affogatos here.” he chuckled, the memory of the sweet taste lingering. “welcome to my world,” he said with a grin. after a pause, he asked, “you promise to make me another one?”

“of course,” you replied, your eyes twinkling. “i’ll make as many as you want.” you both ordered your meals and settled into a discussion about the gnomon. the restaurant’s hum provided a comforting backdrop as you outlined your plans.

“it’s crucial to get the translation that comes with the gnomon,” you emphasized.

he nodded, confidence in his gaze. “that won’t be an issue.” he paused, then asked, “how will we get to south america?”

you smiled, enjoying the chance to surprise him. “i’ll take one of the company’s planes and call the pilot.” his reaction was priceless, a mixture of awe and disbelief. you leaned in, your smile widening. “welcome to my world.”

as the food arrived, you took a moment to appreciate the simplicity and warmth of the place. the dishes were hearty and comforting, a stark contrast to the opulence you were used to. the conversation flowed naturally, a balance of light-hearted banter and serious planning. his eyes sparkled as he spoke about the next steps. “we need to figure out the museum’s security layout. breaking in won’t be easy, but if we time it right, we’ll have a small window.”

you nodded, absorbing his words. “we’ll need to be in and out quickly. any delay could be disastrous.” the weight of the task ahead pressed down on both of you, but there was a strange comfort in sharing this burden. the restaurant’s charm and the simplicity of the meal offered a brief respite, a moment of normalcy in the midst of chaos.

after lunch, you both felt more grounded, ready to tackle the challenges ahead. as you exited the restaurant, the sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm glow over the city. the streets seemed less daunting now, each step bringing you closer to the heart of your mission. he glanced at you, a determined look in his eyes. “ready?” you nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “ready.”

the two of you walked in silence, the setting sun casting long shadows across the city. the south seemed to blend seamlessly with the encroaching darkness, the streets and alleys taking on an almost sinister feel as twilight gave way to night. as you approached the museum, yoongi unexpectedly took your hand into his. startled, you turned to him.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice a low whisper. he squeezed your hand gently. “act natural,” he replied, his eyes scanning the area. it was only then that you noticed how many people were around, their movements and chatter blending into the evening’s backdrop.

taking his lead, you relaxed, entwining your fingers with his as you began to circle the park in front of the museum. its grand structure, despite its worn exterior, loomed ahead of you. you locked eyes with the security camera in front and quickly looked away, trying not to appear suspicious.

as the crowd began to thin, you tugged yoongi’s hand and led him toward the museum’s entrance. the lady at the front desk looked up, informing you with a tired smile that they were about to close. you laughed lightly, flashing her a charming smile. “we’ll be out soon,” you promised, pausing to straighten yoongi’s hair. “i just have to show my boyfriend the dead sea scrolls.”

she smiled and nodded, her suspicions seemingly allayed. yoongi leaned in and whispered, “what are you doing?”

“act natural,” you murmured back, trying to suppress your own nerves. suddenly, you heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. before you knew it, he had pushed you into the nearby janitor’s closet. the space was small and cramped, your bodies pressed close together. you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as yoongi placed a finger on his lips, signaling for silence. his own breath was unsteady, and his face was inches away from yours.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm on your cheek. “are you okay?” he whispered. uou nodded, your eyes meeting his. he smiled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. the closeness was electrifying, your shared anxiety heightening every sensation.

when the lights finally dimmed and the building fell silent, you carefully opened the door and slipped out. the museum, now cloaked in darkness, seemed even more imposing. you began your search, moving stealthily through the exhibits. the shadows played tricks on your eyes, and the vast emptiness amplified every creak and whisper. as you moved through the museum, a sinking feeling of defeat began to settle in. you found nothing of use. but then, yoongi tugged your sleeve and pointed upward. you followed his gaze and saw a narrow staircase hidden in the shadows.

you ascended the stairs as quietly as possible, each step creaking beneath your weight. your hand found its way back into yoongi’s, a silent reassurance. as you reached the top, you both froze. there it was—the enclosure, and the sign reading “kalingo's gnomon.”

a smile of disbelief spread across your face. you couldn’t believe it. carefully, you began working on the enclosure. yoongi kept watch as you bypassed the security measures with trembling fingers. the thrill of the illicit act coursed through your veins, making each second feel like an eternity. finally, you managed to open the enclosure. the gnomon was a beautiful artifact, ancient and intricately designed. hidden inside it was the translation you needed. you held it up triumphantly, your eyes meeting yoongi’s in a shared moment of victory.

but the triumph was short-lived. the distant sound of police sirens shattered the moment as panic surged through you. “that asshole set us up,” he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief.

there was no time to waste. grabbing his hand, you pulled him away, clutching the gnomon tightly. you ran through the darkened halls, your footsteps echoing in the empty museum. the sirens grew louder, closer. desperation fueled your movements. you found an emergency exit and burst through it, emerging into a back alley. the cold night air hit you, but you didn’t stop. you ran, yoongi right beside you, the gnomon weighing heavily in your hands.

the sound of police sirens echoed through the streets, the lights flashing ominously in the distance. you navigated through the narrow alleys, your breath coming in ragged gasps. every corner turned, every shadow passed, you felt the urgency of your escape. yoongi pulled you toward a hidden passage, a narrow corridor between buildings. you squeezed through, the gnomon clutched tightly to your chest. the passage opened up to another alley, and you kept running, the adrenaline driving you forward.

finally, you reached a more secluded area, the sirens now distant. you stopped to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. yoongi was beside you, his own breath coming in heavy gasps. “we made it,” he panted, a triumphant yet exhausted smile on his face. you nodded, clutching the gnomon. “we made it.”

the museum was abuzz with activity, police officers scattered around like ants after a disturbed nest. flashlights cut through the darkness, illuminating exhibits and casting long shadows on the walls. the chief stood in the center of the chaos, his voice a steady bark of commands.

“secure the perimeter!” he ordered, his eyes sharp and uncompromising. “i want every exit covered. jungkook, get up here and find out who’s behind this.” jungkook, who had been examining the front desk, straightened up at the sound of his name. he moved quickly, his steps purposeful as he approached the chief.

“the security cameras were disabled,” he reported, frustration edging his voice. he glanced at the monitors, now lifeless and dark. the chief's frown deepened, but he gave a curt nod. “find out how they did it and who was involved,” the chief instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

jungkook’s jaw tightened as he turned on his heel, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. he moved through the museum with swift efficiency, his eyes scanning for any clue, any sign of who might have been responsible. when he reached the staircase, he took them two at a time, his breath coming in controlled bursts.

reaching the top, he found the enclosure that housed kalingo's gnomon. or, rather, what had housed it. the case was empty, the artifact gone. jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his fists clenching at his sides. the dim light of his flashlight revealed the remnants of the security system, bypassed with a level of skill that spoke of careful planning. his frustration bubbled over, and he slammed his fist into the nearby table, the sound echoing through the empty halls. he took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. his eyes fell on the empty case once more, and a bitter scoff escaped his lips. he knew who had done this, knew it with a certainty that gnawed at his insides.

“it was you, wasn’t it?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of anger and disbelief. the emptiness of the museum echoed back at him, the silence heavy with the weight of his realization. he stood there for a moment longer, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of how you had outmaneuvered them all. the artifact was gone, and with it, a part of the plan he had thought was secure.

you turned to yoongi, your voice firm yet laden with the urgency of the situation. “we need to go back to the north,” you told him. he arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “why?” he asked.

“it’s too risky to stay in daegu,” you replied. “we need to leave for south america as soon as possible.” he nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. the two of you made your way to the train station, blending into the evening crowd. as you waited for the next train, you pulled out your phone and called the pilot, an old friend of your father’s. you spoke in hushed tones, the urgency clear in your voice.

“can you get the plane ready for tonight?” you asked, the anxiety creeping into your tone. there was a brief pause before the pilot responded. “everything will be ready in an hour,” he assured you. you thanked him and ended the call, turning to yoongi with a relieved expression, repeating what the pilot had told you.

the train arrived, and you both boarded, finding seats near the back. exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, the adrenaline from the heist beginning to fade. you settled into your seat, the rhythmic clatter of the train lulling you into a state of relaxation. before long, your eyelids grew heavy, and you drifted off, your head coming to rest on yoongi’s shoulder.

he stiffened at the unexpected contact, his heart fluttering as he glanced down at your sleeping form. the sight of you sleeping so soundly against him was disarming. he felt a rush of emotions he couldn’t quite name. he questioned his motives—was he really in this just for the money? he needed to be selfish, to think of his own survival, but the sight of you, so vulnerable and trusting, made him feel something far less selfish.

as the train neared its destination, he gently nudged you awake. “we’re here,” he murmured softly. you blinked, disoriented for a moment before reality set in. together, you made your way to the penthouse, your exhaustion evident in every step. he noticed and asked, “are you gonna be okay?”

“i’ll be fine,” you assured him, though your voice betrayed your weariness. as you walked, yoongi’s leg began to nag him, the feeling practically unbearable. he brushed it off, telling you it was nothing. you arrived at the penthouse and discovered that your father’s study remained untouched, the mess from the break-in still present. the police hadn’t been there.

“it’ll be okay,” yoongi said, his voice a soothing balm. you nodded and began packing the necessities. as you did, you took a moment to examine the gnomon. the translation depicted various symbols in an ancient, foreign language, their meanings written beside them: moon, wisdom, light, vision, and finally, gold. the gnomon itself was beautiful, meticulously crafted.

yoongi’s voice broke your train of thought. “pretty, isn’t it?” you met his gaze, his eyes soft and gentle. you smiled, your heart warming. “beautiful,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. with a final look around, you locked up and stuffed the gnomon into your backpack. together, you and yoongi made your way to the runway, the weight of the artifact and the journey ahead pressing on your shoulders. the night air was cool, filled with the promise of escape and the unknown.

as you and yoongi reached the runway, the scene before you was a mixture of mechanical roar and illuminated metal. the plane, sleek and powerful, rumbled softly as if it was eager for the night sky. yoongi's eyes widened in awe, his fascination with the aircraft evident in the way he stared, his expression a blend of wonder and disbelief. the pilot, a tall man with a warm smile and a firm handshake, stepped out from the cockpit. he greeted you with a friendly nod. “good to see you,” you said. “i’m sorry for the late call.”

“it’s no big deal,” the pilot replied, waving off your apology. he then turned his gaze to yoongi, his curiosity piqued. “and who’s this?”

he stepped forward, offering a polite bow. “i’m min yoongi, a friend of hers.” the word “friend” felt strangely hollow to him. he wasn’t merely content with being your friend. he wanted to be more, to be someone who mattered deeply in your life. the pilot didn’t seem to notice the subtext, merely acknowledging yoongi with a nod.

“so, where are you headed?” the pilot asked, checking his watch. you sighed, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. “we’re going to colombia.”

the pilot’s eyes widened slightly. “long flight,” he remarked. “but we’ll get you there. please, board when you’re ready.”

as you and yoongi began to make your way to the aircraft, a sudden, unmistakable wail of sirens pierced the night air. panic surged through you, your instincts kicking in. “hurry,” you urged him, your voice sharp with urgency. yoongi, wincing as his injured leg flared up, struggled to keep pace. you reached out, steadying him as you both hurried up the stairs to the plane. his face was a mask of determination and anxiety, the pain in his leg momentarily forgotten in the rush to escape.

as the sirens grew louder, the police cars drew nearer, their flashing lights painting the runway in ominous hues of red and blue. the pilot, already in the cockpit, began the pre-flight checklist with practiced efficiency. the engines roared to life, the sound growing louder as the plane began its ascent. with a final, frantic glance over your shoulder, you and yoongi took your seats. the plane began to move, its wheels vibrating with the power needed to lift off the ground. the rumble beneath you grew more intense as the aircraft picked up speed, racing against the encroaching sirens.

outside, the police cars skidded to a halt, their occupants scrambling to make sense of the situation. the sight of the plane accelerating down the runway, its engines a symphony of raw power, left them momentarily stunned. the aircraft surged forward, its nose lifting, and with a shuddering roar, it took off into the night sky. the plane ascended rapidly, the lights of the runway and the police cars below shrinking into the distance. the sirens grew faint, the chase turning into a distant echo. Inside the plane, you and yoongi exchanged glances, a mix of relief and exhilaration in your eyes. the weight of the gnomon in your backpack felt lighter somehow, the imminent danger replaced by the thrill of the escape.

as the plane settled into its cruising altitude, the rhythmic hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop to the tense quiet between you and yoongi. the dim light of the cabin illuminated his features, but he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a sharp wince escaping him each time he moved. you turned to him, concern etched into your expression. “what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

he waved it off with a weak smile. “it’s nothing,” he replied, though his strained tone betrayed the lie. skeptical, you pressed further, and to his surprise, you pushed him back down onto his seat with gentle insistence. “you’re not fooling me,” you said firmly. as you knelt by his side, you began to roll up the leg of his pants. the fabric pulled away to reveal deep, bleeding scratches on his calf. your breath hitched at the sight of the raw, inflamed wounds.

looking up at him, you asked softly, “why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he offered a sheepish smile. “i didn’t want to be a bother,” he said, his eyes softening with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude.

you shook your head, a mix of frustration and tenderness in your gaze. “you’ve never been a bother,” you assured him. from your backpack, you retrieved a small medicinal kit and set to work. xarefully, you cleaned the wounds, your hands moving with practiced ease. the antiseptic stung, but yoongi gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on you as you worked.

the moment your eyes met his, a fleeting silence filled the space between you. the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you could see the same flutter of emotions reflected in his eyes. the simple act of caring for him felt charged with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name.

when you pressed a fresh bandage onto the wound, your fingertips brushed his skin lightly. you hesitated for a brief moment before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the bandaged scratch. the touch was soft, and the warmth of your lips left he momentarily stunned. he stared at you, his heart racing, as you pulled away with a smile. “i’m gonna go change,” you said softly, standing up and heading toward the bathroom.

yoongi watched you leave, a wave of conflicting thoughts crashing over him. a part of him urged him to follow you, driven by a desire he couldn’t quite understand. another part cautioned him against it, whispering that he had no right to expect anything more. despite the hesitation, his longing prevailed, and he found himself following you down the narrow aisle.

to his surprise, the bathroom door was ajar. peering inside, he caught sight of you as you began to undress. his breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as he saw you peel the dress over your head, revealing your bra and panties. the sight of you, so vulnerable and unguarded, made his pulse quicken. for a brief, uncomfortable moment, he felt like an intruder. the guilt was almost overwhelming. but as soon as you turned around, meeting his gaze with a knowing smirk, all sense of propriety melted away.

“i knew you’d follow me,” you whispered, your voice teasing and confident. his gaze softened as he took in the sight of you. “smart girl,” he murmured under his breath, his voice thick with emotion.

without another word, he crossed the threshold into the bathroom, his intentions clear. his hands found your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you with a desperate urgency. his lips were warm and insistent against yours, the kiss deepening with every passing second. he lifted you gently onto the sink, your body pressed against the cool surface. his arms wrapped around you, holding you securely as the kiss continued. the world outside the small bathroom faded away, leaving only the intimate connection between you two. the air was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the steady thrum of the plane’s engines, a rhythmic accompaniment to the closeness you shared.

his hands began to roam, tracing the curves of your body as he kissed your neck. you moaned softly, arching into his touch, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. he fumbled with the clasp of your bra, finally freeing your tits to his eager palms. they were soft and warm, and he took a moment to appreciate their perfection before taking one into his mouth, suckling gently. you threw your head back, the pleasure of his touch sending shockwaves through your body. your hands found their way to his belt, deftly unbuckling it as his own hands worked on your panties. the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

his cock was already hard, straining against the fabric of his pants. with trembling hands, you reached down and freed him, stroking the length of him as he moaned against your skin. he was velvet over steel, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the power he held in your grasp. the need to have him inside you grew stronger with every stroke, your pussy wet and ready. you spread your legs wider, inviting him closer. he stepped between them, his cock brushing against your thigh as he positioned himself.

his hand moved to cup your cheek, tilting your face to look at him. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and gruff. you nodded, your eyes locked on his. “yes, yoongi. i want you, all of you,” you whispered. with that, he plunged into you, filling you up in one quick motion. the suddenness of it made you gasp, your eyes widening with pleasure and a hint of pain. he paused, giving you a moment to adjust before he began to move, his hips rocking into yours in a rhythm that was as old as time itself.

each thrust was punctuated by a string of dirty words that only served to heighten the intensity. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “you feel so good, baby. so fucking good.” you responded with your own vulgarities, urging him to go harder, faster. the pleasure built in you like a storm, threatening to break at any moment. your breath grew ragged as you clung to him, the muscles in your thighs tightening around his waist.

the bathroom was a cocoon of passion, the only reality that of your bodies joined together. outside, the plane continued its journey, but in that moment, you were both in a world of your own making. he picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more forceful as he approached climax. you could feel him swelling inside you, and the thought of him cumming, filling you up, was almost too much to bear.

as you reached the peak of pleasure, your body spasmed around him, tightening like a vice. he growled low in his throat, his own orgasm crashing over him. he pumped into you once, twice, before stilling, his cock pulsing with release. your eyes met in the mirror, both of you panting and flushed. the aftermath of your encounter was a heady mix of satisfaction and awe.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him deep inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the feeling of his warmth. finally, he pulled out, a trail of cum connecting you both. you watched in the mirror as he tucked himself away, your eyes never leaving his. without a word, he helped you down from the sink, and you stepped into the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor. the moment was raw and unfiltered, and you both knew that what had just happened was more than just a casual hookup. it was a declaration of something deeper, something that could not be contained by the confines of any social class.

as yoongi pulled his shirt and shorts back on, you noticed the shift in his demeanor, a soft, contemplative smile on his face. he crouched down before you, his gaze steady and reassuring. his eyes searched yours with a warmth that made your heart skip. “this was meant to happen,” he said gently, the sincerity in his voice undeniable.

you tugged on a shirt and shorts, trying to compose yourself, but his words lingered in your mind. “what do you mean?” you asked, your voice slightly uncertain as you tried to make sense of the sudden shift in his tone.

with a tender smile, he reached out, taking your wrist gently and pulling you closer to him. you were startled by the sudden contact, but his touch was soft, almost comforting. “you feel it too, don’t you?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. a shiver ran down your spine, the gravity of his words sinking in. you understood perfectly what he meant, and the truth was unmistakable. You nodded slowly, your gaze never leaving his.

you then asked, “did you agree to help me because of the gold?” your tone was casual, but there was a hint of something deeper, a vulnerability that you rarely showed. he thought for a moment before responding. “yes, i did,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “but it’s more complicated now.”

his eyes softened, and he took a deep breath. “if you wanted me to leave without a single piece of gold, just to keep you, i’d agree,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. the weight of his words pressed heavily on your chest. the sincerity of his offer was palpable, and it touched a chord within you. without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. this time, the kiss was tender and filled with a sweetness that spoke of unspoken promises and deeper emotions.

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm, reassuring embrace. his touch was gentle yet firm, as if he was afraid to let go. “i promise,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a soothing balm, “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

as he settled into a comfortable position beside you, his exhaustion finally overtaking him, you couldn't help but be captivated by the serene expression on his face. his fingers, though initially restless, gradually stilled and began to curl around the string of your shorts, his touch soft and almost tentative. it was a small, intimate gesture, one that spoke volumes about his trust and the vulnerability he felt in this moment.

you watched him with a tender smile, your heart swelling with a warmth you hadn't expected to feel. the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply was soothing, and the occasional twitch of his fingers only added to the sense of closeness between you. you reached out with a gentle hand and began to stroke his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers like water.

the rhythmic motion of your hand on his head seemed to calm him even more, and you could see the tension in his shoulders gradually easing. his face, now relaxed and peaceful, was a stark contrast to the strained expression he'd worn earlier. as you continued to stroke his hair, a sense of contentment washed over you. you could feel the weight of the day’s events lifting, replaced by the simple joy of having him close.

the dim light of the cabin illuminated his features in a soft glow, casting gentle shadows that accentuated his relaxed expression. each breath he took was steady and rhythmic, and you found yourself enveloped in the quiet intimacy of the moment. there was something profoundly comforting about watching him fall asleep, the trust and connection between you palpable.

your own eyelids began to droop as the soothing motion of your hand on his hair combined with the rhythmic hum of the plane. the exhaustion of the day’s events, coupled with the calm of the cabin, lulled you into a state of tranquility. with one last, affectionate brush of your fingers through his hair, you allowed yourself to lean back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand. soon, sleep claimed you as well, your body relaxing into the cushioned seat. the warmth of his presence and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing created a cocoon of comfort around you.

the jarring sound of the cockpit door sliding open snapped you from your slumber. startled, you glanced around, your heart racing as the plane lurched violently beneath you. yoongi, still groggy, looked up with wide, alarmed eyes as the pilot’s voice cut through the chaos.

“we’re being shot at,” the pilot’s voice was strained but controlled, “we’re heading towards the sea. brace yourselves!”

the words barely had time to sink in before the plane shuddered again, the turbulence throwing you against yoongi. the once smooth hum of the engines was now a discordant roar, the plane tilting violently to one side. the cabin lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the aircraft struggled to maintain altitude.

his hand gripped yours tightly, his face pale but determined. “do you remember what i told you earlier?” he shouted over the cacophony. his voice, though steady, betrayed his underlying fear. you nodded vigorously, your own heart pounding in your chest. fear clawed at your insides, but you managed to force a shaky smile. his reassuring gaze was your anchor amidst the turmoil. without a word, he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his warm lips a stark contrast to the cold sweat that coated your skin. “nothing will happen to you,” he promised, his voice low and fierce. “i promised.”

the plane shuddered again, and the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, “prepare for impact!” the words barely registered before the plane began its final, harrowing descent. the cabin filled with a cacophony of alarm bells and frantic shouts. you clung to yoongi as the plane lurched and pitched, the sensation of weightlessness making your stomach churn. he pulled you close, his arms a steadfast shield against the chaos.

with a heart-stopping jolt, the plane hit the water. the impact was brutal, the fuselage groaning and buckling as it collided with the ocean’s surface. water sprayed violently through the shattered windows, the once sleek interior now a scene of disaster. yoongi’s grip tightened around you as you were both thrown against the seatbacks, the force of the crash sending waves of cold seawater surging through the cabin. the cabin lights went out, leaving you in near-total darkness save for the sporadic flashes of lightning outside. yoongi pulled you from your seat, his movements urgent but controlled. “we need to get out!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the ocean and the crackling wreckage.

you both stumbled toward the emergency exits, the plane listing heavily to one side. with adrenaline coursing through your veins, you forced open the nearest emergency exit, the rush of cold seawater flooding in as you leaped out into the chaotic surf. he followed closely behind, his strong arms encircling you as you were both engulfed by the freezing sea. the water was a violent, tumultuous mess, the waves crashing over you with relentless force. you fought to keep your head above the surface, clinging to the debris and floating wreckage that bobbed around you. yoongi’s grip never wavered, his hand firmly clasped around yours as you struggled to stay afloat amidst the disorienting swirl of water.

in the distance, you could hear distant cries and the sharp crack of gunfire, the sounds merging with the roar of the ocean and the wreckage. the fear was palpable, but yoongi’s steady presence kept you focused. you both swam with powerful, determined strokes, using any piece of floating debris as leverage to propel yourselves toward the distant shore. the journey was grueling, each stroke through the water a battle against exhaustion and the pounding waves. every moment felt like an eternity, but his reassuring presence and the glimmer of hope that came with nearing the shore kept you going. the distant lights of the coastline finally came into view, a beacon of salvation amidst the chaos.

when you finally reached the shore, your legs nearly gave out as you collapsed onto the wet sand. yoongi, equally exhausted, pulled himself beside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. his eyes were full of concern as he reached out to brush the wet hair from your forehead. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice strained but sincere. you nodded, the weight of the situation hitting you as you took stock of your belongings. the gnomon, the translation, and the map were still secure, clutched tightly in your backpack. you knew you had to run, that the danger wasn’t over, but for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to rest, the cool sand beneath you a small comfort after the nightmarish ordeal.

the oppressive heat of the jungle enveloped you both as you sprinted through the thick, tangled foliage, the weight of the humid air pressing down on you. the map you clutched in one hand was a precious guide through the dense undergrowth, each step a challenge as you navigated the uneven terrain. the trees loomed like sentinels, their thick branches entwining above you, casting fleeting shadows that danced in the flickering light of the dense canopy. the cries of unseen creatures echoed through the thick air, mingling with the rapid pounding of your heart.

yoongi ran beside you, his breathing ragged and uneven, the adrenaline driving him forward despite the exhaustion. his eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. the map led you through a labyrinth of green, the path seemingly endless as you pressed on, guided by the urgent need to escape and survive.

as the dense forest began to thin, you emerged into a small clearing that revealed a scene both unexpected and alarming. before you lay a group of makeshift cabins, their structures rudimentary but functional, scattered across the clearing. the people gathered there, clad in worn clothing and armed with an assortment of weapons, looked up in confusion as you and yoongi stumbled into their view.

the first shot rang out, slamming into the ground just inches from where you stood. the deafening crack shattered the moment of stunned silence, and yoongi's instincts kicked in. “we need to move!” he shouted, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards a nearby hill.

the shouts and cries in rapid spanish grew louder, and the threat of a fight was imminent. despite yoongi’s desperate pleas to keep running, you stopped abruptly. he turned to you, his eyes wide with concern. “what are you doing?” you reached into your backpack and, to his astonishment, pulled out a sleek pistol. the weight of the weapon was reassuring in your hand, the cold metal a stark contrast to the sweltering heat. as the cries grew nearer, you positioned yourself behind a nearby tree, your focus sharp as you aimed. the first shot echoed through the clearing, and the sound of a body hitting the ground followed soon after.

a tense silence fell, broken only by the distant rustling of the jungle and the pounding of your own heartbeat. the sight of the armed group retreating was a small victory, and you took it as your cue to keep moving. you turned to yoongi, who watched in disbelief as you wrestled with your backpack, pulling out a second pistol and handing it to him. “here,” you said, your voice steady despite the situation. “you’re gonna need this.”

he took the weapon with a mixture of awe and amusement, his eyes narrowing as he took in the situation. he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were from the south.” you couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “that’s funny,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “my boyfriend’s actually from the south.”

the comment left yoongi momentarily flustered, his cheeks flushing a shade darker as he tried to regain his composure. you watched with amusement as he stumbled over his words, clearly thrown by your unexpected jest. his flustered reaction was a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere, adding a moment of lightness to the chaos. “let’s go,” you urged him, still smiling as you began to lead the way up the hill. the weight of the pistols and the urgency of the situation kept you moving, despite the lingering laughter and the adrenaline that surged through your veins.

the climb up the hill was strenuous, the incline steep and the jungle’s undergrowth relentless. every step was a struggle, but the sight of the jungle stretching out below you and the promise of safety spurred you onward. yoongi, now more focused, followed closely behind, his earlier embarrassment replaced by a determined resolve. as you reached the top of the hill, the dense forest stretched out before you, a sprawling sea of green that offered both cover and a potential escape route. the distant shouts of the armed group faded, replaced by the relentless buzz of insects and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

the jungle seemed endless, its thick, humid air wrapping around you like a heavy, suffocating cloak. the undergrowth scratched at your legs, and the sweat trickling down your face made each step feel like a monumental effort. the map clutched tightly in your hand felt like it was growing heavier with each mile, and despite the fleeting moments of adrenaline, fatigue began to seep into your bones.

after what felt like an eternity of walking, you finally had to stop. you slumped down onto a large, flat rock, your breathing ragged as you tried to catch your breath. yoongi, equally exhausted, immediately knelt beside you, his eyes filled with concern. without a word, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. the cool liquid felt like a balm to your parched throat as he pressed the bottle to your lips, tilting it gently so you could drink.

as you took the water, yoongi’s gaze was unwavering, his worry etched into the lines of his face. once you’d finished drinking, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a firm, reassuring hug. the embrace was warm despite the humid air, a small but meaningful comfort amidst the chaos. “don’t give up,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “remember why we’re here. we’re so close.”

his words, combined with his steady presence, gave you a renewed sense of determination. you nodded against his shoulder, drawing strength from his embrace. with a deep breath, you stood up, feeling the weight of exhaustion but also a spark of renewed resolve. he helped you up, and you both continued on, the map guiding you through the darkening forest.

the path became more challenging as night fell, but the promise of reaching your destination kept you moving. the moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting an ethereal glow on the trail as you pressed on. eventually, the sound of rushing water grew louder, a welcome symphony amidst the quiet of the jungle.

you emerged into a small clearing, and the sight that greeted you took your breath away. before you stood a magnificent waterfall, its cascading waters shimmering in the moonlight. the scene was nothing short of magical. the waterfall tumbled down from a high cliff, creating a misty veil that danced in the cool night air. the pool at its base was clear and serene, reflecting the moon’s pale light.

a smile spread across yoongi’s face as he watched your reaction. “do you like it?” he asked, his voice filled with gentle amusement. you nodded, awestruck. “yeah,” you whispered, your voice filled with wonder. “i remember my father telling stories about a waterfall just like this one. it was part of his tales about el dorado.”

yoongi’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a shared understanding passing between you. the waterfall’s beauty, combined with the shared memory of your father’s stories, made the moment deeply emotional. it was as if the waterfall itself was a bridge between your past and the present, connecting you to the stories and dreams that had driven you this far.

you both set up camp for the night near the base of the waterfall. the sound of the water was soothing, a constant, rhythmic lullaby that provided a comforting backdrop to your efforts. yoongi worked alongside you, his movements methodical and efficient as he helped you arrange the sleeping bags and set up a small, portable cooking area. the familiar routine of setting up camp offered a small measure of normalcy in the midst of the chaos.

as the camp was finally set up, you both sat down on the grass, the waterfall’s mist gently cooling your skin. you looked over at him, who was gazing at the waterfall with a thoughtful expression. there was something profoundly peaceful about the scene, a serene contrast to the turmoil and danger that had marked your journey so far.

you joined yoongi in watching the waterfall, the soothing sound of the cascading water providing a sense of calm. the moonlight cast a soft glow over the scene, illuminating the mist that rose from the pool below. you felt a deep, soothing connection to the moment, a rare opportunity to reflect and find solace in the midst of the ongoing struggle.

as you sat together in the stillness of the night, you could feel the exhaustion slowly melting away, replaced by a profound sense of tranquility. the world felt smaller and more manageable, with the waterfall standing as a reminder of the beauty that still existed amidst the chaos. eventually, the fatigue of the day caught up with both of you. you lay down on your sleeping bag, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you settled into a comfortable position. yoongi lay down beside you, and for a while, you both simply stared at the waterfall, the sound of the water creating a rhythmic lullaby that seemed to echo the beat of your hearts.

the moon’s silvery light filtered through the canopy, casting ethereal shadows across the forest floor. you stirred awake, the intense brightness of the moon penetrating even the depth of your sleep. the waterfall’s gentle murmur was a soothing backdrop as you pushed yourself up, blinking against the stark contrast of moonlight and shadow. beside you, yoongi shifted and slowly roused from his sleep. his eyes, still heavy with fatigue, met yours with a mix of curiosity and concern. you motioned for him to follow as you began gathering your things, the urgency of the quest fueling your movements. the map, now slightly crumpled from its journey, was securely tucked into your backpack, and with a quick glance at him, you headed back towards the trail.

the jungle was even more enigmatic under the moon’s pale glow. the sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the air, their calls mingling with the rustle of the leaves. your steps were careful, the ground slick from the earlier rain, but determination guided you as you followed the map’s instructions.

after what seemed like an eternity of navigating through the dense foliage, the trees finally began to thin out. the faintest hint of a clearing emerged, and you and yoongi came to a sudden halt as your eyes adjusted to the sight before you. there, partially obscured by undergrowth and moss, lay an array of stone blocks arranged in a circular formation. the structure had an ancient, solemn feel to it, with stones arranged in a pattern that suggested a deep significance.

both of you stood in awe. the arrangement resembled a grave—an ancient tomb perhaps—yet something about it seemed to pulse with an undeniable energy. you approached the structure with a cautious reverence, your eyes scanning the weathered stones for any inscriptions or clues.

as you examined the array more closely, your heart skipped a beat. there, in the center of the stone formation, was a circular depression, perfectly sized for the gnomon you had carried from the museum. the realization hit you like a jolt of electricity. this was no mere grave; it was the temalacatl, the ancient aztec stone disk that had been lost to legend. yoongi’s face lit up with a triumphant smile as he moved closer. he pressed a soft, celebratory kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. his eyes were alight with the thrill of discovery, and for a moment, the exhaustion and danger of your journey were forgotten in the joy of this breakthrough.

carefully, he retrieved the gnomon from your backpack. with a precise and practiced hand, he placed it into the center of the temalacatl. it fit perfectly, the gnomon slotting into place with a satisfying click. as the moonlight streamed through the canopy, it illuminated the gnomon and the stone disk below, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow. the symbols on the gnomon began to glow with an otherworldly brilliance, casting their reflections onto the surrounding stones. your breath caught in your throat as the illumination revealed ancient glyphs on the temalacatl. the sight was nothing short of breathtaking; the symbols seemed to come alive in the moonlight, their meanings unfolding before your eyes.

“write everything down,” you instructed urgently, your voice barely above a whisper. yoongi, still in awe, nodded and quickly pulled out a notebook and pencil, capturing every detail of the illuminated symbols. as you both studied the glowing symbols, you read aloud the translations of the ones you recognized: “man,” “moon,” “light,” “vision,” “gold.” each word felt like a piece of a larger puzzle falling into place. the symbols began to fade, the light dimming until only the moonlight remained to highlight the ancient carvings.

you and yoongi huddled together, scrutinizing the symbols and comparing them to the translations you had written down. the process was meticulous, each detail requiring careful consideration. the illuminated symbols had revealed a pattern, a message encoded in the ancient language. after a series of detailed cross-references and careful matching, you both reached a conclusion.

he looked up from his notes, his expression reflecting the gravity of your findings. you took a deep breath and read aloud, your voice steady despite the enormity of the revelation: “he who is under the moon needs not light to see the gold.” the words hung in the air, their significance slowly sinking in. the message was clear; it was not the physical light that revealed the treasure, but rather a deeper understanding, guided by the celestial influence of the moon. it was a profound realization, a testament to the wisdom of the ancients and the power of the celestial realm in guiding you to your goal.

“what does it mean?” your question hung in the air, reverberating with a weight you could scarcely comprehend. your heart pounded with the intensity of the revelation, but before yoongi could respond with any further insight, another voice sliced through the silence.

“indeed, tell us,” the voice demanded, its tone cold and authoritative. “what does it mean?”

both you and yoongi turned towards the shadow that had emerged from the dense foliage. the moonlight, once a gentle guide, now cast a harsh light on the intruder. your breath caught in your throat as the figure stepped into the clearing. a tear-streaked smile graced his face, one that spoke of a complex web of emotions—pride, relief, and something else, something darker. he moved toward you with a deliberate calm, his eyes reflecting both sorrow and triumph.

“you did it,” your father said softly, his voice filled with an almost paternal affection. “i knew you would.”

the words, spoken with such a mix of warmth and finality, shattered something deep within you. the emotional dam you had been holding back broke free, and you began to sob uncontrollably. the sight of your father, after all you had been through, overwhelmed you. you stumbled back, instinctively clinging to yoongi, seeking comfort in his presence as the reality of the situation sank in.

your father’s eyes shifted to yoongi, his expression turning to one of cold calculation. “your silence will be well rewarded,” he said, his voice carrying a note of sinister finality.

panic surged through you. “what does he mean?” you asked yoongi, your voice trembling as you turned to him. the realization of betrayal was sharp, the knife of distrust cutting deeper with every passing second. you watched as his face fell, his expression crumpling into one of despair. your father’s gaze remained fixed on you, unyielding. “don’t you know? it took a lot of money to convince him not to tell you about me.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. betrayal surged through you, mingling with your grief. anger and hurt bubbled to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, you slapped yoongi across the face. the sting of your hand on his cheek seemed to punctuate the pain of the moment. his eyes were wide with tears as he blinked them away, the hurt evident in every feature. “i’m sorry,” he managed to say, his voice choked. “i needed you to be safe.” the raw emotion in his voice made you cry harder, unable to calm down. you had trusted him implicitly, and now that trust lay in tatters. the anger slowly ebbed away, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion and a profound sense of betrayal.

your father’s approach was gentle as he reached out to stroke your hair. “i had to leave,” he explained softly, his voice soothing despite the turmoil. “you saw what they did to my study. i knew you would find the trail. i knew you would find me.” tears streamed down your face as his words washed over you, but you didn’t have the energy to resist. the emotional drain of the journey, combined with the shock of his unexpected reappearance and yoongi’s betrayal, left you numb.

“don’t be mad at yoongi,” your father continued, his hand still comforting. “he needed to be someone you could trust to make sure you were safe. it was the only way.”

you watched as yoongi knelt beside you, his face etched with regret and pain. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “i needed you to be safe. that’s all that mattered to me.” the sincerity in his apology, coupled with the exhaustion that had begun to overpower your emotions, made you too tired to respond. the weight of everything that had happened, from the dangerous chase through the jungle to the heart-wrenching betrayal, had left you drained.

as you followed the map in silence, the air between you was thick with unspoken words. you refused to look at either your father or yoongi, the emotional chasm between you all too wide to bridge in that moment. the forest seemed to close in around you as you walked, each step heavy with the burden of recent revelations.

as you walked through the dense foliage, the tension between you, your father, and yoongi was palpable. the weight of your father's unexpected reappearance, coupled with the sense of betrayal, made each step heavy with unresolved emotions. the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the path, illuminating the scene in an eerie, almost ethereal light. breaking the silence, you finally asked, “how did you know i’d find you?”

your father’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his expression filled with a mixture of pride and affection. “you're my daughter,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “the only one i have. i never doubted you. i always knew you’d find your way.” his words were a balm to your wounded heart, but they also served to deepen the confusion and sorrow swirling within you. you turned your gaze to yoongi, whose face was illuminated by the moonlight, the tear streaks on his cheeks glistening like silver trails in the dim light. his eyes met yours with a mixture of regret and longing, and the intensity of his emotions was almost palpable.

your father’s voice cut through the silence once more. “are you dating him?” he asked, his tone casual yet probing. the question hung in the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. you didn’t respond, the silence stretching into an uncomfortable pause. with a light-hearted chuckle, your father continued, “well, if you are, you have my approval.”

the words, though intended to be reassuring, did little to ease the tension. you remained focused on yoongi, whose silence spoke volumes. the complexity of your relationship with him, mixed with the recent revelations, made any further conversation feel almost impossible.

as you pressed on, you suddenly stumbled across a cave partially submerged in the water. the sight halted you in your tracks, the dim light of the moon reflecting off the rippling surface of the water, casting a shimmering glow on the entrance of the cave. you paused, your heart pounding with anticipation and trepidation. yoongi’s voice broke the silence, filled with apprehension. “is this a dead end?”

you turned to him, a determined glint in your eye. “only if you want it to be,” you replied, your voice steady and resolute. without further hesitation, you stepped into the water, the coldness biting at your skin as you waded deeper.

your father shook his head in disbelief, his expression a mix of resignation and concern. “i won’t make it down there,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. he turned to yoongi, his eyes serious. “take care of her.” the weight of his words settled heavily on yoongi’s shoulders. he nodded, his gaze never leaving you as you continued into the water. the cave entrance loomed ahead, its dark mouth beckoning with a promise of what lay beyond.

you glanced back at him, who gave you a reassuring nod before following you into the water. the chill of the water contrasted sharply with the heat of the jungle, and each step forward felt like a step closer to both resolution and revelation. as you entered the cave, the water rose to your chest, then your neck, and you finally took a deep breath as you submerged, guiding yourself into the unknown depths. the cave, shrouded in darkness, seemed to swallow you up as you swam forward, the sound of your movements echoing off the stone walls. the air was thick with the dampness of the underground world, and the only light came from the faint glow of the moon that seeped in through the entrance.

yoongi’s eyes darted to a narrow, submerged entrance in the cave, partially obscured by the swirling water. he pointed it out to you, his voice strained but determined. “there,” he said, the water dripping from his face and mixing with the sweat of exertion. “that’s our way through.” with a nod, you both dove into the water, the cold embrace momentarily startling you but quickly overshadowed by the urgency of the moment. the underwater passage was cramped, the water pressing against you as you swam with quick, determined strokes. your breaths were short and hurried, the cave’s darkness enveloping you completely.

the tunnel seemed endless, but eventually, you felt your feet touch solid ground. you surfaced, gasping for air, and took in the dimly lit cave around you. the cave's ceiling arched high above, its jagged edges silhouetted against the faint light that filtered through the entrance behind you. the air was cooler there, and the sound of dripping water echoed softly, a rhythmic accompaniment to the anxious beats of your heart.

in front of you was a sheer drop, with a gap leading to another patch of land on the other side. the jump required looked daunting, and the void between you and safety seemed to stretch endlessly. the sight made your heart race with a mix of fear and doubt.

yoongi squeezed your hand, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i know you hate me right now,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “but i need you to know that i love you.” the intensity of his words took you aback. despite the betrayal that still stung, you could feel the sincerity in his voice, and the confession seemed to bridge a chasm of its own. “i love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

with a sudden, determined grin, yoongi stepped back, bracing himself. without further hesitation, he took a running leap and soared over the gap. the space seemed to hold its breath as he landed on the other side with a solid thud, his form illuminated briefly by the moonlight. your fear spiked, but his encouraging smile reassured you. “i’ll help you up,” he called, his voice echoing back to you.

you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the jump. with a final glance at yoongi’s outstretched hand, you leaped across the void, your heart pounding in your chest. his hands caught yours with a firm grip, and he helped you scramble up to his side. relief flooded through you as you stood on solid ground once more.

as you both entered the water again, the cold of the underground lake was a sharp contrast to the warmth of your fear-induced sweat. you swam through the dark water, the only sound being the echo of your strokes and the distant, intermittent drip of water. reaching the opposite shore, you were greeted by an oppressive darkness. the cave was pitch black, and the vast emptiness before you seemed to absorb any hint of light. you turned to him, voicing your concern. “it might actually be a dead end,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration.

he shook his head, refusing to give in to despair. “i don’t believe it,” he said firmly. he paused, the realization dawning on him. “he who is under the moon needs not light to see the gold,” he recalled, his face lighting up with sudden comprehension. “needs not light to see.”

your heart skipped a beat as you reached for your backpack, pulling out the waterproof flares you had packed. “three flares,” you said, glancing at him. “twenty minutes each. one hour.” yoongi nodded, his expression determined. “we’ll use them to explore.”

you struck the first flare, the brilliant orange light cutting through the impenetrable darkness. the cavern in front of you came alive with a sudden, warm glow, revealing intricate patterns etched into the stone. the illuminated symbols seemed to beckon you forward, their shapes dancing in the flare’s light as if guiding you deeper into the cave’s heart. the sight was both mesmerizing and exhilarating. the path ahead was illuminated, leading you further into the cave. you and yoongi exchanged a look of resolute determination before plunging into the illuminated darkness, the flares lighting the way to whatever lay hidden in the depths.

the flare’s light carved a path through the dense darkness, guiding you and yoongi deeper into the cave. with each step, the cavern walls seemed to pulse with a golden glow, hinting at the marvel that lay beyond. as you rounded a final bend, the flare’s illumination suddenly gave way to an awe-inspiring spectacle.

you both froze, your breath catching in your throats as the room came into full view. the cavern stretched out before you, a vast, breathtaking expanse of shimmering gold. the walls, ceiling, and floor were encrusted with gold, every crack and crevice glistening with a rich, golden hue. the light from the flare reflected off the gold, casting dazzling patterns across the cavern's surface and creating an ethereal glow that made the entire room seem to pulse with life.

the sight was nothing short of magnificent. you felt as though you had stumbled upon a forgotten world, a treasure trove of immense beauty and unimaginable wealth. gold hung from every corner, cascading in delicate strands, and the floor was scattered with golden relics and artifacts, each one telling a story of a bygone era. yoongi's hand tightened around yours as he pulled you gently into the heart of the cavern.

his eyes, wide with disbelief and wonder, met yours. with a joyous smile, he leaned in and planted a tender, congratulatory kiss on your cheek. “we did it,” he said softly, his voice filled with pride and relief. the words hung in the air between you as you both took in the sheer splendor of the room. it was as if you were standing in the very heart of a legend come to life, the stories and myths you had heard becoming tangible reality. the gold seemed to sing with a history long forgotten, and the room itself felt like a living testament to an age of grandeur.

you moved towards the piles of gold scattered around, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cavern. yoongi helped you fill your bags with chunks of raw gold, the weight of the precious metal a satisfying burden. each piece you picked up seemed to hold a piece of the cavern’s magic, and the act of collecting it felt like a ritual of its own. as you both worked, you took moments to pause and admire the room once more. the golden light played on your faces, highlighting the awe and wonder in your eyes. It was a place where history and legend had merged into something tangible and breathtaking, a reality that far surpassed any story ever told.

once your bags were filled to the brim with gold, you paused to take one final look at the cavern. the scene before you was so stunningly beautiful that it was almost surreal. you knew you would carry this image with you forever—the shimmering gold, the sense of triumph, and the shared wonder of discovering something so extraordinary. with a final, lingering glance at the cavern, you and yoongi began your journey back. the return trip was a mix of careful navigation and unspoken understanding, both of you focused on retracing your steps through the dark, illuminated only by the faint, dwindling glow of the flares.

emerging from the cave, you were greeted by the cool, crisp air of dawn. the first light of morning kissed the horizon with a soft, golden glow, a stark contrast to the dark, glittering realm you had just left behind. you and yoongi stood at the cave’s entrance, the early light painting a serene picture after the chaos you had endured. overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment and the relief of having succeeded, you turned to yoongi and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. it was a moment of pure, unguarded emotion—a celebration of your shared victory and the bond you had forged.

but the peace was shattered abruptly. a gunshot rang out, echoing through the tranquil morning. the bullet struck the tree above you, the sharp crack splitting the air and causing you both to jerk in surprise. you spun around, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you.

standing there, calm and menacing, was your father. his eyes, once filled with warmth and encouragement, were now shadowed with a mixture of resignation and fear. the most chilling aspect, however, was the gun pressed firmly against his temple. your breath caught in your throat, your relief swiftly morphing into dread.

“i knew you would find it.” the words hung in the air, each one a knife twisting into your heart.

yoongi’s arms instinctively moved to shield you, his protective presence a stark contrast to the danger that now surrounded you. the world seemed to shrink to just the three of them—yoongi, your father, and jungkook, who had guided you there, now at gunpoint.

your father shook his head sadly, the gun still pressed to his head. he spoke softly, trying to convey his message despite the dire circumstances. “it isn’t worth it,” he said, his voice trembling. the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. jungkook was not just any adversary; he was the one behind the failed museum heist, the reason why the break-in was discarded, the one who had been after the same treasure you sought. everything fell into place—the clues, the tension, and now, this horrifying confrontation.

desperation surged through you. “drop the gun,” you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. “leave my father be.”

to your astonishment, jungkook momentarily lowered the gun, a fleeting hope flickering in your chest. but it was quickly extinguished when he aimed the gun back at you. “you’re right,” he said with a chilling calmness, “you’re the one i should be shooting.”

yoongi’s grip on you tightened, his body a shield against the threat. jungkook’s gun shifted to target him instead. “don’t be a hero,” he ordered, his voice icy and unyielding.

tears streamed down your cheeks, your heart breaking at the sight of the man you loved being placed in such danger. you leaned into yoongi’s embrace, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m so sorry,” you choked out, the weight of your apology heavy with the knowledge of the peril you had brought upon him.

yoongi’s eyes were filled with an intense, unwavering love. “i love you,” he said fiercely, “and no amount of gold could ever compare to you.” his words were both a comfort and a heart-wrenching reminder of what was at stake. he held you close, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. the love in his eyes was unwavering even in the face of imminent danger. you turned to your father, whose eyes were full of regret and sorrow. he met your gaze with an apologetic smile, and you saw him mouth an “i love you.” the sight made your heart ache, the final, heart-wrenching goodbye unspoken but deeply felt.

a scream rose in your throat, but before you could utter it, the scene unfolded in a blur. your father lunged at jungkook, his actions fueled by a mix of desperation and bravery. the two of them collided, struggling fiercely. the struggle was chaotic, and in the turmoil, they both tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

you watched in horror as they fell, your father’s figure disappearing from view. the sound of their impact was muffled by the distance, but the sight of their lifeless forms on the ground below was clear. the sight of their bodies, unmoving and broken, left a raw, aching void in your chest.

yoongi wrapped his arms around you, his own tears mingling with yours as you both stood there, grief-stricken and devastated. his embrace was the only thing grounding you as you both wept. the cavern, the treasure, and the journey seemed insignificant compared to the unbearable weight of loss that now pressed upon you. in the cold light of the morning, the world felt empty, hollow. the triumph of your discovery was overshadowed by the profound sorrow of your father’s death and the jungkook's betrayal. yoongi’s presence was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming grief, his strength and support a beacon in the darkness of your loss.

the journey back was a somber one. as you and yoongi made your way through the tangled undergrowth, the golden dawn now a distant memory, you both climbed into the small boat you had left tethered by the shore. the morning’s light was gentle, casting a muted glow over the rippling water. the boat’s wooden frame creaked under the weight of your sadness and the burden of the gold you had decided to leave behind.

yoongi’s touch was gentle, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder as you sat side by side. the silence between you was profound, each of you lost in your own thoughts. the distant sounds of nature—the lapping of the water against the boat, the chirping of birds—seemed almost foreign against the backdrop of your grief.

as the boat glided over the shimmering surface, yoongi reached into his bag and pulled out a small, glistening piece of gold. His fingers were deft as he used a small tool to carefully engrave your father’s name into the metal. the delicate scratch of the tool against the gold was the only sound that marked this poignant moment. his movements were meticulous, his concentration evident as he worked with steady hands.

when he was finished, he held up the gold piece for you to see. “this is for him,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. with a heavy heart, you watched as yoongi released the engraved gold into the water. it sank slowly, disappearing beneath the surface, leaving ripples in its wake. you clung to him, the weight of your loss pressing heavily on your chest.

the boat journey seemed endless, each wave a reminder of the pain you carried. the hours passed in silence, the water reflecting the sky’s changing colors as the day progressed. when you finally reached the shore, the sight of the city brought a mix of relief and apprehension.

the moment you set foot on solid ground, the press was there, waiting for you. the bright flashes of cameras and the clamor of questions assaulted you. “why did you disappear?” one journalist asked. “did you have anything to do with the museum break-in?” another queried.

yoongi stood protectively beside you, his presence a steadying force as you fielded the questions. “we were on an expedition,” you managed to say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “we discovered something significant, but the details are still being finalized.” the press thronged around you, but yoongi guided you through the crowd and into the waiting car. the drive back to the penthouse was a blur, the cityscape slipping past the window in muted colors. when you arrived, the penthouse was an unexpected haven of calm.

inside, the weight of the world seemed to lift slightly. you sank into bed, yoongi’s arms wrapping around you with a comforting warmth. the events of the past days felt like a distant dream, and the victory you had once celebrated now seemed bittersweet. he held you close, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m so proud of you,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder. “you did it.”

in the quiet of the night, as you lay beside him, you whispered, “i did it.” the victory felt hollow against the backdrop of loss, but yoongi’s presence was a balm to your wounded heart. you felt a flicker of hope amid the sadness.

the next day was a whirlwind of ceremony and celebration. the city honored your discovery with a grand ceremony held in your names. the venue was adorned with gold accents, a tribute to the treasure you had uncovered. as you and yoongi stood on the stage, the applause and cheers from the crowd felt distant and surreal. the ceremony was a testament to your achievement, but the joy was tempered by the sorrow of your recent loss.

later, in the quiet of your kitchen, you found a moment of peace. yoongi leaned against the counter, watching you with a curious smile. “what are you making?” he asked, his tone light. you looked up from your work, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “you fulfilled your promise,” you said, placing a cup of affogato in front of him. “now it’s my turn to fulfill mine.”

hia eyes softened as he took in the gesture, the warmth of the moment soothing the lingering ache in your heart. he took a sip, his expression one of contentment. as you joined him, the kitchen became a sanctuary—a place where the echoes of the past week could be put aside, if only for a moment, to savor the present and the future you were beginning to build together.

✧.*

a/n: ok outer banks crossover!!! i was gonna kill yoongi off ngl

horror shorts (공포 단편)

bangtan sonyeondan (방탄소년단)

✧.* 16+

KIM NAMJOON (김남준)

it took him a week to find where you keep your wifi password. he was worried you’d thrown it away, but there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. everything about the way you organized things confused him. maybe because you lived on your own, you just put things wherever and however. he knew there was someone else before, he heard you talking about him on the phone. jin? seokjin? anyway, he knew you said it was tough being alone. but you weren't alone, of course. you had him.

there was a crack in your roof where he could see down onto the street below. the roof was small, but he liked his places cramped. he even stuffed a few things up there to make it smaller (just bits and pieces from the recycling, he didn’t think you’d miss them). he could sit with his face against the wall and see down onto the street. that’s where he saw you meeting up with all those people wearing all black. it would've been weird anyway because you never meet anyone, but they were all rubbing your back and holding your hand. he was scared you were going to bring them in but you just went off together.

it really explained a lot that there was someone else before him. like the fact you had two sets of drawers in your bedroom, or how you lived in such a big house all by yourself, and did weird things like leave the password in the cutlery drawer or watch the same show all day on a weekend.

he wasn't one to talk, mind you. he was addicted to his toys. like the cigarette lighter that was fun to flick on and off, or the tube that had all the patterns in you could change. he could look down that thing for hours. he often has. that was what he normally did when you were home. or he just sat back and listened to you do the washing or run a shower or something like that. he crawlled up the walls and hung there with his ear to the pipes, listening to the water rushing by. that kind of thing made him happy. plus you never had anyone around so once he got your schedule memorized, he could move around as much as he needed.

he knew what you had. it was a symbiotic relationship. that meant you helped him by giving me a place to sleep and wifi, and he helped you by eating all the spiders. of course, there was no need to thank him. he fell asleep under the towels in your airing cupboard once (before he found the roof) and he saw you trying to get rid of one that was living under your sink with a broom. he had never seen so much fuss in his entire life. but it made no difference to him how many legs something has, so he just ate them up whenever he found one, and any other thing that made its way into the house without permission.

he tried not take too much food either. he found he could usually survive off the things you left out, or throw away. like the banana skins you tended to throw out. he never needed too much food to get by. he really, really liked butter though. not to eat so much as just to play with. you once left a block out by the window in the sun and it went all melty while you were at work, so he started playing with it. once he’d stuck his finger in once it was hard to stop. he had it looking like a puddle by the end. but then, he realized it was six and you’d be home soon, so he had to press it back into a rectangle as best he could. but then, he heard you opening the door. boy was he startled. he went into the cupboard under the stairs (the one you never went in as it was full of men’s shoes and coats) and he watched you come in through the doorway. but then came the weird part: you didn’t even notice the butter. all you did was make a cup of tea and then give up halfway through and start crying. then you ordered a chinese and barely ate any before throwing it away. that was what he meant about your weird habits.

you cooked dinner the other evening. he noticed because you played music, which you never did, and you made something with took almost an hour and a half with about a thousand ingredients. he crept down to the top of the staircase and he could see you bouncing around doing moves with the spoon. it was so funny, he had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. then he saw something that had him scared. you’d laid two places at the table.

he thought there was someone else in the house and climbed all the way up to the ceiling thinking they’d see him. as he was hanging there, he saw you serving two plates and he couldn’t move for the panic. another person. he just knew he wouldn’t like them as much as you. that they'd ruin everything and make him go all crazy like he used to be. he didn't know what to do. he was ready to hurt them.

then you sat down. you lit the candle on the table and started eating by yourself. nobody else showed up, and after you were done you took the other food and threw it away. even though he was relieved, he felt kind of bad that the other person never showed up. you didn’t seem sad, though. it was like you’d expected it to just be you. after you went to bed, he went through the bin and ate some of the food you threw away. it was delicious.

he knew something was wrong the next day because you didn’t leave for work, and then you ran a bath in the middle of the afternoon. after you’d been in there for ages and ages, he started to get this horrible bad feeling. he crawled down to the landing. the bathroom door was open a crack, so he peeked through. he saw your hand. it was hanging, not in a natural way, and there was this long red line going down it and then he realized.

he ran back upstairs. he was a coward. he hid under his pile of stuff and started to cry. he thought about running away. he thought about the color a pink bathmat went when it was covered in blood. he thought about how much he wanted to be somewhere else. but most of all, he thought about you, and how little sense you make. he was sorry he had lit your roof on fire.

it was the only way he could think to get people to come. it actually worked better than expected. he ran down to the cupboard under the stairs and curled up with his hands over his head until he heard them kick the door down and carry you out. there was a lot of confusion and bad language, but they found you and he heard one say you were still breathing.

so, his favorite place in the whole world was gone now. most of his things as well, though he did think to grab the pattern tube. the rest was just a big black wig on top of your house. but he wasn't scared. you’d get better, and when you came back, he’d still be here. he didn't think it was nice to be alone.

© r/NoSleep

KIM SEOKJIN (김석진)

“hey,” the masculine voice called out.

you told yourself you were just imagining it.

“hey sweetheart,” the masculine voice repeated.

you drew youe knees up to your chest and ducked your head under the blanket, trying to shut out the voice and the cold wind that drifted in through the window, ruffling the curtains. it was as if you were a little girl again, but you weren't. “who are you?” you asked.

“the monster underneath your bed,” the voice replied.

“you’re real?” you asked.

“what do you mean?” he said. “of course i’m real.”

“do you have a name?” you asked.

“of course i have a name, kim seokjin.”

“kim seokjin?”

“yeah,” he said. “something wrong with that?”

“no,” you said. “it’s just not very monster-like.”

“well, my parents didn’t want me to be a monster.”

“really? what did they want you to be?”

“a lawyer.”

“that’s funny,” you said. in fact, you could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“what do your parents want you to be?” he asked.

“dunno, hey jin?”

“yeah?”

“aren’t you gonna scare me or something?”

“why would i do that?”

“you’re a monster, aren’t you?”

“of course, but that doesn’t mean that i scare girls.”

“i thought that was your job.”

“it is my job to scare people,” he responded. “bad people.”

“am i a bad person?” you asked.

“no,” he said, “but you’re not the one i’m here to scare.”

“who are you here to scare?” you asked.

“the man in your closet.”

the skin on your arms went numb. you wanted to ask him what he meant, but you fell silent as you heard a rustling come from the closet. the closet door creaked open, and you could hear footsteps coming towards you across the bedroom floor. you didn’t dare peek out of the blanket. the footsteps stopped, and you could hear heavy breathing next to your head, so you squeezed your eyes tight. the warm sanctuary of the blanket disappeared as it was yanked off you.

you hugged your arms around your knees and prepared for the worst. a scream shattered the night air, followed by the sound of breaking glass. you opened your eyes to take a peek, only to see a knife lying on the carpet next to your bed, blade glinting in the moonlight. your parents rushed into the room and asked you what had happened, but you didn’t know what to say, only that someone had been hiding in your closet and they’d jumped out the window.

your parents called the police and they came right away. they picked up a man called jackson wang sprinting through the streets a couple blocks away. he was covered in blood and broken glass. they found jackson’s car abandoned on your property, and inside they found duct tape, knives, gloves and a video camera.

from what you heard, jackson’s lawyer employed an insanity defense, and he was currently incarcerated in a state mental facility for the criminally insane. you never heard from seokjin again, but the officer who arrested jackson told you that he slept on the floor of the facility.

he told the doctors that he was terrified of seokjin, the monster under his bed.

MIN YOONGI (민윤기)

do not speak of this sheet to any passenger. you are the only human on this flight. 

check the time on your phone after reading this sheet. all rules will apply based on the time of your phone. 

during the first hour of the flight, do not talk to anyone. people may try to talk to you, but ignore them completely.

during the second hour of the flight, you may start talking again, but if anyone mentions the window, do not look outside the window under any circumstances.

if you hear a child crying in the cabin, immediately run to the bathroom.

during the third hour of the flight, the captain will make an announcement. follow the instructions.

during the fourth hour of the flight, do not sit in your seat.

if you make it past the fourth hour, you will need to spend the rest of the flight evading the chaser. you will know who the chaser is when you see them.

he re-read the rules again while chuckling. did they give one of those to every passenger, or was he somehow randomly chosen for this prank? he checked the time on my phone just to humour the list. 7:13am.

that would be the first hour of the flight. suddenly, a young man walked over to his seat and sat right beside him. he gave him a casual side glance and saw that he was carrying what looked to be a laptop bag. “great,” yoongi thought, “he’ll work on whatever he’s doing and leave me alone for the flight”

the man didn’t even bother to exchange a single word with him as he settled down in his seat and put on his seatbelt. he stared straight ahead and completely avoided him. yoongi let him be and started to fiddle with his flight console. some people just liked to be left alone. 

soon enough, the captain made an announcement of the plane starting and the steady hum of the plane engines started to vibrate the entire cabin. the plane started to accelerate until the g-force pushed him into his seat. moments later, he felt the plane rising into the air. he wasn't typically scared of flights, but getting on a flight always made him a bit queasy. this time though, his stomach was in knots, and beads of sweat were running down his forehead. his instincts told him he was stepping into grave danger, but he dismissed his thoughts.

the young man on his left suddenly tapped on his shoulder. he jolted up like he’d just been electrocuted. even through his jacket, the man's hand felt cold. cold and heavy, like a dead person’s hand. 

he turned around and faced the young man. his face seemed, wrong. you know how those realistic human robots could creep people out because of how close to human they were, yet subconsciously we could tell that they weren’t human? that man was giving him that same unsettling feeling and his facial features were just artificial in a way he couldn’t place. maybe it was his eyes. a little too big, the pupils abnormally dilated. or maybe it was his nose, not exactly in the center of his face. or perhaps it was his mouth, lips way too thin and long. he didn’t look obnoxiously fake. in fact, it was those very subtle blemishes in his facial features that made him look like something trying to look like a human. and then he spoke.

his voice was normal. upon hearing his voice, the man seemed to look normal too and yoongi thought he was just freaking out for no reason. “do you wear headphones?” he asked

that was a weird question to ask. sid he want headphones? yoongi was about to open my mouth to speak when he spoke again. 

“how would you feel if i cut your hand off right now?”

what was disturbing wasn’t the nature of the question itself, but the fact that he spoke in such a calm manner. it was as if he was asking him how his day was. suddenly, his mind went to the list of rules that he had subconsciously been squeezing in his hand. the first rule said to not talk to anyone on the flight no matter how much they tried to talk to you. he decided to ignore the man.

he stopped pestering yoongi and returned to work on his laptop. when he looked over at his laptop, he gasped at what he saw on his screen. 

he had a photo of yoongi on his screen. that’s it. nothing else, just a full screen photo of him. before he could process that properly, he looked over at his keyboard and noticed that it wasn’t a standard keyboard. in fact, it really wouldn’t even count as a keyboard. it was made up of oddly shaped keys, all marked with strange letters that he doubt existed. the man continued to stare intently at the photo of me on his screen. it was then that yoongi realized that the list of rules wasn't a joke. suddenly, a flight attendant popped out of nowhere. 

“sir, is this man bothering you?”

“yes he is,” he replied before his voice caught up in his throat. 

in under a second, everyone in the cabin snapped their heads around until they were staring directly at him. their faces, they all looked wrong. inhumane. slowly, their long thin lips curled into wide smiles, and red tears started to roll down their faces. 

JUNG HOSEOK (정호석)

looks like you’re using a new device. please verify your identity with the following security questions.

he hated answering those questions. he resentfully clicked, “ok.”

what was the name of your childhood best friend?

hoseok's hands hovered over the keyboard. two people came to mind—kim namjoon and min yoongi. he hadn’t talked to them in years, but considered them best friends back then. he couldn’t remember which he’d entered when he made the account, so he started with namjoon.

incorrect answer.

this was precisely why he hated these questions. he tried yoongi.

incorrect answer.

he tried first and last names. nicknames. surnames only. each time, the same message popped up: incorrect answer. he sat there, confused, staring at the screen. skip this question, he clicked, finally. but the next question had him even more confused.

what was the name of your high school?

“hanyang cyber university,” he entered.

incorrect answer.

how? frowning, he entered “hanyang cyber university,” “cyber university of hanyang.” every permutation of “hanyang” and “university” he could think of. anything that it could possibly be. but each time, those two words popped up, burning into his brain. incorrect answer.

skip this question, he clicked, and the next question popped up.

do you remember now, hoseok?

he jolted back from the screen. what the hell? his heart pounded and he suddenly felt dizzy. faint. he wiped at his face, feeling the walls closing in. then, he blinked. no. that’s not what it said. he misread it. he reread the sentence:

did you receive a text just now, hoseok?

we’re going to try to verify your account a different way. enter the verification code we sent to (XXX)-XXX-1539...

everything was fine. he picked up his phone and began tapping at the screen—then, jerked his fingers back. what was that? something wet and dark coated the glass, sticking to his fingertips. he wiped the phone off against his shirt, grimacing, and opened the text. fingers shaking, he slowly entered the code into the site.

thank you, hoseok. you’re all set!

he stood up, stretched, and walked towards the kitchen. he needed a drink after all this. after rummaging in the pantry for a few minutes, he pulled out a bottle of soju and poured himself a shot.

as he tipped his head back to down it, he saw the blood.

so much blood, pooling out from something unseen in the family room. his heart beat painfully in my chest as he crept forward. a body. face down. his jean pocket was turned inside-out, and strewn across the carpet were his wallet, his keys. no phone. trembling, he reached for the wallet and pulled out a driver’s license. the first name jumped out at him.

HOSEOK

he reached into his own pocket and pulled out his wallet. but he already knew the truth, now. he wasn’t hoseok. he never was.

he glanced over at his laptop, and the phone, sitting next to it. the bank’s account homepage, filling the screen, showing thousands of dollars ready to be transferred.

he’d done this.

he remembered, now.

PARK JIMIN (박지민)

every night on his walk home from work, jimin listened to true crime podcasts. even though his favorite podcast already released their episode for this week, the app said there was a new one. excited, he let it play.

“it was a nice city—the kind that has mom and pop shops lining the street, the kind where everyone knew your name. but little did the residents know that they would soon be rocked by a horrible crime.”

he stopped at a traffic light. the red glowed in the darkness, glinting off the wet street. a black suv sloshed by. across from him, eerie blue refrigerator lights glowed from inside a corner deli. the chairs all up on their tables, feet in the air. the signal turned to WALK.

“that chilly september evening was no different for the young student. he'd left his shift at the local store and walked back home, except he never made it home.”

young student. local store. damn, this was hitting close to home. he was a part-time student at seoul community college, and worked at the local convenience store. and, of course, he was walking home. he glanced behind him—looking at the alleyway behind the barbeque place, which was dark except for the neon light spilling from the sign.

“his girlfriend reported him missing the next day. the town conducted a volunteer-led search, and after two days, they found something.” dread formed in hiw stomach, anticipating “a body,” but what he heard next was so, so much worse.

“washed up on the shore of seokchon lake, they found a pair of size 9 red converse sneakers.”

he stopped. and looked down at my red converse sneakers, damp from the rain. what the hell? his heart began to pound.

“the shoes were sent to a forensic analyst, who would compare its wear pattern to another pair of his shoes to try and determine if they belonged to the victim.”

a rumbling sound made him jump. he turned, to see a dark suv turning left at the intersection. didn't he see that car a few minutes ago? maybe it was following him, and—

the car passed him and disappeared into the darkness.

come on, jimin. get a grip. converse were popular sneakers. a little out of fashion, but still. 9 was a common men's shoe size. and what college student didn't have some sort of a job? come on.

“after a few weeks, the results came back. the analyst was certain: the shoes belonged to none other than park jimin.”

the blood drained from his face.

park jimin.

his name.

he didn't have time to think. he forced himself to move. he broke into a run. the small shops turned into a colorful blur.

“searching the lake came up empty. without a body, a crime is hard to solve. but police didn't give up. and finally, a witness came forward: someone had seen a car parked at the lake that night, around 2 am. a black suv with tinted windows.”

he whipped around. the street was empty. no people, no cars. no witnesses, said the little voice in the back of his mind, the one that’s watched way too many true crime shows. his eyes scanned the shops. all closed.

“there were six black suv's matching the witness’s description in the area. but one of them, in particular, caught detective lee’s eye. it belonged to jo heemin, a registered sex offender.”

the sound was so soft he almost didn’t hear it over the voice of the podcast. he whipped around—and there it was. two blaring-white headlights behind him. coming from a black suv.

he forced his legs to pump faster. the car didn't speed up; it crawled along, slowly, taking its time. like the driver knew he could catch him, no matter what. he glanced back, trying to make him out behind the darkened windshield—but the headlights were too bright to see anything.

“he wasn’t just a registered sex offender. he’d been convicted of assaulting a men he worked with, who were on the skinnier side and had short, light hair, just like jimin.”

the car crawled down the road. stalking him, like a lioness stalked her prey. he veered left, onto his dark residential street. just a few more steps.

headlights flashed across him, illuminating my running shadow on the pavement. he didn't look back. he just ran, as fast as he possibly could. the little brown house with the yellow shutters came into view. he sprinted across the grass, grabbing his keys from his pocket. click. he threw the door open, and slammed it shut behind him.

then, he turned the deadbolt, collapsed against the door, and began crying. he heard the rush of the car passing his house, continuing down the road. but he wasn't safe—you weren't home yet. he was alone, in a dark house, with someone driving down the street who knew exactly where he lived. still sobbing, he checked all the locks. then, he called you, who assured him you were five minutes away.

he made his way down the dark hallway and headed into the bathroom. then, he set his phone on the counter, grabbed a clump of tissues, and began to blow his nose. click.

he jumped. whipped around.

but it wasn't coming from outside the door. his phone's screen lit up, the podcast was still playing. he must have hit it when he put the phone down. it had skipped several minutes forward, according to the play indicator.

“what do you think happened to jimin?” the baritone voice asked. he reached for it, to turn it off.

“well, he'd told me he wanted to run away before.” he stopped dead.

it was your voice. clear as day, coming from the speakers.

“he did? why?” the voice asked.

“he wasn't happy with his grades, his job, his parents. he told me sometimes he'd dream of just moving to some random country and leaving it all behind.”

he froze, staring at the mirror. he never said that. never. you—were lying?

“i mean, that was hurtful to me as his girlfriend, you know? i thought we were gonna get married someday. but apparently he didn't feel the same way.”

his heart pounded in his ears.

“so you think he just skipped town, and is happily living his life out somewhere else? rather than being abducted or murdered?”

a pause.

“yes. that’s exactly what i think.”

KIM TAEHYUNG (김태형)

it was as you were sitting alone, again, at night that you realized you needed to change something. this wasn't a life you wanted: children. but you loved taehyung and you knew know somin was his world, so you tried to accept it. you tried. she was cautious though and, despite your best efforts, you never bonded as taehyung hoped you would.  

he popped his head out of somin's room after bedtime stories to tell you that she was feeling scared and he was going to stay with her until she fell asleep. you both knew he would fall asleep too, and you would eat dinner and go to bed alone again.

you decided to make a plan. and you knew it sounded awful, but you’d never agreed to living like this. 

he'd be devasted. he'd miss her. but one day, he'd get over it and then you could live out the rest of your lives together and unburdened. you could travel. taehyung wouldn't have to work so hard to pay for her inhalers. it was the only path forward you could see. you would become enough for him. 

you wouldn't kill her. you weren't a monster. all it would take was a phone call. you bought a burner phone and everything.

the following day, you added extra-strength cough syrup to somin's juice so she would sleep through any commotion. she said it tasted funny, but she was a good girl and drank it at your insistence.

when taehyung asked why she seemed off, you did my best to reassure him she was just tired. for a moment, you considered calling it off, but you could see the light at the end of the tunnel so clearly now.

after somin's bedtime, when taehyung left for a night shift, you arranged the drop at namsan park. at this hour, it should be empty.

you wrapped somin in her blanket and loaded her into the car. your mind kept replaying directions to namsan park, though you’d been there a hundred times.

you made it halfway down the farm’s driveway when a sound from the backseat made your stomach churn. in the rearview you saw somin, still asleep, but her breathing was labored. you forgot her inhaler.

the need wasn’t immediate but you couldn’t risk it. you left the car running and raced back inside. when you returned to the driver’s seat, the air felt different. an unease washed over you.   

“where do you think you're going?” taehyung's voice, a chilling mix of rage and betrayal, came from the backseat. you froze as a shiver ran up your spine. the wire felt cold against your neck for a split second before taehyung pulled it tight.

as you felt your life slipping away, your mind drifted to somin's parents. like the rest of the world, you'd seen them on the news a lot over the last several months. 

how long would they wait at namsan park?

they were so hopeful they'd see their little girl again.

JEON JUNGKOOK (전정국)

jungkook's wife went missing six months ago. you went out to work one day and never came home. it was a horrible shock to the whole neighbourhood, because things like that just didn't happen in your little slice of suburbia. the police launched an investigation, and the neighbourhood watch sent out search parties, but no one ever found any evidence to indicate what had happened to you. your families were devastated. recently, the missing posters have been taken down or papered over. the updates from the police became less frequent and dwindled away. jungkook accepted that, hard as it was to admit, you weren't coming back.

until you did.

a week ago, jungkook was in the back garden watering his petunias, when he heard the garden gate creak open. he jerked his head in that direction and, there you were. exactly the same as you were the day you disappeared. he was in shock. your families had mourned for you, and yet there you were, standing in your garden like you had just popped out for milk or something. when he asked where you had been, you said you didn't know. you couldn’t remember anything about the last six months.

all your family and friends are beside themselves with joy. they almost couldn't believe it. but that was the thing: he didn't believe it.

your families would never believe him, and he couldn’t go to the police unless he want to end up in a straightjacket. but he just knew that the woman sleeping next to him wasn't his wife. he didn't know what to do. he knew he should've been happy, but he wasn't. he was terrified. he didn’t know much about anything supernatural or paranormal, he didn't even like watching horror movies. but something about it all made his skin crawl.

the morning after you came home, he made you a cup of tea. when he handed it to him, you gave him the brightest smile. then, you took a sugar cube from the dish on the table and dropped it into the cup. your house was in chaos with your return, and jungkook was still in shock, so he didn't think much of it at the time, but it had been replaying in his mind ever since. he knew it didn't sound very significant, but you never put sugar in your tea.

then, it was the golf. a few days ago, when you was out visiting your mom, jungkook recorded a golf tournament that was showing. it was one of your favourite golfers that was competing, and you never missed it. once, you even skipped out on an anniversary dinner just to watch a championship. only, when you came home from your parents' and he told you what he'd done, you just seemed unbothered. you said thanks and everything, and then you asked if he wanted to get dinner. you didn't even watch it, and that was just out of character for you.

the final nail in the coffin, proverbially speaking, was jinyoung. just this morning, he came knocking on your door. his excuse was the tray of brownies he carried, but jungkook thought he just wanted to push his way into your morning so that he could see for herself what the situation was. after he left, jungkook called him a nosy busybody. you laughed, kissed his head, and agreed with him. that was when he knew for sure that it couldn't really be you. you always used to get mad whenever he insulted jinyoung, like he didn't have any right to hate him even though he'd been fucking his wife for years. but today there was none of that. he didn’t even try to defend her.

but you know why jungkook was dead certain that woman wasn't his wife? you didn't have a scar. if you were really her, you'd have a scar on the side of your forehead shaped like the golf club he hit you with. but there was nothing. not a mark. honestly, he was close to going out tonight and digging up his petunias, just to make sure you were still under there.

✧.*

hello, sidney (안녕 시드니) – kim taehyung (김태형)

✧.* 18+

fear was a shadow that clung to you, wrapping itself around your thoughts like a fog you couldn't escape. it wasn't just a fleeting sensation but a relentless presence, weaving itself into the fabric of your mind, dulling your senses, and sharpening the unknown into something monstrous. every creak of the floor, every whisper of wind against the window, sent your heart racing, as if the air itself had conspired against you. you felt it deep in your bones—a cold, gnawing dread that eroded your confidence, leaving you hollow and trembling.

in the stillness of the night, when the world seemed to hold its breath, fear became a living entity, whispering your doubts back to you, feeding on the silence. it was in those moments that you realized fear was never just about what could happen, but about what you imagined could happen—the horrors your mind painted in vivid detail. you tried to shake it off, to rationalize it away, but fear wasn't rational. it was primal, an ancient instinct that told you to run, to hide, to protect yourself from whatever lurked in the darkness. yet there you stood, rooted in place, unable to escape the tightening grip of terror that had found a home within you.

the night air had a palpable stillness to it, a quiet that pressed down on cha hyein like a weighted blanket. it was the kind of night that made even the most mundane tasks feel sinister. the clock on the wall ticked steadily, its rhythm the only sound accompanying her as she moved about the kitchen. the small kitchen, dimly lit by the faint glow of a single overhead bulb, cast long, eerie shadows that stretched across the linoleum floor.

she was carefully preparing for her movie night, every movement deliberate, almost ritualistic. she reached into the cabinet, the hinges creaking as she opened it, and retrieved a bag of popcorn. the plastic crinkled loudly in the oppressive silence. she poured the kernels into the old, worn popcorn maker, the metal cold against her skin, before setting it on the counter. the machine whirred to life, filling the room with a low, mechanical hum that grew louder with each passing second.

hyein glanced at the clock again, her anticipation tinged with a hint of unease. she loved horror movies, the thrill of fear they brought, but tonight felt different. there was a heaviness in the air, a tension that made her hesitate. she shook her head, dismissing the irrational feeling, and focused on the popping sounds now erupting from the popcorn maker, the kernels bursting in rapid succession, filling the air with the familiar scent of butter and salt.

it was just as she reached for a bowl to catch the popcorn that the phone rang. the sudden sound made her jump, her heart skipping a beat before she cursed herself for being so jumpy. she wiped her hands on a dish towel, the fabric rough against her skin, and picked up the receiver. “hello?” she answered, trying to keep her voice light, though the uneasy feeling gnawed at her.

there was a brief pause on the other end, just long enough for a chill to crawl up her spine, before a voice, low and smooth, asked, “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

she let out a relieved giggle, immediately assuming it was her boyfriend, playing one of his usual pranks. “yunho, this isn’t funny,” she chided, a smile tugging at her lips. she couldn't deal with her boyfriend anymore—she was already on the brink of breaking up with him, after hearing what he had to say about some girls from school. the voice on the other end, however, remained unfazed. “this isn’t yunho.”

the smile faded from her face, replaced by a furrowed brow. there was something unsettling about the way the stranger spoke, the way his voice seemed to snake through the phone line, wrapping around her like a cold tendril. still, she decided to play along, attributing the voice to some friend of yunho’s who had gotten hold of her number. “well,” she said, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel, “i’d have to say a nightmare on elm street.”

the popcorn continued to pop in the background, the sound a chaotic backdrop to the quiet conversation. the voice didn’t miss a beat. “which of the films was called the dream child?”

she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the counter. “what is this? trivia night?” she quipped, but the silence on the other end unnerved her. it was as though the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving behind a vacuum where sound should be. she cleared her throat, feeling a prickling on the back of her neck. “the fourth movie,” she answered, her voice now laced with irritation.

but the silence persisted, thick and oppressive. she opened her mouth to demand what kind of game this was when suddenly, the lights flickered and then went out completely. the kitchen plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the popcorn maker as it continued its frantic popping, the sounds echoing unnaturally in the darkened space.

her breath hitched in her throat as she fumbled for the light switch, her fingers trembling. the voice, now a sinister whisper, finally broke the silence. “sorry, that’s incorrect.” the line went dead with a chilling finality.

panic surged through her. the phone slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor as she spun around, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. the kitchen was now a maze of shadows, every corner and crevice filled with an unknown threat. and then she heard it—footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching from somewhere behind her. her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she scrambled to grab a knife from the block on the counter. the cold steel felt reassuring in her grip, though she knew it was a flimsy defense against whatever—or whoever—was out there. she backed away, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as the footsteps grew closer, more distinct, echoing through the silent house.

she couldn’t stay here. she had to get out, she had to find yunho. without another thought, she bolted for the back door, the knife clutched tightly in her hand. she yanked the door open and stumbled into the backyard, the cool night air hitting her like a wave. she ran, her footsteps crunching on the gravel path, her lungs burning with each frantic breath. the backyard was a vast, dark expanse, the trees looming like specters in the night, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

she stopped short when she saw him. yunho. hr was seated in the middle of the yard, on a chair, his head slumped forward, his hands tied behind his back. relief washed over her, momentarily drowning out the terror. “yunho!” she called, her voice trembling as she took a step toward him. but something was wrong. he didn’t move, didn’t respond. the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she took another tentative step closer. the shadows shifted, and suddenly, the yard was flooded with light. the harsh brightness revealed the gruesome truth.

yunho sat slumped in the chair, his shirt stained with dark, wet patches of blood. his torso had been brutally slashed open, his insides spilling out in a macabre display. the knife slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground as she choked back a scream, the horror of the scene overwhelming her. “no, no, no, no,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she backed away, her hands trembling violently. tears blurred her vision, but she couldn’t look away from his lifeless body, the reality of what she was seeing refusing to sink in.

then, she heard it. footsteps, again. this time, faster, closer. she spun around, her heart pounding in her chest, and saw a figure emerging from the shadows, clad in black, their face hidden behind a grotesque mask. the sight of the masked figure sent a jolt of pure terror through her, adrenaline propelling her forward as she turned and ran, her only thought to escape.

but the figure was fast, too fast. she could hear it gaining on her, the sound of their footsteps almost drowned out by her own panicked breaths. the yard seemed endless, the fence too far away, the distance stretching out like a cruel joke. and then she felt it—a hand, cold and unyielding, grabbing her arm, yanking her back with a force that knocked the air from her lungs. she struggled, her screams piercing the night, but the figure was relentless, its grip like iron as they pulled her down to the ground.

she fought, kicking, thrashing, but it was no use. the masked figure loomed over her, the moonlight glinting off the blade in their hand. she barely had time to register the glint of steel before it came down, slashing through the air with terrifying precision. the last thing she saw was the cold, lifeless eyes staring down at her from behind the mask, and then, nothing. it was game over.

the classroom was thick with an unspoken tension, the kind that crept in through the cracks and settled into your bones, making the air heavy and hard to breathe. you sat there, staring at the scuffed surface of your desk, tracing the grooves and dents with your eyes in a futile attempt to keep your mind from spiraling. but it was impossible. the anxiety gnawed at you, relentless and cruel, as you waited for the officer to speak.

he stood at the front of the room, a somber figure in his dark uniform, the emblem on his chest barely catching the light. his voice, when he finally began to speak, was low and measured, a tone that carried the weight of the horrific news he was about to deliver. “i’m afraid i have some difficult news to share,” he began, his eyes sweeping across the room, pausing for just a moment as they met yours before continuing. “your classmate, cha hyein, was found dead last night.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs. the room seemed to tilt, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing in an almost sinister hum. the silence that followed was deafening, a collective intake of breath as everyone tried to process the officer’s words. “there’s more,” he continued, his voice dropping to a grave whisper, the kind that made your skin crawl. “hyein’s death was not an accident. she was murdered.”

murdered. the word reverberated through your mind, echoing in the empty chambers of your thoughts, growing louder with each passing second. the officer’s face was a mask of professionalism, but you could see the horror lurking behind his eyes, the same horror that now twisted in your stomach.

“the suspect,” he said, his voice faltering for just a moment, “was seen wearing a long, black-and-white mask. they hung her by her own intestines, from a tree in her backyard.” the room was suffocating, the air thick with the collective fear and disbelief that hung in the space between you and the officer. the gruesome details painted a picture so horrific, so unimaginable, that your brain struggled to fully comprehend it. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, a cold sweat breaking out on your skin as the officer’s words replayed in your mind, each syllable dripping with dread.

before he could continue, your teacher, who had been standing near the back of the room with a pale face and trembling hands, abruptly cut him off. “that’s enough,” she said, her voice sharp and edged with a panic she was barely concealing. “these kids don’t need to hear any more.” the officer nodded, though his expression was one of reluctant agreement. he had more to say, you could tell, but he swallowed it back, his mouth set in a grim line. the silence that followed was unbearable, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. the rest of the class passed in a blur, a haze of half-heard words and distorted faces. your mind was everywhere except where it should have been, replaying the officer’s words over and over, unable to shake the image of hyein’s lifeless body swaying in the wind.

by the time the final bell rang, you felt like a ghost drifting through the halls, your movements mechanical and numb. the usual chatter of your classmates felt distant, like it was coming from another world, one that you were no longer a part of. you found yourself outside the school, standing with your friends near the front gates, the familiar faces offering little comfort in the face of the terror gnawing at your insides.

kai was the first to break the uneasy silence. “so, that’s how she went out, huh? hung by her own intestines?” he let out a low whistle, the sound unnervingly casual considering the circumstances. “what a way to go.” jennie’s hand shot out, slapping him hard on the arm. “don’t be such an ass, kai,” she snapped, her voice sharp with anger. “leave her alone.”

he winced, rubbing his arm where she’d hit him, but the smirk on his face didn’t falter. “okay, i’ll liver alone.”

doyoung, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly spoke up. “the killer has an interesting tactic, though,” he mused, almost to himself. “the mask, the way they used her intestines. it’s all very theatrical.” kai shot him a sideways glance, his smirk widening into something more sinister. “what, you think you’re some kind of expert now? maybe you’re the killer, doyoung, with all that insight.”

he glared at him, his lips curling into a snarl. “fuck off, kai. i’m just saying.” jennie groaned, clearly exasperated with the both of them. “you’re both being assholes,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. before she could say anything more, kai’s hands were suddenly around her waist, lifting her off the ground and slinging her over his shoulder despite her protests.

“you should talk less,” he teased, his voice light, but there was a hint of something darker underneath. jennie struggled in his grip, her fists pounding against his back, but kai only laughed, ignoring her complaints. amid the banter, you felt like you were floating, your thoughts far away from the conversation. the unease that had settled in your gut during class refused to dissipate, growing stronger with each passing minute. you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that the horror of what had happened to hyein was only the beginning.

taehyung noticed your distraction, his dark eyes softening as he reached out to stroke your hair gently, his touch grounding you in the present moment. “hey,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your mind. “you okay?” you shook your head, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “this whole incident. it’s freaking me out, tae. i can’t stop thinking about it.”

he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin in a tender gesture. “you shouldn’t worry,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made your heart ache. you looked up at him, searching his eyes for the reassurance you desperately needed. “why not?”

his lips curled into a small, knowing smile, but he said nothing for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. finally, he spoke, his voice low and sure. “because nothing could happen to you with me around.” the conviction in his words, the way he said it as though it was an undeniable truth, made something inside you unclench. the tension that had coiled in your chest slowly began to unwind, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand chase away the cold fear that had settled in your bones.

kai's laughter rang out into the cooling evening air, a sharp contrast to the somber mood that had settled over your group like a heavy fog. he flashed a grin, his eyes alight with a spark of mischief that seemed almost out of place given the day's events. “so,” he began, his tone casual, as if the tension that had gripped everyone didn’t even register to him, “who’s coming to my party tomorrow night?”

his words hung in the air for a moment, the sudden shift in conversation jarring against the lingering dread. you watched as taehyung, standing close to you with his hand still gently cradling your hair, scoffed, disbelief evident in his voice. “a party? seriously, kai? how can you even be in the mood for that after what happened?”

he shrugged, the motion careless, almost indifferent. “what does that have to do with me? hyein’s gone, but life goes on, right?” his words were nonchalant, but there was a darkness in the way he said them, as if the horror of what had happened was nothing more than an inconvenience, something to be brushed aside in favor of more entertaining pursuits.

doyoung, who had been leaning against the fence with his arms crossed, winced at his words. he tilted his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. “you know, kai, i’m not so sure about that. with the way you’re acting, it’s almost like you’re trying to convince us you had nothing to do with it.”

kai’s eyes narrowed, the playful glint in them hardening into something sharper, more dangerous. he turned to doyoung, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “careful, do,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with an edge that made your skin crawl. “you keep talking like that, and you might just be my next victim.”

the tension between them was almost laughable, a taut string ready to snap at any moment. you could see doyoung bristle at the threat, but before he could retort, jennie suddenly turned to you, her enthusiasm cutting through the unease like a knife through butter. “please, you have to come to the party!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and pleading as she grabbed your hands in hers. the intensity of her grip was almost desperate, as if the promise of a party was the only thing holding her together, a fragile thread of normalcy in the midst of the chaos.

you hesitated, your gaze flickering to taehyung, searching for some kind of direction, some sign of what you should do. his expression softened when your eyes met, and he offered you a reassuring smile, the kind that made your heart feel a little less heavy. “we’ll both be there,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if the decision had already been made and all you had to do was follow his lead.

the words brought you a strange sense of comfort, the certainty in his tone a welcome anchor in the storm of uncertainty swirling around you. but even as you nodded in agreement, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered that something wasn’t right, that the veneer of normalcy everyone was so desperately clinging to was nothing more than a fragile illusion.

the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows as the five of you walked down the quiet street. the events of the day lingered like a dark cloud, your minds still grappling with the gruesome details of hyein's fate. the air was thick with tension, and despite the occasional attempts at levity, the unease was palpable. doyoung was the first to break the silence, his voice tinged with a mix of morbid fascination and disbelief. “i still can’t believe they found her liver just—out there like that.”

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the imagery all too vivid in your mind. without thinking, you corrected him, your voice soft yet firm. “it wasn’t her liver, doyoung. it was her pancreas.” the group fell silent for a moment, the words hanging in the air.

you caught taehyung’s gaze, and he shot you a look you couldn’t quite decipher. there was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or maybe a hint of something else, something deeper. whatever it was, it made your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear. jennie, walking beside you, shuddered visibly, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the chill that had settled over the group. “okay, enough,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “i think it’s time we drop that topic.”

kai agreed, his grin widening as he spoke. “yeah, i agree. i can only imagine how much paincreas she was in,” he quipped, cackling at his own words. jennie rolled her eyes and slapped him on the back, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. “shut up. seriously, that’s not funny.”

but this time, even doyoung couldn’t suppress a giggle, the absurdity of the situation making the dark humor almost a relief. it was as if the laughter, however inappropriate, was a way to break the tension, to remind yourselves that you were still alive, still capable of feeling something other than fear. the conversation ebbed and flowed as you continued down the street, the familiar path to your house growing shorter with each step. the streetlights flickered on, casting pools of golden light on the pavement, but even their warm glow couldn’t chase away the shadows that seemed to cling to the edges of your vision.

as you neared your house, you felt a strange reluctance to part ways with taehyung. the thought of entering the cold, empty space alone filled you with a sense of dread you couldn’t quite shake. when you finally reached your gate, you stopped and turned to him, your heart heavy with unspoken fears. he paused as well, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. without a word, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. you leaned into him, the warmth of his body a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled over you. his hands moved up to brush the hair from your forehead, his touch tender and careful, as if you were something fragile.

he bent down, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “call me if you need anything,” he murmured, his voice a soft, reassuring whisper that seemed to ease some of the tension in your chest. you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “i will.”

you lingered for a moment longer, not wanting to let go of the comfort he provided, but eventually, you pulled back, giving him a small, grateful smile. with one last look, you turned and walked up the path to your door, the weight of the day settling back over you as taehyung’s presence faded into the background. the door creaked open as you stepped inside, the silence of the house pressing in on you from all sides. you locked the door behind you, the sound of the bolt sliding into place echoing in the empty space. the house was quiet—too quiet—every creak and groan of the old wood magnified in the stillness.

the house was too quiet, a silence that stretched on like a taut string ready to snap. you busied yourself with chores, trying to ignore the nagging unease that clung to you. the laundry was first, the rhythmic hum of the machine a welcome distraction. you folded the clothes mechanically, your mind wandering to a time when life was simpler, safer. as you dusted the shelves, your eyes landed on a framed photograph—a moment frozen in time, a memory that both warmed and shattered your heart.

it was a picture of you and your dad, taken years ago. you were both smiling, your faces lit up with pure joy. it was a candid shot, one of those rare moments when everything felt right in the world. but now, as you stared at it, the smile faded from your lips, replaced by a deep frown. his passing had taken a toll on you, a wound that had never fully healed. the grief was always there, lurking beneath the surface, ready to pull you under if you let your guard down.

with a sigh, you placed the picture back on the shelf and moved to the living room, sinking into the couch. the cushions were soft, enveloping you in their warmth, but the comfort was fleeting. the emptiness of the house pressed in on you, a reminder of just how alone you were. you reached for your phone, half expecting a text from taehyung, but nothing. just silence.

you had just begun to relax when your phone buzzed, startling you. you glanced at the screen, expecting to see taehyung's name, but there was no number—just a blank space where the caller id should have been. your heart skipped a beat, a cold finger of dread tracing down your spine. you hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, before finally answering. “hello?” your voice wavered slightly, betraying your nerves.

for a moment, there was nothing—just the faint crackle of static on the other end. then, a voice, low and smooth, sent a chill straight to your bones. “hello, (y/n).”

you froze, the phone clutched tightly in your hand. the sound of your name, spoken by a voice you didn’t recognize, filled you with a fear unlike anything you had ever felt. your throat tightened, and it took all your strength to force out the words. “who is this?” the voice chuckled, a sound that made your skin crawl. “you could guess, but you’d never get it right.”

you scoffed, trying to mask your fear with bravado. “and what do i get if i guess right?”

silence. the kind that pressed in on you, that made you hyperaware of every creak and groan of the house. your breath caught in your throat, and just as you were about to speak again, you heard it—a knock at the door. “you get to live.”

you jumped, heart slamming against your ribcage, eyes darting toward the front door. “who’s there?” the voice on the other end of the line was calm, almost amused. “gonna get that?”

your hand trembled as you slowly rose from the couch, every instinct screaming at you to run. you grabbed a knife from the kitchen, the cold steel a poor comfort against the growing terror. with shaky steps, you approached the door, peering through the peephole. nothing. the porch was empty, the street beyond quiet. but the knocking persisted, louder now, more insistent. only, it wasn’t coming from the door anymore. it was coming from the living room.

panic surged through you, and you bolted up the stairs, heart pounding in your chest like a drum. you reached your bedroom and slammed the door shut, locking it behind you. your breath came in ragged gasps as you fumbled with the window, pushing it open just in case you needed to escape. with trembling hands, you dialed taehyung’s number. the ringing felt like an eternity, each second stretching on, until finally, his voice broke through the terror. “(y/n)? are you okay?”

“tae, someone’s trying to break in,” you whispered, your voice tight with fear. “i don’t know what to do.”

“i’ll be right there. where are you?” his voice was steady, a lifeline in the midst of the chaos. “by the window,” you managed to say, your eyes darting around the room, every shadow a potential threat. the minutes that passed felt like hours. the house was eerily quiet now, the knocking having ceased, but the fear remained, coiled tight in your chest. you stared out the window, your eyes straining in the darkness for any sign of movement.

then, a hand on the window frame startled you, and you almost screamed before realizing it was taehyung. he climbed up with surprising ease, slipping through the window and into your room. he took one look at your pale face and pulled you into a tight embrace, his presence grounding you. “i checked around,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “there’s no one outside.”

before you could respond, the knock came again—this time, from the bedroom door. both of you froze, fear rippling through the room like a cold wind. taehyung’s eyes met yours, wide with terror, as he fumbled for his phone, quickly dialing the police. “they’ll be here soon,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. but the knocking grew more persistent, more aggressive, until it turned into a pounding that echoed through the walls.

“we have to go,” he urged, guiding you toward the window. with his help, you climbed out, the cool night air a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside. you both dropped to the ground, crouching in the shadows at the front of the house, waiting. his arms were around you, holding you close as you both tried to steady your breathing. when the police arrived, you could barely speak, your voice trembling as you told them that the intruder was inside. they moved quickly, guns drawn, disappearing into the house while you and taehyung waited outside, the minutes dragging on like hours.

when the officers finally emerged, their faces were blank, offering no comfort. “there’s no one inside,” one of them said, his tone flat. “we’ve checked every room, every closet. there’s no sign of anyone.” you stared at him, your mind reeling. “but we heard it. the knocking—it was real. it was there.”

the officer exchanged a glance with his partner, then turned to taehyung, suspicion creeping into his voice. “so, you just happened to be around when all this was going on?” you bristled at the insinuation, stepping forward to defend him. “i called him. he was on the phone with me when the knocking happened. he heard it too.”

the officer’s skepticism remained, but he didn’t press the issue. “we’ll look for any evidence, but in the meantime, it might be best if you stayed somewhere else tonight. just to be safe.” yaehyung tightened his grip on you, his voice gentle as he spoke. “you can stay at my place. we’ll figure this out.” numbly, you nodded, too exhausted and too terrified to argue. as you walked away from the house that had once been your sanctuary, you couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing would ever feel safe again.

the drive to taehyung’s house was a blur, the streets illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows that danced in the corners of your vision. the night air was cool against your skin, but it did little to ease the tension coiled in your chest. his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles in an attempt to comfort you, but even his familiar touch couldn’t chase away the lingering fear that clung to you like a second skin.

when you finally arrived, his home felt like a haven, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach you. the house was warm, the lights soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the chilling events of the night. as you stepped inside, taehyung closed the door behind you, locking it with a deliberate click, and for a moment, the sound felt like a promise of safety.

“hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he took your hand, guiding you further into the house. “you’re safe now, okay? the police will handle it.” you nodded, though the reassurance felt hollow, your mind still replaying the nightmarish events that had unfolded. but when he pulled you into his embrace, his warmth seeped into you, grounding you in the present. his arms wrapped around you securely, his chin resting on the top of your head as you sank into his touch, allowing yourself to relax, even if just a little.

“you shouldn’t be so worked up,” he continued, his voice a gentle murmur against your ear. “the police will do their job. i won’t let anything happen to you.”

“i hope so,” you whispered back, your words muffled against his chest. the tension in your shoulders eased slightly as his hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch light and tender.

for a moment, the world outside didn’t exist—there was only taehyung, his presence a balm to your frayed nerves. he tilted your chin up with a soft touch, his eyes searching yours, and in that moment, all the fear, all the anxiety seemed to melt away. he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and tender, a promise that he was here, that he would keep you safe.

when he pulled back, a small, playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “wanna watch a scary movie?” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling up despite the night’s events. you slapped his chest lightly, the familiar gesture bringing a sense of normalcy that you desperately needed. “are you serious right now?”

“just trying to lighten the mood,” he chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more lingering. his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he kissed you, slow and gentle, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you found yourself smiling despite everything. “you’re terrible,” you whispered, though there was no bite to your words.

“but you love me anyway,” he murmured back, his voice soft, his breath warm against your lips. the two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. eventually, he led you to the couch, pulling you down beside him. the room was dimly lit, the soft glow from a nearby lamp casting a warm light over the space, making everything feel intimate and safe.

he wrapped a blanket around the both of you, cocooning you in warmth, and you curled up against his side, your head resting on his shoulder. his arm draped over you, holding you close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your thoughts. “don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “we’ll figure this out. you don’t have to be afraid. not when i’m here.”

you nodded, closing your eyes as you let his words wash over you, his voice a soothing lullaby that chased away the remaining shards of fear. with him by your side, it was easier to believe that everything would be okay, that the nightmare would soon be over. he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your arm. “i’ll be here all night. i’m not going anywhere.”

“good,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him, your body finally starting to relax. “because i’m not letting you out of my sight.” he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and you felt the last of your anxiety ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm that only he could bring. the fear that had gripped you so tightly earlier seemed distant now, a shadow that couldn’t reach you in the warmth of his embrace.

the morning light filtered through the tall windows of the school hallway, casting long, warm beams that danced across the polished floors. the steady hum of student chatter filled the air, a comforting reminder of normalcy after the events of the previous night. you walked beside jennie, her presence a familiar comfort as you made your way through the crowded halls. her eyes sparkled with curiosity, as they always did, but today there was an edge of concern in her gaze as she glanced over at you. you could feel her watching you, waiting for you to speak, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, still trying to shake off the lingering unease from the night before.

when you finally neared your locker, you stopped, your hand hovering over the cool metal handle. she paused beside you, leaning against the neighboring locker with a casual grace that was so quintessentially her. the buzz of the hallway seemed to fade as you turned to face her, knowing that you couldn’t keep it from her any longer. “so,” you began, your voice low, tinged with the weight of what you were about to share. “something happened last night.” her eyebrows shot up, her expression instantly serious. “what? what happened?”

you took a deep breath, the memories of the night before flooding back with a cold, creeping dread. “someone tried to break into my house.” her eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open slightly. “oh my god, are you okay? what happened? tell me everything.”

you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady as you recounted the events. “o was doing some chores, just trying to unwind, and then i got a call. no number, just this voice,” you trailed off, shuddering at the memory of that cold, taunting voice. “what did they say?” jennie asked, her voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly would summon the terror back.

“they knew my name,” you continued, “and they told me to answer the door. i armed myself with a knife and checked the peephole, but no one was there. then i heard the knocking again, but it was coming from inside the house.” her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “fuck, that’s terrifying.”

“it was,” you admitted, the fear from the night before still fresh in your mind. “i ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. called tae, and he came over right away.” her expression softened at the mention of taehyung’s name, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “so, you really spent the night at his place?”

you nodded, your own lips curving into a faint smile as you thought of how safe you’d felt with him. “yeah, he was the only thing holding me together.” her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she leaned in a little closer. “and? did he give it to you good?”

you scoffed, playfully swatting her arm. “as if,” you said, rolling your eyes at her insinuation. “It wasn’t like that.” she leaned back against the locker, crossing her arms over her chest as she regarded you with a knowing smile. “you should totally let him. he’s hot, (y/n). he’s such a catch.”

her words hung in the air between you, and you couldn’t help but let them sink in. taehyung was indeed a catch—kind, protective, and undeniably handsome. but before you could dwell on those thoughts, you shot jennie a playful look. “kai must not be hitting it good enough, huh?” she rolled her eyes dramatically, a groan slipping past her lips. “i wish. we’ve been going at it like rabbits.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you, the tension from the night before melting away in the face of her candidness. “gross,” you teased, pretending to gag as you elbowed her lightly. the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the usual banter and teasing between you providing a much-needed distraction from the horrors that had gripped you less than twelve hours ago. the fear and uncertainty that had weighed so heavily on you felt distant now, replaced by the slightest of warmth.

the walk to kai's house was filled with the soft murmurs of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, and the sound of your footsteps against the pavement. the night was crisp, the air cool against your skin, making you pull your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders. taehyung walked beside you, his presence warm and reassuring. every so often, his hand would brush against yours, a small reminder that he was there, keeping close.

doyoung sidled up to you with a grin. his eyes sparkled under the streetlights, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur meant just for you. “you look stunning tonight,” he said, his tone sincere, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long.

you smiled at the compliment, feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. “thanks, do,” you replied, the words leaving your lips with a casual ease, though you could feel the tension brewing beside you. taehyung’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking to him with a sharpness that was hard to miss. his jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as he clenched his teeth, the protective side of him bubbling to the surface. there was something possessive in the way he looked at doyoung, a silent warning that needed no words.

the tension was palpable, but doyoung, ever oblivious or simply choosing to ignore it, continued on, walking ahead with his usual carefree demeanor. jennie shot you a knowing look, her lips curling into a slight smirk. she knew taehyung well enough to catch the subtle shift in his mood, and it amused her to no end.

kai’s house came into view, a beacon of chaos and noise at the end of the street. even from a distance, you could hear the music thumping, the bass reverberating through the ground, sending small vibrations up your legs. the front yard was littered with people, some standing in clusters, others sprawled out on the grass, red cups in hand. the porch light flickered, casting an eerie glow over the scene, adding to the sense of wild abandon that hung in the air. the unease you had felt earlier began to creep back in, settling like a cold weight in the pit of your stomach. something about the atmosphere tonight felt off, as if the darkness held secrets just waiting to be unveiled. you tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was just nerves, the remnants of the fear from last night clinging to you like a shadow.

as you approached the front steps, kai burst out of the front door, his grin wide and mischievous. he didn’t waste a second before throwing his arms around jennie, lifting her effortlessly off the ground as she squealed with delight. he spun her around, her laughter mixing with the thumping bass, and when he finally set her down, his eyes found yours.

“the most important thing tonight,” he began, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music, “is to have fun.” his grin widened, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something almost ominous as he added, “and to not die.”

doyoung, ever the skeptic, rolled his eyes, pushing past him with a dismissive wave. “dramatic much?” he muttered, disappearing into the throng of people inside the house. kai just chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. but before you could dwell on it, you felt taehyung’s hand slip into yours, his fingers lacing through yours with a comforting warmth. he turned to you, his gaze softening as he took in your expression, the worry etched in the lines of your face.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low, meant just for you. you forced a smile, squeezing his hand in return. “i will be after a drink.” as if he had anticipated your need, he pulled a beer from behind his back, presenting it to you with a small, reassuring smile. you took it, grateful for the distraction, and popped the cap off, taking a long, deep sip. the cold liquid slid down your throat, a welcome relief that eased some of the tension coiled inside you.

the scene at the party was an absolute shitshow, a whirlwind of chaos and drunken revelry. people were everywhere, crowding the small space, their voices raised in raucous laughter and slurred conversation. bottles were scattered across the floor, some still full, others empty and abandoned. the smell of alcohol and sweat hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of cigarette smoke and something sweet, like pot.

the lights inside were dim, casting long shadows across the room, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of you. the music was loud, almost too loud, vibrating through the walls and making it difficult to think. everywhere you looked, there was a new scene of debauchery—people making out in corners, others dancing with reckless abandon, the whole place a pulsing, chaotic mess.

you were still taking in the wild scene when suddenly, out of nowhere, a bottle flew across the room, headed straight for you. before you could even react, taehyung was there, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you down, helping you duck just in time to avoid the glass projectile. the bottle shattered against the wall behind you, the sound of breaking glass cutting through the music. taehyung was up in an instant, turning on the guy who had thrown it, his eyes flashing with anger as he shoved the guy hard into a nearby table.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. the guy, clearly drunk out of his mind, raised his hands in defense, his eyes wide with fear. “it was an accident, man. i swear.”

you quickly grabbed taehyung’s arm, pulling him back. “it’s okay, tae. it’s fine. just let it go.” he hesitated, his body still tense with anger, but finally, he stepped back, though not without giving the guy one last warning glare. kai appeared out of nowhere, slipping between them with a grin, trying to diffuse the situation. “it’s a party, man,” he said, clapping a hand on taehyung’s shoulder. “shit happens.”

taehyung didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to you before glancing at jennie, his voice monotone. “we’re out of beer. you should grab some more from the garage.”

jennie pouted, crossing her arms. “that’s so far away, though.” kai just laughed, giving her a playful slap on the ass. “yeah, come on, it’s not that far. i’ll owe you one.”

she rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile on her lips as she finally agreed. “fine, but you better make it up to me later.” as she headed off toward the garage, kai turned back to you with a grin. but you barely registered his presence, your thoughts still on taehyung, on the way he had jumped to your defense without hesitation. it was comforting, knowing he had your back, but the tension in his eyes as he watched you made your heart race for reasons you weren’t quite ready to examine.

jennie let out an exaggerated sigh as she trudged across the backyard, the cool night air sending a shiver down her spine. she wrapped her arms around herself, not so much from the cold, but from the irritation bubbling beneath her skin. of all the things she could be doing at kai’s party, fetching more beer wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “this is so far,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes as she stomped her way to the garage. “and of course, i’m the one who has to go get it. stupid kai and his stupid beer.”

she reached the garage and yanked the door open with a bit more force than necessary, the hinges creaking in protest. the garage was dimly lit, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows that made the space feel smaller than it was. jennie flicked the light switch near the door, and the fluorescent lights buzzed to life, flooding the garage with harsh, artificial light.

“ugh,” she groaned, dragging her feet as she made her way to the old fridge in the corner. rhe fridge was ancient, its white paint chipped and peeling, but it still worked, and that was all that mattered to kai. she opened the fridge door, the cold air rushing out to meet her as she leaned down to grab the bottles of beer. “he better make this up to me,” she muttered to herself, annoyed that she had to be the one to do this. she piled a few bottles into her arms, balancing them carefully as she reached for more.

just as she was about to stand, the lights in the garage flickered once before plunging the entire space into darkness. she froze, her heart skipping a beat as the sudden darkness enveloped her. she stayed crouched, the bottles still clutched in her arms, the cold seeping through the glass and into her skin.

“kai, that’s so not funny,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the garage. the only response was silence, thick and oppressive, pressing down on her from all sides. her irritation quickly turned to anger, the darkness feeding her frustration. she straightened up, holding the bottles close to her chest as she scanned the garage, though she could see nothing. “i swear to god, if you don’t turn the lights back on, i’m gonna kick your ass.” the darkness seemed to stretch on forever, the silence gnawing at her nerves. then, just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights flickered back on.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming against her ribs as she found herself face to face with a masked figure. the mask was featureless, a smooth, blank surface that revealed nothing of the person behind it. the eyes and mouth, low and pitch black. the cloaked figure was standing by the exit, blocking her only way out, their presence looming like a dark shadow over her. one of the bottles slipped from her grasp, falling to the concrete floor with a shattering crash that seemed to echo in the now deathly quiet garage. her pulse roared in her ears, her mind racing as panic set in.

the figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, just stood there, watching her with an unnerving stillness. jennie was walled in, the only other exit behind her, too far to reach before the figure could close the distance. she could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins, her body screaming at her to move, to do something. without thinking, she grabbed one of the remaining bottles and hurled it at the figure with all her strength. the glass smashed against the figure’s shoulder, and they staggered back slightly, but it wasn’t enough to knock them down. a second bottle followed, then a third, each one flying through the air with a desperation born of fear.

“fuck!” she spat, her voice trembling as she reached for the button to open the garage door. she pressed it frantically, over and over, willing the door to rise faster. the mechanism groaned in response, the door inching upward at a painfully slow pace. she dropped the last bottle, her hands shaking as she crouched down, trying to crawl under the rising door. her breath came in short, panicked gasps, her chest tight with terror as the door seemed to move at a snail’s pace. the cold concrete scraped against her palms and knees as she scrambled to escape.

but just as she was about to slip out, the figure reached up and pressed the button, sending the door back down with a jarring thud. her heart lurched in her chest as she realized what was happening, her eyes widening in horror.

“no, no, no!” she cried, scrambling to get out before the door closed completely. But the figure was faster, their gloved hand latching onto the hem of her dress, yanking her back with a force that sent her sprawling. the garage door continued its descent, trapping her underneath as it closed, her body pinned against the cold concrete. she tried to crawl out, to free herself, but the door kept coming down, pressing her harder into the ground. her screams were muffled by the steel, the sound of her panic echoing in the confined space.

the figure watched, their head tilted to the side as if they were considering something. then, with a chilling calmness, they spoke, their voice low and mocking.

“did all the work for me,” the figure said, their tone laced with satisfaction as jennie’s body was slowly crushed beneath the door. her breath came in ragged gasps, her mind reeling from the pain, the sheer terror of what was happening to her. her screams caught in her throat as the door finally settled, the cold metal pressing down on her chest, crushing the air from her lungs. her vision blurred, her world narrowing to the intense pain and the horrifying realization that she was about to die.

“quite the catch,” the figure said, their voice cold and detached as they watched jennie’s body twitch beneath the door. there was no pity, no remorse in their tone, just a chilling satisfaction as her life slipped away. the last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed her whole was the figure’s voice, echoing in the stillness of the garage, a final, cruel taunt as she slipped into oblivion.

the soft thrum of bass-heavy music from the party downstairs barely reached kai's bedroom, muffled by the thick walls and closed door. you lay sprawled across his king-sized bed, the silken sheets cool against your flushed skin. the room spun slightly from the alcohol, your limbs heavy and loose as you sank deeper into the mattress, too intoxicated to care about anything else. the world outside the door, the raucous chaos of the party, felt miles away as you closed your eyes, letting the comfort of the bed envelop you.

a faint knock echoed through the room, so soft you barely registered it. in any other state, the sound would’ve sent a jolt of fear through your system, but now, it was almost comforting, a familiar rhythm that set your heart at ease. there was no hesitation, no sense of dread—just a warmth spreading through your chest as the door creaked open.

a smile tugged at your lips, lazy and affectionate, as you watched him enter. he was as disheveled as you were, the same unsteady, drunken sway to his movements. His presence filled the room, the air thickening with an almost electric charge as he crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“hey, you,” you murmured, your voice slurred with alcohol and affection. he didn’t respond with words, just a knowing smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. the black and white mask obscured his features, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes, the way he looked at you with a mixture of desire and something darker, something more dangerous. he was right in front of you now, and you didn’t hesitate. your hands reached out, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him down onto the bed with you. he let out a surprised laugh as he collapsed on top of you, his body warm and solid against yours.

“how do you expect me to kiss you with this mask on?” you teased, your fingers already slipping beneath the edges of the mask, tugging it off his face. he didn’t resist, letting you reveal the familiar features beneath, the sharp lines of his jaw, the fullness of his lips twisted into a smirk that made your heart race. the black cloak he wore was loose, the fabric cool beneath your hands as you traced your fingers over it, feeling the muscles tense beneath his clothes. his smile widened, a glint of something wicked in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“it’s still dirty,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. taehyung paused, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he continued, “you must’ve gotten her good.”

your heart skipped a beat, the world slowing down for a moment as his words sank in. the meaning behind them, the dark thrill of your shared secret, sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins, chasing away the last remnants of drunken haze. you pressed your knee into his clothed crotch, feeling the way his breath hitched, the way his body reacted to your touch. “she did all the work for me,” you whispered, your voice low and seductive, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck. he groaned softly, his hands tightening their grip on you as you continued, “hanging from the door like a flag, you should’ve seen it.”

his eyes darkened, a feral hunger in his gaze as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand sliding up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. he leaned in closer, his lips hovering over yours as he whispered, “you’re gonna get us caught if you keep pulling this shit.” a moan slipped past your lips as his thumb pressed against your lower lip, his eyes locked on yours as you parted your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth. you could taste the salt of his skin, the faintest hint of alcohol lingering on him as you swirled your tongue around his thumb, drawing a deep groan from his chest.

“she had it coming for talking about you the way she did,” you murmured around his thumb, your voice muffled but clear in its intent. his thumb left your mouth, trailing down to spread the spit across your lips, smearing the wetness in a way that made your breath catch. “just like hyein,” you added, your voice a breathy whisper as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. taehyung’s smirk grew wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he leaned down, pressing a single kiss to your lips, soft and fleeting.

“getting yunho was just as easy,” he purred, his voice like silk as it wrapped around you, making your head spin with the implications of his words. his lips hovered over yours, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “no one gets to look at you the way i do.”

and then, the distance between you vanished, his lips crashing into yours with a heat that seared through your entire being. the kiss was intense, a wild clash of tongues and teeth, a desperate, all-consuming need that neither of you could ignore. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as his hand tightened around your throat, the pressure just enough to make your head swim, to make you gasp against his mouth. he devoured you, his kiss rough and demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he needed to mark you, claim you as his in every way possible. and you let him, every fiber of your being surrendering to the dark, twisted desire that had brought you both to this moment, your shared secret binding you together in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, locked in a passionate embrace that threatened to consume you both.

his other hand found its way to your chest, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt, pushing it aside to expose your bare skin to the cool air. he broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your body with a hunger that left you trembling. “so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his thumb circled one of your nipples, watching it pebble beneath his touch. you arched into his hand, a soft moan escaping your lips as he pinched it lightly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. your hips bucked against his, desperation building in your core, the need for more overwhelming you. he chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving yours as he bent his head, his mouth closing over your sensitive tit, his teeth grazing it just hard enough to make you cry out.

the sound of fabric tearing filled the room as he ripped your shirt away completely, his mouth moving to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your nails digging into his back as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. taehyung’s hand trailed down your stomach, slipping into the waistband of your pants, his fingertips grazing your wet pussy. the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan his name, a desperate plea for more. without warning, he pulled his hand away, leaving you panting and needy.

he sat back on his heels, his eyes on your flushed face, the smug look in his eyes making your stomach clench. “you want it?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “want me to fuck you like the slut you are?” you nodded, unable to form words, your eyes never leaving his. with a wicked grin, he stood up, pulling you with him so that you were on your knees in front of him.

“then prove it,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “take my cock out and suck it like you’ve never had anything better in your mouth.” you eagerly complied, your hands shaking as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard length. you took it in your mouth, the taste of him making your eyes roll back in your head, the way he filled you up making you feel so fucking alive. he groaned, his hand fisting in your hair as he began to fuck your mouth, his hips driving into you with a rhythm that was both punishing and perfect. and you loved every second of it, the feel of him stretching your lips, the way his cock hit the back of your throat, the power he had over you in that moment. it was intoxicating, addictive, a dance of control and submission that you never wanted to end. but he needed it to end, he needed to fill you up. before doing so, he needed a taste of you.

he pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his eyes glazed with lust as he stepped back, pushing you onto the bed. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice firm. you did as you were told, your heart racing as you felt him climb onto the bed behind you. your pants were already around your ankles, your pussy exposed and begging for his attention. his hand came down hard on your ass, the slap echoing in the quiet room, leaving a stinging heat in its wake. “spread your legs,” he demanded, and you obeyed, feeling vulnerable and exposed in the best way possible. his hand moved between your legs, his fingers sliding through your wetness before pushing inside you, his thumb circling your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. his other hand wrapped around your throat again, the pressure building as he began to fuck you with his fingers, his thumb pressing down on your clit with every thrust. your moans grew louder, more desperate, your body writhing under his touch.

his voice was a harsh whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” you nodded, unable to form words as he worked your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. and then, just as you felt yourself about to fall over, he stopped, his hand leaving your pussy to come down on your ass again, the sting of the slap making you gasp. “you can’t cum until i’m inside you,” he said, his voice a mix of pleasure and threat. your pussy clenched around his fingers, desperate for more, and he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

you watched, mesmerized, as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock slick with your juices. “are you ready for me?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “yes, please,” you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation. and then, with one swift, brutal thrust, he was inside you, filling you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. you screamed, the pleasure and pain mixing into a heady cocktail that had you seeing white. he didn’t give you time to adjust, just began to fuck you, hard and fast, his grip on your throat tightening as he drove into you. your walls clamped down around him, your body desperately trying to keep him inside, to never let him go.

his hand left your throat, his fingers finding their way to your mouth, pushing themselves inside, making you gag. “suck them clean,” he ordered, his voice thick with lust. you obeyed, your mouth moving over his fingers, sucking them clean of your juices. the humiliation of it only added to the thrill, the taste of yourself on his fingers making you even wetter. and then, with his hand fisted in your hair, he pulled you back, his cock sliding out of you with a wet sound that made you whimper. “turn around,” he said, his voice dark. “i wanna see your face when i make you cum.”

you rolled onto your back, your legs spread wide, your pussy glistening with need. taehyung climbed over you, his cock poised at your entrance again. “ask for it,” he said, his eyes boring into yours. “please,” you whispered, your voice a desperate whine. “please, taehyung, fuck me. make me cum for you.” he didn't comply instantly, no. you watched him with careful, desperate eyes that, despite your intoxicated state, couldn't help but widen as you watched him pull the mask over his face. it shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did, but the sight of him in the same mask you had on hours prior—it did it for you. as twisted and demented as he was, you didn't care. because, you were worse.

the mask was vicious, his clothed eyes gleaming with triumph as he slammed into you, his hips moving with a brutal rhythm that had you clawing at the bed, your nails digging into the sheets. the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. “you like that?” he asked, his voice taunting and muffled. “you like it when i fuck you like a whore?” you nodded, your eyes never leaving his, the words only serving to turn you on more. his hand moved from your hair to your tit, squeezing it hard, his thumb flicking at your nipple. “then cum for me, baby. cum all over my cock.” and just like that, with his words echoing in your ears.

you clawed at his arms when you finally came, your pussy clenching around his throbbing dick. you held onto him desperately, teary eyes boring into the mask's soulless, black ones as you came with a moan. you could feel his sloppy pace reaching its peak, his hips slamming against yours as he threw his head back, a loud moan passing his lips as his hips stuttered, every rope of thick, sticky cum filling you up.

the room was thick with the scent of sweat and lust, the sheets tangled around your limbs as you lay tangled with taehyung, your bodies glistening in the dim light. the frantic heat still lingered in the air, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to catch it, your skin pressed against his. his arm was draped over your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip as you both reveled in the afterglow, a sense of satisfaction and victory hanging between you.

but then, cutting through the hazy warmth of the moment, the shrill wail of police sirens pierced the night air. the sound was distant at first, but growing closer, louder, with each passing second. your heart seized in your chest, the intoxicating haze evaporating in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard fear. you could feel him tense beside you, his hand freezing on your hip as your wide eyes met his, panic flickering across his features. “shit,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. the reality of the situation crashed down on you, all traces of your earlier euphoria vanishing as the sirens drew nearer, the flashing blue and red lights casting an eerie glow through the window.

he was already moving, his body a blur of motion as he threw the sheets off, scrambling to grab the black and white mask that had been tossed carelessly to the floor in the heat of the moment. you followed suit, adrenaline surging through your veins as you hurried to pull on whatever clothes you could find scattered around the room. “we need to get out of here,” you urged him, your voice tight with urgency as you stumbled over to the window, throwing it open. the cool night air rushed in, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room, making you shiver as you glanced back at him.

taehyung was already folding the mask into the black cloak, his movements quick and efficient despite the tremor in his hands. he looked up at you, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something else—something darker, more determined. “they can’t catch us,” he said, his voice low but firm as he stepped over to you, the cloak bundled in his arms. you nodded, swallowing hard as you glanced out the window, assessing the drop to the ground below. it wasn’t too high, but with the sirens growing louder by the second, it might as well have been a cliff.

“go,” you urged him again, your voice cracking with the weight of the situation. “i’ll be right behind you.” he didn’t need any more convincing. he hoisted himself up onto the windowsill, his movements fluid and practiced as he glanced back at you one last time, a flicker of something passing between you—a silent understanding, a promise.

and then he was gone, dropping down from the window, landing with a soft thud on the grass below. you wasted no time, clambering up onto the sill, your heart in your throat as you took one last look at the bedroom, at the scene you were leaving behind. you dropped down beside him, the impact jarring your legs, but you pushed through the discomfort, the fear driving you forward. he grabbed your hand the moment you landed, his grip firm and reassuring as he pulled you along, his pace quickening with each step.

you didn’t dare look back, the sound of the sirens now deafening, the flashing lights illuminating the surrounding trees as you ran. the world blurred around you, your focus narrowing to the path ahead, to the way taehyung’s hand fit so perfectly in yours, pulling you along, guiding you through the darkness. your lungs burned, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you pushed yourself harder, faster, refusing to slow down, to let the fear catch up to you. the night air was cold against your skin, the chill biting at your exposed flesh, but you didn’t care. all that mattered was getting away, putting as much distance between you and the house as possible.

his hands were shaking as he fumbled with the keys, the metal clinking ominously in the quiet of the night. your breath came in sharp, panicked bursts as you watched him struggle, the weight of your recent escape pressing heavily upon you. the police sirens had long since faded, but the tension remained, a palpable reminder of the chaos you had just fled.

he finally managed to get the key into the lock, but as he turned it, the door refused to budge. the sound of the bolt sliding back met with a soft click, and you could see the glow of light from within spilling out into the darkness. the door was locked, but the lights were on, a strange contradiction that only heightened the sense of unease swirling around you. his breath hitched, a mix of frustration and apprehension etched onto his face. he pushed against the door, his shoulder braced against it, and it swung open with a reluctant groan. the living room was illuminated, casting long shadows against the walls, and there, sprawled casually on the couch, was kai.

the sight of him froze you both in place. taehyung’s face was a mask of shock and confusion, and you felt a chill creep up your spine. kai’s manic grin was unmistakable, but there was a frenetic edge to it that sent a shiver down your back. he looked up at you both, his eyes wild and unblinking, a frenzied energy crackling around him.

“hey,” he said, his voice high-pitched, almost giddy. “just had a question. been nagging me the last three hours.”

the silence was oppressive, a heavy blanket that seemed to suffocate the room. kai’s eyes darted between you and taehyung, the intensity of his gaze sharpening as he continued, “which one of you killed my girlfriend?”

the words hung in the air like a thick fog, each syllable punctuated by a dreadful silence. your heart pounded in your chest as kai’s eyes fell on the cloak in taehyung’s hands. his laughter erupted suddenly, a jarring, discordant sound that had no trace of humor in it. “it couldn’t have been you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with a twisted sort of amusement. “no, it had to be her.”

his gaze turned toward you, darkening with malice. “you just had to, didn’t you?” you met his eyes with a steady resolve, stepping forward as you replied, “she had it coming.”

kai’s manic energy seemed to intensify, his movements erratic as he continued, “no, no, see, there’s a big difference. when i came to your place and fucked you over, you didn’t think for a second that it was me, did you?”

the revelation hit like a punch to the gut, leaving both you and taehyung stunned into silence. the room seemed to spin, the enormity of his words reverberating through you, punctuated only by his cackles that seemed to grow more unhinged with each passing second. “it’s a shame it had to end like this,” kai said, a dark satisfaction in his voice as he began to reach for his gun, his movements slow but deliberate.

without a moment’s hesitation, you drew your own pistol, the cold metal weight steady in your hand. the sharp report of the gunshot shattered the air, and his body lurched backward, the impact of the bullet slamming into his chest. he staggered, falling to the floor with a ragged gasp, his eyes wide with shock and pain. as he struggled, gasping for breath, you walked over to him with a calm, purposeful stride. his hand reached for his own gun, but you were quicker. you kicked it away, the weapon skidding across the floor, and then you knelt beside him, the barrel of your pistol still warm from the recent discharge.

“didn’t think for a second that i was armed too, did you?” you said, your voice low, almost mocking.

his eyes burned with anger and desperation, his mouth moving in a silent snarl as he reached out, his hand clawing at the floor. his breaths came in ragged, painful gasps, and you could see the life slipping from his eyes, a flicker of defiance lingering until the very end.

“you,” he managed to rasp, his voice barely a whisper now, filled with rage and betrayal. but the words were his last, the fire in his eyes fading to a cold, empty stare as the life drained from him. before he was gone, you leaned in closer, your gaze meeting his with a steely resolve. “say hi to jennie for us,” you said, your voice steady and unyielding.

hia eyes, still burning with that final spark of fury, locked onto you for one last, lingering moment before they went vacant. the struggle ceased, his body going limp, his anger dissipating into the silence of the room. you stood up slowly, your heart still pounding but with a different rhythm now, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. taehyung moved closer, his hand resting on your back in a gesture of support and reassurance. the room was eerily quiet now, the chaos of the night giving way to a stillness that felt almost oppressive in its finality.

taehyung’s eyes were wide with uncertainty, a mix of shock and confusion etching deep lines into his features as he stared at the lifeless form of kai. he swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly as he asked, “what do we do now?”

you took a moment, your mind racing through the aftermath of the night’s harrowing events. the weight of what had just happened pressed heavily upon you, and in the eerie stillness of the room, clarity emerged from the chaos. “call the cops,” you finally said, your voice firm and resolute. taehyung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his shock evident. “call the cops?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone.

you nodded, tucking your gun away into the waistband of your jeans, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you covered it with your shirt. you moved with purpose, taking the cloak and mask from taehyung and placing the mask carefully next to kai’s head. the sight was almost surreal—a stark reminder of the roles you’d all played in this deadly game.

he hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen as he dialed the emergency number. “hello,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “there’s been an incident at my house. the killer was here, and my girlfriend shot him with his own gun.” he paused, listening intently as he relayed the details of the situation. after a brief exchange, he ended the call and turned back to you, his expression one of cautious resolve.

together, you both moved to dress kai in the cloak. the fabric was heavy, its dark color a stark contrast against the cold, pale skin of the deceased. taehyung’s movements were methodical, almost reverent, as he helped you fold the cloak around his body. the finality of the act was palpable, a grim reminder of the life that had been extinguished.

once he was dressed, you met taehyung’s gaze. there was a complex blend of relief and pride in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the darkness you both had been complicit in. “we did it,” he said softly, a faint, bittersweet smile curving his lips. in response, you reached up and kissed him, the touch of your lips against his both comforting and electric. the kiss was filled with unspoken words, a fleeting moment of intimacy amidst the turmoil.

the sound of sirens pierced through the quiet, growing louder as they approached. the flashing lights of the police cars bathed the exterior of the house in a strobe of red and blue, casting eerie shadows on the walls. you and taehyung stepped outside to meet the officers, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily around you.

the cops moved swiftly, their professional demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos of the scene. they began by cordoning off the area, their voices authoritative as they directed one another. dorensics teams arrived, meticulously documenting the scene and examining kai’s body. the whole process felt like a surreal blur, the activity around you a stark contrast to the calm, unsettling stillness of the night before.

as the investigation unfolded, it was clear that the narrative being pieced together was one of self-defense. the officers and detectives, with their experience and training, quickly determined that kai had been the aggressor, and your actions had been in response to his threat. the cloak and mask beside him were interpreted as part of the killer’s disguise, lending further credence to the story that you had acted to protect yourself.

the official statement from the police was that kai had been the killer all this time, and your shooting him had been justified under the circumstances. you and taehyung were presented to the town as heroes—brave individuals who had faced down a menace and emerged victorious. the accolades were swift and fervent, with the local news and community rallying around you both. yet, beneath the veneer of heroism, a darker truth lingered unspoken. the town’s relief and gratitude masked the reality that you and taehyung had not simply acted in self-defense but had been players in a deadly game that had claimed more than its share of lives. the false sense of safety you projected contrasted sharply with the cold reality of the truth you both carried within.

in the aftermath, as you and taehyung stood side by side, the echoes of that night—the fear, the violence, the blood—remained with you. the town might have seen you as heroes, but you both knew the reality was far more complicated, a shadow that clung to you as you faced the new day with a somber understanding of the darkness that had driven you to this point.

✧.*

a/n: im ngl i was gonna kill taehyung off im being way too nice

under the moon (달 아래) — kim namjoon (김남준)

this is part two, part one can be found here

✧.* 18+

the moment you bolted from the palace, the weight of what had just transpired pressed heavily on your chest, propelling your legs to move faster. your breath came in ragged gasps as you dashed through the corridors and out into the open, the grandiose walls of the palace growing smaller in the distance. each step you took felt like a desperate plea to escape the nightmare that was now your reality. the announcement that king taejo intended to make you his wife had echoed in your mind like a cruel taunt, and you could hardly breathe under the suffocating thought.

as the grand gates of the palace loomed ahead, your legs burned with exhaustion, but you couldn't stop. you wouldn't stop. not until you reached hansol. not until you found safety. the only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between you and the throne room as possible. the cool night air stung your lungs, the world around you a blur of shadow and dim lantern light as you sprinted through the palace grounds.

news of the marriage swept through the palace like wildfire, sparking outrage, disbelief, and determination in equal measure among the princes. hansol was the first to react, eyes wide with shock as he blurted out, “is it true? this can’t be happening.” his voice wavered with a mix of denial and fear, the thought of you being taken away by the king unbearable to him.

baekhyun, his eyes distraught and panicked, whined, “there must be a mistake! something has to be done!” his usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by genuine concern. daniel furrowed his brows, his expression darkening with anger. “we need to act,” he muttered, his voice low but resolute. “we can’t just stand by and let this happen.”

across the room, chaehee let out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “this is none of our concern,” he sneered, dismissing the growing tension among his brothers. his words were like a slap to the face, cold and unfeeling. but before anyone could react, hansol snapped, “shut up, chaehee,” the force of his words stunned everyone into silence. even chaehee himself was left speechless, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother with newfound wariness.

hansol, breathing heavily, looked around at his brothers, his eyes burning with determination. “we’re going to save her,” he declared, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “no matter what it takes.” the room was still, the air thick with the weight of his words. one by one, the other princes nodded, their resolve hardening. they had made their decision. they would not let the king have his way. not this time.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the urgency in your every movement. you couldn’t let this happen. you couldn’t let king taejo take you, bind you to him in a way that would forever benefit him, yet imprison you. as you ran, a silent prayer formed on your lips, begging for someone—anyone—to stop this.

suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air, the thunderous rhythm sending a jolt of terror down your spine. you glanced over your shoulder, fear gripping you tightly as you saw the figure approaching rapidly on horseback. for a moment, you feared it was one of the king’s guards sent to drag you back to your fate. but as the rider came closer, the familiar face of namjoon materialized out of the darkness, his expression hard as steel. “get on,” he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

you stumbled to a halt, your breath catching as you stared up at him, wide-eyed. the shock of seeing him, of all people, froze you in place. “i’m not marrying the king,” you stammered, panic threading through your voice. namjoon scoffed, his gaze flicking back toward the palace, where the looming threat of pursuit seemed imminent. “i know,” he replied, the words clipped. “now get on, unless you want to marry him.”

his words cut through your fear, snapping you out of your hesitation. you knew he was right; you couldn’t stay here, couldn’t risk being caught. with trembling hands, you reached out and grasped his arm, letting him pull you up onto the horse behind him. as soon as you were settled, namjoon spurred the horse forward, the animal lunging into a full gallop that sent the world around you racing by in a blur.

the wind whipped against your face, tears springing to your eyes as you clung to namjoon’s waist. the forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was a welcome sight—anything was better than the palace, than the nightmare waiting for you there.

but your relief was short-lived. the distant sound of more horses pounding the earth reached your ears, and when you turned to look, your heart leaped into your throat. hansol, baekhyun, daniel, and younghyun were chasing after you, their horses closing the distance with every passing second. you could see the determination etched on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. namjoon noticed them too, and with a sharp command, he urged his horse to go faster, the beast pushing itself to its limits. but hansol was relentless, his horse surging ahead until he was neck and neck with namjoon.

“give her to me!” hansol shouted over the roar of the wind, his voice laced with both authority and concern. namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the reins tightening. “what makes you think i’ll do that?” he shot back, his voice cold.

hansol’s gaze burned with intensity as he locked eyes with namjoon. “because she doesn’t belong to you,” he replied, the words heavy with meaning. the silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. you could feel the weight of their standoff, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air. but before anything more could be said, the sound of more horses filled the night, and you turned to see the king’s guards closing in, led by jisoo.

your heart sank at the sight of the soldiers, their faces set with grim determination. jisoo rode at the front, a wooden contraption strapped to the back of his horse—a box. you knew what it was for, and dread curled in your stomach. “come with us,” jisoo called out, his tone authoritative. “king’s orders.”

namjoon’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing as he prepared to fight. “she’s not going anywhere,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. but you saw the reality of the situation, the hopelessness of it all. the thought of all the princes getting in trouble, of them suffering because of you, was too much to bear. you couldn’t let that happen. with a heavy sigh, you made a decision.

“i’ll be okay,” you said quietly, the words catching in your throat as you slid off namjoon’s horse. “no,” namjoon protested, his hand reaching out to stop you. “don’t do this.”

you forced a small smile, though your heart ached. “i’ll be fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing. “it’s better this way.”

hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, his hand twitching as if he wanted to pull you back onto the horse. “you don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice strained. you shook your head, your resolve firm. “i do,” you replied softly, stepping away from them. “i won’t let any of you get hurt because of me.”

the disappointment and worry in their eyes were like daggers to your heart, but you knew this was the only way. you couldn’t risk their safety—not for anything. with slow, reluctant steps, you approached the box, the guards flanking you on either side. you glanced back one last time, meeting namjoon’s gaze, then hansol’s. the pain in their eyes mirrored your own.

as the guards lifted you into the box, jisoo’s voice cut through the air, a solemn promise in his tone. “she’ll be fine,” he assured them. “i’ll make sure of it.” the box door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in your heart as the darkness enveloped you. the sound of the guards’ horses moving away signaled the end of your brief escape, the end of your hope. and as the box jostled and bumped on its journey back to the palace, you could only pray that somehow, someway, this nightmare would end.

the palace seemed like a different world as you were ushered inside. your mind swirled in disbelief and fear, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. the court ladies, their faces masked with practiced neutrality, led you to a room adorned with ornate silks and lacquered wood. you felt as though you were moving through a nightmare, each step heavier than the last.

they seated you on a cushioned stool, their hands moving with a mechanical efficiency as they began to undo the fastenings of your dress. “please, just sit still,” one of them said, her tone more of an order than a request. “what are you doing?” you whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of dread and defiance. “i don’t want this, i don’t want any of this.”

the ladies exchanged glances before one of them spoke, her voice cold and detached. “we must examine your body for any scars. nobody with scars can marry the king.” panic surged through you, and you tried to push their hands away. “stop it! i said no!”

but your protests were ignored. they grew more insistent, their hands rougher as they forced your garments off, layer by layer, until you were left bare and shivering. You whimpered, helpless under their unyielding grip, your dignity stripped away along with your clothing. their eyes swept over you, clinical and impersonal, as if you were nothing more than an object to be inspected. tears slipped down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as the humiliation tore through you. you were powerless to stop them, and it felt as though a part of you had been torn away, never to be returned.

after what felt like an eternity, they finally seemed satisfied that your skin was unmarked. the realization that your body had passed their cruel inspection brought no relief, only a deepening sense of despair. they dressed you next, their hands just as brisk and efficient as before, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face. you were adorned in the traditional wedding attire—a vibrant, intricately woven hanbok, its bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness you felt inside. the fabric was heavy, suffocating, as they tied the last ribbons in place. they pulled your hair back, weaving it into an elaborate style that felt too tight, too restricting.

you were barely able to see through the veil of your own tears, but they paid no mind. to them, you were just another duty, another task to be completed. they adjusted the final touches on your face, the paint smearing as it mixed with your tears, but they ignored it, pretending not to notice your distress. finally, they stepped back, their work complete, and motioned for you to leave. your legs felt like lead as you rose from the stool, the weight of the garments and the situation bearing down on you. as you moved down the corridor, the air around you thickened with a suffocating sense of inevitability.

the hall stretched out before you, long and oppressive, each step forward bringing you closer to a fate you did not want to accept. you felt so young, too young to be forced into something like this. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a desperate plea to escape. as you reached the midpoint of the hall, you saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows. namjoon. your breath caught in your throat, a spark of hope flickering within you, only to be quickly doused by the reality of your situation.

“don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and urgent. his eyes bore into yours, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own. you shook your head, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. “i have to,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to maintain your composure. “i don’t have a choice.”

before namjoon could respond, the king appeared beside him, his presence commanding and suffocating. “are you ready?” king taejo asked, his voice steady and authoritative, as though this was just another routine matter to be settled. you met the king’s gaze, the weight of your impending fate pressing down on you from all sides. you nodded, your voice barely audible as you responded, “yes, your majesty.”

but even as the words left your lips, something within you snapped. desperation took hold, a final surge of defiance rising from the depths of your being. you turned abruptly to the small table beside you, your eyes locking onto the delicate vase that rested there. without a second thought, you seized the vase and smashed it against the edge of the table, the shattering sound echoing through the hall like the cry of your breaking spirit. the shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, but your hand reached down with a singular purpose.

the sharp edge of the broken vase gleamed in your hand as you brought it up to your wrist. time seemed to slow as you pressed it into your skin, the pain slicing through your thoughts like lightning. blood welled up, red and stark against the white porcelain and your pale skin.

“stop!” hansol’s voice rang out from behind you, filled with horror, but it was too late. your vision blurred as the blood flowed, your body swaying as the strength drained from you. you heard namjoon call your name, his voice distant and desperate, but everything was fading fast. the world around you dimmed, the sounds of the palace growing faint as you slipped into darkness. the last thing you felt was the coldness of the floor as your body collapsed, and then, nothing.

you woke to a hazy, throbbing sensation in your head, the disorienting jumble of noise and light mixing together. as your consciousness slowly sharpened, you became aware of a heavy, comforting presence beside you. you turned your head, your vision still blurry, and saw hansol sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen, his expression a mix of sorrow and relief. the room was lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows across the walls. you could feel the warmth of the bed beneath you, the soft texture of the sheets brushing against your skin. your wrist, bandaged tightly, throbbed with a dull ache—a stark reminder of your desperate act.

hansol’s face, though tear-streaked and weary, was the first thing you clearly saw as your vision cleared. he looked at you with a blank, almost defeated expression, as though the events of the past hours had drained all the life from him. his eyes were full of unshed tears, and his gaze, though filled with concern, was tinged with an almost resigned sadness. you attempted to lift your head, but a wave of dizziness made you settle back into the pillows. weakly, you asked, “is the marriage stopped?”

hansol's eyes filled with fresh tears at your question. without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a fervent desperation that spoke volumes. his hold was firm, as though he was afraid you might disappear again. the warmth of his body against yours was a balm to your wounded spirit. he nodded into your hair, his voice muffled but earnest. “yes, it’s stopped. never do that again,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

you could only manage a soft sob against his shoulder, your tears mingling with his. you hugged him back, the raw comfort of the embrace a balm for the deep despair that had taken root in your heart. jis words—desperate, pained—were a stark reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. “i thought i’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice heavy with relief and sorrow. “please, never do that again.”

you whispered a shaky promise, your voice barely audible. “i won’t. i promise.” hansol’s hold on you tightened briefly before he pulled back slightly, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. he looked at you with a solemn expression and said, “you’ll be working as a court lady in the palace. that’s your punishment.”

you nodded weakly, accepting the judgment. the prospect of working as a court lady felt like a small price to pay compared to the chaos you had narrowly escaped. you weren’t sure what the future held, but it seemed like a less bitter pill to swallow than the marriage you had so desperately sought to avoid. as you stepped out of the palace’s maiden room, you caught sight of namjoon standing nearby, his figure silhouetted against the corridor’s light. the sight of him sent a jolt of mixed emotions through you. he looked as though he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

you remained silent as he approached, your gaze dropping to the floor. namjoon’s face was stern, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes as he reached out and took your bandaged wrist in his hand. the touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, as though he was trying to steady himself in the face of his own emotions.

“how could you be so stupid?” he asked, his voice a blend of exasperation and genuine worry. the words were harsh, but there was an underlying tenderness that belied his stern tone. you looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “i wasn’t going to marry against my will.”

namjoon’s brow furrowed as he looked at the scarred skin beneath the bandages. “you’ve scarred your body for no good reason,” he said, a trace of frustration seeping through. you managed a faint, weary smile. “the scar looks better on you than on me.”

for a brief moment, namjoon’s stern expression softened. he offered you a weak, almost apologetic smile before patting your head gently. the gesture was unexpectedly comforting, a rare show of affection amidst the chaos. without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you with the faint warmth of his touch lingering on your head. as you watched him disappear down the corridor, you felt a profound sense of exhaustion, but also a flicker of hope.

in the heart of the palace, where the corridors were as grand as they were intimidating, you began your new role as a court lady. your days were filled with endless tasks, each one a reminder of your fall from the privileged world you once knew. lady jeon, your assigned mentor, was a woman of formidable presence and a reputation for cruelty. her sharp eyes missed nothing, and her standards were unyielding.

from the moment you stepped into her care, you felt her scrutiny. the first task she set before you was an assortment of menial duties—dusting ornate vases, arranging fresh flowers, and meticulously organizing the shelves of her chamber. every mistake was met with her disapproving gaze and a cruel punishment: stacking books on your head. the tomes were heavy and cumbersome, their pages rustling as they were added one after another. if you faltered or misplaced an item, you were forced to balance an ever-increasing stack, adding to the strain and frustration.

one day, lady jeon’s sharp eyes widened in surprise as you began crafting a bar of soap. her initial skepticism was evident as you mixed lye with fat and various herbs. she watched with a mixture of fascination and suspicion as you worked. you explained the process in detail, your hands skillfully moving to blend the ingredients. “this is soap,” you said, holding up the resulting mixture for her inspection. “it’s used for cleaning and has healing properties.”

her gaze was critical. “soap? what makes you think this will be of any use in the palace? and why should i believe you know what you’re doing?” you tried to ignore her tone and continued, though each mistake led to a new round of book-stacking. the heavy volumes pressed against your neck and shoulders as you wobbled under their weight, but you persevered. each error only drove you to refine your craft further, driven by the desire to prove yourself.

your routine, however, took a sudden turn when you heard frantic cries coming from crown prince taehyung’s quarters. without thinking, you ran toward the commotion. as you burst into the room, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of taehyung’s blotched skin. the rumors about his illness were true—he was afflicted with a severe rash, and he was about to immerse himself in a tub of cold water.

“stop!” you shouted, rushing to him and trying to pry the jug from his hands. “don’t use cold water. it’ll make the itching worse!”

taehyung’s eyes widened with shock and anger. “how dare you come in here? you’re not supposed to know about this!” he snapped, pushing you away. you landed on the floor, but you quickly scrambled to your feet. ignoring the pain, you called out, “please, don’t use cold water. It will aggravate the rash. warm water with peppermint leaves will soothe it.”

as you spoke, you noticed taehyung’s hesitance. he watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as you instructed another court lady to fetch a bucket of warm water and peppermint leaves. you worked swiftly, applying the warm solution to his inflamed skin, explaining as you went, “peppermint has soothing properties. it’ll help reduce the itching and inflammation.”

before you could finish, lady keon stormed into the room, her face a mask of horror. “what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp with authority. “how dare you touch the crown prince!” taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but lady jeon was quick to intervene. she grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the room, her grip unyielding. “you’ve overstepped your bounds,” she snapped. “your punishment will be severe.”

back in her chamber, you were once again subjected to the cruel task of balancing books on your head. the punishment was even harsher this time, as lady jeon observed with a harsh, unyielding gaze. as you struggled to maintain your balance, she sat across from you, eating a simple meal of plain rice porridge. she finally broke the silence. “how did you know that peppermint would help?”

you looked up, your voice barely above a whisper. “my grandfather had the same issue. i learned what helped him.”

lady jeon’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she was silent. she continued to eat, her movements methodical and slow. “lady jeon, why is it that you only eat rice poridge?” you asked, noting her grim expression. her expression remained stoic as she locked eyes with you, “i'm dying,” two words, simple enough to be spoken so lightly, yet enough to make your stomach dropped.

you coughed, trying to make sense of the overwhelming silence as you mustered up your next question. “why do you hate me so much?” you asked weakly, the heavy books pressing against your frail wrists.

the question seemed to strike a chord. lady jeon slammed her spoon down onto the table, the clatter echoing in the room. “because,” she said, her voice harsh and tinged with bitterness, “you remind me of myself.” her gaze hardened, and she continued, “you’re too damn nice and too trusting. it’s a weakness in this world, and i hate seeing it in you.”

the revelation stunned you. the cruelty you faced, the harshness of her punishments—it all made a grim sort of sense now. lady jeon’s cruelty was not just a reflection of her own frustrations but a defense against her own vulnerabilities. as the minutes passed and the evening wore on, you were left alone with your thoughts, the sting of her words and the weight of your punishment settling heavily on you. the palace had become a battleground of emotions and expectations, and you were left to navigate its treacherous terrain.

the silence of the palace courtyard was abruptly shattered by screams that pierced through the tranquil atmosphere. the sudden, jarring sounds echoed through the stone corridors, causing you to jump in surprise. your heart raced as you exchanged a worried glance with lady jeon, her stern demeanor momentarily softening.

you both hurried outside, your footsteps quick and light on the cold marble. as you reached the courtyard, the scene that unfolded before you was both shocking and horrifying. chaeyeon, one of the palace aides, was being whipped mercilessly by princess seulgi. the sound of the whip cracking against her back was almost unbearable, and chaeyeon's cries of pain cut through the air like a knife.

“what’s happening?” you asked in a voice trembling with fear and disbelief. seulgi, her expression cold and unyielding, barely glanced at you as she continued her punishment. “she was caught stealing from the Fourth Prince,” seulgi responded dismissively, holding up a small, ornate hairpin. the metal glinted menacingly in the sunlight, and your heart sank as you recognized it.

the hairpin was one you had asked chaeyeon to return discreetly. it had belonged to Namjoon, dropped in the bath during a moment of chaos. realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a surge of guilt and desperation.

“stop it,” you practically snapped, rushing toward them. “please, stop this. chaeyeon was just following my instructions to return the hairpin. it was my fault, not hers.” chaeyeon’s eyes were wide with fear and gratitude as she looked at you. “please, don’t,” she begged, her voice barely audible over the whipping. “it’s not her fault. i did it.”

ignoring the pleas, you turned back to seulgi, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat. “it was my mistake. if anyone should be punished, it should be me. please, whip me instead.” seulgi’s gaze narrowed as she considered your offer, a flicker of interest lighting up her cold eyes. with a sneer, she let chaeyeon go, the whip still crackling in her hand. “very well,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. “since you’re so eager to take her place.”

before you could react, seulgi was already tying your hands to the same wooden pole. the rough ropes dug into your skin as she secured them, and your heart pounded in your chest. the anticipation of the impending pain was almost as torturous as the pain itself. seulgi’s eyes were cold and calculating as she prepared to strike.

to the side, you noticed the tense figures of baekhyun, daniel, and hansol. their faces were etched with concern and distress. baekhyun’s eyes were wide with alarm, and he took a step forward, but jisoo restrained him with a firm grip. hansol’s face was a mask of grim determination, his fists clenched at his sides. “seulgi, stop this,” hansol’s voice rang out, strained and desperate. “this isn’t right.”

seulgi’s lips curled into a scornful smile as she raised her hand to crack the whip once more. “why should i listen to you? she chose this herself.” as the whip began its descent, you braced yourself for the searing pain. the crack of the whip was deafening, and the sting of the leather against your back was a sharp, biting sensation. the pain was immediate and intense, but before the next strike could land, a hand shot out and stopped seulgi’s arm mid-air.

seulgi looked up, her eyes narrowing with surprise and irritation. standing before her was namjoon, his face a mask of unyielding authority. “that’s enough,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. he stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate respect and silence. seulgi’s eyes widened in shock as namjoon approached you. without a word, he untied the ropes binding your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle against the raw skin. “what are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice tinged with irritation. “this is not your concern.”

namjoon’s gaze was fixed on you, his expression a complex mixture of anger and protectiveness. “she’s mine,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “no one else can lay a finger on her.”

hansol’s face contorted in a grimace, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and frustration. the tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear, anger, and helplessness. seulgi’s scowl deepened as she took a step back, her demeanor one of begrudging acceptance. you felt a mix of emotions as namjoon’s gaze softened slightly, though the intensity of the moment was far from over. you stood there, your back stinging from the whip’s lash, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with lingering dread.

baekhyun’s quarters were a curious blend of regal opulence and childlike whimsy, filled with an assortment of traditional toys that seemed almost out of place among the luxurious furnishings. as you followed him inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful collection scattered about. wooden spinning tops painted with vibrant designs, intricately carved wooden animals, and delicate paper kites, their strings neatly coiled, lay spread across a large, intricately woven rug.

he picked up a small, intricately crafted wooden horse, its legs jointed to allow for movement. with a soft, nostalgic smile, he began to demonstrate how it could gallop across the floor. “this one was made by a craftsman from the western region,” he said proudly, his eyes lighting up with fondness. “it’s one of my favorites.”

you watched with interest as he moved from toy to toy, each piece revealing a glimpse of his more youthful side. he showed you a set of spinning tops, their colors creating a mesmerizing blur as he spun them on the floor. “and this,” he said, holding up a wooden top with a painted dragon, “is a game my family used to play during festivals.”

as he enthusiastically displayed his collection, you couldn’t help but ask, “why are you so intent on showing me these?”

baekhyun’s smile faltered, and his brow furrowed as he set down the toys. he looked at you with a mixture of vulnerability and sadness. “no girl has ever treated me like you,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a sadness that was almost palpable.

you laughed softly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. before you could respond further, jisoo entered the room, his expression serious and formal. the atmosphere shifted instantly, and you quickly stood, bowing in respect as jisoo approached. his gaze swept over both of you, and he cleared his throat. “i have an announcement,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of official duty.

baekhyun’s face brightened momentarily, but his smile faltered when he heard jisoo’s next words. “his majesty has decreed that you are to be married.”

the words seemed to hit Baekhyun like a physical blow. “married?” he protested, his voice cracking with disbelief. “but why? to whom? i—” jisoo cut him off with a firm nod. “it’s the king’s orders. the decision is final.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

the impact of the news was immediate and overwhelming. baekhyun stood there, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the announcement had physically crushed him. his face was a mask of anguish and confusion. you moved closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “it’s going to be alright,” you said softly, though you were unsure of how to truly comfort him. “whoever the girl is, she’ll be lucky to have you.”

baekhyun’s eyes met yours, a mixture of pain and desperation evident in his gaze. “i can’t love her,” he said quietly, the words heavy with resignation. “i don’t even know who she is. how can i just accept this?”

you sighed, feeling the depth of his distress. “you have to pull through,” you said gently. “you’re a kind person, and you’ll find a way to make it work. besides, i’m sure the girl will see the good in you.”

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of hope mingled with sadness. “why won’t you marry me instead?” he asked suddenly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and despair. the question caught you off guard. “i don’t want to be a second wife,” you said softly, though you could sense his disappointment even before he voiced it.

baekhyun’s face fell, and he shook his head slowly. “you’re a mean liar,” he said with a forced smile. “you wouldn’t even be my first wife.”

before he could say more, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. the gesture surprised him, and he stiffened for a moment before sinking into the embrace. his heart ached with a profound sense of loss as he felt your warmth and sincerity envelop him. the hug was a silent comfort, a brief respite from the turmoil that had overtaken his life. You held him close, your own heart aching for the sadness he felt. the tears you had both tried to hold back now fell freely, mingling with the unspoken words and emotions that filled the space between you.

the grand hall was awash with opulence, filled with the clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation as the royal family and their guests gathered to celebrate baekhyun’s wedding. you moved among the crowd with practiced grace, balancing a tray of tea cups as you served the guests. the air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and the rich aroma of the tea.

baekhyun sat at the head table, his expression a mix of strained formality and discomfort. next to him, his new wife, kim taeyeon, attempted to mask her anxiety behind a delicate smile. jiyoung approached baekhyun with a sickly warm smile. “how do you feel about the wedding, baekhyun?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal concern.

baekhyun’s scowl was immediate and pronounced. “i don’t like it,” he replied bluntly, his eyes darting around as though searching for an escape. his honesty seemed to catch taeyeon off guard, and she frowned, her eyes darting to her husband with a mix of confusion and hurt. king taejo, seated at the center of the head table, patted baekhyun on the shoulder with an air of paternal authority. “you’ll get used to it,” he said reassuringly, though his words lacked the comfort baekhyun likely needed.

princess seulgi, her expression somewhat aloof, leaned towards taeyeon. “you’re a lucky woman,” she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of condescension. taeyeon forced a smile in response, though her eyes betrayed her unease. as you moved to serve tea to namjoon, you locked eyes with him across the room. his gaze was steady, but something in his posture struck you as unusual. as you approached, you noticed a shiver wracking his frame. you tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was beginning to grow within you.

when you poured tea into his cup, a chilling sight met your eyes. namjoon’s lips were stained with a dark, crimson blood that was beginning to drip down his chin. panic surged through you, and you let out a sharp scream, the sound piercing through the otherwise composed atmosphere of the hall.

the commotion erupted suddenly. at the same moment, king taejo’s body slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a sickening thud. the room erupted into chaos. the guests scrambled, their screams blending into a cacophony of horror. the princes rushed to their father, their faces contorted in anguish as they tried to revive him. namjoon’s condition deteriorated rapidly, and Jisoo rushed to his side, barking orders for medical assistance. his face was pale, and he looked grave as he examined the king. the royal guards were quick to intervene, ushering the panicked crowd away from the scene.

jisoo’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and unyielding. “the king’s pulse is weak,” he announced, his tone flat as he looked up at the assembled crowd. “it appears he was poisoned.” the room fell into stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. your heart raced, and you turned to fetch your medicine, hoping to find a remedy or at least offer some aid. but before you could take a step, jisoo’s hand shot out to stop you. his expression was a mix of authority and cold detachment.

“stop right there,” he said firmly. “you’re under arrest for the attempted murders of king taejo and kim namjoon.”

your blood ran cold as the words hit you. “what? no, that’s impossible!” you protested, your voice trembling with disbelief. “i didn’t do anything!”

guards surged forward, their expressions stern and unyielding. they seized you roughly, dragging you away from the scene. you struggled against their grip, your pleas for justice echoing through the hall. “i swear, i didn’t do this! i was just serving tea!” the guards paid no heed to your protests, and you were forced into the cold, oppressive darkness of an underground chamber. the walls were damp and echoing with the sounds of dripping water. the chamber was stark and barren, a heavy iron door clanging shut behind you with a deafening noise.

you sank to the floor, the weight of the accusations pressing down on you. tears streamed down your face as you grappled with the enormity of the situation. the betrayal, the confusion, and the fear all swirled together, leaving you feeling lost and helpless in the unforgiving darkness.

in the room of the royal palace, the atmosphere was charged with tension and desperation. hansol and daniel, their faces etched with worry and frustration, were pacing the floor in the king’s chamber. king taejo lay propped up in his bed, his pallid face a stark contrast to the rich, regal fabrics draped around him. his condition was grave, and the room was filled with the faint, oppressive scent of illness.

“your majesty,” hansol began, his voice trembling slightly as he approached the bed, “we have reason to believe that nabi is innocent. the evidence against her is false.” king taejo's eyes, heavy with the weight of impending death, flickered with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. “there was poison found in her room,” he replied, his voice raspy and weak. “it’s clear she was involved.”

“but we have witnesses,” daniel interjected urgently, stepping forward. “we’ve spoken to several people who can attest to her innocence.” the king's gaze remained unyielding, a cold resolve in his eyes. “it does not change the fact that poison was found, nor does it alter my decision. she will be hanged.”

the finality of his statement struck hansol and daniel like a physical blow. hansol’s face turned ashen, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “you can’t do this!” he protested. “we have to find out the truth!” daniel’s eyes were pleading, but the king’s resolve remained unshaken. “it is done,” king taejo said, turning his head away dismissively.

in your cell, the heavy silence was only broken by the occasional drip of water from the stone walls. you were bruised from the guards’ rough handling, your limbs aching from the beatings. the cold, unforgiving darkness of the cell seemed to press in on you from all sides, making your isolation feel even more profound. suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. your heart leaped with a mix of hope and apprehension. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped into the dimly lit cell. his eyes were filled with a fierce determination as he approached.

“i didn’t do it,” you said weakly, looking up at him with a pleading expression. “i swear, i didn’t.” namjoon’s expression softened slightly, though his face remained stern. “i know,” he said quietly. “i’ll find out who really did this. you have my word.” with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the cell. you watched him go, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst your despair. namjoon’s resolve was a small beacon of light in your otherwise dark world.

that night, namjoon kept watch from the shadows, his gaze fixed on the maiden’s quarters. his keen eyes caught sight of a cloaked figure slipping stealthily from the building. without hesitation, he moved to intercept, drawing his sword with a practiced, fluid motion. “stop right there,” he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. the figure paused, slowly turning to reveal a face shrouded in darkness. namjoon’s sword remained at the ready as he advanced, his eyes narrowing.

just then, another cloaked figure emerged from the shadows across from them. namjoon’s suspicion deepened. “both of you, show yourselves,” he ordered. “give it up now, and i might let you live.”

the first figure revealed herself as jiyoung, her face set in a smug expression. the second figure, emerging from the cloak’s folds, was seulgi. her smile was equally self-satisfied, and together, their presence was a shocking revelation.

in the king’s chamber, the atmosphere was somber. lady jeon entered with a tray of tea, her movements deliberate and controlled. king taejo’s eyes, now dimming with the weight of his impending death, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and resignation. “are you happy to see me die?” the king asked, his voice barely a whisper.

lady jeon’s gaze was unwavering. “i could never hate you,” she replied, her tone soft yet tinged with a hint of bitterness. “i loved you once.”

the king’s eyes widened slightly. “you’re speaking of the past. it was many years ago.” lady jeon nodded. “i miscarried, and you married jiyoung instead. it was a heartbreak i could never overcome.”

the king’s face grew somber. “what is it you want from me now?”

lady jeon’s eyes hardened with a resolute fire. “i have one wish before you go. i was the one who put poison in the tea. i want to be hanged for my crime, and I want nabi to be spared.”

king taejo’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “you’re lying. there’s no evidence of your guilt.”

lady jeon’s voice was firm, though she kept a calm exterior. “it’s true. the poison was in the tea i served to you and the fourth prince.” she then produced a vial, its contents a dark, ominous liquid. “i ask to be hanged and for nabi to be released.”

the king’s gaze flickered between lady jeon and the vial. “very well,” he said, though his voice carried an air of finality. “call the guards.”

she smiled bitterly. “i’ll see you very soon, your majesty.”

as the heavy iron door of your cell creaked open, you were met with a wave of harsh light and the stoic faces of the palace guards. your heart pounded in your chest, a cacophony of confusion and hope swirling within you. the guards, their expressions unreadable, began leading you out of the cold, dark confines of the cell. “why am I being released?” you asked, your voice hoarse from disuse and grief.

one of the guards, his tone devoid of emotion, replied, “the culprit has been found. you are no longer needed here.”

a knot of unease formed in your stomach. “who is it?” you pressed, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. as if in answer, lady jeon appeared, her hands bound and a serene smile playing on her lips. your breath caught in your throat, and an intense wave of anger and despair surged through you. without thinking, you lunged toward her, but the guards intervened, restraining you with practiced ease.

“let me go!” you cried, struggling against their hold. “i need to speak with her!” the guards hesitated, exchanging glances before reluctantly allowing you a brief moment. you seized the opportunity, guiding lady jeon to the secluded cave where you and chaeyeon had hidden after the bath incident. your hands trembled as you tried to move the rocks obstructing the entrance, but they remained stubbornly in place.

“please, we can escape together,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. “we can get out of here.” lady jeon’s gaze was filled with a mix of sadness and resignation as she pulled you into a tender embrace. her arms were warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh reality that awaited both of you.

“don’t trust anyone in the palace,” she murmured into your hair. “they are all deceitful and dangerous.” tears streamed down your face, and you clung to her, your sobs wracking your body. “please, don’t go,” you begged, your voice barely audible through the torrent of grief. “please, just stay with me.”

lady jeon’s fingers brushed your hair gently as she whispered, “i’d be dead soon anyway. it’s better this way.” she placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her touch lingering for a final, bittersweet moment. with a final, sorrowful glance, lady jeon turned and walked away. you watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from view. your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you made your way back to the palace, each step a painful reminder of the loss you were enduring.

as you stumbled through the corridors, your voice rose in a hoarse, broken plea. “your majesty, please spare lady jeon,” you cried out repeatedly, but the halls were empty, your words echoing only to meet deaf ears. when you finally reached the palace grounds, you collapsed onto the ground, your body wracked with sobs. the weight of your grief and the realization of lady jeon’s fate pressed heavily upon you. the once vibrant grounds seemed to darken around you, reflecting your internal turmoil.

hansol and jisoo emerged from one side, their expressions etched with concern and helplessness. hansol’s eyes were filled with a profound sadness, unable to offer more than a silent witness to your suffering. jisoo’s face was grim, his usual composure overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. suddenly, a familiar presence approached. namjoon, his face a mask of determination and concern, appeared at your side. without a word, he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. you struggled against him for a moment, but his hold was firm yet gentle.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled you against his shoulder. “it’ll be alright. i’m here.” his words, though not a complete balm for your anguish, provided a small measure of comfort. you buried your face in his shoulder, allowing your tears to flow freely as he carried you through the palace grounds. his presence was a beacon of solace amid the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed you.

as he walked, his strides steady and purposeful, you clung to him, your sobs slowly subsiding into quiet, exhausted breaths. namjoon’s steady murmurs of reassurance continued, a soft lullaby against the backdrop of your grief. “it’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, each word infused with a tenderness that cut through the darkness of your despair. “i promise.” you looked up at him through tear-streaked eyes, feeling a fragile thread of hope amid the overwhelming sorrow. as he carried you through the palace and away from the tragic scene, you clung to the promise that perhaps, in time, the pain would ease.

the palace was a flurry of activity and hushed whispers as the news of king taejo’s death spread like wildfire through the kingdom. the once vibrant corridors and grand halls now felt heavy with an air of somber anticipation. everywhere you went, the gravity of the king's demise seemed to press down, casting a veil of melancholy over the palace and its inhabitants.

the funeral ceremonies had been conducted with solemnity, and now, a new chapter was beginning. taehyung, the crown prince, was being crowned as the next king. the ceremony was an elaborate affair, filled with the grandeur expected of such a significant event. the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers, as the high priests performed rites to ensure a smooth transition of power. taehyung stood tall, his expression a mix of resolve and trepidation, as the crown was placed upon his head. the weight of the kingdom’s future now rested upon his shoulders.

in the aftermath of the coronation, tensions were high. chaehee, the third prince, was barely able to contain his fury. he stormed through the halls, his anger manifesting in shattered dishes and overturned furniture. the sound of breaking porcelain and clattering metal echoed through the palace, a stark contrast to the ceremonial calm that had just enveloped the kingdom.

jiyoung, now dealing with the new political landscape, attempted to calm him. “chaehee, control yourself!” she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “your outbursts won’t change anything. we’ll get rid of taehyung soon enough.”

chaehee’s rage was palpable as he glared at her. “it’s not right,” he spat. “he’s unworthy, and you know it. he’s a puppet, and we’re the ones who’ll be strung along while he plays king.”

meanwhile, newly crowned king taehyung addressed the court with a somber determination. his voice, though steady, held an undercurrent of urgency. “in light of the recent events and the dire need for rain,” he announced, “we will perform the rain ritual. our people are suffering from a severe drought, and we must do all we can to bring relief.”

the ritual was an old tradition, one that involved a ceremonial process of selecting a prince to lead a procession through the town, praying for rain. the princes’ names were written on sticks, which would be drawn by jisoo, the king’s advisor. the chosen prince would then ride through the streets, offering prayers and sacrifices to appease the heavens.

as the princes gathered, baekhyun, his face pale and his hands trembling, voiced his fear. “what happens if no rain comes after the ritual?” he asked, his voice cracking with anxiety. jisoo, his expression cold and detached, replied, “the chosen one will be sacrificed. it is believed that the heavens will only answer our prayers if the price is paid.”

baekhyun’s eyes widened in terror, and he desperately pleaded, “please, take my name out. i don’t want to be the one chosen.” laughter erupted among the courtiers and some of the princes, their mockery ringing harshly in the tense atmosphere. jisoo, unmoved by baekhyun’s pleas, reached into the urn and pulled out a stick. his face remained impassive as he revealed the name written on it.

chaehee’s expression darkened with malicious glee. “namjoon?” he scoffed. “with that scar of his, he’d only scare the rain away. he’s hardly fit to be a messenger for the gods.” namjoon’s shoulders sagged, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. he stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor, his heart visibly heavy with the burden of his impending fate.

you were in lady jeon’s former chamber, packing her belongings into boxes. the task was a grim one, and your tears fell freely as you moved her personal effects. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on you, adding a layer of sorrow to the already somber task. the door creaked open, and namjoon stepped in, his face drawn and weary. you looked up, wiping your tears hastily. “is everything alright?” you asked, your voice soft and concerned.

namjoon’s gaze was troubled as he spoke. “the rain ritual, i’ve been chosen to participate,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “i’m worried that my scar will be a problem. i need it covered up.”

your heart ached for him. “i’ll help you,” you said, though the task ahead seemed daunting. you led him to a small vanity where you began the meticulous process of applying makeup to hide the scar on his face. with gentle hands, you applied the foundation, carefully blending it to cover the disfigurement. every touch was tender, your focus entirely on the task. namjoon’s discomfort was palpable as he flinched slightly under your touch, but he remained still, his eyes reflecting a mixture of shame and hope.

“it isn’t that bad,” you reassured him, your voice soothing. “it’s just a scar. you’re still the same person.” namjoon’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with emotion. “it means a lot to me.”

once the makeup was applied, you handed him the mirror. he examined his reflection closely, a look of tentative relief crossing his features. “it looks much better,” he said, his tone lighter. “thank you for this.”

as the rain ritual began, the air was thick with anticipation and desperation. the town was crowded with people, their faces upturned as they watched the procession. taehyung, with his newly crowned dignity, led the ceremonial march. the atmosphere was electric with hope and despair, the people’s prayers mingling with the rhythmic clamor of drums and the chants of supplicants.

namjoon, dressed in ceremonial robes and mounted on a horse, rode through the streets, his presence commanding a mixture of reverence and awe. the crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixed on him as he offered his prayers. after what felt like an eternity, the first droplets of rain began to fall. the sky, previously clouded and gray, opened up, and the rain poured down in a life-giving deluge. the crowd erupted into cheers and tears of joy, their relief overwhelming.

chaehee, standing on the sidelines, was fuming with rage. his face was a mask of fury as he watched the scene unfold, his anger directed at namjoon and the entire ritual. the sight of the rain, a sign of the gods’ favor, only seemed to fuel his ire further. you found yourself overwhelmed by the turn of events. as you moved through the halls, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you. your emotions were a tangled mess of relief, sadness, and exhaustion.

hansol’s approach was unexpected, his expression a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite place. as he drew near, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. he stopped in front of you, his eyes searching yours with a gravity that made your heart race.

“was it you who covered namjoon’s scar?” he asked, his voice low and edged with a hint of something you couldn’t immediately identify. you nodded, feeling a sudden chill run through you. “yes, it was me.” his reaction was immediate, his face falling into a look of disappointment that was almost palpable. “why are you so upset?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the question hung in the air between you, a contrast to the celebratory mood that still lingered in the palace.

hansol was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as if grappling with his thoughts. finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a hesitant resolve. “i wanted to ask you something,” he said, his tone unsteady. “i want to marry you.”

the words struck you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you momentarily disoriented. the request was so unexpected that it took a few moments for your mind to process it. you stared at hansol, and in that moment, a wave of disturbing visions surged through your mind.

you saw the historical echoes of a tyrant king, the fourth king gwangjong, whose ambition had led him to murder his brothers to secure his throne. the visions were vivid and horrifying, with gwangjong’s face morphing into namjoon’s, a sinister reflection of a dark fate. the realization came crashing down on you like a torrent, and you found yourself whispering, “stay away from prince namjoon. he will kill you,” over and over, as if it were a mantra that could ward off the impending doom.

tears welled up in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you repeated the warning in a trance-like state. hansol’s confusion grew evident, his hands reaching out to shake your shoulders gently. “what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you barely registered his words, your mind lost in a haze of fear and foreboding. “stay away if you want to live,” you managed to say, your voice breaking with emotion. the urgency in your tone left no room for debate. “stay away.” with those final, desperate words, you turned and fled from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. the fear and shock were overwhelming, and you knew you had to find a way to prevent the terrible future you had glimpsed from coming to pass.

the atmosphere in the royal palace had shifted in the days following taehyung’s coronation. the once uneasy marriage between baekhyun and taeyeon had started to show signs of improvement. baekhyun, who had been so resistant to the idea of marriage, seemed to be finding solace in small, unanticipated joys.

he decided to share his collection of traditional toys with taeyeon. he led her to a quiet corner of the palace where a small table was set up with an assortment of handcrafted toys: intricately carved wooden tops, delicate paper kites, and colorful spinning tops. the toys were beautifully made, each one a testament to the craftsmanship of their creators.

“look at this one,” baekhyun said, holding up a wooden top with a flourish. “it’s called a ‘cheongchun.’ you spin it and see how long it can keep going.” taeyeon’s eyes lit up with genuine interest as she took the top from him. she gave it a spin, and it twirled gracefully on the table. “it’s wonderful,” she said, her smile wide. “i’ve never seen anything like it.”

baekhyun’s expression softened as he watched her. “i used to play with these all the time as a child,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “they remind me of simpler times.” taeyeon laughed softly, her previous unease dissipating. “it’s nice to see you enjoying something so simple.”

as the two of them continued to explore the toys, an unexpected sense of camaraderie began to form between them. it was clear that taeyeon’s genuine interest and baekhyun’s willingness to share a piece of his past were forging a new connection, one that seemed to ease the tension that had once been suffocating.

meanwhile, you had been assigned to attend to taehyung’s needs, and today that meant holding towels while he took a bath. you stood near the edge of the opulent bathing room, the scent of fragrant oils and warm steam filling the air. taehyung, relaxed and unworried, was immersed in the large, ornate bath, the water shimmering with golden hues from the light filtering in through the intricately designed windows.

the serene moment was abruptly shattered when a group of guards burst into the room, followed closely by chaehee, who was flanked by a grim-faced entourage. your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of namjoon storming in behind them. his face was pale, his eyes wide with alarm.

“run!” namjoon shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. “taehyung, get out of the water!” but it was already too late.

as you turned to the bath, your breath caught in your throat. taehyung was struggling, his face contorted in pain. he gasped for breath, his body convulsing violently. blood bubbled from his mouth, and the water around him began to turn a disturbing shade of red. it was clear that something was terribly wrong. panic surged through you as you rushed forward, your hands trembling as you reached for taehyung. “your majesty! what’s happening?” you cried out, but your voice was swallowed by the chaos unfolding before you.

the guards rushed forward, but it was too late. taehyung’s struggles grew weaker, his body sinking lower into the water. the horrifying truth was becoming clear: someone had poisoned the bathwater. mercury, a deadly toxin, had been mixed into the water, causing taehyung’s horrific reaction. namjoon’s face was a mask of shock and helplessness. he looked at him with a mixture of horror and regret. “no, this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

chaehee stood to the side, his expression cold and detached as he watched the scene unfold. there was a grim satisfaction in his eyes, a chilling contrast to the devastation surrounding him. as taehyung’s body grew still, the room fell into a stunned silence. the atmosphere was suffused with grief and disbelief as the truth settled over the assembled witnesses. taehyung was dead, and the source of the poison remained unknown, though the look on chaehee’s face spoke volumes.

“announce the new king,” chaehee said quietly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm.

in the midst of the chaos, jisoo appeared, his face drawn with the weight of the moment. “by the decree of king taehyung’s death,” he announced, “prince chaehee will be crowned the next king.”

your mind reeled with the enormity of the events, the fear and sorrow threatening to overwhelm you. the scene was surreal, the opulence of the bathhouse now tainted with tragedy. as the reality of taehyung’s death sank in, you felt a sense of loss and helplessness. you watched as the remaining princes, including namjoon, struggled to come to terms with the sudden shift in power. the transition of kingship was sudden and brutal, leaving a palpable sense of instability in its wake.

the atmosphere in the palace had shifted from tense anticipation to outright horror as chaehee’s latest decree echoed through the halls. the proclamation came as a shock to everyone: the byun household, led by baekhyun, had been accused of deceit and failure to pay taxes over the years, a grave offense punishable by death. the news spread quickly from daniel to you, namjoon, hansol, and the other servants, each one feeling the weight of the announcement.

you were rushing through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the unfolding chaos. the palace was in turmoil, the once calm and orderly environment now a frenzied landscape of confusion and fear. you ran, desperate to see if you could somehow intervene or offer comfort, but the weight of the news felt like a leaden shroud around you.

you and the others arrived just in time to witness the grim scene unfolding in the courtyard. baekhyun and taeyeon were surrounded by a ring of guards, their faces pale and etched with despair. chaehee stood at the center of it all, his expression cold and detached as he prepared to carry out his decree.

taeyeon’s eyes were wide with terror as chaehee raised his bow. without hesitation, he released the arrow. it flew through the air with a deadly precision, striking taeyeon’s heart. she gasped, her body crumpling to the ground with a final, shuddering breath. the sight was horrific: her eyes wide open in shock as she lay motionless on the cobblestones. the impact of her sudden death was crushing, her life extinguished in an instant.

baekhyun, now completely distraught, fell to his knees beside her, his sobs wracking his body. the anguish on his face was palpable, his sorrow raw and unrestrained. “taeyeon!” he cried out, his voice breaking with each word. “taeyeon, no!”

the scene was a cacophony of grief and terror. you stood frozen in spot, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight. the cold finality of chaehee’s actions was overwhelming. as if to add to the cruelty, chaehee drew another arrow, aiming it at baekhyun. the arrow struck him in the arm, and he cried out in pain, clutching at the wound as he continued to weep for his fallen wife.

daniel tried to rush forward, his face a mask of desperation. “baekhyun! no!” he shouted, but the guards held him back. namjoon, his face contorted with a mix of rage and sorrow, pushed past the guards, determined to reach his brother.

the chaos continued to swirl around you as baekhyun, weakened and in excruciating pain, was struck once more, this time in the stomach. namjoon reached his brother just as he fell to the ground, his breaths coming in shallow, agonized gasps. namjoon’s eyes were filled with tears as he knelt beside him, who reached out a trembling hand toward him. “i’m sorry,” baekhyun whispered, his voice barely audible over his gasps. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

namjoon’s face was a picture of heart-wrenching grief as he shook his head. “don’t talk like that,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “you’re going to be okay. you’ll get through this.”

baekhyun’s hand found namjoon’s, gripping it with a strength that belied his fading life. “no,” he said weakly. “i don’t want to live like this. i'd rather you finish it. please.”

namjoon’s tears flowed freely as he raised his sword, the weapon heavy in his trembling hands. daniel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as he tried to reach his brother, but the guards prevented him from doing so. namjoon’s face was a mask of anguish as he swung the sword, the blade slicing through baekhyun’s wound. baekhyun cried out one last time, his body collapsing onto the lifeless form of his wife. he reached out for her hand, his own trembling and weak.

with a final, desperate effort, baekhyun clung to taeyeon’s hand, his fingers stretching out as if trying to hold onto the last remnants of his life. the scene was heart-wrenching: the two of them, now forever entwined in death, their lives tragically cut short by the brutal decree of a new ruler.

chaehee, having witnessed the brutal execution, turned away from the grisly scene. his eyes fell upon hansol, who had been watching from the shadows, his expression a mix of shock and regret. chaehee approached him, his tone deceptively calm despite the chaos that had just transpired. “well,” chaehee said, his voice cold but tinged with a hint of approval, “this was your best idea, i will admit.”

hansol’s eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and anger. “thank you,” he replied quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “your majesty.”

chaehee gave him a curt nod. “you’ve earned my trust,” he said, his gaze icy. “remember that.”

with that, he retreated back into the palace, leaving hansol alone in the courtyard. the scene before him was a tableau of destruction and grief, the once vibrant and bustling palace now a place of death and mourning. as the last echoes of baekhyun’s cries faded away, hansol stood in the midst of the carnage, his heart heavy with the weight of the events that had unfolded. the courtyard, now eerily silent, was a reminder of the ruthlessness that had taken hold of the palace. the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the bodies of baekhyun and taeyeon, their lives extinguished by the cruel machinations of betrayal.

the courtyard was suffused with a chilling silence, the aftermath of the brutal executions leaving an air heavy with despair and loss. namjoon’s once steady composure had shattered, replaced by a raw, unrestrained panic. his face was a mask of anguish, his eyes wide and unseeing as he staggered through the wreckage of the palace grounds.

as he moved, his steps were erratic, a desperate rhythm that seemed to echo the frantic beats of his heart. the weight of baekhyun’s death was too much to bear, each step carrying the burden of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams. his cries were guttural, an expression of the profound grief that consumed him. his usually strong demeanor was now reduced to a quivering, lost soul.

you watched from the sidelines, your own heart breaking as you recalled every moment with baekhyun—the memory of his playful taunts, his innocent laughter, the times you fought with him over trivial matters, and the confession of love that had been so unexpected yet sincere. the vivid recollections were overwhelming, a cruel reminder of the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

tears streamed down your face as you followed namjoon, each step feeling like an agonizing journey through a landscape of sorrow. the images of baekhyun, so full of life, seemed to blend with the sight of his lifeless body lying in the courtyard. the contrast was jarring, the vibrant memories now mingling with the stark reality of his death. you wished to take it all back, to give everything for just another minute of him showing you his toys, or fighting with you, or even confessing.

eventually, your legs gave out beneath you. you collapsed to the ground, the weight of your emotions too much to bear. without thinking, you threw your arms around namjoon, pulling him into a desperate embrace. the contact was a small comfort, a fleeting moment of shared grief amidst the overwhelming chaos. namjoon’s body shook with his sobs, his head resting heavily against your shoulder.

hansol, who had been silently battling his own guilt, stumbled over to where you and namjoon were huddled. his tears flowed freely, mingling with his sweat and grime. he had seen the destruction he had helped bring about, and the burden of his actions was too much to bear. he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched namjoon’s shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

daniel emerged from the shadows, his face a portrait of numbness and pain. his steps were mechanical, his eyes focused on his brother’s lifeless form. younghyun and yeosang joined them, their expressions mirroring the profound grief that enveloped the courtyard. they stood together, united in their sorrow, their hearts heavy with the weight of the day’s events.

the group formed a somber circle around you and namjoon, each person grappling with their own grief. the only sound was the occasional sob, the soft rustling of the wind, and the distant murmur of the palace’s remaining inhabitants. the atmosphere was suffused with a deep, aching silence, punctuated only by the sounds of your and namjoon’s grief.

amidst the chaos, namjoon’s voice emerged, hoarse and trembling. “sing,” he pleaded, his words barely more than a whisper. “please, sing.”

you were momentarily dazed and confused, the request seeming almost surreal amidst the overwhelming sadness. but as your eyes fell on baekhyun’s lifeless body, the weight of the moment became unbearable. you choked on a sob, the finality of the sight threatening to drown you in sorrow.

with a deep breath, you closed your eyes and began to sing. the melody that emerged was one of deep sorrow and aching beauty, a song that seemed to resonate with the collective pain of everyone present. it was a hauntingly beautiful tune, one that spoke of loss and longing, a melody that had been passed down through generations, its origins lost to time. the song wove through the air, carrying with it the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. it was a melody that spoke to the soul, a haunting lullaby that touched on the deepest corners of grief. as you sang, your voice quivered, each note a testament to the heartache that pervaded the courtyard.

namjoon clung to you, his tears mixing with yours as he listened to the song. hansol, daniel, younghyun, and yeosang all wept openly, their cries blending with the sorrowful notes of your melody. the scene was a powerful tableau of collective mourning, each person united in their grief, their pain momentarily alleviated by the soothing balm of your song.

the melody seemed to linger in the air, wrapping around the gathered mourners like a comforting embrace. it was a song that would be remembered, a testament to the love and loss that had marked this tragic day. “tonight, i'll send you the firefly from that day, to your window, i hope you have sweet dreams,” as the final notes faded into the evening air, the silence that followed was heavy but filled with a sense of bittersweet closure. you knew that baekhyun, wherever he was, would be listening. maybe, by his window. maybe, in his sweet dreams.

the sky above the river stream had deepened into a twilight blue, the last vestiges of daylight casting a gentle glow over the water. the river, once a place of daily tasks and fleeting moments, had become a sanctuary, a quiet refuge from the storm of recent events. the soothing murmur of the stream filled the space between you and namjoon, creating a serene backdrop to the intimate moment unfolding between you.

you and namjoon had wandered here together, the path illuminated by the soft, shimmering light of the setting sun. the air was cool and crisp, a welcome change from the stifling heat of the palace. as you approached the river’s edge, you could feel the tension of the past days easing, replaced by a tender calm that settled between you. namjoon stood close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you walked. his presence was comforting, a steady anchor amidst the tension that had surrounded both of you. when you reached the spot where you had first served him lunch, the memories of that day seemed to merge with the present, creating a poignant sense of continuity.

the river flowed gently, its surface catching the last golden rays of the sun, creating a dance of light and shadow that played across the water. the tranquility of the scene seemed to soothe the remnants of distress in your heart, and you found yourself gazing at namjoon, a soft smile on your lips.

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. the turmoil of recent days, the losses, the betrayals—all seemed to vanish in the face of this simple, serene moment. he stepped closer, his gaze steady and affectionate. “what is it about this place?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. “why do you love the river so much?”

namjoon’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the stream. “it’s quiet here,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “everything slows down. there’s no noise, no demands—just the sound of the water and the peace it brings.”

you nodded, understanding his sentiment. the river had always been a haven, a place where one could escape the clamor of palace life and find solace in nature’s embrace. “i wish we could run away,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “find a place where we could be free from all of this.” namjoon’s eyes darkened with determination. “we will,” he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. “just wait until i’m given the throne. once i’m in a position of power, we’ll leave together. find our own place, somewhere peaceful.”

his words were a promise, a beacon of hope that illuminated the uncertainty of the future. the idea of escaping the constraints of the palace and starting anew with namjoon filled you with a sense of hope and anticipation. it was a dream that seemed within reach, a future that you could look forward to with him by your side. as the evening sky deepened, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your face. rhe touch was tender, his fingers warm against your skin. his gaze was filled with a mixture of love and longing, and before you could fully process the moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss was soft and sweet, a gentle exploration that conveyed all the emotions neither of you could put into words. it was a kiss filled with promise and affection, a tender connection that spoke of the future you both hoped to build together. the world around you seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, your heart racing with a mixture of joy and relief.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a depth of feeling that made your heart ache with happiness. “i love you,” he said softly, his voice a caress against the stillness of the evening. the evening drew on, the sky slowly darkening into night. as you sat by the river, the two of you shared a quiet, tender moment that was both a balm for your weary souls and a promise of brighter days to come.

the night had settled into an oppressive silence, a heaviness that seemed to weigh down every corner of the palace. chaehee lay in his bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around him like a shroud. his eyes were wide open, staring into the darkness as if willing it to offer him some reprieve. the voices—baekhyun’s and taehyung’s—haunted him with their pleading, their cries for help echoing through his mind with a cruel, relentless intensity.

he tossed and turned, the hallucinations of baekhyun and taehyung becoming more vivid with each passing hour. their faces, twisted in anguish, appeared at the edge of his vision, their voices growing louder, more insistent. “let us out!” they begged, their words a constant, desperate refrain. “help us! save us!”

chaehee’s breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding erratically as the guilt and fear overwhelmed him. he could see their ghostly forms moving around him, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and accusation. his room seemed to close in on him, the shadows lengthening and darkening, becoming oppressive barriers he could not escape.

he screamed, a raw, guttural sound that seemed to tear from his very soul. his scream echoed through the empty corridors, a reflection of his inner turmoil. his screams were a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating grip of his own mind, but they only served to amplify his sense of isolation. the more he fought to silence the voices, the louder they seemed to grow, until they were a cacophony of despair that reverberated through his entire being.

as the night wore on, chaehee’s mind became a battleground of fear and remorse. he knew that his actions had sealed his fate, that the lives lost were a direct consequence of his ruthless ambitions. the visions and voices seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for power.

in your own room, the night was less tumultuous but no less fraught with anxiety. the visions of namjoon’s future, the one you had glimpsed with such dread, played on a loop in your mind. the knowledge that he might become the next king, his victory won at the cost of his brothers’ lives, was a heavy burden to bear. you wrestled with your fear and uncertainty, wondering if you could trust him or if he was doomed to repeat the same path of bloodshed and betrayal. the possibility of changing his destiny seemed both daunting and necessary.

as you lay in bed, lost in these thoughts, you heard a soft rustling. your heart skipped a beat as you realized someone was in your room. namjoon’s silhouette emerged from the darkness, his presence both a comfort and a cause for anxiety. his eyes, usually so confident, were shadowed with an intensity that spoke of his own inner conflict.

he approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and gentle. “i wanted to see you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the darkness. you blinked, trying to clear the haze of sleep and confusion. “why?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

namjoon climbed into your bed, his body warm against yours. he kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his gaze. the kiss deepened, his hands moving to cradle your face as he explored the contours of your lips. you blushed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “your highness, this isn’t right,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as his hands roamed down your body. his touch was both electrifying and disorienting, a physical affirmation of the emotions you had been grappling with.

his hands found their way to the sash of your robe, deftly untying it and revealing your naked body to the cool night air. you gasped as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around your erect nipples. the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you felt your body respond despite your mind’s reservations. namjoon’s hand slid down further, his fingers teasing the wetness between your legs. “you want this as much as i do,” he whispered, his voice filled with a primal hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

his mouth returned to yours, his tongue delving deep as he ground his hips against yours. you could feel the hardness of his desire pressing against you, and it was a feeling that both thrilled and intimidated you. his kisses grew more insistent, his hands more demanding. your resolve crumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. the world outside your chamber was forgotten as you gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

his fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer to the edge of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, and you found yourself whispering his name. he chuckled darkly, the sound a heady mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “say it louder,” he urged, his voice thick with lust. “say it like you mean it, like you want me to claim you completely.” you moaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he claimed you with a fierce kiss. your body arched off the bed, and you clutched at his shoulders as the first waves of pleasure crashed over you.

namjoon’s touch grew rougher, his kisses more possessive. he pulled away, his eyes blazing with desire. “i meant when i said you were mine, nobody else's,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper that sent a thrill of fear through your body. your eyes widened, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself nodding, your body eager for the release he offered. he positioned himself over you, his large cock nudging against your wet entrance. without a word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, the sound echoing through the silent room.

his thrusts were deep and powerful, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. the pain and pleasure melded together, creating a symphony of sensations that had you gripping the bed sheets. your body responded to his rough handling, your hips rising to meet his every thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the harsh pants of your shared passion.

his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. “let go for me, my lady,” he grunted, his teeth grazing your earlobe. the dirty talk sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself tighten around him, your orgasm building rapidly.

the tension grew, a coil in your belly that threatened to snap at any moment. and then it did, sending you spiraling over the edge with a scream that was muffled by his mouth. namjoon’s own release followed quickly, his warmth filling you completely. he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with satisfaction and exhaustion.

the silence that followed was tense, filled with the thundering of your hearts and the harshness of your breathing. the reality of what had just transpired settled over you like a shroud, and you felt a sense of foreboding that seemed to pervade the very air around you. you knew that this moment of passion would have consequences, consequences that could change the course of your lives forever. but for now, all you could do was lie there, wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, and hope that somehow, you could find a way out.

hansol stood silently behind the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the muffled sounds of your whispers and namjoon’s low voice. every word that reached his ears felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, a bitter confirmation of the betrayal he never imagined he would face. you were the woman he wanted, the woman he loved, and now namjoon was taking you from him. the realization sent a wave of anger and despair crashing over him, leaving him reeling.

his face twisted into a grimace, the bitterness in his heart hardening into resolve. he wasn’t going to lose you to namjoon, not to someone he viewed as a brother but who was now his rival in the cruelest of ways. hansol knew he had to act, to do something to stop this from happening. he needed to ensure that namjoon wouldn’t take you away, that you wouldn’t be lost to him.

with his mind set, hansol turned on his heel and made his way down the shadowed corridors of the palace, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. he reached chaehee’s chambers, where the once-powerful king lay weak and frail, his body ravaged by the consequences of his own actions. the room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the walls.

hansol hesitated for a moment at the door, but the memory of what he had just heard pushed him forward. he entered quietly, his expression unreadable as he approached the bed where chaehee lay, his breath shallow and labored. “your majesty,” hansol began, his voice a low murmur, careful not to disturb the frail king too much. “i’ve come with news that you need to hear.”

chaehee’s eyes, glazed with pain and fatigue, flickered toward hansol. there was a moment of silence, the air thick with tension. finally, chaehee gave a faint nod, indicating for him to continue. “it’s about namjoon,” hansol said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. “he plans to marry nabi and take her away.”

for a moment, chaehee’s expression remained blank, as if the words didn’t quite register. then, slowly, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—ignited in his dull eyes. his lips twitched, and he managed to whisper through the dryness of his throat, “that won’t happen.”

hansol’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched chaehee struggle to form the words. “your majesty, what is wrong? you don’t look well.” but chaehee didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand and gestured weakly toward a nearby table. hansol followed the gesture and noticed a piece of paper and a quill, both items seemingly insignificant but now imbued with a sense of urgency. with great effort, chaehee pulled himself up just enough to take hold of the quill, his movements shaky and deliberate.

hansol watched in growing alarm as chaehee, his breathing labored, began to write on the piece of paper. the scratching of the quill against the parchment seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sound that seemed almost foreboding in its finality. hansol stepped closer, wanting to offer help, but something held him back—an instinct that told him this moment was too important to interrupt.

chaehee’s hand moved slowly, his writing growing more erratic as he struggled against his failing strength. his face was a mask of concentration, the last reserves of his willpower being channeled into this one act. hansol’s concern deepened as he noticed the king’s eyes growing more distant, as if he were slipping away even as he wrote.

and then, as if on cue, chaehee’s body gave out. the quill slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the table as his hand went limp. his body collapsed against the pillows, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. hansol rushed to his side, panic flaring in his chest as he reached out to support the king. “your majesty!” his voice was urgent, his hand shaking as he tried to rouse chaehee. but the king’s eyes were closed, his face pale and slick with sweat. the hallucinations that had plagued him, that had driven him to the edge, seemed to have claimed him at last.

hansol’s heart raced as he realized chaehee’s condition was far worse than he had imagined. but then, his eyes fell on the piece of paper, still resting on the table where chaehee had been writing. the ink was smudged in places, evidence of chaehee’s trembling hand, but the words were clear enough to read.

hansol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the contents of the note. It was a decree, hastily written but legally binding. the words declared namjoon as the next king, a title that would come with immense power and responsibility. but it was the second part of the note that made hansol’s blood run cold. chaehee had written that namjoon was to be married off to the khitan, a fate that would take him far from the palace, far from you.

hansol’s mind raced as he processed the implications. chaehee, even in his weakened state, had seen the threat that namjoon posed and had taken steps to neutralize it. but as hansol stood there, holding the fragile piece of parchment, a dark sense of satisfaction crept over him. namjoon would be taken care of—sent away, out of the picture. and you…you would be free from him, free to be with hansol as he had always wanted.

the air was heavy with tension as namjoon stood in the lit chamber, his heart pounding in his chest. the words hansol had just spoken reverberated in his mind, each syllable slicing through him like a blade. he felt as though the walls were closing in around him, the weight of his impending coronation and the marriage decree crushing his spirit. this was supposed to be the culmination of everything he had worked for, everything he had endured. but now, the path to the throne was stained with betrayal.

hansol’s expression was cold, calculated, as he watched namjoon grapple with the reality of what he had just been told. the two men stood facing each other, their silhouettes stark against the flickering candlelight, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.

“this isn’t what i want,” namjoon finally said, his voice strained but steady. “i have no desire to marry a girl from khitan. this was never part of my plan.” hansol’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “these are the king’s last wishes, mamjoon. if you want to be crowned, you’ll have to honor them. there’s no way around it.”

namjoon’s jaw tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. the weight of the crown he had sought for so long now felt like a shackle around his neck, dragging him into a fate he wanted no part of. “i already have someone i wish to marry,” he said, his voice low but firm, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real. hansol raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “oh? and who might that be?” his tone was laced with false curiosity, a venomous edge lurking beneath the surface.

namjoon met his gaze without flinching. “nabi. i want to marry nabi.”

there was a beat of silence, the air between them crackling with tension. hansol’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, it was a twisted smirk, a reflection of the bitterness that had taken root in his heart. “you mean to say,” hansol began, his voice dripping with condescension, “that you’ve set your sights on the same woman i intended to marry?”

namjoon’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “what are you talking about?” hansol chuckled darkly, the sound filled with a bitter satisfaction. he took a step closer, closing the distance between them. “she was mine first, namjoon. did you know that? before you came along and swept her off her feet, she was going to marry me. she was the one who held my heart.”

namjoon’s heart clenched, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. he had known there were others who cared for you, who admired you from afar. but hansol? the man he had considered a friend, a brother? he had never imagined that hansol had harbored feelings for you, let alone that he had planned to marry you.

“is that true?” namjoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched hansol’s face for any sign of deceit. hansol’s expression was unwavering, his eyes hard as steel. “it’s the truth,” he said simply, as if stating a fact that should have been obvious. “but then you came along, and everything changed. she forgot all about me, all about what we had. you took her from me.”

namjoon felt a cold knot of guilt form in the pit of his stomach. he had always known that his rise to power would come at a cost, that there would be sacrifices along the way. but this? he had never wanted to hurt hansol, never wanted to come between him and someone he cared about. the realization that he had unknowingly done just that twisted his insides in knots. he looked away, unable to meet hansol’s gaze. “i can't believe it,” namjoon said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “she liked you first.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered,” hansol interrupted, his voice sharp. “because she chose you. and now, you’re going to marry someone else.” namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling from the weight of hansol’s words. the betrayal, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much to bear. but what choice did he have? the crown, the throne, it was all within his grasp, and yet it felt like it was slipping away from him. the price of power was steep, and he was starting to realize just how much he would have to pay.

his face went stoic, the emotions that had been swirling inside him now buried deep beneath a mask of cold resolve. if this was what needed to be done to secure his future, then so be it. he would marry the girl from khitan. he would honor the late king’s wishes. and he would become the next king, no matter what it cost him. “fine,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion as he forced himself to meet hansol’s gaze. “proceed with the wedding.”

hansol’s eyes narrowed, the smirk on his lips returning. “as you wish, your majesty,” he said with a mock bow, his words laced with bitterness. but even as he spoke, a flicker of something else—something darker—passed over his face. satisfaction, perhaps, or the satisfaction of knowing that he had dealt a blow to namjoon that would leave another lasting scar.

the corridors of the palace felt colder, more oppressive, as you moved through them with a heaviness in your chest. it had been days since the intimate confrontation with namjoon, and his words still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the love shared between you. you had known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity brought with it.

when you entered the chamber, you found namjoon waiting for you. he stood by the window, his back to you, his broad shoulders tense beneath his royal robes. the light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, and the air was thick with unspoken words. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should approach. but before you could make a decision, namjoon turned to face you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—were filled with a mixture of hurt and anger that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“is it true?” he asked, his voice low and strained, as though it pained him to speak. “is it true that you wanted to marry hansol?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to find out. you hadn’t even been sure of your own feelings until it was too late. but now, with namjoon standing before you, the reality of the situation was impossible to avoid. “yes,” you whispered, the confession slipping out like a broken promise. “it’s true.”

namjoon’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice rising with barely restrained anger. “how could you do this to me? how could you hurt me like this?”

“i didn’t mean to—” you started, but namjoon cut you off, his voice trembling with emotion. “didn’t mean to? do you have any idea what you’ve done?” his eyes bore into yours, searching for answers you couldn’t give. “i thought you loved me. i thought we had a future together.”

your heart shattered at the accusation in his voice. you had loved him—still loved him, even now—but the tangled web of emotions and loyalties had twisted everything into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. “i did love you,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “i still do. but i was confused. hansol, he—”

“i don’t want to hear it,” namjoon snapped, turning away from you as though the sight of you was too painful to bear. “i don’t ever want to see you again.”

the finality in his words was like a knife to your heart. you reached out, desperate to touch him, to hold onto something of what you once had, but namjoon stepped back, his expression cold and distant. “please, namjoon,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “don’t do this. we can—”

“it’s over,” he said sharply, cutting you off once more. “whatever we had, it’s over.” you stood there, frozen in place as namjoon walked out of the room, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your own mistakes. the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you collapsed onto the floor, your sobs echoing through the empty chamber.

days turned into weeks, and the pain of namjoon’s rejection lingered, festering like an open wound. despite your efforts to reach him, to explain, namjoon ignored you at every turn. he avoided your gaze, refused to acknowledge your presence, and any time you tried to speak with him, he would simply turn and walk away, leaving you feeling more alone than ever. then came the day of the wedding.

you stood in the crowd, watching with a hollow feeling in your chest as namjoon exchanged vows with the girl from khitan. she was beautiful, regal, everything a queen should be. but as you looked at her, all you could feel was a deep, aching sorrow, knowing that it should have been you standing beside namjoon, promising to be his for the rest of your life. you tried to force a smile, to show support, but the tears in your eyes betrayed your true feelings. and even as namjoon took his new bride’s hand and led her into the palace, he never once looked in your direction. you felt as though you were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of your own heartache. but you swallowed it down, determined to find a way to move on, to survive the pain that threatened to consume you.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later that the first wave of nausea hit. you had been going about your duties, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest, when the world suddenly spun, and you had to clutch the edge of a table to keep from collapsing. the nausea was overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were rushing to the nearest chamber pot, heaving up everything you had eaten that morning.

at first, you dismissed it as nothing more than stress, a reaction to the emotional turmoil you had been enduring. but as the days went on, and the nausea continued, a new, terrifying realization began to take root in your mind. you were pregnant.

panic seized you, and for a long moment, you couldn’t breathe. the implications of this—of carrying namjoon’s child—were too overwhelming to process. you had no idea what to do, who to turn to. but then, one name came to mind, the only person you could trust with this secret.

your hands trembled as you sought him out, your heart pounding in your chest as you found him in one of the palace corridors. he turned to you with a smile, but the moment he saw the look on your face, his expression shifted to one of concern. “what’s wrong?” daniel asked, his voice gentle as he reached out to touch your arm.

you looked up at him, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. “i think i’m pregnant.”

for a moment, daniel was silent, his expression unreadable as he processed the news. but then, to your surprise, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms strong and comforting around you. “it’s gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. “i’m here. i’ll help you through this.”

you clung to him, burying your face in his shoulder as the weight of your situation threatened to overwhelm you. his presence was like a lifeline, anchoring you in a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to navigate. “but what am i going to do?” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear. “should i tell namjoon?”

daniel hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “no. he just got married. if you tell him now, it’ll only make things worse. people will think you’re a wench, something awful could happen.” the truth in his words stung, but you knew he was right. if word got out that you were carrying namjoon’s child, it would be a scandal of epic proportions, one that could ruin not just your life, but namjoon’s as well.

“then what should i do?” you asked, desperation creeping into your voice. daniel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “you’ll have to marry someone else,” he said quietly. “pretend the baby is theirs.”

the very thought of it made your heart ache. the idea of marrying someone else, of lying about the child growing inside you, was almost too much to bear. but what choice did you have? there was no other way to protect yourself, to protect namjoon. “who?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “who could i marry?”

daniel’s gaze was steady, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke the next words. “marry me.”

your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening in surprise. of all the people you had considered, daniel had never been one of them. he was your friend, your confidant, but you had never thought of him in that way. and yet, as you looked into his eyes, you saw the depth of his feelings for you, feelings he had kept hidden for so long. “daniel,” you began, but he shook his head, silencing you with a gentle smile.

“it’s okay,” he said softly. “i’ve cared about you for a long time. if this is the only way i can be with you, then I’m willing to do it.”

tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, overwhelmed by his selflessness, by the depth of his love for you. and in that moment, you knew there was no one else you could trust more. you threw your arms around him, holding him tight as the tears finally spilled over. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “thank you so much.”

he held you close, his arms strong and comforting around you. so good did it feel for him, to finally embrace the woman everybody seemed to love. he knew you didn't love him but, in your embrace, it didn't seem to matter. it didn't seem to hurt as much as he thought it would. he could accept everything—your child, namjoon's anger, hansol's resentment. he could take it all, if it meant he could take you.

the palace was quiet in the late afternoon light, the golden rays filtering through the tall windows and casting soft shadows on the polished floors. it was a peace that was deceptive, a calm that masked the turbulent emotions brewing just beneath the surface. namjoon sat at his desk, staring down at a map of the kingdom, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts he couldn’t escape. the lines on the map blurred as his mind wandered, his focus slipping away as a dull ache settled in his chest.

it had been weeks since he had last seen you, weeks that felt like an eternity. he had tried to push you from his mind, to drown himself in the duties of the court, but nothing could erase the memory of your confession, of the way you had looked at him with tears in your eyes as you admitted the truth. the pain of that moment was still fresh, a wound that refused to heal, and no matter how much he tried to bury it, it continued to gnaw at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

the door to his chambers creaked open, and namjoon barely registered the sound. he was too lost in his thoughts, too consumed by the weight of his own heartbreak. but when he heard the familiar voice of hansol, he slowly lifted his gaze, his expression guarded. “your highness,” hansol greeted, stepping into the room with a grim expression. he closed the door behind him, his movements slow and deliberate as if he were bracing himself for something unpleasant. “i have news.”

namjoon’s heart sank at the tone in hansol’s voice. there was a heaviness to it that made his chest tighten with unease, but he forced himself to remain composed, to keep his emotions in check. “what is it?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. hansol hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from namjoon as if he were unsure how to proceed. but then he straightened, his expression hardening as he delivered the news.

“nabi and daniel are getting married.” the words struck namjoon like a fatal blow, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale. his grip on the edge of the desk tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. he had known this was coming. he had known the moment he had walked away from you that this would be the inevitable outcome. but hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the finality in hansol’s voice, made it all too real.

he felt something break inside him, a part of himself that had been holding on to hope, now shattered into a thousand pieces. but he couldn’t show it. he couldn’t let hansol see how much this news was destroying him from the inside out. “i don’t want any further updates,” namjoon said, his voice cold and distant, a mask of indifference that he had perfected over the years. he couldn’t bear to hear any more, couldn’t bear to know the details of your life with daniel. it was too much, too painful to even think about.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say next. namjoon’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and he saw the hesitation, the reluctance in hansol’s gaze. “there’s more,” hansol said slowly, his voice tinged with something that made namjoon’s heart begin to race. “she’s pregnant.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and for a moment, Namjoon felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. his mind went blank, the world around him fading into nothingness as the realization hit him like a tidal wave. pregnant.

it was a simple word, but it carried with it a weight that namjoon wasn’t sure he could bear. his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process what hansol had just told him. pregnant. you were pregnant. with his brother’s child. but even as the thought crossed his mind, namjoon felt a deep, instinctual denial rise within him. he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the child wasn’t daniel’s. it was his. he had always known, deep down, that you carried his child. but that knowledge brought no comfort, only a profound sense of despair.

he forced himself to remain silent, his expression giving nothing away even as his world crumbled around him. he had to hold it together, had to keep up the facade of indifference, no matter how much it tore him apart inside. “is there anything else?” he asked, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. hansol’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching namjoon’s face for any sign of a reaction, but he found none. after a moment, he shook his head. “no, your highness. that’s all.”

namjoon nodded curtly, signaling that the conversation was over. hansol hesitated for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more, but when namjoon remained silent, he gave a small bow and left the room, closing the door behind him. the moment hansol was gone, namjoon let out a shaky breath, his composure finally crumbling as the full weight of what he had just heard settled over him. he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep the tears at bay. But it was no use. the pain was too much, the heartbreak too overwhelming.

he stood there, staring blankly at the map on his desk, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the child you carried. his child. and yet, he had no claim to either of you. he had lost you, lost everything, and now he was left with nothing but the hollow ache in his chest. despite his resolve to move on, to forget, namjoon couldn’t help but think of the days you had spent by the stream, waiting for him. he knew you had sent him letters, countless letters that remained unopened, sitting in a drawer in his chambers. he couldn’t bring himself to read them, couldn’t bring himself to face the reality of what he had lost. but every time he thought of you waiting for him by the stream, hope in your eyes, it tore him apart all over again. and then, there was the birth of your child.

namjoon heard the news through the palace gossip, the whispers of servants and courtiers that reached his ears despite his attempts to shut it all out. you had given birth to a baby girl, a beautiful little girl who, by all accounts, looked just like him. the thought of it made his heart ache in a way that was almost unbearable. he could picture her in his mind, a tiny, innocent child with his features, a child who would never know him as her father. it was a pain that cut deeper than anything he had ever known, a wound that would never heal.

and yet, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to see you. he couldn’t bring himself to open the letters, to go to the stream where you had waited for him, to acknowledge the life that was now a part of this world. it was easier to pretend that none of it existed, easier to bury the pain deep inside where no one could see it. but that didn’t stop the nights from being long and sleepless, didn’t stop the dreams that haunted him, the dreams of a life that could have been. a life where he was with you, where you were by his side, and where your daughter knew him as her father. a life that had been ripped away from him the moment he had let you go.

you held your newborn daughter in your arms, your heart full of a bittersweet love. she was perfect, with her tiny fingers and soft, downy hair, and when you looked into her eyes, you saw namjoon’s reflection staring back at you. it was a reminder of the love that had once burned so brightly between you, a love that had now faded into nothingness. but despite the pain, despite the heartache that lingered in your chest, you found solace in the presence of your daughter, in the way daniel held her with such care, his love for her as strong as if she were his own. he had taken on the role of her father without hesitation, without question, and for that, you were endlessly grateful.

yet, every time you looked at your daughter, every time you saw the way she smiled up at you with namjoon’s eyes, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. what your life could have been like if things had been different. but you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the present, on the life you had now. it wasn’t the one you had dreamed of, but it was a life you could live with.

the days had become a blur of pain and exhaustion, your body growing weaker with each passing moment. the fever had set in shortly after the birth, your strength sapped as your body struggled to recover. you had given so much, poured everything you had into bringing namjoon’s child into the world, but now there was nothing left. the room around you seemed to swim in and out of focus, the walls closing in as the sickness took hold.

daniel stayed by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort even as the reality of your situation weighed heavily on him. he was the only one who truly understood, the only one who saw just how close to the edge you were. he watched you with a heart full of sorrow, his eyes tracing the pallor of your skin, the tremor in your hands. you were slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

as the last of the daylight faded from the sky, daniel stood at the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed on you as you lay there, so fragile and pale. he had promised to watch over you, to stay with you through whatever came, but the sight of you like this—so close to death—was almost more than he could bear. his heart ached with a pain he couldn’t put into words, a pain that only grew with each shallow breath you took. he turned away, unable to watch you suffer any longer, and as he did, the tears he had been holding back slipped from his eyes. how cruel was fate, to give him everything he had ever wanted—if only for a fleeting moment—only to snatch it away? he had loved you with every part of himself, had dreamed of a life where you and the child you had brought into the world would be his to cherish. but now, that dream was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

you knew the end was close, felt it in the way your body had begun to fail you, in the heaviness that weighed down your limbs, in the way each breath came a little harder than the last. the fever had taken its toll, and you were too weak to fight it any longer. you knew it would all soon be over, that the life you had known, the love you had shared, was slipping away. but there was one thing left to do.

with what little strength you had left, you forced yourself to sit up, your vision swimming as you did. every movement was agony, every breath a struggle, but you pushed through it, knowing that this would be your final act. your hands shook as you reached for the quill and parchment that sat on the table beside your bed, the ink blotting as you dipped the quill and began to write. it was a simple letter, the words coming slowly, each one a battle to put down on the page. but you wrote with a determination born of love, knowing that this was the last chance you would have to say what needed to be said. the words blurred in front of you as tears filled your eyes, but you pressed on, your hand trembling as you scrawled your final message.

when you were done, you could barely breathe, your chest tight with the effort it had taken to finish the letter. you called out weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper, and a guard appeared at the door, his face softening with sympathy as he took in the sight of you. you handed him the letter, your fingers trembling as you did. “please,” you whispered, your voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “make sure it’s delivered.”

the guard nodded, his expression full of pity as he took the letter from you. “of course, my lady,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. he knew, just as you did, that this would be the last letter you ever wrote.

with that final task complete, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, the pain and the fear ebbing away, leaving only a profound sense of exhaustion. you knew the end was near, but you weren’t afraid. not anymore.

you managed to push yourself up from the bed, your body trembling with the effort, and made your way slowly to the door. daniel was sitting on the steps outside, his head in his hands, the weight of his grief pressing down on him. when he heard your footsteps, he looked up, his eyes widening in shock as he saw you standing there, so frail and weak, but still fighting. he rose to his feet as you approached, his heart breaking at the sight of you. he could see it in your eyes, the knowledge that the end was near, that there was nothing left to fight for. and yet, you had come to him, had found the strength to leave your bed, to be with him one last time.

you sank down beside him on the steps, your body sagging with exhaustion, and rested your head on his shoulder. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close, his heart aching with a pain that was almost unbearable. he could feel how cold you were, how weak your breathing had become, and it took everything in him not to break down right then and there.

“are you really leaving me like this?” daniel asked, his voice choked with emotion as he leaned his head against the top of yours. he knew the answer, could see it in your eyes, but he needed to hear it, needed you to say it out loud, even if it would tear him apart. you couldn’t respond, your throat too tight with emotion, the tears that slipped from your eyes too painful to bear. you could only cry, the tears staining his fingers as he held you close, his heart breaking with every sob that wracked your frail body.

“will you forget me?” daniel’s voice broke as he asked the question, the words tinged with a desperation that cut you to the core. “when you’re gone, will you forget me?” you shook your head weakly, your voice barely more than a whisper as you answered, “i could never forget you. not even in my dreams, not even in death.”

the words were almost too much for him to bear, and he choked back a sob as he pressed his face into your hair, his tears soaking the strands. he had always known this day would come, had always known that the time he had with you would be fleeting, but that didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t make the pain any less. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your apology. “i’m so sorry. it’s too much. i can’t stay.”

your eyes were growing heavy, the world around you beginning to fade as the exhaustion took hold. you could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of your vision blurring as you struggled to stay awake, to stay with him just a little longer. daniel felt the change in you, felt the way your body was growing limp against him, and he knew that the end was near. he had known it was coming, had seen it in your eyes, but now that it was here, now that he was about to lose you, the pain was almost too much to bear.

with trembling hands, he began to sing, his voice soft and broken as he sang the same song you had sung to him when baekhyun had died. it was a lullaby, a song of love and loss, of comfort in the face of unbearable pain. and as the words left his lips, he could feel you slipping away, your body growing heavier, your breathing more shallow. he had sent the firefly from that day, to your window, hoping you'd have sweet dreams. a final tear slipped from your eyes, trailing down your cheek as you let out one last breath. the world went black, the pain and the fear fading away as you sank into the darkness, your head resting on daniel’s lap as the life left your body.

daniel’s voice faltered as he felt you go, his heart breaking as he realized that you were gone. he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, the tears streaming down his face as he pressed his lips to your hair, his voice breaking as he whispered your name. but there was no response, no warmth left in your body, no breath left in your lungs. you were gone, and all that was left was the hollow ache of loss, the unbearable weight of grief that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

hansol walked the halls of the palace with a heaviness in his steps, each one dragging more than the last. his heart weighed down with a sorrow that he couldn't begin to express. his normally sharp and composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a broken expression that seemed to drain the color from his face. every breath felt like a struggle as he made his way to namjoon’s chambers, the words he would soon have to say churning in his gut like poison.

when he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering above the wooden surface. he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to tell namjoon the news that would shatter his world. but there was no delaying it, no way to soften the blow. the truth had to be told. with a trembling hand, hansol pushed the door open and stepped inside. namjoon was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on some documents, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. the moment namjoon saw hansol’s face, he knew something was wrong.

“what is it now, hansol?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation, though there was an undercurrent of concern that he couldn't hide. he set down his quill, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of hansol’s distraught expression.

hansol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward namjoon, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. when he was only a few paces away, he dropped to his knees, the sound of his knees hitting the floor echoing through the chamber. namjoon’s irritation evaporated in an instant, replaced by alarm. “hansol?” his voice was softer now, a hint of fear creeping in as he leaned forward, trying to see his face. “what’s the matter? what happened?”

it was then that hansol broke down, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over as he knelt there, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t bring himself to look up at namjoon as the weight of his grief overwhelmed him.

“hansol, speak to me,” namjoon’s voice rose in panic as he stood, moving toward his friend. “what’s going on? why are you crying?” hansol forced himself to look up, his tear-streaked face contorted with agony. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. he took a shuddering breath, trying to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

“nabi’s gone,” he finally whispered, his voice broken. “she’s dead, namjoon.”

namjoon froze, the words not registering at first. he stared down at hansol, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard. “what?” namjoon’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief. “that’s not possible. you’re lying.”

hansol shook his head, his tears falling freely now. “i’m not lying, namjoon. she’s gone. she died after giving birth. she was too weak, she couldn’t—she didn’t make it.”

namjoon’s world shattered in that moment. everything he had been living for, everything he had pushed aside, everything he had convinced himself he could endure—it all crumbled into dust. his chest tightened as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving him gasping, struggling to breathe. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was raw, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and anger. “why didn’t anyone tell me?”

hansol’s gaze fell to the floor, his voice filled with guilt. “she tried, namjoon. she wrote to you, every day—so many letters, but you never opened them.”

namjoon’s breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his gaze to the stack of unopened letters on his desk. his heart raced, and his hands trembled as he reached out, touching the letters as if they were some fragile thing that might shatter beneath his fingers. he picked up the top letter, his name written in your familiar handwriting, and his vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. his hands shook as he held the letter, knowing that inside were words you had written, words you had meant for him—words he had never read.

he didn’t even bother to open it. the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he dropped the letter, pushing away from the desk as if it had burned him. panic gripped him, and without another word, he ran from the room, his mind racing. he didn’t stop as he tore through the halls of the palace, the walls blurring around him as he sprinted toward daniel’s house. his heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he burst through the door, his voice hoarse with desperation.

“where is she?” namjoon called out, his eyes wild with panic as he looked around the empty room. “where is she? this isn’t funny! nabi, where are you?”

daniel appeared in the doorway, his face etched with sorrow as he watched namjoon’s frantic search. he knew this moment would come, knew that namjoon would finally learn the truth. but that didn’t make it any easier to see the man he once called his brother unravel before his eyes. “you’re too late,” daniel said softly, his voice heavy with grief. “she’s gone, namjoon. there’s nothing left.”

“no,” namjoon’s voice was a tortured cry as he turned on his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. “she can’t be gone. she’s here—i know she’s here. where is she?” daniel’s heart broke at the sight of his desperation, but he knew there was no other way to show him the truth. with a deep breath, he stepped aside, revealing the small urn on the table, filled with your ashes.

namjoon’s world came crashing down around him. the room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in as he stared at the vase, the reality of your death hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the overwhelming grief that tore through him.

“no,” namjoon’s voice cracked as he staggered forward, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. he collapsed to his knees before the table, his hands trembling as he reached out, cradling the vase in his arms. “please, no.” he hugged the vase to his chest, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth, his heart shattering into a million pieces. he called out your name, his voice broken and desperate, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back.

but there was no response. there was only silence, the cold, empty silence that followed death, and namjoon felt as if the very life had been drained from him. he had lost you—he had lost everything. as he wept, the sound of small footsteps echoed through the room. a little girl, no more than a few months old, toddled into the living room, her eyes wide with curiosity. she looked up at namjoon, her innocent face a mirror of his own, and in that moment, he knew. she looked just like him.

“where’s mommy?” the little girl asked, her voice soft and full of innocence as she stared up at namjoon with wide eyes. his breath caught in his throat, the sight of the child twisting the knife of grief even deeper. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to explain that you were gone, that you would never come back. all he could do was stare at her, his heart breaking all over again.

“she’s sick,” namjoon finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked at the little girl, tears streaming down his face. the little girl didn’t understand. she didn’t know what death was, didn’t know what it meant for someone to be gone forever. all she knew was that her mother wasn’t there, and she wanted to find her.

namjoon couldn’t bear it. the grief, the guilt, the regret—it all became too much. he stood up shakily, still clutching the vase of ashes, and stumbled toward the door. he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t face the reality of what had happened. daniel watched him go, his own heart breaking at the sight of namjoon’s devastation. he knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain, nothing he could say to make it better. all he could do was watch as namjoon was escorted back to the palace by his own guards, his body wracked with sobs that wouldn’t stop.

namjoon couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he was led away. the weight of your death, the knowledge that he had lost you forever, was more than he could bear. he had lost you, lost the woman he loved, and all he had left was a daughter who would never know her father. and as he walked through the gates of the palace, the walls closing in around him, namjoon knew that he would never be the same. the grief would stay with him, haunting him for the rest of his days, a reminder of what he had lost, of the love he had let slip through his fingers.

the palace walls seemed to close in on namjoon as he sat at his desk, the unopened letters scattered around him like the remnants of a shattered life. the room, once a sanctuary of order and purpose, now felt like a prison, every shadow a reminder of his failures, every flickering candle a ghost of the past. the urn of your ashes rested beside him, a constant, suffocating reminder of the life he had lost—the life he had thrown away.

his trembling hands reached for the first letter, the paper crinkling slightly as he unfolded it. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he stared down at your familiar handwriting, the words blurring as tears filled his eyes. he had ignored these letters for so long, had turned his back on you when you needed him most, and now, it was too late. the weight of his guilt pressed down on him, making it almost impossible to read, but he forced himself to go on.

“my dearest namjoon,” the letter began, and his breath caught in his throat, a sob choking its way up as he read the words. he could read every word in your voice, as if you were still there, reading them to him. “i went to the stream again today, hoping that maybe this time, you would come. but you didn’t. you never do.”

each word cut through him like a knife, the pain of it almost unbearable. he could picture you there, waiting for him by the stream, your heart breaking a little more each day as he failed to show. the image of you standing there alone, waiting for a man who would never come, tore at his soul. his chest tightened, the sobs bubbling up from deep within, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

“i don’t know why i keep going,” the letter continued, the ink slightly smudged as if you had cried while writing it. “i suppose i keep hoping that one day, you’ll remember me, that you’ll remember what we had and come back to me. but i’m starting to lose hope, namjoon. i’m starting to think that maybe you’ve already forgotten me.”

namjoon’s heart broke anew with each word, his tears falling onto the paper, blurring the ink further. he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand the thought that you had believed he had forgotten you, when in truth, you had never left his mind. he had tried to push you away, tried to convince himself that he didn’t need you, that he was better off without you—but it had all been a lie. and now, it was too late to tell you the truth. he picked up the next letter, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it. his sobs grew louder as he read, your words searing into his mind, leaving scars that would never heal.

“today was the hardest day yet,” you had written, the sadness in your words palpable. “i waited for hours by the stream, but you never came. i don’t know why i keep torturing myself like this, why i keep hoping for something that will never happen. but i can’t help it, your majesty. i can’t help but love you.”

the sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving with the force of his grief. he had done this to you—he had made you wait, made you suffer, and for what? for a throne that felt meaningless now, for power that had brought him nothing but pain. he had been a fool, blinded by ambition, and now, he was paying the price. letter after letter, he read about your heartbreak, your loneliness, your unending love for him despite everything. with each word, the guilt crushed him further, the tears flowing freely down his face, soaking the pages. he couldn’t stop reading, couldn’t stop the agony that tore through him as he realized just how deeply he had hurt you.

finally, he reached the last letter, the one dated for today. his hands shook violently as he unfolded it, his breath hitching in his throat. he didn’t want to read it—he couldn’t bear to—but he had to. It was the last thing you had ever written to him, and he owed you that much.

“if you are reading this, i am dead.”

the words hit him like a sledgehammer, and he let out a strangled cry, his vision going black at the edges as the reality of your death crashed over him. his hands clutched the paper so tightly that it crumpled beneath his fingers, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words you had left behind.

“is that what it takes to get you to read my letters? i was weak, i was the opposite of you. you were strong enough to walk away, to claim the throne. was it everything you've ever wanted? was it not enough, claiming my heart? i worry that i left you with hatred, instead of love.”

namjoon shook his head, the sobs ripping through him with a force that made his entire body shake. he hadn’t walked away because he was strong—he had walked away because he was a coward. he had been too afraid to face his feelings, too afraid to admit that he couldn’t live without you. and now, he would never get the chance to tell you that.

“i still love you. how could i ever forget you? hansol knows it, my husband knows it—everybody knows it, except you.”

the guilt was suffocating, the weight of his own blindness crushing him beneath it. you had loved him, despite everything, despite the pain he had caused you, and he had been too blind to see it. he had been so focused on his own ambitions, his own desires, that he had lost the one thing that truly mattered.

“i've learned that the opposite of loving isn't hating, but leaving. why do i wait by the stream, when i know you won't be there? why do I curse the stars for this fate, when it's the moon we are under? why do i love you, when it's you who has left me?”

namjoon could barely see the words through his tears, the paper blurring as his sobs grew louder, more desperate. he had left you—he had left you all alone to bear the burden of his absence, and now, he would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life. the realization cut deeper than any blade, the pain of it almost unbearable.

“and now, i have to leave you. i have to leave you with the burden of having loved me.”

the sobs that tore through him were unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a raw, primal pain that echoed through the empty room. he cried your name, over and over, as if somehow, by saying it enough times, he could bring you back. but there was no response, no comfort to be found in the cold, empty air. the world around him fell away, leaving only the agony of your loss, the regret that would haunt him for the rest of his days. he had lost you—lost the one person who had ever truly loved him—and now, he was left with nothing but the ashes of what could have been.

he clutched the letter to his chest, his sobs filling the room as he rocked back and forth, the grief consuming him, tearing him apart piece by piece. he had lost you, and now, he would have to live with that pain, that regret, for the rest of his life. and as he cried, as he mourned the life he had thrown away, the only comfort he could find was the knowledge that, no matter what, you would always be nearby, under the moon.

you woke up with a start, your heart pounding against your ribcage as if trying to escape. the familiar sound of chatter and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead brought you back to reality—or what you thought was reality. you were back at work, standing behind the counter of your cosmetics shop in the bustling mall. the air was filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater, the carefully curated aroma of your traditionally made products. your hands moved automatically, arranging the small glass jars and wooden containers, but your mind was elsewhere, still trapped in the vivid memories of a life that felt too real to be a dream.

it was all too clear in your mind—the palace, the sweeping hanboks, the chilling touch of power and betrayal. you could still feel the weight of the crown on namjoon’s head, the sadness in daniel’s eyes, the coldness of the floor as you lay dying in his arms. the memories were so vivid, so heartbreakingly real, that it was hard to believe they weren’t your reality. you looked around the shop, expecting to see the grandeur of the royal palace, the opulence of a bygone era. but all you saw were customers milling about, people asking questions about the products, children tugging at their parents’ sleeves. there was no daniel, no namjoon, just the mundane, everyday life you had always known—or thought you had known.

“excuse me, do you know who the fourth king was?” a woman’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. she stood across the counter, examining a jar of cream with a polite curiosity, her eyes waiting expectantly for your answer.

you blinked, her question echoing in your mind as the memories surged forward, relentless. the name that came to your lips was not just a fact from history but a name that carried the weight of love, betrayal, and loss. your eyes widened, filling with unshed tears as the name slipped out, barely above a whisper. “gwangjong, kim namjoon.” the woman’s brows furrowed in concern, her voice softening. “are you okay?” but you couldn’t answer, couldn’t stay there any longer.

the walls of the mall felt like they were closing in on you, the faces around you blurring into one indistinguishable mass. you mumbled an apology, your voice trembling as you excused yourself, the jar of cream left abandoned on the counter. you stumbled out from behind the counter, your feet carrying you down the endless rows of displays, each step growing heavier as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

was it all a dream? a cruel trick played by your subconscious? or was it something more, something you couldn’t quite grasp? you ran a hand through your hair, your fingers trembling as they brushed against your scalp. you could still feel the coldness of namjoon’s touch, the warmth of his embrace, the pain that had clawed at your heart as you left him behind. the world around you spun, the bustling mall fading into the background as your mind struggled to reconcile the two realities. and then you saw it.

the sign loomed above you, its letters bold and unyielding: “songak art display.” your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at the sign, disbelief washing over you in waves. your feet moved on their own, carrying you inside as if drawn by an invisible force, by something deep within you that needed answers, that needed closure. the gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mall outside. the walls were lined with paintings, each one a window into a world long gone, yet eerily familiar. your eyes roamed over the art, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you searched for something—anything—that could explain what was happening to you. and then you found it.

a painting, large and imposing, hung in the center of the room, its colors dark and foreboding. the scene was one you knew all too well, one that had haunted your dreams and your waking hours alike. the execution of baekhyun, captured in painful detail. his eyes, wide with fear and regret, his hands bound, his body broken. the crowd surrounding him, their faces twisted in a mixture of sorrow and anger. you remembered it all—remembered the blood, the tears, the sound of the blade as it descended, cutting through the air with a finality that still echoed in your soul.

you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth as a sob tore its way out of your throat. it wasn’t just a painting—it was a memory, a fragment of a life that you had lived, that you had lost. you turned, your eyes scanning the gallery in a frantic search for something familiar, for something that could anchor you in this madness. and there they were.

king taejo and queen jiyoung, their regal figures immortalized in paint, their expressions as stern and unwavering as you remembered. you could almost hear their voices, the weight of their authority pressing down on you, demanding loyalty, demanding sacrifice. your legs gave out, and you sank to your knees in front of the paintings, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed, apologizing to nobody and nothing, the grief and guilt tearing through you like a storm. and then you saw him.

his face, so familiar, so heartbreakingly familiar, stared back at you from the canvas. kim namjoon, the fourth king, gwangjong. the man who had sacrificed everything for his brothers, who had grown up as a wolf and learned to be human. the man who had claimed your heart, only to break it. the plaque beneath the painting confirmed it, the words blurring through your tears as you read them. “kim namjoon, fourth king gwangjong. sacrificed everything for his brothers. grew up as a wolf, learned to be human. purge.”

you stared into his painted eyes, your heart breaking all over again as you whispered his name, the apology spilling from your lips as if he could hear you, as if he could somehow forgive you. “i'm so sorry,” you managed through your tears. “i'm so sorry for leaving you.” the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and the man you had loved, the man you had lost. the sobs wracked your body, your tears soaking the floor as you clung to the memory of him, to the memory of what you had shared, what you had lost. and then, a gentle tap on your shoulder brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the past that had consumed you.

you turned, your vision still blurred with tears, to see a man standing before you, his expression concerned, his hand outstretched with a tissue. for a moment, you didn’t recognize him, didn’t see past the veil of your grief. your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

you didn't recognize him. perhaps, not at first. not until you saw the scar. right across his eye.

✧.*

a/n: stop i lowkey cried LOL i didn't use the aired ending of scarlet heart tho bc i'm not a sociopath?

savior (구세주) — park jimin (박 치민)

✧.* 18+

in the depths of forgotten realms, where the line between myth and reality blurred into a tapestry of whispered legends, you wandered through the veil of the supernatural. the air around you shimmered with an ethereal light, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to beat in sync with your own heart. you felt it—an invisible thread connecting you to forces beyond mortal comprehension.

ancient trees, their gnarled branches twisted into elaborate patterns, whispered secrets of the ages. the leaves, imbued with an otherworldly glow, rustled softly, their sound a melodious symphony of enchantment. as you moved through this enchanted forest, you could almost see the faint outlines of fae folk flitting among the shadows, their delicate wings catching the moonlight like threads of silver.

water nymphs glided over the surface of tranquil lakes, their laughter like the tinkling of crystal chimes. fire spirits flickered within the hearths of ancient stone cottages, their flames casting a golden hue that warded off the encroaching darkness. in this realm, every creature possessed a touch of the extraordinary. the wolves that prowled through the underbrush had eyes that gleamed with intelligence far beyond the mundane, their coats shimmering with a spectral light. the owls that hooted from the treetops were the keepers of ancient wisdom, their gaze penetrating the veil of time itself.

you sensed the pull of ancient magic in the wind, a reminder of the great forces that shaped the world. enigmatic sorcerers and enigmatic beings, cloaked in robes woven from stardust, drifted through the shadows, their presence as profound as it was enigmatic. their eyes held the secrets of the universe, and their gestures wove spells of incredible power, shaping reality with a mere flick of their fingers. in this space between worlds, you felt an intoxicating sense of belonging and awe. the supernatural was not a distant concept but a tangible reality, intricately intertwined with the fabric of your existence. you had become a part of this timeless dance, where every element held the promise of wonder and every shadow whispered of ancient powers waiting to be discovered.

in the midst of the extraordinary realm, where every breath seemed to carry a whisper of magic, you stood as an anomaly—a solitary figure in a world brimming with the supernatural. the ties that bound you to this place were both intricate and fragile, like threads of silver spun in a tapestry that only partially embraced you.

you were acutely aware of your lineage, a lineage steeped in power and mystery. your parents, figures of reverence and awe, possessed abilities that transcended the ordinary. your mother could call upon the wind to shape it into messages of hope or warning, her voice an incantation that stirred the very air. your father wielded fire with a mastery that painted the night sky with flickers of crimson and gold, a spectacle of elemental artistry that held the gaze of all who witnessed it.

your brother, too, was a being of remarkable gifts. his capacity to shapeshift was the stuff of legends—one moment a swift and agile wolf, the next a majestic eagle soaring high above the treetops. he moved effortlessly between the forms, each transformation seamless and imbued with an elegance that spoke of deep-rooted connection to the magical forces that surrounded you.

yet, in stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of powers that wove through your family, you stood untouched by the same magic that defined their existence. you were a paradox in this world of wonder—an individual deeply connected yet profoundly separate from the mystical realm. the very elements that danced and mingled around you, so effortlessly embraced by those you loved and admired, remained just out of your grasp.

your attempts to commune with the elements were met with a disheartening silence. you reached out to the wind, hoping to coax it into carrying your wishes or messages, but it responded with a benign indifference. the fire that roared in the hearths, so eager to share its warmth and secrets with others, seemed to dance with a will of its own when you approached, leaving you merely a spectator in its fiery embrace.

the animals, with their eyes aglow with ancient wisdom, regarded you with a curiosity that quickly faded into disinterest. they would not heed your calls or acknowledge your presence in the way they did with those who shared their magical affinity. it was as if an invisible barrier kept you on the fringes of their world, a reminder of the chasm that separated you from their effortless communion with nature.

in social circles where enchantment was the norm, you felt like a shadow among vibrant colors. conversations often revolved around feats of magic—stories of teleportation, shapeshifting, and elemental manipulation. you listened with a mixture of longing and resignation, acutely aware of your exclusion from these extraordinary experiences. it was as though you were a spectator in a grand performance, unable to participate in the very essence of the spectacle.

you had learned to navigate the space with a grace borne of necessity. you played your role with quiet dignity, offering support and companionship to those whose powers you admired from a distance. your place in this realm was a testament to the intricate balance between presence and absence, between connection and separation. in a world where magic defined existence, you were a poignant reminder that even among the most enchanted, there could be those who, despite their ties, remained untouched by the very forces that shaped their reality.

in the quiet of your room, illuminated by the soft, flickering light of a single candle, you faced your brother with a heart heavy with questions. his figure, a tapestry of shifting forms and shimmering energies, stood before you, embodying the very essence of what you yearned for. the silence between you was filled with the weight of your unspoken doubts.

“why don’t i have any powers?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. the words felt like an intrusion into the serene harmony of your brother’s existence. you watched as daehyun sighed, his gaze softening with a compassion that only deepened your sense of inadequacy.

“it’s not something you can control,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “powers manifest in their own time. maybe yours just haven’t surfaced yet.” you nodded, but the words did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of unease that had settled in your chest. the promise of future potential did little to comfort you in the present. as the conversation waned, you sought solace from your mother, her presence a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold uncertainty.

she embraced you with a tenderness that spoke of unconditional love. “i want you to know,” she murmured softly, her voice imbued with a quiet strength, “that not having powers doesn’t change how much i love you. you are just as precious to me as anyone with magic in their veins.” her words, though well-intentioned, only deepened the chasm of your sorrow. you tried to draw comfort from her assurances, but they felt hollow, like a beautiful painting covering a void. you couldn’t shake the feeling that her love, though unwavering, was a pale consolation in a world where power defined worth.

when your father came to you, his usual fiery demeanor was softened by an uncharacteristic melancholy. “i wish,” he said, his voice laden with a rare vulnerability, “that i could understand what it’s like for you. i sometimes wish i could be like you—free from the burdens of power.” his sentiment was meant to be reassuring, a gesture of empathy from one who knew the weight of extraordinary abilities. yet, his words only seemed to underscore the isolation you felt. his struggle to relate to your condition, while empathetic, highlighted your distance from the very world he inhabited.

as the day turned to night, you found yourself alone once more, your frustration boiling over into a silent plea. you gazed at the star-studded sky, your eyes searching for any sign of a higher power that might offer you some measure of solace or change. you groaned inwardly, your heart heavy with a silent prayer, begging for anything—an inkling of magic, a spark of potential, anything that might bridge the gap between you and the world you so desperately wished to be a part of.

unbeknownst to you, your mother, too, was engaged in her own private prayer, her heart aching for you in a way that transcended words. her plea was not driven by disappointment but by a deep-seated concern for your well-being. she feared the dangers and betrayals that could come from those who wielded power—the same dangers that had once threatened her own family. she prayed fervently, hoping that some semblance of power or protection might come to you, not out of a sense of inadequacy, but from a desire to shield you from the harsh realities of a world where power could be both a gift and a curse.

the hallways of the school were a continuous cascade of shimmering lights and crackling energy, each corner alive with the potent hum of supernatural power. it was a place where every student and teacher was marked by their own unique abilities, a realm where magic was as common as air. the walls, lined with ornate murals depicting epic battles and mythical creatures, seemed to pulsate with the essence of enchantment. amidst this tapestry of abilities, you were an anomaly—a solitary figure navigating a world of extraordinary talents with no powers of your own. the disparity was stark, highlighted by the whispers and sidelong glances that followed you through the corridors. everyone knew your status as the exception, a reality that was as inescapable as it was uncomfortable.

despite this, the teachers maintained their professionalism, treating you with the same respect they afforded every student. you were here because of your family’s legacy, a fact that some found difficult to overlook. you often felt like a mere shadow among the bright lights of your peers, your presence a reminder of the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

haesoo was your singular solace in this enchanted world. she, too, had powers, though her ability to see into the future provided little in the way of physical prowess. this limitation made her just as vulnerable to the harsh judgments and insults as you were. yet, despite the ridicule, she remained steadfast in her friendship, a source of empathy amidst the sea of scorn.

you leaned against your locker, the cool metal offering a small measure of relief. haesoo approached, her eyes filled with a gentle concern. ahe took your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. as she closed her eyes, you could sense the familiar yet elusive sensation of her power at work. you watched her face for any sign of revelation, your skepticism palpable. then, with a sudden gasp, haesoo’s eyes snapped open, her grip tightening on your hand. “what’s wrong?” you asked, a note of apprehension in your voice. “what do you see?”

“there’s a savior in the near future,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty. “expect the unexpected.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in mild exasperation. “the unexpected? like you ripping my hand off?”

haesoo’s eyes widened in realization as she noticed the firmness of her grip. she quickly loosened her hold, offering you a nervous laugh. “sorry about that. i didn’t mean to—” you chuckled, though your smile was tinged with weariness. “it’s fine. i just wonder if i’ll ever get any power at all.”

from behind you, a voice cut through the conversation with a sneering edge. “you could only dream of it.”

you turned to see taehyung, a smirk playing on his lips. his disdain was well-known; ever since he had learned of your lack of abilities, he had made it his mission to taunt and belittle you. you offered him a thin smile, trying to mask the sting of his words. “thanks for the encouragement.”

taehyung’s smirk widened. “wanna see something cool?” you shook your head, not in the mood for more of his antics. “not really.”

ignoring your response, taehyung used his telekinetic powers to lift you off the ground. you yelped in surprise as he began to sway you through the air, your feet dangling a few inches above the floor. haesoo’s face flushed with concern, and she called out, “taehyung, put her down!”

his eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, “or what? you’ll read my future with a fortune cookie?”

the bell rang, and he reluctantly set you down, patting your head with a dismissive chuckle. “it never gets old,” he said, walking past you. you watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over you. the insults and jabs had become a constant, an unwelcome backdrop to your days at the school. despite your hopes for a reprieve, it seemed the mockery would persist as long as you remained a strong contrast to the powers that defined your peers.

the classroom buzzed with an energy that felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity shaped by the collective powers of its occupants. each student seemed to manipulate the environment in their own unique way, creating a whirlwind of distractions that made focusing on anything else nearly impossible.

to your left, a girl with flowing dark hair effortlessly levitated her pen, guiding it through the air as if it were an extension of her will. she reached out with her mind, making the pen dance gracefully across her notebook. nearby, another student with a calm demeanor simply tapped her temple, and answers to the professor’s questions appeared on her paper as if by magic. her telepathic ability allowed her to glean the answers directly from the professor’s thoughts, a skill that left you feeling distinctly out of place.

you sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of your own inadequacies. you knew that while others could summon and control elements with ease, or glean knowledge without effort, you had to work diligently to achieve even the most basic understanding. the constant comparison to your peers’ effortless mastery of their abilities was a persistent reminder of your own limitations.

the professor, a stern man whose presence demanded respect, looked around the room with a discerning gaze. his eyes settled on you, an unspoken challenge evident in his expression. “what do you believe causes dreams?” he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of telekinetic murmurs and mental projections.

you furrowed your brow, trying to concentrate amidst the chaos. the hands of those with telepathic abilities shot up eagerly, but the professor's focus remained solely on you. taking a deep breath, you began, “i believe dreams are a result of the subconscious mind processing thoughts and experiences. they are influenced by brain activity, which creates a narrative from our emotions and memories.”

the professor’s eyes softened, and he nodded in approval. “a thoughtful answer,” he said. “correct.”

you felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sneer you noticed from the girl who had been so eager to demonstrate her telepathic prowess. her expression was one of disdain, a silent judgment that seemed to cut deeper than any spoken insult.

as the day drew to a close, you found yourself in the bathroom, seeking a moment of solitude away from the relentless buzz of the school. you stepped out of the stall, your thoughts still lingering on the subtle sneer you had seen earlier. the bathroom, typically a place of mundane quiet, felt charged with an unsettling tension.

as you turned to leave, a girl blocked your path. her face was one you recognized from class—one of the telekinetics who had been demonstrating her powers with such ease. you looked up at her, a sense of dread mingling with resignation. “what do you want?” you asked, your voice betraying your unease.

ahe smirked, her eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. “i had an itching to use the toilet,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. without waiting for a response, she pushed past you and into the stall.

you stepped aside, gesturing for her to proceed. but before you could react, everything happened in a blur. she spun around with surprising speed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards her. your heart raced as you tried to break free, but her grip was unyielding. you flailed helplessly as she maneuvered you towards the toilet. the cold, harsh reality of the situation hit you as she dunked your head into the bowl. the frigid water engulfed you, sending a shock through your system. panic surged through you as you tried to gasp for air, but the water swirled around you, making it difficult to breathe. the world spun in a chaotic whirlpool of muffled sounds and blinding wetness.

she pulled you up only to slam your head back into the toilet, holding it down longer this time. the sensation of being submerged was disorienting, and your head spun in a disorienting dance of pressure and damp. the mixture of the cold water and the overwhelming sense of helplessness left you disoriented and gasping for breath when she finally yanked you up again. “maybe if you had any powers,” she said with a sneer, “you could get out of this one.” her voice was mocking, her tone a harsh reminder of the gap between your abilities and those of your peers. she left you there, dirty, wet, and sobbing, the pain and humiliation of the encounter settling heavily on your shoulders.

as the door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the reality of your situation washed over you in waves. you were left with the lingering sting of her taunts, the sting of being powerless in a world where such power was the norm. the echo of your sobs and the coolness of the bathroom tiles were the only witnesses to your silent plea for solace in a place that felt both foreign and unforgiving.

the journey home was a blur of muted colors and heavy steps, each stride a reminder of the day’s harrowing events. as you walked, the chill of the wet clothes clung to your skin, and the weight of your soaked attire seemed to anchor you to the pain and humiliation you had just endured. the evening air, cool and unyielding, did little to soothe the ache in your heart or the cold dampness against your body.

you finally reached the front door, the familiar warmth of home contrasting starkly with the cold dread that clung to you. as you stepped inside, the sound of your wet shoes squelching on the hardwood floor was the only indication of your disheveled state. your mother was in the kitchen, her back turned as she prepared dinner. the comforting aroma of her cooking wafted through the air, but it did little to lift the gloom hanging over you.

she turned as you entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in your appearance. “what happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. her gaze traveled over your dripping clothes and disheveled hair, her maternal instincts flaring into action. you met her eyes for a moment, the weight of your ordeal pressing heavily on your shoulders. the words you wanted to say seemed to catch in your throat, and instead of responding, you simply retreated to your room, your silence a painful testament to the day’s emotional toll.

the door to your room closed behind you with a soft click, and you sank onto your bed, your sodden clothes leaving damp impressions on the sheets. you stared blankly at the ceiling, the oppressive silence of your room amplifying the turmoil within. as you sat there, you could hear the muffled sounds of your mother’s distress from the other side of the house.

in the kitchen, your mother’s cries were heartfelt and raw. she confided in your father, her voice trembling with anguish as she spoke of her wish for you to be able to defend yourself. “why can’t they leave her alone?” she wept. “i just wish she could stand up for herself. it breaks my heart to see her suffer like this.” your father’s response was calm and comforting, his steady voice a balm to your mother’s fears. “it’s not her fault,” he reassured her. “she’s doing her best in a world that doesn’t make it easy. we’ll find a way to help her, i promise.”

you could hear his words faintly through the walls, a bittersweet reminder of the support that was available to you. but in your isolation, it felt distant, almost unreachable. when you finally gathered the strength to rise, you made your way to the bathroom. the cool, tiled surface felt refreshing against your heated skin as you undressed and stepped into the shower. you turned the faucet, allowing the warm water to cascade over you, mingling with the remnants of the day’s grime and tears.

as the water poured over you, you let out a shuddering breath, the steam and warmth offering a fleeting sense of solace. You sank to the floor of the shower, the water continuing to flow over you, masking the tears that streaked down your face. each droplet that hit your skin seemed to carry away a small fragment of the pain, but it did little to quell the deep sorrow that enveloped you. you wept silently, the sound of the water mingling with your sobs. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you, and you found yourself praying for a way out of the cycle of torment and helplessness. your whispered pleas for change, for the chance to be more than a spectator in a world of power, were drowned by the relentless rush of the shower.

that night, as you lay in bed, the exhaustion of the day’s emotional and physical toll was awful. the darkness of your room enveloped you like a shroud, offering no comfort against the cold fear that gripped you. you pulled the damp sheets around you, seeking solace in their weight. your thoughts continued to swirl as you drifted into a restless sleep, your mind haunted by images of the day’s events and the painful realization of your own vulnerability. the hope for change was a faint, flickering light in the depths of your dreams, a fragile ember that you clung to as you cried yourself to sleep, wishing for a future where you could finally find a place where you belonged.

the morning sun filtered through the school’s grand windows, casting elongated shadows across the hallways as you trudged through the familiar corridors, still feeling the weight of yesterday’s events. the usual hum of conversations and bursts of laughter filled the air, but today, the vibrant atmosphere did little to uplift your somber mood.

you glanced around, searching for any sign of hana, the girl who had humiliated you the day before. her absence was conspicuous, her usual spot in the classroom glaringly empty. you took a seat beside haesoo, the comforting familiarity of her presence offering a small measure of solace amidst the school environment.

haesoo looked up from her notebook as you settled in. her eyes, bright with curiosity, took in your demeanor. “have you noticed? hana isn’t here today,” you said, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

haesoo’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. she shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “maybe the cops got to the bitch,” she said, her tone light but edged with discomfort. after a brief pause, she shuddered slightly and added, “i’ve got a bad feeling about this. something doesn’t sit right with me.” you stared at hana’s vacant seat, your thoughts racing. the possibility that something sinister had happened crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. she could simply be ill, or perhaps she was skipping school. the pragmatic side of you struggled to push aside the gnawing sense of unease.

as the lesson began, you tried to focus on the professor’s lecture, but the absence of hana and the eerie implications of haesoo’s comment lingered at the edge of your thoughts. across the room, hana’s friend, mina, sat with a palpable air of hostility. her glare, sharp and unrelenting, made it clear she bore a grudge. you averted your gaze, feeling a familiar pang of discomfort. when the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, you stood up, gathering your things with a mixture of relief and trepidation. as you walked down the hallway, the bustling student body seemed to press in on you, the noise and movement creating a dizzying effect.

suddenly, you stumbled, your foot catching on something unseen. you brushed it off as a momentary lapse in coordination, but the next step was less forgiving. your legs gave way entirely, sending you crashing onto your back with a jarring impact. you winced as pain shot through your body, the hard floor feeling like a relentless punishment.

turning your head, you saw mina standing nearby, her lips curled into a smirk of malicious satisfaction. “why did you stop walking? do you wanna die?” she taunted, her voice dripping with derision. ignoring her taunts, you struggled to your feet, the effort exacerbating the ache that had begun to settle into your bones. you started to walk again, determined to reach your next class despite the throbbing pain in your head and the sting of her cruel words.

but as you continued down the corridor, an unexpected force slammed into you from behind, propelling you against the wall with a jarring thud. the impact was so forceful that you felt the wall tremble, a low crack resonating through the hallway. pain exploded in your back, sending waves of disorientation through you.

amidst the haze of agony, you heard mina’s laughter, a cruel, incoherent sound that mingled with the throbbing in your head. she sauntered over to you, her presence looming as she leaned close, her voice a chilling whisper. “that must hurt,” she said with a mocking tone, her eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. she didn’t wait for your response before turning on her heel and walking away.

the corridor seemed to spin around you as you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with a relentless intensity. each step you took was a struggle, the pain radiating through your body with every movement. you made your way home, the journey feeling endless as the throbbing in your temples grew more insistent.

once you reached the safety of your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. as darkness settled over the room, you tried to force yourself into a restless sleep, hoping that the respite of slumber would dull the ache and offer some escape from the torment of the day.

the pain persisted, but with each passing moment, sleep began to claim you, a dim, fleeting hope that tomorrow might bring a reprieve from the relentless cycle of suffering. as the world around you faded into the comforting embrace of sleep, you clung to the fragile hope that the dawn might bring change and relief from the unrelenting shadows of your daily struggles.

the next morning, you approached the school with a knot of unease settling in your stomach. the events of the previous day had left you feeling on edge, and the emptiness of the hallways seemed to mirror the unsettling silence that enveloped you. as you walked to your classroom, you found yourself scanning the crowd for any sign of mina or hana, but there was nothing—only the usual bustle of students chatting and shuffling to their next class.

you entered the classroom and took your seat beside haesoo, whose presence offered a small measure of comfort. the usual buzz of activity was noticeably absent, and as the minutes ticked by, the growing absence of hana and mina began to weigh heavily on you. you leaned in close to haesoo, trying to keep your voice low. “this can’t be a coincidence,” you said, your tone tinged with anxiety.

she squinted at you, her brow furrowed in thought. “it isn’t,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of uncertainty. she hesitated, her eyes darting around as if seeking something just beyond her grasp. “but i can’t get a clear message,” she added slowly. “it’s almost like it’s out of reach.”

before you could ask her to elaborate on what she meant, the classroom door swung open with an authoritative creak. two officers stepped into the room, their presence instantly commanding silence. the room fell into an uneasy hush, the only sounds the shuffling of papers and the occasional murmur of curiosity.

the lead officer, a tall man with a stern expression, cleared his throat before speaking. “good morning, students. we are conducting a search regarding two of your classmates, oh mina and jung hana.” his words carried a gravity that made your heart skip a beat. the room buzzed with whispers as the announcement settled over the students.

the officer continued, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “both girls have been reported missing by their families. they have not come home, nor have they been seen anywhere in the vicinity. we urge anyone who may have information about their whereabouts to come forward immediately.”

the murmurs grew louder, a mix of shock and curiosity spreading through the classroom. your eyes widened in disbelief as the reality of the situation sank in. the officers concluded their announcement and exited the room, leaving a tense atmosphere in their wake. you turned to haesoo, who was looking at you with a mixture of concern and suspicion. “do you have anything to do with this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you rolled your eyes, a mixture of frustration and indignation bubbling within you. “are you serious?” you replied. “you know i wouldn’t—”

she shook her head, cutting you off. “no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “it’s just, i got a chill when they mentioned it. i’ve never felt anything like it before. it’s unsettling.” her words only deepened the sense of unease that had settled over you. as you left the classroom and made your way home, the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you. the mystery of mina and hana’s disappearance loomed large, and you couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something was profoundly wrong.

when you finally arrived home, the house was quiet, the usual warmth of your family’s presence replaced by an anxious tension. your brother, who was usually the epitome of calm, met you at the door with a grave expression. “did you hear the news?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you nodded, feeling the day’s events catch in your throat. “yes, the police came to school. they were looking for mina and hana.”

your parents, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged startled glances. your mother’s face turned pale, her eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and a cold, hard resolve. “think of it as a blessing,” she said, her voice lacking warmth. “those girls were nothing but trouble.”

the coldness in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. the idea of them being missing was unsettling, but your mother’s reaction felt almost dispassionate, as though their disappearance was a matter of indifference rather than concern. you could sense the undercurrent of relief in her words, a stark contrast to the unease that plagued you.

you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. the disappearance of the two girls who seemed determined to make your life a living hell, combined with the cold detachment of your family, created a turbulent whirlpool of confusion and unease. the hope for answers seemed as distant as ever, and as sleep finally claimed you, it came with a heavy heart, filled with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread. the night enveloped you in its quiet, oppressive embrace. you stirred from a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as the day’s events replayed in your mind. with a groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and padded softly to the kitchen. the cool, dimly lit room offered a brief respite from the swirling thoughts that plagued you.

you poured yourself a glass of water, the clear liquid offering a momentary sense of calm. as you took a sip, the coldness of the water seemed to contrast sharply with the heaviness in your chest. you returned to your room, hoping that the soothing effect of the water might coax you back to sleep. instead, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room filled with your racing thoughts. “will i ever get powers?” you mused aloud, the question echoing in the quiet of the night. “why can’t i just be like everyone else?”

a voice, soft but clear, sliced through your self-reflection, startling you. “are you still thinking about that?”

you whipped your head around to see a man standing in the corner of your room. his presence was unsettling, a contrast to the soft illumination of the moonlight that filtered through your window. his face was partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling amusement. you gasped and scrambled backward, your heart racing as you screamed. the sound was strangled, caught in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the intruder’s presence. he remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he watched you with a hint of a smile.

moments later, your brother burst into the room, his face etched with concern. “what’s wrong?” daehyun asked, his eyes scanning the room. his gaze passed over the man without a hint of recognition, as if the figure were nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

you quickly composed yourself, forcing a shaky smile. “i thought i saw a bug,” you stammered, trying to sound casual despite the pounding of your heart. “it must have been nothing.” daehyun gave you a skeptical look but shrugged it off. “alright, if you’re sure. call me if you need anything.”

as he left the room, you turned back to the man, who remained where he was, his presence an eerie constant. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

he regarded you with an amused glint in his eye. “i’m your savior,” he replied smoothly.

you blinked, confusion clouding your features. “what do you mean? are you going to hurt me?”

he scoffed lightly, a sound that seemed to carry its own form of amusement. “hurt you? no, i’m not here to hurt you. do you recall the people who were bullying you?” you nodded, the memory of their taunts and cruelty still fresh in your mind.

the man’s smile widened slightly. “i got rid of them,” he said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.

panic surged through you, and you stumbled over your words. “you didn’t kill them, did you?”

“no, nothing so crude,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “i sent them to the underworld.” the terms normal people were exposed to were biblical, accurate, generic. heaven and hell. in your world, the underworls existed openly. it was an alternate dimension, one that wasn't as bad as hell, yet seemingly just as bad. those who were sent were sent alive, bodies and souls intact, where they'd be repeatedly punished—over and over and over—for their wrongdoings.

your heart pounded as you tried to process his words. “why? why would you do that?”

he shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to make his words even more chilling. “because they were bothering you.”

you gaped at him, unable to comprehend the connection. “and what does that have to do with you?”

he raised an eyebrow, as if considering how to explain something very simple. “you should be familiar with having supernatural powers, shouldn’t you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life without any powers,” you retorted, frustration mingling with fear. “what does that have to do with you helping me now?”

“this is your power,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “i’m from the underworld, and i can attach myself to whatever i choose, giving them any power they need.”

your eyes widened with disbelief. “why me? why did you choose me of all people?”

he paused for a moment, a contemplative look crossing his features. “i did it because i wanted to. and,” he added, his voice taking on a mysterious quality, “nobody else can see me unless i want them to.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your shoulders. the reality of the situation seemed almost too surreal to grasp. he chuckled softly, the sound a darkly pleasant note in the stillness of the night.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a grin. “my name is park jimin. and (y/n) (l/n), i’ll be seeing you around.”

before you could react, he vanished from sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of his presence. you knew he was still there, an intangible shadow in the room, but his form was now invisible to you. the chill of his departure settled over you, and the eerie silence of the room seemed to close in.

your mind raced as you lay back in bed, trying to make sense of the strange encounter. the idea of possessing a power, of having someone from the underworld attach themselves to you, was both terrifying and fascinating. you felt a strange sense of anticipation, mixed with fear, as you stared into the darkness, the night pressing in with an oppressive weight. sleep came fitfully, but the presence of jimin lingered in your thoughts, an unsettling reminder of what you could only assume was to come.

the morning light peered through your curtains, casting a pale glow over your room. as you slowly awoke, the memories of the previous night were still fresh in your mind, but jimin’s unsettling presence was gone. you scanned the room, half-expecting to find him lurking in the shadows, but there was no sign of him. a wave of slight relief washed over you, though it was accompanied by an uneasy thought—he could be anywhere, hidden from view, and you wouldn't even know it.

you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to you. your mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence of the early morning. “how did you sleep?” she asked with a note of concern in her tone. forcing a smile, you replied, “just fine.”

daehyun scoffed as he entered the kitchen. “you screamed like you were being gutted last night,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and curiosity. your father looked up from his newspaper, his brows knitting together. “what happened?” he asked, his tone indicating genuine concern.

you hesitated, then shrugged as casually as you could. “i saw a bug. it was nothing.” your father’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he seemed to accept your explanation. “alright then,” he said, turning back to his newspaper. the conversation moved on, but the undercurrent of unease persisted, as if the previous night’s events had left a lasting imprint.

you walked to school with a heavy heart, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. as you approached the school gates, you noticed the usual crowd of students, their faces a blur of familiarity and anonymity. the absence of hana and mina remained a topic of conversation among the students, but the discussions were tinged with a mixture of gossip and indifference.

inside the school, the hallways seemed more tense than usual. you found yourself at your locker, trying to go through the motions of your day, when haesoo joined you. she leaned against her locker, her face drawn into a thoughtful frown. “it would be a shame if they weren’t such sluts,” she muttered, her voice low. she closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to push away a troubling thought. curiosity piqued, you asked, “what’s the matter?”

ahe shivered slightly and shook her head. “i just got a chill,” she said, her voice uncertain. she seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around as if searching for something elusive. you watched her, puzzled by her sudden shift in demeanor. “what are you talking about?” you asked, but she was silent, her gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see.

suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stared in shock. you followed her gaze, your heart skipping a beat as you saw what had caught her attention. there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was park jimin. he was dressed in the school uniform, his appearance disturbingly casual. his smile was both enigmatic and unsettling, a contrast to the surrounding confusion and chatter.

your breath caught in your throat. the sight of him, so out of place in the school environment, was jarring. his presence seemed to draw the eye of everyone in the hallway, though he appeared to be a spectral figure to most, his gaze focused solely on you and haesoo. his eyes locked onto yours, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their depths. he stood with an air of effortless confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. the contrast between his calm demeanor and the chaos of the school around him only served to heighten the surreal quality of the moment.

haesoo’s expression was a mix of disbelief and fear, her earlier chill now palpable in her wide-eyed stare. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as jimin’s smile grew, as though he enjoyed the effect he was having on you both. in the midst of the busy school hallway, where students milled about oblivious to the strange encounter, jimin’s presence seemed to create a pocket of stillness. you felt the weight of his gaze on you, a reminder of the enigmatic power he had claimed to possess.

the bell rang, breaking the spell and drawing the attention of the students back to their daily routines. his figure slowly faded from view, his presence slipping away as the normalcy of the school day reasserted itself. haesoo turned to you, her face pale and her voice trembling slightly. “did you see that?” she asked, her words barely audible. you nodded, trying to steady your racing heart. “yes,” you said, your voice tight with unease. “i saw him.”

the classroom rang with the usual chatter as students shuffled in, preparing for the day’s lessons. you took your seat, your mind still preoccupied with the unsettling encounter with jimin from the previous day. the door creaked open, and the noise in the room gradually subsided as the professor stepped in, his usual demeanor composed but with a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes.

“good morning, everyone,” the professor began, his voice commanding attention. “we have a new student joining us today.”

you looked up, curiosity piqued. as the professor gestured toward the door, your heart skipped a beat when him stepped into the room. he wore the school uniform with an easy grace, his presence immediately drawing the eye. his smile was as enigmatic as ever, a contrast to the standard school attire that seemed almost to constrict the rest of the students.

jimin walked to the front of the class, his every step measured and confident. “hello, everyone,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a pleasant yet unnerving calm. “i’m park jimin. it’s a pleasure to be here.”

a murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but it was taehyung’s scoff that caught your attention. from his seat at the back of the room, taehyung’s disdain was palpable. “so, what’s your power?” he called out, his tone dripping with skepticism. jimin’s eyes met his with a chilling intensity. “anything you want it to be,” he replied, his voice a low, deliberate drawl.

the room fell silent, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine as the weight of jimin’s words settled over you. taehyung’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity, but before he could respond, something extraordinary happened. with a fluid motion, the empty desks around the room began to levitate, their wooden forms moving in a synchronized dance. the desks flew through the air, converging on taehyung and trapping him against the wall. the desks pressed around him with a force that was firm but not painful, effectively pinning him in place without causing harm.

taehyung’s eyes widened in alarm as he protested, his voice muffled by the barrier of desks. “what? let me go!” the professor, typically the picture of professional composure, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, clearly amused by the display. jimin’s gaze remained fixed on taehyung, his expression one of calm detachment.

“if you say so,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. with a flick of his wrist, he used his telekinetic abilities to lift taehyung into the air. the desks followed suit, returning to their original places as taehyung was gently deposited on the other side of the room, away from the wall.

jimin’s smile widened as he turned to the class. “never gets old,” he remarked, the lightness in his tone belying the impressive display of power he had just demonstrated.

laughter erupted from the students, a mixture of relief and amusement at the unexpected demonstration. you found yourself caught up in the laughter, unable to suppress a grin as you locked eyes with jimin. his gaze held yours for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you. he took an empty seat beside you, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. the room gradually settled down, the buzz of conversation resuming as the class prepared for the lesson. you leaned in, trying to keep your voice low amidst the chatter.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, your tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension. jimin’s smile remained as he leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “i told you i was your savior,” he whispered back, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

his words hung in the air, carrying with them a promise of further intrigue. as the professor began the day’s lesson, you found it difficult to concentrate, the encounter with him dominating your thoughts. the reality of his presence in your school, the display of his powers, and his cryptic assurances all melded into a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation.

the cafeteria was a hive of activity, alive with the usual din of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of trays and cutlery. the scent of various foods filled the air, mingling with the chatter of students as they moved through the line and found their seats. the vibrant atmosphere of the cafeteria was heightened today, the energy buzzing with heightened excitement and curiosity following jimin's display of power earlier in the day.

as you and haesoo made your way to a table, you noticed the crowd around jimin had only grown. groups of female students swarmed him, their faces alight with admiration as they offered him water, food, and even the best seats in the house. jimin declined each offer with a charming smile and a graceful wave of his hand, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

your gaze met his across the bustling cafeteria, and for a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours. your heart skipped a beat as haesoo let out a surprised yelp. “is he really coming over here?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. indeed, jimin was making his way toward you, his smile unwavering as he approached your table. he stopped in front of you, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around him. “may i join you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

you nodded, still trying to process the surreal turn of events. he took a seat across from you, his posture relaxed yet assertive. the commotion around him seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention on you, his smile never faltering. the surprise of his arrival was short-lived, however, as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. two hands settled heavily on your shoulders, and you turned to see taehyung’s smirking face looming above you.

“what do you want?” you asked, trying to maintain a tone of annoyance despite the flutter of unease in your chest. taehyung’s smirk widened as he replied, “i haven’t bugged you in a minute. besides, i have unfinished business here.”

before you could react, taehyung shoved you to the side, claiming the seat next to you with a casual disregard. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his grip firm and inescapable. you tensed, trying to wriggle free, but his hold was unyielding. “did you have fun humiliating me earlier?” he asked jimin, his tone taunting. his eyes were fixed on him, his smirk never faltering.

jimin’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “not enough,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of menace. he leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto taehyung. “let go of her.” taehyung’s grip tightened instead, pulling you closer into his side. “we’re good friends, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

you turned to jimin, desperation in your eyes. he stood up abruptly, slamming his fork onto the table with a clatter that drew the attention of everyone nearby. he approached taehyung with a purposeful stride, his expression serious. “get up,” he ordered. taehyung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he remained seated, continuing to pick at his food as if unfazed. jimin, however, was undeterred. he reached out and grabbed the collar of taehyung’s uniform, lifting him effortlessly into the air. the cafeteria fell into stunned silence, the usual noise abruptly ceasing as students gasped and murmured in shock.

taehyung dangled in the air, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. “how can you do everything at once like that?” he demanded, his voice quivering. jimin’s expression remained composed, his gaze fixed on taehyung with a mixture of mockery and disdain. “would you like to be put down?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

taehyung hesitated, his pride warring with his fear, before he finally nodded. jimin, with a casual flick of his wrist, threw taehyung back down onto the floor. the impact was jarring, the sound of him hitting the ground echoing through the cafeteria. you watched in awe as jimin returned to his seat with a casual grace. the room was abuzz with whispers and murmurs, all eyes focused on the spectacle that had just unfolded. your own gaze was fixed on him, unable to hide your amazement.

“how did you do that?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. jimin’s smile broadened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “already so impressed?” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “you should be.”

as you trudged home, the crisp evening air provided a slight reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day. the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set, casting long shadows along the deserted sidewalks. the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed against the quiet streets, a comforting metronome in the solitude of your walk.

suddenly, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. you spun around sharply, your heart skipping a beat, but found only the empty street stretching behind you. you frowned, brushing off the sensation as a trick of the mind, and turned back around to continue your journey. however, the sight that greeted you made you catch your breath. jimin stood there, his presence like an unexpected burst of color in the dimming light. his sudden appearance was startling. you exhaled sharply and muttered, “stop doing that.”

a mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you’re pretty like that,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, only to find that he was no longer there. the sudden emptiness where he had been left you feeling slightly disoriented.

you turned around quickly, and there he was again, standing behind you. his grin was unwavering, his eyes filled with playful mischief. “like that,” he repeated, his voice echoing in your ears.

you frowned in exasperation, your patience wearing thin. “stop scaring me,” you demanded, though the hint of amusement in your voice betrayed your frustration. jimin chuckled softly, his laughter a gentle ripple in the quiet evening. “it’s amusing,” he said, his voice lingering in the air as if he were still beside you.

just as you were about to respond, you felt yourself stumble, your foot catching on an uneven patch of sidewalk. before you could fully lose your balance and fall, jimin was there, catching you with effortless grace. he held you steady, his smile warm and reassuring. “but saving you is much better,” he whispered close to your ear.

you looked up at him, a mixture of annoyance and relief in your eyes. “you’re insane,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of gratitude. “i was fine on my own.”

jimin scoffed lightly, his gaze playful. “how did you like the taste of toilet water?” he asked, his tone laced with a teasing edge. your eyes widened in shock. “you saw that?” you gasped, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

he rolled his eyes as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “i see everything,” he said dismissively. you quickly covered yourself, feeling a surge of indignation. “pervert!” you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of mortification and anger.

jimin’s eyes widened in surprise, his expression turning thoughtful. “a pervert?” he repeated, as if he were considering the accusation seriously. after a moment, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “would you like to be sent to the underworld?”

you shook your head vigorously, the thought of such a fate making you shiver. “no!” you said, your voice filled with urgency.

jimin smirked, his expression one of satisfied amusement. “that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone light and mocking.

by the time you reached your front door, jimin was nowhere to be seen. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “i know you’re there.” the familiar thwack against the back of your head, like an invisible slap, confirmed his lingering presence. you opened the door and stepped inside, where your brother daehyun was waiting. he looked at you with a skeptical expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. “who were you talking to?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “just talking to myself,” you said with a casual wave of your hand. saehyun stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “maybe you really have lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head in awe.

you playfully smacked him on the head, his reaction a mix of surprise and annoyance. “shut up,” you said with a grin, before heading toward your room. as you passed by the kitchen, your mother called out, “you seem to be in a better mood today.”

you paused for a moment, contemplating her observation. it was true that something had shifted within you, a glimmer of unexpected excitement mingling with the confusion. you turned to her and gave a small, genuine smile. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “maybe i am.”

as you closed the door behind you, the click of the lock seemed to echo in the quiet room. you leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as you tried to shake off the day’s events. the room was dimly lit by the slant of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long, ghostly shadows that danced across the walls.

when you turned around, you gasped. there, leaning casually against the edge of your bed, was jimin. his presence was both startling and oddly comforting. “i told you to stop doing that,” you said, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

jimin rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish, his expression one of amused exasperation. “you’re easy to scare,” he replied with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. he tilted his head slightly and added, “you must not be used to having men in your room.”

the comment struck a nerve, and you scoffed, feigning offense. “i’ve had plenty of experience,” you retorted, though the blush rising to your cheeks betrayed the unease you felt.

jimin’s eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter, his lips twitching into a smirk. “yeah, right,” he teased, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. he paused and then added, “i’ve seen it all, you haven’t gotten laid in eighteen years.”

the jibe made your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “i’ll kick your eyes,” you threatened, your voice edged with frustration. jimin raised his hands in mock surrender, a look of exaggerated fear crossing his face. “really?” he asked, his tone a perfect blend of feigned terror and mischief.

you nodded decisively and reached out to slap him, but his reflexes were impossibly quick. he caught your wrist effortlessly, his grip surprisingly firm. you tried to free your hand, but he held it fast. he smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “like that?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur. stunned, you raised your other hand, only to find that he was already there, catching it with equal ease. his strength was undeniable, and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t pull free. “don’t hit me that hard,” he said with a teasing lilt, his smile widening.

you were about to retort when he suddenly moved with a fluid, almost predatory grace. before you could react, he had you pinned against your closet door. your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart race as his face came dangerously close to yours. the proximity was overwhelming; his scent was intoxicating, and the heat of his body pressed against yours made it hard to think.

his smile was both captivating and unsettling. he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “why’s your heart beating so fast?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear.

you gulped, your gaze unable to tear itself away from his striking features. his eyes were mesmerizing, and his closeness made you acutely aware of how pretty he truly was. “because you’re scary,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

jimin scoffed lightly, releasing you with a dramatic flair as if your words had wounded him. “scary? you’re scarier,” he said, feigning offense as he took a step back, allowing you to breathe again.

you rolled your eyes, grateful for the distance, and waved your hand dismissively. “leave me alone. i have homework,” you said, trying to sound authoritative despite the lingering blush on your cheeks. his smile softened as he observed you, his gaze lingering on the flush that had crept up your neck. “homework, huh?” he mused, his tone carrying a hint of mock sympathy. he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heartbeat, and it only seemed to please him more.

you settled into your desk, the weight of the day's events still lingering in your mind. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting a warm, amber hue across the pages of your textbook. you had spread out your notes and textbooks with meticulous care, determined to tackle your calculus homework despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. the air was heavy with the quiet hum of concentration, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of your pencil against the paper.

as you jotted down what you hoped were coherent notes on differential equations, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see jimin’s mischievous grin. but the room remained empty, save for the clutter of your textbooks and papers. just as you resumed your scribbling, a voice broke the silence. “what are you working on?” jimin’s voice was smooth and casual, yet it carried a hint of amusement.

you jumped, nearly knocking over your pencil. “calculus,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you continued to pretend to write notes. the subject matter, filled with complex equations and symbols, seemed even more daunting with his, once again, unexpected presence.

he strolled over with a lazy grace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform jacket. his eyes roamed over your paper with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “do you actually have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern. you glanced up at him, attempting to maintain a facade of confidence. “yes,” you said firmly, though a hint of uncertainty crept into your voice.

jimin’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “are you lying?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as if he were scrutinizing every word you said. you hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. “yes,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, unable to maintain the pretense any longer.

he sighed theatrically, shaking his head with an exaggerated air of disappointment. “lying in the underworld is punishable, you know,” he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “people get their tongues cut out for that.” your eyes widened in alarm, and you gasped, “are you serious?” the very idea of such a gruesome punishment sent shivers down your spine, and you could hardly believe he was being genuine.

jimin stifled a giggle behind his hand, clearly finding your reaction amusing. “oh, absolutely,” he affirmed with a mischievous glint in his eye. you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you muttered, “i can’t wait to go to heaven.”

he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “you’d never see heaven’s gates,” he said dismissively, a hint of derision in his voice. your eyes flashed with indignation as you retorted, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

jimin’s smirk widened. “you’re right,” he admitted, but his tone was far from apologetic. he glanced at your paper, his expression shifting to one of mild interest. “by the way, the answer to that equation is supposed to be squared,” he said, pointing at a particular spot on your paper with a casual air.

you let out a nervous laugh, feeling a wave of relief mixed with embarrassment. you quickly reached for your eraser, smudging out the scarily wrong answer you had previously written. with a trembling hand, you scrawled the correct answer in its place, hoping it would salvage your assignment. jimin watched you with an amused glint in his eye, seemingly delighted by the small victory of having helped you. his presence, though unsettling at times, had a peculiar way of making the mundane aspects of your life feel more bearable.

the clock on your desk ticked slowly as you fought against the drowsiness that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. your calculus homework lay spread out before you, the equations blurring together as you struggled to keep your eyes open. jimin’s presence was a faint, unsettling comfort in the periphery of your awareness. his earlier antics had faded into the background noise of your weary mind.

as you dragged your pencil across the paper, your eyelids grew heavier, and your head bobbed forward in a half-sleepy state. you mumbled aloud, your voice barely more than a tired whisper. “what are you doing here, jimin?”

a soft chuckle came from him, a sound that seemed to curl around you like a warm blanket. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur that brushed against your ear. “do you really wanna know?” he asked, his tone laced with both curiosity and amusement. you nodded groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open. “yes,” you managed to mumble, your voice trailing off as another yawn overtook you.

hia gaze softened, and he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of your desk. “well,” he began, his voice gentle and contemplative, “i’ve always wanted to live my life as a human, in the human world. i get to do that as long as i’m watching over someone.” you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes, the details of his face still fuzzy but recognizable. “why me?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly with exhaustion.

there was a moment of silence as jimin’s expression grew thoughtful. he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. “guess you were the chosen one, they sent me to you,” he said softly, as if the weight of the words carried a hint of destiny. his lips curled into a faint smile, though there was a touch of irritation in his eyes. “i wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t so pretty,” he said with a hint of teasing in his voice. “all you do is cause trouble.”

you let out another yawn, your head nodding forward. “sorry,” you murmured, the apology barely audible as you fought to stay awake. you groaned softly, burying your face in your arms on the desk, too tired to respond. the relentless pull of sleep was too strong, and within moments, you succumbed to it, your breathing evening out as you drifted into a deep, much-needed slumber.

jimin watched you with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. as your breathing became steady and rhythmic, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze lingering on you with an almost wistful expression. he knew it was invasive, to watch you sleep like this, but he couldn’t help himself. there was something undeniably captivating about the way you looked when you were so peaceful and unguarded.

gently, he extended his powers, lifting you with a delicate touch of his mind. the process was effortless for him, and he guided you gently off the desk, ensuring you remained undisturbed. with a subtle concentration, he levitated you through the air, carrying you with the same care one might use to handle a fragile, precious object. he maneuvered you softly through the room, avoiding any obstacles as he floated you to your bed. as you were lowered onto the mattress, he took a moment to adjust the covers around you, tucking them in with a tender touch that belied his usual mischief.

he stood by the side of your bed, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze. you were curled up beneath the covers, your features relaxed and serene. the sight of you, so vulnerable and tranquil, stirred something within him—a curious blend of protectiveness and admiration. despite his role as a being from the underworld, tasked with watching over you and perhaps even unsettling you at times, he found himself captivated by your presence. the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath, it all seemed to weave a kind of magic that he hadn’t expected to encounter.

as you trudged to school the following morning, the familiar hustle and bustle of the crowd provided a modest comfort. the sky above was a muted shade of gray, clouds hanging low as if mirroring the heaviness in your chest. the air was brisk, and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, feeling the chill seep through despite your layers.

upon arriving at school, you approached your locker with a sigh, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering unease from the previous night. however, as you reached your locker, you were startled to see jimin leaning casually against the row of metal lockers, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smirk. he seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his presence as striking and unanticipated as ever.

“slow for someone so thin,” he remarked with a teasing lilt in his voice. his eyes gleamed with mischief, a contrast to the gray morning. “do you ever eat, or is breakfast a myth for you?” you rolled your eyes at his casual tone and retorted, “i had breakfast this morning.” the words came out with more force than you intended, a small, defiant edge in your voice.

jimin’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “liar,” he said, his voice dripping with playful derision. “I can tell you’re lying.”

the truth of his statement was a bitter pill to swallow. you hadn’t felt the pangs of hunger as acutely in recent days, and your appetite had waned significantly since the bullying had started. the constant stress had left you feeling hollow, both physically and emotionally. the comment stung more than you’d care to admit, but you forced yourself to look indifferent.

his gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone now carrying an edge of mock seriousness. “there goes your tongue,” he said suddenly.

your heart skipped a beat at his words. Instinctively, you raised a hand to your mouth, your fingers pressing against your tongue as you felt a wave of panic. you bit down hard, testing to make sure your tongue was still there. the sharp, familiar pain confirmed it was, and you sighed in relief, though the discomfort of his words lingered. jimin’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and mystery. “is it still there?” he inquired, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded vigorously, though the movement was almost imperceptible due to your anxiety. his sigh was almost theatrical, filled with a mock sorrow that didn’t match the amusement in his eyes. “it won’t be for long,” he said cryptically, and without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the school building.

you called out after him, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “what do you mean by that?”

jimin merely waved a hand over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture, his smirk remaining as he walked away. the gesture was both casual and enigmatic, leaving you with more questions than answers. his cryptic remark about your tongue gnawed at your thoughts as you stood by your locker, the sudden absence of his presence leaving an unsettling void despite the childish teasing.

as the class droned on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus, the remnants of last night’s exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. your pen had been moving on autopilot, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep, your head resting heavily on your desk. the soft murmur of your classmates and the occasional rustling of papers seemed far away, a distant backdrop to your restless slumber.

suddenly, a loud voice jolted you awake. “homework, everyone.” the professor announced, his tone authoritative. you gasped, the realization hitting you like a cold splash of water. the panic set in as you scrambled to recall where you had left off. the professor began walking down the aisles, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

when he reached your desk, you fumbled with your notebook, your movements clumsy and disjointed. you retrieved it with a mix of shame and dread, handing it over to him with trembling hands. the professor’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he flipped through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment.

“did you really do all of this?” he asked, incredulous. his eyes were wide as he scanned the pages filled with neatly written answers, each question meticulously addressed and correctly solved.

you blinked, equally puzzled. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to piece together what was happening.

the professor pointed to your notebook. “you’ve completed every single problem correctly,” he said, his voice a mix of amazement and disbelief. “this is impressive.”

you glanced down at the notebook and saw, to your shock, that every question was indeed answered accurately. a wave of confusion washed over you. you hadn’t remembered doing all this work, and the sense of accomplishment felt both foreign and surreal. as you tried to process the unexpected turn of events, you caught sight of jimin across the room. his gaze was fixed on you, and he offered a sly smile. he mouthed the words, “you’re welcome,” with a mischievous glint in his eyes. relief mixed with curiosity bubbled inside you.

the professor congratulated you, his expression softening with approval, and handed your notebook back. you muttered a thank you, still trying to shake off the disorienting sense of having accomplished something you didn’t remember doing.

at lunch, you headed to the cafeteria, hoping to sit with jimin. as you approached the table where you usually met him, your heart sank when you saw taehyung sitting there instead. he looked up as you arrived, and you could see a smirk forming on his lips. “what do you want now?” you asked, your tone weary but guarded.

he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “i promise i won’t do anything,” he said, a hint of playful mischief in his voice. “actually, i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.” you were stunned into silence. the unexpected proposition caught you off guard, leaving you at a loss for words. before you could find a response, haesoo opened her mouth, but her words were cut off by a commanding voice.

“move,” jimin said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise of the cafeteria like a knife.

all three of you turned to see him standing there, his demeanor suddenly shifting from relaxed to intense. his gaze was fixed on taehyung, and he took a step forward with a steely resolve. taehyung’s smirk faltered slightly. “go around,” he said dismissively, “i’m in the middle of something.”

to your shock, his expression darkened. he slammed his tray down on the table, the clatter of metal against plastic loud and jarring. he grabbed taehyung by the collar and pulled him close, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “unless you wanna be in the middle of nowhere, walk away.”

the tension in the air was palpable. taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise, and without another word, he backed away, his earlier bravado gone. he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the space around you suddenly quieter.

you were left in stunned silence, your heart racing. jimin’s transformation from the charming, playful figure to someone so intimidating and cold was jarring. his capacity for sudden, intense aggression scared you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. you tried to ignore him, focusing on your food and conversation with haesoo, not wanting to attract his attention or fall victim to whatever mood he might switch to next.

the walk home was eerily quiet, the usual chatter and clamor of the bustling streets muted by a heavy silence. the afternoon light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly along the pavement. you could hear the rhythmic patter of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, but jimin’s presence beside you added an unusual tension to the otherwise tranquil surroundings.

he had been walking silently next to you for a while, his stride effortlessly matching yours. his presence, though subdued, was impossible to ignore. he seemed to be waiting for you to say something, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. finally, he broke the silence. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying edge that suggested he was genuinely interested.

you gave a dismissive wave of your hand and forced a small smile. “nothing,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than you felt. jimin’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. “you must think i’m stupid if you’re gonna brush it off like that,” he said, his voice laced with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. “i was just thinking. thanks for doing my homework, by the way.” jimin’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’re welcome. i’m nice like that.”

you paused, considering his words. “but there was no reason to be so cruel to taehyung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “really? were you actually gonna go on a date with that asshole?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

you contemplated his question, trying to remember how you’d felt about taehyung’s offer. “maybe,” you said jokingly. his eyes widened with incredulity. “your tongue’s on the verge,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

you gasped in mock horror and instinctively placed your hand over your mouth, as if to shield it from his prying. “stay away from my tongue,” you pleaded with a blend of annoyance and playfulness. jimin merely chuckled. “no promises,” he said, his tone light and teasing. this caused you to walk with your hand still covering your mouth, a futile gesture that did little to ease the odd sensation his presence brought.

when you reached your front door, you felt a sudden tug on the hand on your mouth. you spun around to confront jimin, ready to give him a piece of your mind. but as you turned, he was gone. the sudden absence of his presence was startling, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion.

“asshole,” you muttered under your breath, the word barely escaping your lips as you glanced around to make sure he wasn’t lingering nearby. the street was empty, save for a few stray leaves skittering along the sidewalk, and there was no sign of jimin. with a resigned sigh, you pushed open the front door and slipped inside, the familiar warmth of your home a welcome contrast to the unsettling events of the day. you walked straight to your room, the encounter with jimin still fresh in your mind. the door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep breath.

the room was cloaked in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. the steady hum of your ceiling fan created a comforting backdrop as you sat on the edge of your bed, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disquiet. jimin’s unpredictable behavior had been gnawing at you. one moment, he was charming and helpful, and the next, he was cold and menacing. the abrupt change in his demeanor was unsettling, and the weight of it made you uneasy. you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off the troubling thoughts.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on the tv. the screen flickered to life, and you absentmindedly began channel surfing, your mind not fully engaged with the images flashing before you. but then, a news anchor’s stern face filled the screen, and you were abruptly pulled into the broadcast. “—tragedy that has shaken the community. the bodies of oh mina and jung hana, two missing students, have yet to be found, and authorities now presume them dead. the search continues, but their families are left in agonizing uncertainty.”

you froze, your heart sinking as the anchor continued with a detailed recap of the events. the broadcast went on to describe the search efforts, the emotional pleas from their families, and the growing sense of despair that had settled over the community. the words felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, and a surge of guilt began to eat away at you. mina and hana had been cruel, yes, but no one deserved this. the thought of their families—worrying, grieving, and facing a future without their loved ones—made you feel sick. you found yourself grappling with the dissonance between their past actions and the very real, very human suffering unfolding now.

as you absorbed the gravity of the news, a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, chilling and disturbingly calm. “they got what they deserved,” jimin’s voice said, as though he had materialized out of thin air. he stepped into view, leaning casually against the door frame, his gaze fixated on the tv screen. “it’s a shame they aren’t actually dead.”

you turned to him, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “how can you say something so cruel?” you demanded, the hurt and anger evident in your voice. “how can you be so heartless?”

his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s always been an eye for an eye,” he retorted coldly. “they were awful to you. why should they get any sympathy?”

a surge of frustration erupted within you. “and what about their families?” you asked, the words coming out in a rush. “do you have any idea how they must feel?”

jimin snapped, his tone edged with bitterness. “they should’ve raised them better,” he shot back. “maybe then they wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”

you were taken aback by his callousness. “you’re awful,” you said, unable to keep the scorn from your voice. “i can’t believe how heartless you really are.”

jimin’s demeanor shifted abruptly. he walked over and sat down beside you on your bed, his movements deliberate and measured. he looked at you with an intensity that was almost palpable, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “i did it for you,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its earlier bite. “because i cared for you.”

you looked at him, struggling to reconcile this softer side of him with the cruelty you’d just witnessed. “i don’t need a savior,” you said quietly, shaking your head. the weight of the day’s events and jimin’s complex personality were starting to feel overwhelming. his face softened, and for a moment, his expression was filled with a kind of sadness that seemed almost genuine. he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and almost tender. in his eyes, you saw something akin to heartbreak.

“okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “if that’s what you say.”

without another word, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dim light of your room. the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of the harsh words and the complexities of his character. you sat there, feeling the weight of his absence and the lingering discomfort of his presence. the room seemed emptier now, and you were left with a tumult of emotions and unanswered questions.

the night stretched long and restless as you tossed and turned beneath your tangled sheets, your mind an endless swirl of confusion and disquiet. your bed seemed to have become a cage, its confines growing tighter with each passing minute. the darkness of the room was punctuated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting fleeting shadows that danced unsettlingly on the walls.

you reached out in the darkness, searching for the comforting presence you had come to rely on. but tonight, there was nothing. no whisper of jimin’s voice, no flicker of his enigmatic smile—just an overwhelming silence that pressed against you like a heavy blanket. you called out his name, your voice barely more than a strained whisper in the stillness of the night. “jimin?” you croaked, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet.

the silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to stretch on forever, growing thicker and more suffocating with each passing moment. you strained to listen for any sign of him, but there was nothing—no rustle, no breath, no hint of his presence. desperation clawed at you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep, hoping that he would return with the dawn.

morning came, but with it, there was no sign of jimin. you woke with a start, the emptiness of your room a reminder of his absence. the space beside you on the bed was untouched, the air still and untroubled. you groaned, the reality of his disappearance settling heavily upon you. the morning routine was carried out on autopilot, the small tasks seeming to blur together as you prepared for school.

arriving at school, you felt the weight of his absence more acutely. the hallways, usually bustling with energy and life, felt hollow and empty. you walked through them with a growing sense of dread, your eyes scanning the familiar faces for any sign of jimin. but he was nowhere to be found. not in the crowded corridors, not in your classroom, not even in the places he had been known to linger.

you approached haesoo at lunch, a flicker of hope driving your steps. you needed to know if anyone else had seen him, if there was any chance he would reappear. “hey, haesoo,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety you felt. “have you seen jimin today?”

she looked up from her lunch with a puzzled expression. “jimin? no, i haven’t seen him. why? you two seemed pretty close. he was kind of like your protector, wasn’t he?” you shook your head, trying to quell the gnawing worry in your stomach. “he isn’t,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. “he’s my savior.”

the rest of the school day passed in a blur of gray and disinterest. the absence of jimin cast a shadow over everything, and you found it difficult to focus on the lessons or the conversations around you. It was almost as if the world had lost some of its color without him. when the final bell rang, you walked home with a heavy heart. each step felt like a step further away from the fleeting hope you had clung to. you tried to convince yourself that his absence was due to the lack of need, that perhaps he was simply giving you space. but deep down, you knew it was more than that. you had made him go away, whether intentionally or not, and the realization left you feeling hollow and uncertain.

as you neared your house, you saw haesoo walking beside you, her expression bright and expectant. “so, what do you think?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “wanna hit the club tonight? it could be a lot of fun.” you considered it for a moment, your spirits lifted slightly by the prospect of distraction. “sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, trying to push aside the nagging emptiness you felt.

when you reached home, haesoo followed you inside. you found your mother in the kitchen, busy with the evening’s preparations. “mom, is it okay if i go to the club with haesoo tonight?” you asked, attempting to sound casual.

your mother glanced up from her task, her face thoughtful. “if she’s going,” she said with a dismissive wave, “you can go to the underworld for all i care.”

the words struck you like a chill, freezing the air around you. the mention of the underworld made your blood run cold, a sharp reminder of the dark and mysterious presence you had grown to both fear and depend on. you exchanged a look with haesoo, who seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but chose to remain silent. you forced a smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “thanks, mom.”

the evening was a muted whirl of apprehension and fleeting hope as you prepared for the night out. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm hues over the meticulously arranged wardrobe. you stood before the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection as you adjusted the sleek black dress that clung to your frame. it was a classic choice, understated yet elegant, but tonight, it felt lacking—an empty vessel yearning for validation you could not quite grasp.

you turned this way and that, trying to find satisfaction in your appearance. the dress, with its delicate fabric and subtle sheen, was perfect in its own right. but it felt as if something crucial was missing. your mind wandered to the image of him, the elusive presence that had once been a source of comfort and assurance. the empty space beside you in the mirror seemed to echo with his absence, and the longing for his approval gnawed at you with an intensity that left you feeling hollow.

with a deep sigh, you slipped your heels on, their click against the hardwood floor a sharp contrast to the muted sense of resignation you felt inside. daehyun’s voice broke through your reverie. “call if anything happens,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of concern. you nodded absentmindedly, giving him a half-hearted smile before heading out the door.

the night air was crisp and cool as you caught a cab to the club. the city lights blurred by the window seemed to race past you, each passing moment amplifying the sense of anticipation and uncertainty that clung to you. when you arrived, haesoo was waiting outside, her excitement palpable as she greeted you with a bright smile.

the club was alive with an electric energy, the pulsating lights and thumping bass creating an intoxicating atmosphere. haesoo led you inside, her hand firmly clasped around yours as you navigated through the crowd. “loosen up,” she urged, her voice barely audible over the music. “have a drink. it’ll help you relax.”

you allowed yourself one drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat and momentarily easing the tension in your shoulders. you clutched the glass tightly, savoring the brief reprieve it offered as you observed the throng of bodies swaying rhythmically on the dance floor. the music was a relentless beat, each pulse a reminder of the vitality you felt slipping away. as you sipped your drink, a tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. you turned around, half-expecting to see jimin’s familiar, mischievous smile. instead, you were met with the gaze of an unfamiliar man. he had a confident demeanor, his eyes appraising you with an intensity that set your nerves on edge.

“you’re a gem,” he said, his voice smooth and insistent. “would you like to dance?” you offered a polite smile, shaking your head as you replied, “no, thank you. i’d prefer to stay here.”

undeterred, the man pressed on. “come on, don’t be shy. it’ll be fun.” you declined again, but his persistence quickly turned into forcefulness. before you could fully react, he grabbed your hand with a firm grip, pulling you towards the dance floor. you resisted, trying to free yourself from his grasp, but his other hand reached out to grab your jaw. his touch was rough and invasive as he forced you to look at him. “you’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

panic surged through you, but before you could cry out for help or struggle further, the man was abruptly thrown backward. he collided with the wall across the room with a violent thud, the impact reverberating through the space. the music abruptly stopped, plunging the club into a stunned silence as gasps spread through the crowd.

your heart raced, but as you watched the man slump against the wall, his head hanging limply, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you knew—had always known—that he was still there. the subtle, yet unmistakable, presence that had become so familiar to you was now unmistakable in the man’s sudden, forceful removal.

the crowd was a sea of shocked expressions, their murmurs rising in a crescendo of disbelief. you stood amidst them, your gaze locked on the spot where the man had fallen, feeling a profound sense of relief and, oddly enough, satisfaction. you could not see him, but his protective presence was unmistakable, the unspoken assurance that he was watching over you even now.

the night clung to you like a heavy blanket as you made your way home, the darkness of the streets mirroring the turmoil inside your heart. the taxi dropped you off at the curb, the hum of the engine fading into the background as you stood before your front door, fumbling with your keys. your hands trembled slightly, the chill of the midnight air seeping into your bones, and you struggled to fit the key into the lock. after what felt like an eternity, the lock finally clicked open, and you pushed the door open with a soft creak.

the house was enveloped in silence, your family long since retired to bed. the only sounds were the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the darkness and the quiet thud of your heels against the wooden floor as you hurried up the stairs. excitement surged through you as you reached your room. with a flick of the switch, the room was bathed in warm light, but your excitement quickly turned to crushing disappointment. the room was empty.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the breath leaving your lungs in a quiet, defeated sigh. you had hoped, prayed even, that he would be there, waiting for you as he always had been. but the room was devoid of that familiar presence, and the weight of his absence settled heavily on your chest.

you let the door swing shut behind you as you sank onto your bed, the soft mattress barely registering beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. the tears came unbidden, spilling down your cheeks in hot, silent streams as you whispered into the empty room, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for making you go away.”

the words broke the silence, and you felt the sobs rising within you, shaking your small frame as you struggled to keep them quiet. you pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. the pain was too much, too raw, and it poured out of you in ragged breaths as you continued, “i’m sorry for saying i didn’t need you. i do, i really do, jimin.”

the room remained still, the silence that followed your confession only deepening the ache in your chest. you felt like you were falling into an endless abyss, the darkness and loneliness closing in around you until it was almost suffocating. you cried harder, the tears blurring your vision as you clutched your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you tried to find some semblance of comfort.

and then, just as the despair threatened to consume you entirely, a voice—familiar and tinged with amusement—cut through the silence. “you’re ruining your makeup.”

your head snapped up so fast you almost felt dizzy, your heart leaping into your throat as you searched the room with wide, tear-filled eyes. and there he was, standing by the window, the corners of his lips curled into that playful smile that made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t help yourself. you were off the bed and across the room in an instant, throwing yourself into his arms with such force that you nearly knocked him over. he let out a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

“you must’ve really missed me,” he teased, his voice a gentle murmur against the top of your head. you nodded against him, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming relief that washed over you. “i’m so sorry,” you managed to choke out, the words coming out in a rush, desperate to make him understand. “i didn’t mean it, jimin. i didn’t mean any of it.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache, but his next words were laced with playful teasing, “i don’t know if i can forgive you,” he said, feigning hurt. your frown deepened as more tears pooled in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you whispered, “i’m sorry, i’ll do anything, jimin. anything.”

he peered at you from the corner of his eye, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to think it over. “anything?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes watching you intently. you nodded without hesitation, willing to do whatever it took to make things right between you.

a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he pointed to his cheek. “give me a kiss.”

you didn’t hesitate. you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way that nothing else could. but before you could pull back, he turned his head, and your lips met his in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. he smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile too, the weight of your earlier sadness lifting as you melted into him. the kiss was soft and sweet, a silent promise that you had been forgiven. but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race, a sense of longing that neither of you could ignore.

when you finally broke the kiss, you looked up at him, your eyes searching his as you whispered, “don’t go anywhere ever again.” his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he replied, “i won’t, i promise.”

the words were barely out of his mouth before his lips were on yours again, this time more urgent, more demanding. you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the kiss deepening until you were both breathless. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him as the intensity of the moment grew. the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own creation, where nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours, and the unspoken connection that bound you together.

breathy gasps filled the air as the kiss became more intense, more desperate. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer as the world around you continued to disappear. on that moment, nothing else mattered—no doubts, no fears, no regrets. there was only him, only you, and the undeniable pull between you that refused to be denied.

his fingertips trailed down your sides, reaching the hem of your shirt, and with one smooth motion, he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside to expose your braless tits. your nipples pebbled at the sudden coolness of the air, and jimin’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. “so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

you reached for the button of his pants, fumbling with the zipper as you felt his hands move to the back of your neck, tracing the skin with his nails, his eyes feasting on your naked tits. his gaze was hungry, and it made you feel powerful, desired. without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing as you took his hardening cock into your hand.

his breath hitched as you leaned in, your hot breath ghosting over the tip before you took him into your mouth. jimin’s hands found your hair, his grip tightening as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around him, exploring every inch of his length. you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him and making his knees tremble. his moans grew more intense, his words a mix of praise and demand as he guided your head, pushing deeper into your mouth.

his eyes never left yours as he watched you, the way your cheeks hollowed out, the way your tongue danced around him. “so good to me,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “but i know what you really want, don’t i?” you pulled back, panting, and nodded. you knew exactly what he wanted. without another word, you stood up, and together you moved to the bed, his hand never leaving the small of your back, guiding you, claiming you. your heart raced as you felt the mattress dip beneath you, his weight pressing you into the softness.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body as if it was the first time, because it was. every touch felt new, every kiss a revelation. he pulled your panties down, his eyes never leaving yours as he exposed your vulnerable pussy to him. your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves. he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever have you like this.”

his mouth found your clit, and you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to lick and suck. the sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his face, desperate for more. he chuckled against you, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “you’re so eager,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “it’s almost obvious you're a virgin.”

you moaned in response, unable to form a coherent argument as he worked his magic. your body tensed, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable, and then with one slick thumb sliding into your ass, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the waves of pleasure, feeling him licking up every drop of your arousal as your pussy spasmed around his thumb.

when you finally opened your eyes, jimin was hovering over you, his own pants and boxers a discarded mess on the floor. the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, and he smirked down at you, his eyes full of mischief. “came for me just like that, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded, unable to form words, and he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. you were tight around him, your body untouched by anyone else, and he took his time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely.

his hips began to move, slow and deliberate, and you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss as he whispered, “i’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, you know that?” you didn’t care about the pain. you only cared about the way he felt inside of you, about the way his kiss made you feel alive. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing more of him as he broke through your barrier with a gentle but firm thrust. a gasp tore from your throat, but it was quickly followed by a moan as pleasure began to overtake the initial discomfort.

jimin’s eyes never left yours as he began to move in earnest, his hips sliding in and out of you with an ease that belied the tightness of your grip on him. you could feel your body adjusting to him, stretching and clinging to him like a second skin. the filth that left his mouth grew more intense, his words a filthy litany that had you squirming and whimpering beneath him. “fuck, i love you. only mine, no one else's.” he growled, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

your orgasm built again, more intense than the first. your pussy was slick with arousal, and with every thrust, he hit that perfect spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch. he was relentless, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, nipping and sucking as he claimed you in every way possible. and then, just as the tension was about to snap, he slammed into you, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you were coming apart, your body shaking with the force of it.

you felt him swell inside of you, his cock pulsing as he reached his own climax, filling you with his warmth. he groaned your name against your neck, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into you. the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a mix of pleasure and possession that had you clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

when it was over, you lay there, panting and trembling, your body still fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm. jimin kissed you softly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever touch you like this, remember that.” you nodded, your voice a mere whisper as you promised, “only you, jimin. only ever you.” he pulled out, and you felt the sticky warmth of his cum trickling down your thighs.

he lay beside you, pulling you into his arms, your bodies entwined as the last of the adrenaline slowly drained away. your heart was still racing, but it was a good kind of scared, the kind that came from knowing you had just given yourself to someone who would protect you with every fiber of his being. you knew he was from the underworld, that he had come to protect you, and in that moment, you had never felt safer.

after a few moments of quiet, he smirked and broke the silence with a question that took you by surprise. “was that really your first time?” his voice was low, slightly teasing, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity there that made you raise an eyebrow. you scoffed lightly, still feeling the lingering warmth from the kiss. “yeah,” you replied with a hint of sarcasm, “my first time just happened to be with a demon from the underworld.” the words were meant to be a joke, but the moment they left your lips, you realized how bizarrely true they were.

jimin propped himself up on his elbows, feigning offense as he stared at you with mock indignation. “how could you be so cruel as to call me that?” he asked, his tone playful but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made you want to tease him further just to see where it would lead.

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension from earlier easing into something lighter, more playful. “you’re right,” you conceded, your voice softening as you leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the brief contact sent a familiar warmth through you, and when you pulled back, you locked eyes with him and continued, “you’re not a demon. you’re my savior.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. for a moment, you both stayed like that, the intensity of your earlier exchange lingering in the quiet space. his gaze softened, the teasing glint fading into something more serious as he studied your face, as if committing every detail to memory. he sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing a gentle path down your cheek before coming to rest under your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “your savior, huh?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something almost sad in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that you rarely saw from him.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you held his gaze. “yeah,” you whispered back, your voice filled with a sincerity that left no room for doubt. “you’ve always been there for me, even when i didn’t want you to be. you saved me, jimin.” the admission hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you both. you saw the way his expression shifted, the playful mask he usually wore slipping away to reveal something raw and unguarded beneath it. his eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your breath catch in your throat.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you had left unsaid. then, finally, jimin leaned in, closing the small distance between you as he captured your lips in a kiss that was softer, gentler than before. there was no urgency this time, no desperation—just the quiet, undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “i don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone again. you understand that, right?” you nodded, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name as you whispered back, “i understand.”

he smiled at that, a small, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “because i’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of his presence envelop you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand grounding you in the moment. and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace—like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. eventually, he shifted, pulling you closer as he lay back down, his arms encircling you protectively. you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. as you lay there, your thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened—the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss when you thought he was gone for good. but now, in his arms, all of that seemed to fade away, replaced by a certainty that you couldn’t quite explain but knew to be true.

jimin was your savior. and as long as he was by your side, you knew that you would be okay.

✧.*

a/n: this was so cute can't wait to go back to jackson wang cameos and angst

professor (교수님) — kim namjoon (김남준)

✧.* 18+

the classroom was a haven of knowledge, a place where the boundaries of your mind were pushed and expanded. every time you walked through those doors, you were met with an air of possibility, the faint scent of old books mingling with the fresh anticipation of discovery. all of the professors had ways of making the most complex concepts feel within reach, of turning abstract theories into tangible truths that you could almost hold in your hands.

they spoke with a quiet confidence, their words weaving intricate patterns that painted the vastness of the world before you. each lecture was a journey, guiding you through the twisting paths of philosophy, literature, and history. they had a gift for connecting seemingly unrelated ideas, showing you how the art of renaissance painters could influence modern technology, or how ancient philosophies could still hold relevance in the digital age. under their guidance, you realized that learning wasn’t just about absorbing information; it was about seeing the world through different lenses, understanding the interconnectivity of all things.

you delved into texts that explored the human condition, the nature of existence, and the purpose of life. you wrestled with questions that had no easy answers, questions that required you to look within yourself for understanding. it wasn’t just about gaining knowledge for the sake of it—it was about applying what you learned to your own life, using it as a tool to navigate the complexities of existence.

but among all the things you studied—science, art, history, language—there was one thing that stood out as the most important: the lessons you learned. these weren’t found in any textbook or taught in any lecture. they were the lessons life had already carved into your soul, shaped by your experiences, your failures, your triumphs. under your own guidance, you came to understand that the most valuable knowledge you could acquire wasn’t about facts or theories. it was about the wisdom you gained from living, from making mistakes, and most importantly, from learning from those mistakes. in the end, it wasn’t just the information you gathered that mattered, but how you used it to grow, to become better, and to understand the world and yourself more deeply. if only you had put those lessons learned to better use.

you hadn't been taught the lesson of love, not in the way you had learned about history or philosophy. love was never something you could study in a textbook or learn through the wisdom of others. it was a lesson you learned by living it, feeling it, enduring it. but you had always trusted too easily, believing that everyone who offered you a kind word or a gentle touch had your best interests at heart. it was a trait that made those around you frustrated, watching as you opened yourself up to hurt time and again. even you, in quieter moments of reflection, found yourself exasperated by your own naivety. but you couldn't help it; trusting others came as naturally to you as breathing.

so, it was no shock—no surprise, really—when you got your heart broken for the first time. you were in your early twenties, a time when many had already experienced their share of heartbreaks and fleeting romances. you, on the other hand, had waited. you had held out for something real, something lasting, thinking that by doing so, you could avoid the pain that others had endured. but love, as you learned, didn't work that way.

for two years, you were caught up in what you thought was a love that would last forever. you built your life around it, around him. you imagined a future where the two of you would wake up side by side, where you would make breakfast together in a sunlit kitchen, sharing quiet moments over coffee. you dreamed of nights spent stargazing, your fingers intertwined as you pointed out constellations, finding comfort in the steady light of the north star. your idea of forever was simple, yet profound: it was the promise of a shared life, of growing old together, of finding peace in each other's presence.

his idea of forever was something else entirely. it was a fleeting thing, something that could be found at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or in the anonymity of a cheap motel room. it was in the arms of whoever he could get his hands on first, someone who wasn’t you. the realization that he had been unfaithful—repeatedly, with over fourteen different girls—shattered the image of the life you had built in your mind. every girl was another crack in the foundation of your trust, another tear in the fabric of your heart. it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but the way you had been so blind to it, so willing to believe that what you had was real.

you were devastated, to say the least. the pain wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, a deep ache that settled in your chest, radiating through your entire body. the nights were the hardest. you would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of your relationship, trying to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong. you wanted to understand how the love you had given so freely could have been so thoroughly disregarded. but no matter how many times you turned it over in your mind, you couldn’t make sense of it.

the worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry with him. you wanted to be—to scream, to curse him for the way he had treated you—but all you felt was a hollow sadness. you were disappointed in him, but more so, you were disappointed in yourself. how could you have let this happen? how could you have been so foolish, so trusting? you had always prided yourself on being smart, on being able to see through people’s intentions, but when it came to him, you had been blind.

the nights following your heartbreak were long, seemingly endless. sleep was a distant stranger, slipping through your fingers every time you tried to grasp it. Instead, you spent those hours in late-night conversations with your friends, searching for solace in their words. their voices were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair, even if just for a little while. you talked about everything and nothing, dissecting the intricacies of your failed relationship, trying to find some sense of closure that always seemed just out of reach.

those talks were punctuated by silences filled with the quiet clicking of a lighter, the soft exhale of smoke as you shared a joint or two. the haze it brought was a welcome escape, a way to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts, to ease the relentless ache in your chest. it wasn’t a solution, but it was enough to get you through the night, to carry you to the next day. and on those days when the darkness seemed to press in too close, you relied on the small comforts you could control—a coin flipped to decide whether you would indulge in a few too many sweets or abstain from food altogether. it was a way of exerting some semblance of control over a life that felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp.

but after weeks of the same routine, you began to realize that you were merely existing, floating in a limbo of your own making. the conversations, the indulgences, the vices—they were all temporary fixes, distractions that couldn’t mask the hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. you were tired of it, tired of feeling like a shadow of yourself, tired of being weighed down by the remnants of a love that was never truly yours.

and so, one night, as you stared into the mirror, you made up your mind. you were going to step out of the bubble you had been living in, to let loose, if only for a single night. you reasoned that if he could spend two years indulging in every whim and desire, seemingly without consequence, then why couldn’t you do the same for just one night? why couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself the freedom to be someone else, to cast aside the constraints of who you were and embrace something—someone—new?

as you stood there, gazing at your reflection, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. your makeup was bold, the colors striking and uncharacteristic of your usual understated look. the dress you wore was scandalous, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and exposed. it was a look that screamed confidence, even if you didn’t fully feel it yet. but that was the point, wasn’t it? you were going to stop being you for just one night, just enough time to forget, to drown out the memories of a love that had never truly been yours.

you inhaled deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, steadying yourself for what was to come. Yyu weren’t sure what you were seeking—perhaps a fleeting connection, a momentary escape, someone who could make you forget all about him for a few hours. maybe you didn’t need to know. maybe it was enough to simply let nature take its course, to surrender to the night and whatever it might bring.

the club pulsed with a life of its own, the heavy bass thumping through the floor, reverberating in your chest as the neon lights cast erratic shadows across the crowd. bodies moved in sync with the music, a sea of motion and sound that made it easy to lose yourself if you let it. but your mind, despite the alcohol and the haze of smoke in the air, remained annoyingly sharp, focused on anything but the moment at hand.

you leaned closer to your friend, your voice slightly raised to be heard over the music. “did you hear about the new english and philosophy teacher? they’re replacing—”

ahe groaned, cutting you off with an exasperated look. “please,” she begged, placing a hand on your arm, “not tonight. can we just, for once, not talk about teachers or school or anything remotely responsible? we’re here to let loose, remember?”

you hesitated, the words dying on your lips. she wasn’t wrong. you were supposed to be here to escape, to forget, not to get caught up in the mundane details of your everyday life. but old habits died hard, and it was difficult to switch off the part of you that found comfort in routine and order, even when surrounded by chaos. still, you nodded, forcing a smile, and took a deep breath, letting the noise and the lights and the sheer energy of the place wash over you. “okay,” you said, more to yourself than to her. “okay, let’s do this.”

your friend grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she reached for the bottle on the table. the label was foreign, the name of the alcohol something you couldn’t even begin to pronounce. that should have been your first warning, but tonight was all about ignoring those little voices of caution in your head. she poured a shot for you, and then one for herself, the clear liquid shimmering under the lights. “bottoms up,” she said, lifting her glass.

you mirrored her action, the cool glass pressed against your lips as you downed the shot in one swift motion. the burn was immediate, searing down your throat and settling heavily in your stomach. it was unpleasant, but it was also a distraction, a welcome one at that. you had no intention of focusing on the men who watched you from across the room, their eyes lingering on your exposed skin as if you were some kind of display piece. it made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to ignore it, to focus on the drinking instead. the coin had been flipped, and tonight, apparently, drinking it all away was your new diet. so you did just that. another shot, then another, until the sharp edges of your thoughts began to blur and the leering gazes of strangers became easier to dismiss.

but then, in the midst of it all, you saw him. he was standing at the edge of the crowd, partially obscured by the throng of people. you didn’t see much at first, just a tall figure with a presence that drew your eye. He was turned slightly away, talking to someone, but something about him caught your attention, held it. you found yourself staring, your curiosity piqued in a way that the alcohol couldn’t dull. and then he turned around.

your eyes met, and the world seemed to slow for a moment, the noise around you fading into the background. he was gorgeous, that was your first thought. his features were sharp, striking—high cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that were dark and intense, holding a depth that made you feel as though he could see right through you. there was a sweet smile on his lips, but it was his eyes that captivated you. there was something almost menacing in them, a contrast that sent a shiver down your spine.

he didn’t look away, and neither did you. for a moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones in the room, a silent understanding passing between you despite the fact that you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. but that didn’t matter. not tonight. before you could second-guess yourself, you did something you wouldn’t normally do. you flashed him a smile, one that you hoped was confident, maybe even a little alluring, and silently prayed that the universe would take your side for once. that, just this once, everything would fall into place.

you turned back around, the music vibrating through your body as you reached for another drink, your hand shaking slightly as you grasped the cool glass. you brought it to your lips and downed it in one go, the burn familiar by now, comforting in its own way. the alcohol was your crutch tonight, something to hold onto as you navigated this unfamiliar terrain of letting go, of not being yourself for just one night. you prayed silently, to whatever or whoever might be listening, that he would come over. that the universe, for once, would be kind. and as if in answer to your unspoken wish, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

you turned, heart racing, and there he was. the man from across the room, the one whose gaze had pulled you in and held you captive. his smile was easy, confident, the kind that could make anyone believe that the night might hold something special, something just for you. “mind if i buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the noise. “or have you had enough already?”

you smiled, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. fuck, not another drink or you might just convulse, you thought silently. but what you really said was, “you could keep me company, and i might make it worth your while.” he laughed, a sound that seemed to roll through you like the bass in the music, deep and warm. “i like that offer,” he said, as he took a seat next to you, his presence somehow making the world around you feel smaller, more intimate.

there was something about him, something that made you feel like the night was just beginning, like everything before this moment had been leading up to something. you looked at him, really looked at him, trying to decipher what it was that drew you to him, but all you could see were those eyes, that sharp jaw, the way he seemed to belong in a place like this, even if you didn’t. “what’s a guy like you doing alone in a place like this?” you asked, leaning in slightly, letting the alcohol loosen your tongue.

he shrugged, his expression casual, as if the answer didn’t matter much. “felt like it’d be nice for a change,” he replied, before his gaze slid back to you. “what about you?”

you sighed, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders. “i felt it’d be nice too,” you admitted, “but that feeling was dead wrong.” he laughed again, and the sound was a little sharper this time, a little more knowing. it made you pause, a sudden, unwelcome memory resurfacing—a project due tomorrow, something about socrates. you groaned inwardly, realizing how far you had strayed from your usual path, how this was so unlike you.

“a project,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, the thought slipping out before you could stop it. he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “what about?”

“socrates,” you said with a hint of frustration. “i decided to do one on him, but it completely slipped my mind.” he scoffed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “poor choice, aristotle is much more influential.”

“okay, and?” you countered, a spark of your usual self peeking through. “socrates is the more seminal one.” his amusement deepened, his eyes studying you with renewed interest. “i can’t believe a smart thing like you is in a place like this.”

you frowned, the words not sitting well with you. they reminded you of everything you were trying to forget tonight, everything you didn’t want to be for just a few hours. “i don’t want to be a smart thing,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “not tonight.”

something in his expression shifted, softened, as he looked at you. he placed a hand on your thigh, the touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way that nothing else had that night. “are you sure you feel that way?” he asked gently, his voice low, the words carrying a weight you weren’t sure you could handle. you didn’t feel that way, not really. but tonight wasn’t about what you usually felt, or who you usually were. It was about letting go, about being someone else, if only for a little while. so you forced yourself to nod, even though a small voice in the back of your mind screamed that this wasn’t you, that this wasn’t right.

he seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t push. instead, he simply said, “let me help you.” you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could, he was gently tugging your wrist, gesturing for you to follow him. your vision, blurred by the alcohol and the dim lighting, focused enough for you to see where he was leading you—to the back, to the private rooms. a sense of unease settled in your stomach, but you pushed it aside, telling yourself that this was what you wanted, what you needed.

you followed him, your heart pounding louder with each step. the corridor to the private rooms was dimly lit, the music a dull thrum in the background. as you walked, he glanced back at you, that same smile playing on his lips, the one that had stopped you in your tracks just minutes earlier. “i never got your name, sweetheart,” he said, his voice teasing, yet somehow sincere.

you gave him your name, “(y/n) (l/n),” the sound of it foreign in your own ears, as if it belonged to someone else. “and yours?” you asked, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of caution.

he turned to you fully then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of mischief and something else, something darker. “namjoon,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a confidence that matched everything else about him. “kim namjoon.” and as he said it, you felt the world shift slightly, as if that name carried more weight than you could understand. but you were too far gone to care, too far gone to do anything but follow him, to see where this night might lead, to forget about everything else—your project, your heartbreak, your old self—and lose yourself in the unknown, if only for a few hours.

the private room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across the walls as you and namjoon stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind you, a sound that seemed to echo in the small space, followed by the unmistakable turn of a lock. it felt final, as if you were sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, from everything you knew, leaving only this moment, this man, and the uncertain promise of the night ahead.

you couldn’t help but watch him as he moved, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his body. the way his broad shoulders filled the space, how his black shirt clung to the muscles beneath, made your heart race. his hands, veiny and strong, were relaxed by his sides, but you couldn’t stop imagining them wrapped around you, feeling their strength and gentleness at once. and his eyes—god, his eyes—were the most mesmerizing of all. they were dark, intense, and held a dangerous kind of allure, like something that could either save you or ruin you, depending on how close you got.

a flicker of doubt wormed its way into your mind. you worried you might not be enough, not for someone like him. he was so composed, so sure of himself, and you—well, you were there trying to forget who you were, trying to become someone else for just a night. what if that wasn’t enough? what if you weren’t enough? namjoon must have sensed your unease because his gaze softened, the same easy smile spreading across his lips as he approached you. his steps were unhurried, confident, and with each one, the air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation.

when he reached you, he didn’t say anything at first. he simply cupped your cheek in his hand, his touch warm, and surprisingly gentle. his thumb stroked your skin, the soft caress sending a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, all you could do was stare up at him, lost in the darkness of his eyes. “you’re not afraid, sweetheart, are you?” he asked, his voice a low purr that sent another shiver through you. it was a voice that could coax secrets from you, a voice that promised things you weren’t sure you were ready for but found yourself wanting anyway.

was it fear that you were feeling? the heat coursing through your veins, the quickened beat of your heart, the way your skin seemed to burn where he touched you—was that fear? you didn’t know, and the uncertainty of it all made you nervous. but you shook your head, trying to convince yourself as much as him that you weren’t afraid.

he didn’t seem entirely convinced. he let out a soft, almost playful, tsk, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “you should use your words, yeah?” he coaxed, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, something that told you he wanted you to be sure, that he wanted you to choose this, to choose him. “i promise i’m not,” you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended, but steady enough. it felt like a small victory, a way to prove to yourself that you could do this, that you could be this version of yourself, if only for a night.

it seemed to be enough for him. namjoon’s smile widened, and the warmth in his eyes deepened, drawing you in even further. he leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away, to change your mind, but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were caught, helpless under the spell he was weaving with every look, every touch. when his lips finally met yours, it was like the world stopped. the kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, tasting it, tasting you. his lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a controlled kind of passion that left you breathless. he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing for more, just kissing you like he had all the time in the world and was determined to spend it unraveling you, piece by piece.

you responded tentatively at first, unsure of how to match the intensity of his kiss. but he guided you, his free hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. the heat between you flared, igniting something deep within you, something that made you press back against him, your lips parting slightly as you began to lose yourself in the feel of him. namjoon took the invitation, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a way of marking this moment as something significant, something more than just a fleeting encounter in a club. you could feel the way he held you, firm yet gentle, as if he was trying to tell you something without words, trying to show you how he could make you forget everything, even if just for tonight.

your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. his body was solid, reassuring, and the way he held you made you feel small, but in a good way, like you were being enveloped by something safe, something you could trust, even if only for these few stolen hours. he pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss, and rested his forehead against yours. his breath was warm against your lips, mingling with your own, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, breathing together, the air thick with the tension and the promise of what was to come.

“you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice a whisper in the small space between you. his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that you weren’t ready. but you were ready. or at least, you wanted to be. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. it was calming in a way, a reminder that despite everything, despite the chaos in your own heart, there was something steady, something real, right in front of you. and so, with the taste of him still lingering on your lips, you whispered back, “i’m sure.”

his smile grew, and his hand slid down to the hem of your dress. with one swift tug, he pulled it over your head, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. you felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was like a warm blanket, wrapping around you, making you feel seen and desired. his eyes raked over you, pausing at your tits, your stomach, your hips, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. he stepped back just enough to take you in, his gaze lingering on your lacy black bra, the one you’d picked out specifically for tonight, hoping it would be enough to catch his eye.

his hands went to his own shirt, and he began to unbutton it, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was almost unbearable, the slow reveal of his chest, his abs, the v of his hips disappearing into his pants. when he was finally bare-chested, you couldn’t help but stare. he was beautiful, sculpted in a way that made your mouth water, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out, to trace every line and curve with your fingertips.

before you could act on the impulse, namjoon stepped closer again, his hand sliding up your back to unclasp your bra. it fell away, and your tits spilled into his waiting hands. his thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. his eyes never left yours as he played with you, teasing you, watching as your breath grew shallower, as your eyes glazed over with lust. “you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. and you nodded, unable to form coherent words as he continued to toy with your sensitive flesh, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently until you were squirming against him.

his other hand slid down to your ass, squeezing it firmly, and he stepped closer, pressing his growing erection against your stomach. it was a clear message, one that sent a bolt of excitement through you, making you even wetter than you already were. without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you’re so fucking pretty. can’t wait to ruin you.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your voice a breathless agreement.

his hand moved from your ass to the hem of your panties, and with a quick pull, they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you in absolutely nothing. he knelt down, kissing a trail from your belly button to one your hips, and you could feel the dampness seeping onto his fingers. his fingers slid down your legs, relishing in the fact that you were completely bare before him. his eyes took in the sight of you, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire that mirrored your own.

his hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your clit, making you jump. he chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers through your body. “you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a purr that made you want to melt into him. “yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “good, i like that in a woman.”

his hand slid away, and you felt a pang of loss, but it was quickly replaced by the pressure of his mouth on your pussy, his tongue sliding through your folds, tasting you. your legs trembled, and you had to hold onto his shoulders to keep from collapsing. his tongue was skilled, teasing and probing, making you gasp and moan with every stroke. you’d never felt anything like this before, never been this exposed, this wanton. and as he worked you over, you realized you didn’t care. all you cared about was the feel of his mouth on you, the way he was making you feel.

his tongue circled your clit, and you felt your orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew until you couldn’t hold it back any longer. you cried out, your body shaking as you came, the sensation overwhelming you. namjoon didn’t stop, didn’t ease up, just kept licking and sucking until you were a trembling mess, your legs barely able to hold you up.

he stood, a smug smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at his erection, straining against his pants. he noticed your gaze and chuckled, reaching down to free himself. “you want it?” he asked, stroking himself, and you nodded, your mouth dry with need. he led you to the bed, pushing you down gently. “spread your legs for me,” he said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through you. you did as he asked, your heart racing as he climbed on top of you. he positioned himself at your entrance, and without any preamble, pushed inside you. you gasped, the sensation of his size filling you up, stretching you in the most delicious way.

his thrusts were deep and deliberate, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through you. “you’re so tight, so wet,” he murmured, his breath hot in your ear. “feel so good around me, baby.”

his hand found your ass, and he began to spank you lightly, the sting melding with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge again. you moaned, your hips moving in sync with his, your body begging for more. “yes, like that,” you panted, and he complied, his hand coming down harder, the smack echoing in the room.

his movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. “yes, yes, please, namjoon,” you whimpered, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

his hand moved to your clit, his thumb pressing down as he thrust into you. the pressure was too much, and you shattered, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed closely behind, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body taut with the effort to hold off until you reached yours.

as you both came down from the high, he collapsed on top of you, his weight feeling surprisingly comforting. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the beat of your own. he kissed your neck, his breathing still ragged, and whispered, “you’re mine for the night, remember that.” and as you lay there, his cock still inside you, you realized you didn’t want it any other way.

his kisses grew softer, more tender, as his hand slid up to cup your cheek. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but before you could miss it too much, he rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. he was still hard, and the feeling of him between your thighs was enough to make you want more. “ride me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you didn’t need any more encouragement than that. you positioned yourself over him, your hands on his chest for balance as you began to slide up and down, his cock filling you with every movement. the sensation was different like this, the angle hitting you in new, delicious ways. you moaned, throwing your head back as you found a rhythm that made your toes curl. namjoon’s hands roamed your body, caressing your tits, your waist, your hips, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, to take him deeper.

his eyes never left yours, watching you with a hunger that made you feel powerful, like you could do anything. and as you moved above him, grinding down on his length, you realized that maybe you could. you felt alive in a way you hadn’t in a long time, free from the constraints of who you were outside of this room.

his thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. your eyes rolled back in your head, and you leaned down to kiss him, your movements growing erratic as you approached the edge once more. he swallowed your moans, his own hips bucking up to meet yours, pushing you closer and closer. you felt it building, the tension coiling in your belly, tightening around his cock. your muscles clenched, and you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you came, your body shaking with the force of it. namjoon’s grip on your hips tightened, his own orgasm following quickly after, his cock pulsing inside you.

you collapsed against him, your breaths mingling, your bodies slick with sweat. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the feeling of him, the way he filled you up in more ways than one. as you caught your breath, you couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night would bring. would it be more of this? or would it end with the club, a memory that you’d cherish forever? either way, you knew you’d never forget the way he’d made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were the most important person in the world. and as you felt his heart beating in time with yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be anyone else but yourself to be enough.

the pale light of dawn was beginning to filter through the cracks in the curtains when you stirred, the dim glow pulling you out of a deep, dreamless sleep. it took you a moment to remember where you were. the unfamiliar surroundings, the dimly lit room, and the soft, warm body lying next to you—everything came rushing back in a disorienting wave. the events of the night before flashed in your mind, and with them, the realization of what time it must be.

your heart began to race as the panic set in. morning classes. you had morning classes, and you weren’t in your bed, you weren’t even in your apartment—you were still here, in a private room that now felt too intimate, too close. you sat up carefully, trying not to disturb namjoon, who was still sleeping peacefully beside you. the sheets were tangled around you both, his hand resting on your thigh, his chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

your gaze dropped to him, taking in the sight of his relaxed features, his slightly tousled hair, the way the early morning light played across his face. he looked almost boyish in his sleep, the sharpness in his eyes softened, his usually confident demeanor replaced by something more vulnerable. it was a sight that made your heart warm, despite the chaos swirling in your mind. for a moment, you hesitated. there was a strange comfort in being there with him, in the warmth of his presence and the softness of the bed beneath you. part of you wanted to stay, to curl back up against him, to let the world outside wait a little longer. but reality was a harsh companion, and the ticking clock in your mind reminded you that you had responsibilities, a life that didn’t include waking up in a stranger’s bed after a night of reckless abandon.

you gently lifted his hand off your thigh, sliding out of bed as quietly as you could. your feet touched the cool floor, sending a shiver up your spine as you quickly scanned the room for your clothes. they were scattered across the floor—your dress draped over a chair, your shoes lying haphazardly near the door, your bag tucked under the bed. as you gathered your things, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at namjoon. he was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, one arm stretched out across the bed where you had just been. you paused, taking in the way he looked so at peace, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

you dressed quickly, your movements hurried but careful not to make too much noise. the dress, once sleek and form-fitting, now felt slightly wrinkled and askew as you slipped it back on. your fingers fumbled with the zipper, your mind too distracted by the thought of the morning ahead and the fact that you were nowhere near ready for it. just as you reached for your bag, you heard a rustling behind you. you froze, praying he wouldn’t wake up, but when you turned around, there he was—propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-open, still heavy with sleep, but focused on you.

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice rough and low, still laced with the remnants of sleep. the sound of it sent a small thrill through you, even as you tried to calm your racing heart. “i have morning classes,” you replied, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize, but something about the situation—the intimacy of the moment, the fact that you were leaving so abruptly—made you feel like you owed him an explanation.

namjoon blinked, his gaze sharpening slightly as he processed your words. he sat up fully, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “you won’t even let me treat you to breakfast?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t help but smile back, though it was tinged with regret. “maybe another time,” you said, already moving toward the door. “but i really can’t be late for my classes.”

he watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “i’ll see you around, then,” he said, his tone easy, but there was a note of something else in it, something that made your chest tighten slightly. you paused at the door, your hand on the handle, and turned back to him. “i had a good time,” you said, the words coming out softer than you intended, but they were true. despite everything, despite the way the morning had come too soon, you didn’t regret the night before.

he smiled again, that warm, disarming smile that had drawn you in from the start. “so did i.” with that, you slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind you. the corridor outside was empty, the muffled thump of music from the club below barely audible through the thick walls. you hurried down the hallway, your mind racing with a million thoughts—what you were going to say if anyone saw you, how you were going to explain the state you were in, and most importantly, how you were going to make it to class on time.

the drive back to your apartment was a blur, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly as you sped through the early morning streets. the city was still waking up, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a pale, golden light over everything. you barely noticed, too focused on the task at hand—getting home, getting dressed, and somehow making it to class without looking like you had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. when you finally pulled up to your apartment, you nearly tripped over your own feet in your haste to get inside. the keys fumbled in your hand, slipping once, twice, before you managed to unlock the door and rush inside. your apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that comes with the early morning hours, and for a brief moment, you let yourself pause, leaning against the door as you caught your breath.

there was no time to waste. you darted into your bedroom, shedding your dress and tossing it onto the bed as you rifled through your closet for your uniform. the blouse was slightly wrinkled, the skirt a little too short for your liking, but there was no time to worry about that now. you yanked the blouse on, your fingers clumsy as they buttoned it up, tucking it into the skirt with a haste that left it slightly uneven, but you didn’t care. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you hurried to the bathroom, and winced. your makeup was a mess, the once-perfect red lipstick now faded to a nude smudge, your eyeliner smeared, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes that made you look more like a raccoon than the confident, put-together student you were supposed to be.

there was no time for a full fix, but you did what you could—wiping away the worst of the smudges with a makeup wipe, reapplying a thin layer of a lighter lpstick, and hoping that no one would look too closely. your hair was another matter entirely, tangled and wild from the night before, but a quick brush through had to suffice. with one last look in the mirror—satisfied that you were at least presentable—you grabbed your bag and bolted out the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you rushed to make it to class on time. you didn’t allow yourself to think about namjoon, about the way he had looked at you as you left, or the way his voice had lingered in your mind, soft and warm. there would be time for that later—maybe.

you made it to class just before the bell rang, your breath still a little uneven from the mad dash across campus. the relief that washed over you was short-lived, though, as you barely had time to compose yourself before you felt eyes on you. you caught soobin’s glance from the corner of your eye—he was the kind of friend who could read you like a book, even on your best days, and today was far from your best.

feigning being startled at your sudden appearance, soobin exaggeratedly flinched, his eyes widening in mock surprise before breaking into a smile. “well, well,” he drawled, his tone teasing, “i didn’t think you were gonna make it. i was about to call search and rescue.” you scowled at him, trying to ignore the way his smirk widened. but before you could retort, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “so, how much is a night?”

his words were laced with humor, but they hit too close to home. you glared at him, a retort already on your lips. “you couldn’t afford it,” you shot back, your tone sharp, but there was no real heat behind it. the truth was too raw, too close to the surface, and you weren’t in the mood to joke about it. as you settled into your seat between soobin and heewon, you could feel the tension beginning to ease—only slightly, though. the classroom was slowly filling up, students chatting idly as they waited for class to begin, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

heewon, who had been flipping through her notes, glanced up at you and immediately burst into laughter at the sight of your disheveled appearance. “god, you pull off the messy whore look really well,” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “almost like hyuna.” you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for jokes. “not today, hee,” you muttered, reaching into your bag to pull out a small mirror. you avoided looking at her directly as you adjusted your hair, trying to tame the unruly strands that refused to cooperate.

your reflection was unkind, showing the toll the morning’s rush had taken on you—your blouse was still slightly untucked, your skirt wrinkled from where you’d hastily shoved it on, and your lipstick was more of a faint suggestion than an actual color. heewon didn’t miss a beat, though. “if i didn’t know you,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “i’d say you actually had that one-night stand you were talking about.”

the words hung in the air, and you froze, your hand stilling mid-motion as you applied another layer of nude lipstick. your blood ran cold as you slowly turned to look at her, your expression a mask of forced nonchalance. but she wasn’t fooled—her eyes widened in realization, shock flooding her features as she stared at you. “no way,” she breathed, a little too loud for comfort. her eyes darted around the room, but most of the other students were too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “with who?”

you slapped her arm lightly, more out of habit than actual reprimand, and opened your mouth to answer. but before you could get a word out, the door to the classroom creaked open. the sudden silence that fell over the room was deafening, everyone’s attention snapping to the front as the principal stepped inside. he was a tall, stern-looking man with graying hair and sharp eyes, the kind of person who commanded respect without having to say much. he cleared his throat, and the last of the murmurs died away as he addressed the class.

“i’m sure most of you are aware by now that mister im has decided to leave us,” the principal began, his voice measured and calm. “but i wanted to personally introduce you all to your new english and philosophy professor.” there was a pause as he turned to the door, gesturing for the man outside to step in. the classroom was so quiet that you could hear the faint rustle of papers, the shifting of feet—everyone waiting with bated breath for the new teacher to make his entrance. and then he stepped in.

the world seemed to slow down as your eyes locked onto the man walking through the door. everything else fell away—the murmurs of the students, the sound of the clock ticking on the wall, even the very breath in your lungs—all of it disappeared as your gaze fixed on him. it was him. the man you had spent the night with, the one whose name you had whispered in the dim light of the private room just hours before. and now, here he was, standing in front of you as your new professor.

namjoon—no, professor kim namjoon—mister kim? whatever he was going to be called from that point on, froze in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. for a moment, he looked just as shocked as you felt, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. but there was no mistaking it—you were as real as they came, sitting there with wide eyes and a racing heart, just as he was standing there, trying to process the impossibility of the situation.

the principal, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, turned to namjoon, his voice breaking the silence. “is everything okay?” namjoon blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had been running through his mind. he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing into something more composed, though you could see the faint tension in his jaw. “yes, everything’s fine,” he replied, his voice steady, but you could hear the slight edge to it, the barely perceptible waver that only someone who knew him—or had spent the night with him—might notice.

he turned back to the class, his gaze sweeping over the rows of students, but his eyes remained firmly on you as he introduced himself. “i’m professor kim namjoon,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with a quiet authority. “i’ll be your new english and philosophy instructor.” you were stunned into silence, your mind reeling as you tried to process what was happening. the man who had been a nameless stranger just hours before was now your professor, standing there in front of the entire class, his attention seemingly focused on you alone.

there was a brief moment where you thought you might faint, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a lead blanket. but then namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly, and you saw something there—recognition, yes, but also something else. a flicker of concern, perhaps, or maybe just a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. and then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the calm, composed demeanor of a professor addressing his class. he began speaking again, introducing the syllabus and his expectations for the course, but you barely heard a word of it. all you could focus on was the fact that your night of recklessness had followed you here, into the one place you had thought was safe, and there was no escaping it now.

as he continued to speak, you forced yourself to sit up straighter, to adopt the same mask of composure he had. but inside, you were anything but calm. your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disbelief. heewon nudged you, her eyes wide as she glanced between you and namjoon, clearly sensing something was off but not daring to ask. soobin, for once, was silent, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of genuine concern.

but none of it mattered. not really. because as namjoon’s gaze flickered back to you, just for a moment, you knew that it was far from over. the connection you had felt the night before was still there, humming beneath the surface, and there was no telling where it might lead—or what it might cost you. the bell rang, signaling the start of class, but for you, it felt like the beginning of something else entirely.

namjoon had composed himself almost too well for someone who had just discovered an unexpected connection in his classroom. his voice was steady, professional, as he launched into the introduction of the day's topic—a deep dive into existential philosophy, a subject that would set the tone for the entire semester. his words flowed with an easy confidence, drawing the attention of the entire class, but your mind was a whirlwind, struggling to keep up with the reality of the situation. as he spoke, you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the man who stood before you now with the one you had been so intimately close to just hours ago. every time his eyes drifted toward you, your gaze would dart away, your heart beating too fast, too loud.

just as you were beginning to gather your thoughts, namjoon posed a question to the class, inviting anyone to share what they knew about existentialism. before you could react, heewon’s hand shot up beside you. “oh, (y/n) knows all about that,” she announced, her voice light with an undercurrent of mischief. she shot you a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised as if daring you to deny it.

you turned to face her, your eyes pleading, practically begging her to drop it. but she was never one to back down from a moment like this, especially when she sensed there was more to the story. your warning gaze seemed to only fuel her amusement. namjoon’s eyes flicked from heewon to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying a playful edge that only you seemed to notice. “i figured you’d know it. you probably know most of the plan and program.”

his words hung in the air, the double meaning not lost on you. there was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued, his gaze locked onto yours. “why don’t you tell us what you know?” you swallowed hard, your mind racing to find an answer, any answer. but all you could think about was the night before—the way his voice had sounded in your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours. the memories clouded your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on the question he’d asked.

you opened your mouth, but no words came out. the silence stretched on, heavy and awkward, until soobin nudged you gently from the other side. his elbow digging into your ribs jolted you back to reality, and you forced yourself to speak. “sartre believed that existence precedes essence,” you began, your voice quieter than usual, barely above a whisper. “it means that we're born without purpose, and it’s our responsibility to give our lives meaning through our actions.”

namjoon’s smile widened, a look of approval crossing his face. “outstanding,” he said, his tone genuine, almost too warm. he paused for a moment, his gaze softening as he asked, “what’s your name?” the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were silent again, unable to form a response. it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the classroom and the other students fading into the background. your mouth opened, but no sound came out, the weight of his gaze rendering you speechless.

another nudge from soobin brought you back to the present. you blinked, realizing that you had to respond. “it’s (y/n) (l/n),” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. namjoon nodded, a hint of something unreadable in his expression as he repeated your name, letting it linger in the air. “(y/n),” he said softly, almost like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. “thank you for sharing.”

you could feel heewon’s eyes on you, a mixture of curiosity and realization dawning on her face. she wasn’t a fool—she had seen the way you had reacted, the way namjoon had looked at you, and it didn’t take long for her to start putting the pieces together. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what she thought, not when all you could focus on was him. he continued with the lecture, but you hardly heard a word of it. every time he turned back to the class, your gaze would drop to your desk, your heart thudding in your chest. the tension in the room was palpable, and you could tell that soobin and heewon were both aware of it, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

after what felt like an eternity, namjoon began handing out sheets of paper, instructing the class to spend the next fifteen minutes writing an essay on the topic he had introduced. you barely registered the words, your mind still caught up in the swirl of emotions from earlier. when he reached your desk, he paused, his movements slower, more deliberate. as he set the paper down in front of you, his hand brushed against your fingers, the contact brief but electric. you looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. his eyes locked onto yours, and you saw something in them—a flicker of desire, maybe, or perhaps just a shared acknowledgment of the impossible situation you both found yourselves in.

he took his bottom lip between his teeth, a small, almost imperceptible gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. the air between you crackled with tension, so thick that you could almost taste it. namjoon didn’t miss the look in your eyes, nor did he miss the way your thighs clenched together involuntarily at the sight of him. his gaze dropped for just a second before he looked back at you, his expression unreadable but intense.

heewon and soobin exchanged a worried look, sensing that something was off but unsure of what to make of it. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the man standing in front of you, the man who had somehow become both a stranger and something more in the span of just one night. namjoon lingered for a moment longer before moving on to the next student, but the heat of his touch stayed with you, lingering on your skin long after he had stepped away. you stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, your mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions, wondering how you were supposed to focus on anything else when the only thing you could think about was him.

you stared at the blank sheet of paper for what felt like forever, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. the memory of Namjoon’s touch lingered on your skin, his presence looming over you despite him moving on to the next student. every word you tried to write felt forced, disjointed, as if your mind was too occupied with the events of the night before to form a coherent sentence. but you pushed through, forcing yourself to focus, to string together an essay that would meet namjoon’s expectations—or at least not embarrass yourself in front of him. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally as he walked around the room, checking on the other students, and every time, it made your heart race and your fingers tremble.

finally, you managed to write something—an essay that was far from your best work, but at least it was done. the bell rang, its sharp sound jolting you out of your thoughts. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you as namjoon dismissed the class with a curt nod. the scraping of chairs and the shuffling of feet filled the room as everyone stood up and turned in their papers. you gathered your things slowly, hoping to blend in with the crowd, to escape without another encounter with him. as you moved toward the front to turn in your essay, soobin and heewon caught your attention.

“we’ll wait outside for you,” soobin said, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knew something you didn’t. your eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to leave you alone in this classroom. but it was too late; they were already heading out the door, leaving you and namjoon as the last ones in the room. you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes down, refusing to meet it. you set your paper on his desk, trying to make a quick exit.

but just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “i didn’t know you went to college here.” you froze, every muscle in your body tensing at his words. you slowly turned around, forcing yourself to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “i didn’t know you worked here,” you replied, your voice barely steady.

the silence that followed was thick with tension, the air heavy with everything that was left unsaid. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the same uncertainty that mirrored your own. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation pressing down on you both. then he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. his gaze hardened, the warmth from earlier replaced with something colder, more distant. “please only refer to me as your professor from now on,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sinking in. it felt like your heart was physically breaking, the pain sharp and immediate. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. he paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he continued. “pretend like anything we had didn’t happen, for our sake.”

you nodded, the motion stiff and mechanical, even as the nausea churned in your stomach. it felt like the ground was slipping out from under you, like you were free-falling and there was nothing to catch you. but you forced a small, tight-lipped smile, doing your best to hide the turmoil inside. “see you next period, professor kim,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the room, your legs feeling like they were made of lead. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his words pressing down on you. as you pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise and bustle of the other students barely registered.

all you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the coldness in his eyes, and the realization that whatever connection you had felt the night before was now nothing but a distant memory. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the memory of his voice in your ear, but it all felt so far away now, like a dream that had ended too soon. heewon and soobin were waiting for you just outside the classroom, their expressions shifting from playful to concerned the moment they saw you. heewon opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head, silently begging her not to ask. you couldn’t talk about it, not now—not when everything felt so raw, so real.

the day felt like a blur as you made your way through the bustling hallways, trying to shake off the weight of the morning’s events. you met up with soobin and heewon during your free period, desperate for some semblance of normalcy. the café in the student center was a welcome escape, its warm lighting and soft chatter offering a brief respite from the chaos in your mind. you slid into a booth with them, the leather seats creaking under the weight of your exhaustion. you barely registered the vibrant colors and bustling activity around you, too preoccupied with the events of the morning.

“so,” soobin said, leaning in with an inquisitive look. “what the hell happened between you and professor kim?” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. with a heavy sigh, you began recounting the events of the previous night—everything from the club, the fleeting connection with namjoon, to the morning’s abrupt encounter in class. your friends listened in stunned silence, their eyes widening with each detail.

when you finished, soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and heewon. “i didn’t expect that,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. heewon, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “you’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration. “he’s like, the hottest professor ever. you did good, really good.”

you managed a weak smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a twinge of warmth despite the tumult inside. as you looked around, your gaze fell upon namjoon again, this time surrounded by a swarm of female students. they clustered around him, offering water and engaging in casual conversation. his earlier gaze had been replaced by a smile that was charming but distant, his attention firmly on his admirers. “guess you aren’t his only fan,” soobin remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

you turned back to your friends, trying to mask the tightness in your chest. “i don’t care,” you said, your voice carrying a trace of frustration. “i’m not allowed to care.” heewon placed a reassuring hand on your arm, her eyes softening with sympathy. “look on the bright side,” she said gently. “you got over your ex, if anything. and maybe, in some weird way, this is a chance to start fresh.”

her words were meant to be comforting, but they only served to remind you of the painful truth. the breakup with your ex had left you vulnerable and searching for validation, and namjoon’s presence had complicated everything in ways you hadn’t anticipated. but you nodded, appreciating her attempt to offer perspective. you managed a grateful smile, the gesture feeling heavy but sincere. as you sipped your coffee, the bitter taste seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. the conversation drifted, and you tried to focus on the mundane topics your friends brought up, but your thoughts kept returning to namjoon.

the next day unfolded with a disorienting sense of déjà vu, as if you were trapped in a cycle you couldn’t escape. the english period began with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the previous day’s awkward encounter with namjoon. his presence was now a constant, uncomfortable weight, and you braced yourself for another session of tense interactions. he entered the classroom, his authoritative stride commanding immediate attention. he took his place at the front, his gaze scanning the room with a sharpness that made your skin prickle. the air seemed charged with unspoken tension as he began his lesson, his voice smooth but carrying an edge.

throughout the class, it became increasingly clear that namjoon was deliberately targeting you. his questions were relentless, designed to probe and unsettle. his piercing eyes would lock onto you as he asked complex questions about the texts you’d studied. “so,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of challenge, “can you tell me how socrates’ concept of virtue contrasts with plato’s theory of forms?” you stumbled over your answer, your mind racing to piece together a coherent response. “um, socrates—he believed that virtue was a form of knowledge, right? and plato, well, he thought virtue was tied to the ideal forms?”

namjoon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the sound echoing through the classroom. “not quite. socrates did indeed view virtue as a form of knowledge, but plato’s theory of forms goes beyond that, focusing on the ideal forms as the true reality of virtue.” the click of his tongue felt like a stinging reprimand, and you could feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. from behind, soobin offered a comforting wink, his eyes twinkling with mischief. you smiled back, grateful for his support, even if you didn’t fully understand his intentions.

as namjoon moved through the rows, he handed back the essays with a stoic expression. when he reached your table, he paused, his eyes scanning your paper. “you can do better,” he said, despite the high mark you’d received. his voice was flat, dismissive, and it stung more than the failing grade could have.

soobin leaned over as his eyes raked over the positive mark on your paper, a smirk playing on his lips. he whispered, “congratulations,” before wrapping his arms around your neck in a gesture that surprised you. he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, the touch warm and reassuring. “well done,” he added, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the brief moment of affection. it was partly for show, a subtle defiance in the face of namjoon’s scrutiny, but it felt genuine enough to offer a small comfort. as he pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice namjoon’s eyes flicking toward you, his expression unreadable but his demeanor tense.

the moment was shattered when soobin dropped his pencil, its clatter startlingly loud in the quiet classroom. he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and said, “could you get that for me?” you nodded, bending over to retrieve the pencil. the motion was unavoidably revealing, your short skirt riding up just enough to provide a provocative view. you could feel namjoon’s gaze on you, intense and almost overwhelming. as you picked up the pencil, you glanced up to see soobin’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze deliberate and knowing.

you handed the pencil back to him, who responded with a smirk, “thank you, sweetheart.” namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he watched the interaction. his knuckles whitened around the stack of papers in his hand, the sheets crumpling under the pressure of his grip. the sight of soobin’s gaze on you seemed to inflame his irritation, and he struggled to maintain his composure. the tension broke when he suddenly snapped, “pop quiz.”

the sharpness of his command cut through the room, drawing startled gasps from the students. you looked back to see soobin’s smirk widening, a silent acknowledgment of the provocation. you couldn’t help but return his smirk, feeling a mix of amusement and defiance. as he began distributing the quiz papers, the atmosphere in the room shifted. the playful energy between you and soobin contrasted sharply with namjoon’s stern demeanor.

the bell's chime reverberated through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. as students shuffled to their feet, handing in their quizzes with murmurs of relief, you lingered behind, finalizing your answers and tapping the pencil against the paper. you were the last to submit your quiz once again, and as you made your way to the front, you glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had before your next class.

with your quiz in hand, you approached namjoon's desk, determined to leave the room as quickly as possible. however, as you turned to head for the door, namjoon's voice stopped you in your tracks. “come here,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laden with an undercurrent of something else. your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. “is everything okay, professor kim?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

namjoon's posture stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that you noticed immediately. he adjusted himself in his chair, spreading his legs slightly. as you met his gaze, your eyes flickered momentarily to the front of his pants. specifically, the painfully visible tent in his pants that had been rightfully covered by his desk. now, you were able to get a clear view of it and, fuck, was it obvious. the sight was unsettling, a realization that you forced yourself to ignore.

he leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “did you enjoy the show you put on today?” he asked, his voice low and carrying an edge of challenge. you struggled to maintain composure. “i have no idea what you're talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and focused. your gaze danced around the room, avoiding the direction of his gaze.

his expression hardened slightly. without breaking eye contact, he reached for a stapler on his desk and tossed it lightly in front of you. “pick it up for me,” he instructed, his tone carrying a hushed command. you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his command. his voice seemed to reverberate through you, causing an involuntary clenching in your thighs. you turned around and bent over to retrieve the stapler, your skirt rising above your hips with the motion. the fabric brushed against your legs as you reached for the stapler, the movement eliciting a sharp intake of breath from namjoon.

as you stood up and placed the stapler back on his desk, you tried to keep your gaze forward. namjoon’s eyes followed you, and you could sense the tension in the air thickening. “come here,” he murmured again, his voice softer but still carrying the same underlying authority. you hesitated, fighting the urge to defy him. but the knowledge that resistance was futile made you comply. you approached him, feeling his gaze on you as you moved closer. when you were within arm’s reach, he reached out and drew you gently into his lap, his grip firm yet careful.

you could feel it, the clothed tent in his pants pressing into the bare flesh of your thigh, it sent goosebumps all arouns your skin. his lips brushed against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “are you happy knowing that the boys are getting off to this ass of yours?” he asked, his voice a dark purr against your skin. you tried to muster a response, a smirk curling on your lips as you said, “yeah, the boys are real nice to me.” the words felt hollow, a weak attempt to mask your discomfort.

namjoon chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. his hand pressed against you, and you could feel the firmness of his body beneath you. “you don’t need them,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper, more possessive tone. “you need a man.” your breath caught in your throat, the situation spiraling beyond your control.

his hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently through your shirt. the fabric was thin, offering no real barrier to his touch. your nipples tightened, and you gasped. “is this what you want?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the peak. “to be manhandled by some immature college boys?” his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling your face towards his. his lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, one that was as much about power as it was passion. your body responded instinctively, arching into him. his tongue pushed into your mouth, and you could taste the mint from his gum, a stark contrast to the earthy scent of his cologne.

his hand moved from your neck to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to expose your bare skin. his teeth grazed your bottom lip before he pulled away, leaving you panting. “now, let’s see how wet you get when you’re being punished by your professor,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. before you could protest, his hand slid down to cup your sex through your panties, his fingers moving in slow circles. his touch was deliberate, almost cruel in its precision. the fabric of your panties was drenched, and you could feel the heat of your arousal spreading. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “gonna pay for teasing me like that.”

his hand withdrew, and before you could react, his palm connected with your ass in a sharp spank. the sting of pain shot through you, but instead of anger, you felt a pulse of desire. the room around you spun, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “is that what you wanted?” he asked, his voice mocking. “to be used like this?”

you didn’t answer, but your silence was answer enough. namjoon chuckled again, his hand moving to your other cheek. this time, the spank was harder, and the sound echoed through the empty classroom. you gasped, your legs trembling, but your pussy clenched around his fingers. “yes, professor,” you murmured, the words slipping out despite your attempt to remain defiant.

his hand slid into your panties, his fingers pushing inside you without preamble. you were so wet, so ready, and his touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. his thumb circled your clit, and you moaned, unable to hold back. “that’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and encouraging. “tell me how much you like it when i spank you, and maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick.”

his other hand moved to the zipper of his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock. it sprang out, and you couldn’t help but stare at it, the size of it both terrifying and exhilarating. “you want this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a gruff challenge. “you wanna be fucked by your professor, right here, where everyone can see?”

you nodded, unable to speak, your body betraying your every thought. namjoon leaned back in his chair, pulling you onto his desk. the cold wood was a shock against your skin, but the heat of his body washed over you as he stepped closer. his pants fell to the floor, and he positioned himself between your legs. “beg for it,” he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. your voice was shaky as you whispered, “please, professor kim, fuck me.” the words were barely out of your mouth when he pushed into you, filling you completely. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your vision swim. his hips began to move, a steady, punishing rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

each thrust was accompanied by a smack on your ass, the sting mixing with the ache in your pussy. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice harsh with need. “no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to touch you like this.” his words were a blend of assertion and question, and you nodded, your eyes glazed with lust. your silence happened to be a grave mistake, and you realized it the minute he delivered another harsh slap to your ass.

“use your fucking words,” he snarled in your ear, hips pressed against your flesh. you could only whimper, his balls pressed against your soaking slit. but he didn't move, he was gonna make you work for it. “what happens to bad girls?” you gritted your teeth and forced out a whisper, “they get punished, professor kim.”

his hand squeezed your ass hard before delivering another spank, the sting turning into a warm buzz that spread through your body. he chuckled darkly, pleased with your response. “that’s right,” he said, his voice gruff and animalistic. “and what happens when bad girls get punished?” you took a deep breath, trying to keep the tremble from your voice. “they get fucked, professor kim.”

that was all the encouragement he needed. namjoon’s cock slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating the silence of the classroom. he fucked you hard and fast, his hips pistoning against you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. your legs were shaking, and your knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the desk, but you didn’t care. you were lost in the feeling of him inside you, claiming you in a way that no one else ever had.

his hand moved from your ass to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it in a grip that was tight but not painful. he squeezed slightly, the pressure sending a jolt of arousal through you. his eyes bore into yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the need to dominate and control. “you’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, his voice a low growl.

you nodded, unable to form words. your breath was coming in ragged gasps, and your pussy was clenching around his cock, begging for release. another spank, another squeeze of your neck, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax. “say it,” he demanded, his voice harsh. “say you’re mine, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours, professor kim,” you choked out, the words a desperate plea.

his grip tightened, and he slammed into you one last time, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. you screamed as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. namjoon’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of triumph and possessiveness. he waited, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure before he began to move again, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic. you could feel his release building, his cock swelling inside you. he was close, and the thought of him filling you up with his cum made your pussy clench even tighter. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “i’m gonna fill you up, fuck. i’m gonna mark you as mine.”

you could feel your own orgasm building again, a second wave crashing into you as his words sent a fresh surge of arousal through your body. he leaned over, his teeth scraping along your neck as he reached down to pinch your clit. the combination of pain and pleasure was too much, and you came again, your body shaking violently. he grunted, his hips jerking as he released deep inside you. he held you there, his cock buried to the hilt, his grip on your neck unyielding. “you’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and possession. “no one else will ever make you feel like this again.”

you couldn’t argue with him, not when his cum was still pulsing inside you, not when his scent was all over your body. you were his, and as much as you hated to admit it, the thought thrilled you. his hand moved from your neck to your hair, his grip gentle as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply. his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the remnants of your orgasm, and you kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

the room was spinning, and your heart was racing, but all you could think about was how much you wanted this to never end. how much you wanted to be claimed by him, over and over again. finally, he pulled away, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. he tucked himself back into his pants, his expression unreadable. “now, get out of here before someone sees you like this,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

you nodded, your legs unsteady as you slid off the desk. your panties were a ruined mess, so you left them where they lay. your skirt was hiked up around your waist, and your shirt was askew, but you didn’t bother to fix it. you could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, a sticky reminder of what had just happened. you stumbled out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind you. the hallway was empty, the only sound the echo of your heels against the tiles. your mind was racing, trying to process the intensity of what had just occurred. you hadn’t meant for it to go that far, but the power dynamics had overtaken you both.

as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his hand on your neck, his cock inside you. your body was still singing with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sting of his spanks lingered, a sweet reminder of his dominance. once inside the stall, you leaned against the cool metal, trying to catch your breath. your pussy was sore, but the ache was a delicious one, a reminder of his brutal possession. you cleaned up as best as you could, trying to erase the evidence of your transgression. when you stepped out, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

you checked the mirror, fixing your makeup and smoothing your hair. your eyes were wild, your cheeks flushed. you really looked like you’d just been fucked by your professor, and that thought alone sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. you left the bathroom, heading to your next class, your mind racing with thoughts of namjoon. what had just happened between you? was it a one-time thing, or was this the start of something darker, something more intense? you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his voice, his touch, his cock. the way he’d claimed you, the way you’d begged for it. it was wrong, so wrong, but you craved it.

the rest of the day was a blur, your thoughts consumed by the illicit encounter. when you saw him in the hallways, his eyes would briefly meet yours, a smoldering heat passing between you that no one else could see. the tension was palpable, a silent promise of more to come. by the time you reached the evening, you were on edge, desperate for a release that only he could provide. you knew you had to see him again, to find out where this was going, to let him take you apart and put you back together in whatever twisted way he saw fit.

the next day, namjoon was crueler than ever. the moment you walked into the classroom, you felt the shift in his demeanor, an icy coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes seemed to follow your every move, sharp and unforgiving, as if waiting for you to slip up.

“miss (l/n),” he drawled, barely five minutes into the lecture, “do you even know what the word ‘competence’ means? because, frankly, i’m starting to doubt it.” his words were laced with venom, each syllable landing like a physical blow. you felt your heart sink, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as all eyes turned to you. your mouth opened to respond, but the words caught in your throat, your voice betraying you in the moment you needed it most.

“answer me,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. “i do,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was clear that your confidence had shattered.

he scoffed, a cold, mocking sound that made you flinch. “then perhaps you should start showing it. this is a university, not a daycare. i expect more from my students.” the classroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. you could feel the stares of your classmates, could hear the unspoken judgment in the air, and it made your stomach churn. namjoon’s relentless criticism continued throughout the class, his every word designed to tear you down, to make you feel small and insignificant.

“is that really the best you can do?” he sneered at one point, after you had answered another one of his questions with trembling uncertainty. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the disdain written all over his face. “how disappointing.” your patience was wearing thin, the fragile hold you had on your emotions slipping with each cruel remark. you wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, to ask him why he was being so unbearably harsh. but you couldn’t. the words refused to come, lodged in your throat like a stone.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class drew to a close. as soon as namjoon dismissed everyone, you gathered your things and bolted from the room, your vision blurred with unshed tears. you could hear the murmur of voices behind you, the curious whispers of your classmates, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get away. you didn’t stop until you reached the empty locker room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening echo. the second you were alone, the tears you had been holding back spilled over, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

“how could he be so bipolar?” you choked out between gasping breaths, your voice thick with hurt and confusion. it was as if he had two completely different personalities, one moment kind and almost gentle, the next vicious and unrelenting. it was too much. the sound of approaching footsteps cut through your thoughts, startling you. you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying in vain to compose yourself, but it was too late. the door creaked open, and soobin stepped inside, his expression filled with concern as he saw you huddled on the floor.

“(y/n)?” he called softly, his voice laced with worry. without waiting for an answer, he hurried over to you, crouching down by your side. “what happened? why are you crying?” you tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob. soobin’s face softened, and he reached out to pull you into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “it’s gonna be okay. just breathe.” for a moment, you let yourself melt into his embrace, the warmth of his arms and the softness of his voice soothing your frazzled nerves. but eventually, you pulled back enough to look up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

“it’s namjoon, you saw it,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “he’s just, he’s being so awful, and i don’t understand why.” soobin’s expression darkened at the mention of namjoon, his jaw clenching slightly, but he quickly masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “he’s being an ass,” he agreed, his voice firm with conviction. “you don’t deserve that, you need to stop running to him.”

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “you’re right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but i don’t know how to stop.” his gaze softened, and he reached up to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch tender. “you’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his tone full of quiet confidence. “and until you do, i’ll be here for you.”

a small, shaky smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the warmth of his words seeping into the cracks that namjoon’s cruelty had left behind. “thank you, soo,” you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude. for a moment, the two of you just sat there, lost in each other’s eyes. then, before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips.

it was so quick, so unexpected, that you barely had time to react before he was pulling back, his eyes wide with panic. “i’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to—” but you didn’t let him finish. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him back. this time, it was slower, deeper, a silent reassurance that he hadn’t made a mistake. when you finally pulled away, you could see the relief in soobin’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with affection. “you didn’t make a mistake,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but filled with sincerity.

soobin searched your eyes for a moment, looking for confirmation, before his arms tightened around you. the kiss grew more urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. your hands roamed over his back, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, and you moaned softly, the heat between you growing with every passing second. the locker room was suddenly too small, too confining, and you needed more.

without breaking the kiss, you reached down and began to unbutton his shirt, feeling the smooth fabric give way beneath your trembling fingers. his hands mirrored yours, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. as his shirt fell open, you gasped, taking in the sight of his broad chest, the tattoos that danced across his skin like secrets waiting to be uncovered. you ran your fingers over the ink, tracing the lines as you explored him, and he groaned, his hands finding their way to the hem of your shirt.

you pulled back just long enough to let him lift it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. your bra followed shortly after, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts. without a word, he leaned down and captured one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips. the pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain namjoon’s words had brought you just moments ago. soobin’s touch was gentle, reverent, a stark reminder of the way you deserved to be treated.

his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as he sucked and bit at them, making you whimper. you could feel yourself growing wetter, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. he must have noticed too, because his hand began to drift lower, slipping under your little skirt and finding your panties already drenched for him. you moaned into his mouth, your legs parting slightly to give him better access.

his fingers slid over the fabric, teasing you, making you squirm with need. then, with a wicked grin, he pulled them aside and plunged two fingers into you, making you gasp. his strokes were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your reactions, learning what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure. you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

his other hand reached up to cradle your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had dried on your cheeks. “you’re so beautiful, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent waves of pleasure through your body. “so perfect, so responsive. i want to make you feel good, really good.” and with that, he kissed you again, his tongue delving deep as his fingers picked up the pace, filling you up and stroking that spot inside you that no one else seemed to know existed.

you could feel yourself getting closer, your breath hitching in your chest, your body tightening around his fingers. “soobin,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “yes, baby, come for me,” he whispered, his voice full of desire, and with that, you shattered. your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, your legs giving out beneath you. he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you up, his kisses turning gentle and soothing.

as you came down from the high, you became aware of the sound of the locker room door opening and closing, the muffled sounds of someone walking down the hall. soobin’s eyes widened in panic, his hand still buried in your panties, his fingers coated in your arousal. “shit, we can’t get caught,” he hissed, pulling away and hastily buttoning his shirt. you nodded, fumbling to put yourself back together, your heart racing.

you looked around, your eyes landing on a shower stall in the corner, and an idea formed in your mind. “quick, in there,” you urged, pushing him towards it. he looked confused for a moment before understanding dawned, and he grinned, pulling you in after him. the sound of the shower turning on masked the sound of your breathing as you kissed him again, more urgently this time. his hand found its way back to your panties, his touch no longer gentle but demanding, and you could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against your thigh. you reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling the length and thickness of him, making you even more eager. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking against your hand.

his own need was clear, and you knew what you had to do. you sank to your knees, pulling his pants down to reveal his erection, standing proud and thick. without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your eyes never leaving his as you began to suck. his moans grew louder, his hands tangling in your hair as you worked him with your mouth, eager to bring him the same pleasure he had given you. his taste was new, but familiar in a way that made your stomach flip. you could feel his cock swell even more, and you knew he was close. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting gently, and you took it as a sign to speed up, to swallow him down deeper. and just as the footsteps grew closer, he came, his release hot and salty on your tongue.

you swallowed, licking him clean as you stood up, your own arousal pulsing between your legs. he pulled you close again, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming over your body. “i want you, (y/n),” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “i want all of you, right here, right now.” and before you could respond, he was lifting you up, setting you on the bench and peeling your panties off, leaving you bare and exposed.

his cock was still hard, and he positioned himself at your entrance, his tip nudging against your wetness. you could feel the size of him, the way he stretched you open even though he hadn't even slid in yet. you desperately tried not to think about namjoon, to focus on the comfort soobin was offering as a friend. his eyes searched yours for consent, and with a nod, you gave it. he pushed in, slow and gentle, filling you completely. you moaned out his name, the sound echoing off the tiles. it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, his girth stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he didn't stop, though, continuing to move at a pace that was just right, building the tension until you felt like you might come apart at the seams.

his hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the passion in them, the way he was losing himself in the moment, and it made you feel alive, wanted. “you're so wet,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort. “so perfect.”

his words were like a balm to your soul, the praise you had been craving, the gentle touch you hadn't realized you needed. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. “yes,” you murmured, your voice a whisper. “yes, fuck, soo.” his rhythm grew more erratic, his breathing ragged, and you knew he was close. your own orgasm was building, the pressure inside you threatening to burst. “you're gonna cum for me,” he panted, his voice low and commanding. “gonna cum so hard.”

his words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you screamed out his name. he followed shortly after, his release hot and powerful, filling you up without any barrier. the feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fear that only added to the intensity of the moment.

as you both came down from the high, panting and trying to catch your breath, you realized what you had done. the comfort sex had turned into something much more intimate, something that would change everything between you. but for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, basking in the warmth of his embrace as the water from the shower washed away the evidence of your shared secret.

his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with a tenderness that was new to you. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. you nodded, your chest heaving with each breath. “yes,” you whispered, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “i'm okay.”

you didn't know how to explain that it was more than just the physical release that had made you feel better. it was the connection, the understanding, the gentle way he had taken care of you when you felt so broken. you knew that this moment would be something you would cherish, something that would sustain you through the storm that was namjoon's cruelty.

but you also knew that you couldn't keep running to soobin every time namjoon hurt you. you had to find a way to stand on your own two feet, to face the demons that were holding you hostage. but for now, in the warmth of the shower, with soobin's arms around you, you allowed yourself to just be. to feel alive and desired, if only for a little while longer.

you could feel the pulse of his cock still inside you, a strangled moan passing your lips as you felt him grow hard inside your pussy, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of him, so lewd and filthy for your cunt, a smirk playing on his face as he began to tilt his hips upward, the overwhelming sensation bringing tears to his eyes. “you really gonna fuck me again?” you practically purred, nails scratching at his chest as his pace began to quicken.

“i have to, you're still dripping for me,” he almost whined, the feeling of your juices drenching his dick just too intense. you pulled him in closer, saving the second blissful sensation of him pulling your cunt apart as he continued to pump his dick into you. you were both unaware of just how loud you were being, as much as you were of the nearby presence, who had been listening to every word with a look of utter anger on his face.

namjoon had been on his way to grab something from his office when he heard the locker room door slam, and the sound of your sobs had drawn him in. he had been torn between leaving and walking in, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. and now, as he heard the sound of soobin's body slapping against yours, as he heard the two of you gasp and moan, his anger grew. he felt like he had been stabbed in the back, the betrayal a cold, sharp pain in his chest.

his hand was clenched into a fist, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from storming in and tearing the two of you apart. instead, he leaned against the wall, listening as soobin whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he praised your body and made you feel good about yourself. the irony of the situation was not lost on him; the one person who had been so cruel to you was now being the one to console you in the most intimate way possible.

his mind raced with thoughts of what he should do, but in the end, he decided to stay put. he would let this play out, let soobin have his moment of victory, and then he would deal with it. but for now, he had to listen to the sound of your pleasure, the sound of what he had wanted to be his, being given to someone else. and it made his blood boil.

the following day, tension hung heavy in the air, a storm brewing in namjoon's chest as he awaited your arrival. the echoes of what he overheard between you and soobin replayed in his mind, each word twisting the knife of jealousy deeper into his heart. the anger was sharp, intense, and the moment you stepped into the classroom, he felt his blood begin to boil.

you entered the room with a sense of calm, your steps measured and your expression serene. it was a visible contrast to the way namjoon’s heart raced and his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. as the lesson began, he made it his personal mission to nail you into the ground with questions, to strip away that calm exterior and expose whatever emotions lay beneath. “miss (y/n),” he began, his voice cutting through the classroom like a blade, “perhaps you can explain the concept of friedrich nietzsche's ‘übermensch’ to the class?”

the question was pointed, meant to trip you up, to make you falter. but to his astonishment, you didn’t miss a beat.

“the ‘übermensch’ is a concept in nietzsche’s philosophy that refers to someone who has transcended the limitations of conventional morality and societal norms to create and live by their own values,” you replied, your voice steady, almost indifferent. “it’s a cornerstone of his idea of life-affirmation, where one embraces their existence fully and creates meaning in a world that might otherwise seem meaningless.”

namjoon’s eyes narrowed, but he wasn’t done yet. “and what about the eternal recurrence? how does that concept tie into the idea of the ‘übermensch’?”

“the eternal recurrence is the idea that life, in all its events, could potentially repeat itself infinitely,” you answered, still without hesitation. “for nietzsche, the ‘übermensch’ is someone who could embrace this concept, who would live their life in such a way that they’d be willing to relive it over and over again. it’s about living with such purpose and strength that one would welcome even the most painful experiences.” namjoon’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he fired question after question at you, trying to find a chink in your armor. but you got all of them right, each answer delivered with precision and clarity. and what made his blood boil even more was that you never once glanced at him. not even for a second.

it was as if he didn’t exist to you, and that realization twisted his gut into knots. the way you didn’t acknowledge his presence felt like a slap in the face. he could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. but what pushed him closer to the edge was the way you looked at soobin. he noticed it—the way your eyes softened when you glanced at him, the way your lips curved into a genuine smile when you laughed at something he said. the sight made something inside namjoon snap. he could feel the pencil in his hand crack under the pressure of his grip, the wood splintering, but you didn’t even notice.

as the bell rang, signaling the end of class, namjoon watched you closely. everyone else filtered out of the room, but you lingered, packing your things with that same maddening calm. when the last student left, his resolve crumbled. “(y/n),” he called out softly, his voice a mere whisper of the authority it usually held. you paused, glancing up from your bag. “yes, professor kim?”

there was a sting in the formality of your response, a distance that hadn’t been there before. it made his heart constrict painfully. he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “please, stop calling me that,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of desperation. you tilted your head slightly, the smallest hint of confusion crossing your features. “but that’s what you asked me to call you,” you replied, your tone even, devoid of the warmth he had once taken for granted.

he felt the sting of his own words being thrown back at him. it was true; he had been the one to demand that distance, to keep you at arm’s length. and now he was paying the price. as you turned to leave, something in him snapped. “i’m sorry,” he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them. you froze, your hand stilling on the strap of your bag. slowly, you turned back to face him. “sorry for what?”

“for everything,” he said, his voice thick with regret. he hesitated, the weight of his confession pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say it. “i fell for you the minute i saw you, you know? you looked so out of place in the club, and it drew me to you. but when i realized you were my student, it pissed me off. it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” your gaze softened, the hard edges of your expression melting away as you looked at him. “how do you think i felt?” you asked, your voice gentle, understanding.

namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i know i’ve been an asshole, (y/n),” he admitted, his voice rough with self-loathing. “but i can’t keep playing this game. it’s tearing me apart.”

you didn’t respond immediately, the silence between you stretching out, heavy with unspoken words. you turned to leave once more, but before you could take another step, namjoon moved. he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you against his chest. “please, don’t go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions.

“namjoon,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “you have to stop. you’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i don’t care if it means i get to be with you.”

you stood there, wrapped in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a dangerous game the two of you were playing, one that could cost him everything. but in that moment, all you could think about was the way his heart beat against your back, strong and steady, grounding you in a world that suddenly felt like it was spinning out of control. as much as you wanted to fight it, as much as you knew the risks, there was a part of you that didn’t want to let go either. the part that had fallen for him too, despite everything, despite the pain and the confusion and the impossibility of it all.

“namjoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible, “what are we gonna do?”

he didn’t have an answer, not yet. all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go. not now. not when he had finally admitted the truth to himself. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the classroom seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a stolen moment that neither of you was ready to end.

✧.*

a/n: this was soo ass but some sweet soul wanted more joon content so i hope they see this and if they don't like it i will def do another one

l’espoir (희망) – jung hoseok (정호석)

✧.* 18+

cooking had always been more than just a necessity; it was an art form, an expression of emotion, culture, and memory. each dish was a canvas, and the ingredients were the paints, their vibrant colors and textures inviting the imagination to run wild. the kitchen, with its warm, ambient light and the comforting hum of the stove, became a sanctuary where creativity flowed freely.

the process began with the careful selection of ingredients, each one chosen with purpose and care. the rich, earthy scent of freshly picked herbs mingled with the sweet aroma of ripe tomatoes, their skins still glistening with the morning dew. the produce, with its natural imperfections, held a rustic beauty that promised authenticity. the meats, marbled and tender, were selected with an understanding of their unique qualities, each cut a potential masterpiece waiting to be realized.

as the knife danced across the cutting board, there was a rhythm to the motion, a graceful precision that came with years of practice. the crisp snap of a carrot giving way under the blade, the soft thud of a tomato being sliced, and the aromatic release of a garlic clove being crushed—each sound was a note in the symphony of preparation. the senses were fully engaged; the eyes, tracing the vibrant colors that slowly melded together; the nose, inhaling the complex layers of scents that hinted at the flavors to come; the ears, catching the subtle sizzles and crackles as the heat worked its magic.

the heat of the stove brought everything to life, transforming raw ingredients into something greater than the sum of their parts. the onions caramelized slowly, their sharpness mellowing into a deep, golden sweetness. the meats seared to perfection, a satisfying sizzle filling the air as the juices locked in, creating a rich, savory crust. sauces reduced in a patient dance of evaporation and intensification, their once separate flavors now blending into a harmonious whole.

every movement in the kitchen was deliberate, yet there was room for spontaneity, a sudden dash of spice, a last-minute decision to add a touch of lemon zest. cooking was an intuitive dance between tradition and innovation, where recipes handed down through generations met the creative impulses of the moment. It was in this balance that true culinary artistry was born, where the cook's soul was infused into each dish. plating the food was the final act, a chance to present the creation as a visual feast before it was consumed. the vibrant colors of the vegetables, the artful arrangement of proteins, and the careful drizzle of sauces—all were carefully considered to make the dish as pleasing to the eyes as it was to the palate. the plate was the frame, and the food, the artwork, each detail telling a story, each bite an experience.

cooking was more than a task to be completed; it was a journey, a way to communicate without words, to share a part of oneself with others. it was an act of love, a gesture of care, and a celebration of the simple yet profound joy of nourishment. in the kitchen, every dish was a story waiting to be told, a story crafted with the hands, guided by the heart, and shared with those who gathered around the table.

you had never thought much about cooking. it seemed like a mundane task, something that simply had to be done to keep hunger at bay. eggs and instant noodles had always sufficed, their simplicity mirroring your indifference. you often wondered why anyone would spend hours in the kitchen when a meal could be whipped up in minutes. the aroma of a slowly simmering stew or the sight of a beautifully arranged plate held little meaning for you. but that was before everything changed, before your mother fell ill.

her illness crept up slowly, stealing her strength bit by bit until the vibrant woman who had always filled your home with the scent of home-cooked meals could no longer stand for more than a few minutes. the kitchen, once her domain, grew silent, the once lively space now cold and empty. it was then that you realized how much you had taken those meals for granted, how much they had been a part of your life without you even noticing.

with your mother unable to cook for herself, you were thrust into a role you had never imagined. you could have continued with the instant noodles, could have resigned yourself to the blandness of quick and easy meals. but something inside you resisted. you saw the way your mother looked at the untouched pots and pans, the sadness in her eyes as she realized she could no longer provide for you in the way she always had. it was then that you decided to try, to step into the kitchen and see if you could recreate even a fraction of what she used to make.

at first, it was a struggle. you were clumsy, your hands unfamiliar with the rhythm of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. the internet became your guide, recipes your lifeline as you navigated this new world. you searched for dishes she loved, simple at first—soups, stews, anything that might bring her comfort. the first few attempts were far from perfect. you burnt the rice, overcooked the vegetables, and the seasoning was always slightly off. but your mother never complained. she would smile as she tasted each dish, her eyes softening with pride, even when you knew it wasn’t quite right.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice a change in yourself. the kitchen, once an alien landscape, started to feel familiar. you learned to savor the process, to enjoy the way ingredients came together to form something new, something that brought a smile to your mother’s face. the care you put into each meal became a form of expression, a way to show her how much you loved her, how much you wanted to take care of her as she had taken care of you.

with time, your confidence grew. you experimented more, tried new techniques, and even began to create your own dishes. your mother’s reactions fueled your passion; the way she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly after the first bite, the way she would eagerly ask what was on the menu for the day. cooking became more than just a duty—it became a way to connect with her, to bring her joy in a time when there was so little of it left.

when she passed, the loss was unbearable. the kitchen, once filled with purpose, became a place of grief. But instead of abandoning it, you found yourself drawn to it, almost as if by instinct. cooking became a way to keep her memory alive, a way to honor the woman who had taught you to love food, even if she hadn’t done so intentionally. each meal was a tribute to her, a way to thank her for introducing you to something that brought you peace, something that made you feel closer to her even though she was gone.

it wasn’t long before you decided to take your passion further. culinary school was an intimidating prospect, but you felt ready. you entered with the same trepidation you had felt when you first stepped into the kitchen, but also with the same determination. the instructors taught you the finer points of the craft, but you always added a piece of yourself into each dish, just as you had done when cooking for your mother. your ideas were met with curiosity and admiration. you presented dishes that reflected your journey, from the humble grilled squid stew that reminded you of your early experiments to the bold korean barbecue sandwiches that showcased your creativity and confidence. each dish was crafted with care, infused with the love and respect you had for the process. you passed the program not just because of your skill, but because of the heart you put into every plate.

cooking had become more than just a way to feed yourself or others; it had become a way to tell your story, to express who you were and where you came from. every time you stood in the kitchen, you felt her presence, guiding your hands as you chopped, stirred, and seasoned. and as you watched others enjoy the food you prepared, their smiles reminded you of her, of the way she had once smiled at you, and you knew that you had found something truly special.

when the opportunity for an internship at l’espoir presented itself, you felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. you had been through so much already, from your first fumbling steps in the kitchen to the rigorous challenges of culinary school. and now, here you were, standing on the brink of something new. the name of the restaurant itself resonated with you in a way that felt almost fated. l’espoir. hope. it was a simple word, yet it carried such profound meaning, especially for someone like you, who had found in cooking the one thing that kept you grounded, the one thing that still made you happy.

you had nothing against the idea of working there—on the contrary, you were drawn to it. there was something poetic about the name, something that spoke to your soul. cooking had always been more than just a means of sustenance; it was your connection to your past, your way of honoring your mother, and the very essence of hope. so when you accepted the offer, it wasn’t with trepidation or reluctance, but with a quiet, simmering excitement. this, you thought, could be your fresh start.

the day you walked through the doors of l’espoir for the first time, the air was thick with the mingling aromas of herbs, garlic, and roasting meats. the kitchen was a hive of activity, yet it was orchestrated with the precision of a symphony. there was a rhythm to the place, a kind of dance that the chefs performed with their knives, pans, and ladles. the hiss of oil in a hot pan, the clatter of plates being set down, the low hum of focused conversation—all of it combined to create a world that was at once chaotic and harmonious.

the chef in charge was a figure of quiet authority. you had heard of chef jung before, his reputation preceding him like the fragrant bouquet of a well-seasoned broth. he was not known for being flamboyant or loud, but rather for his meticulous attention to detail, his ability to coax the most delicate flavors from even the simplest ingredients. his presence commanded respect, not through fear, but through the sheer weight of his expertise and the dedication he inspired in those who worked under him.

when you were introduced, he looked at you with eyes that seemed to assess everything in a single glance. he was attractive, with brown threads running through his dark hair, and his chef’s whites were as crisp and clean as the linens in the dining room. there was a calmness about him, a confidence that came from years of experience, but also a warmth that hinted at a genuine love for his craft. he extended a hand, his grip firm but not crushing, and welcomed you to his kitchen.

“bienvenue à l’espoir,” he said, his voice steady and rich. “i trust you’re ready to work.” you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. it was the start of something new, something that could shape the course of your life. the kitchen was no longer just a place to cook; it was a stage, and you were about to step into a role that would challenge you in ways you couldn’t yet imagine.

you learned quickly that chef jung hoseok was not the warm, encouraging figure you had once imagined. there was an air of severity about him, a sharpness that seemed to permeate every corner of the kitchen. from the moment you set foot in l’espoir, you were acutely aware that this place was not a haven of creativity and shared passion but rather a crucible, designed to burn away anything that wasn’t absolute perfection. hoseok was at the center of it all, a man whose entire being seemed devoted to the pursuit of culinary excellence, and nothing else.

his presence was commanding, but not in the way that inspires admiration or loyalty. Instead, it instilled a sense of dread, a fear of making even the smallest mistake. he had a way of watching you, his gaze sharp and unyielding, that made you question every movement, every decision you made. there was no room for error in his kitchen, no margin for anything less than flawless execution. his standards were exacting, his expectations clear in the curt, precise way he delivered instructions. any hope you might have had for guidance or mentorship was quickly dashed—there, you were expected to perform, and to perform perfectly.

as you followed his directives, each task assigned with a precision that bordered on obsession, you felt the weight of his scrutiny. the kitchen, once a place of solace and creativity for you, had become a place of tension, where every clatter of a pan or slip of a knife carried the potential for rebuke. there was no room for error, no space for growth; only the relentless pursuit of perfection under hoseok’s watchful eye.

you were immersed in your work, the steady rhythm of chopping vegetables the only thing keeping your nerves at bay, when you felt a presence beside you. a girl had approached, her demeanor bright and friendly, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hoseok cultivated. she leaned in slightly, peering over your shoulder with a curious expression that quickly melted into a warm smile. “your knife skills are really impressive,” she remarked, her voice light and genuine, a welcome relief in the otherwise tense environment.

you glanced up, meeting her gaze with a slight smile of your own. it was the first bit of kindness you had encountered since stepping into this kitchen, and it was enough to ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest. “thank you,” you replied, your voice tinged with gratitude. as you spoke, you noticed the meticulously arranged assortment of seasonings at her station. wach jar and container was perfectly aligned, the spices within organized by color and texture, a testament to her own care and precision. “your seasonings are beautifully arranged,” you added, genuinely impressed by her attention to detail.

she beamed at the compliment, a touch of pride in her expression. “i like to keep them organized. it makes experimenting with flavors a lot easier when everything’s in its place.” there was something infectious about her enthusiasm, a brightness that seemed to push back the shadows that hoseok’s presence cast over the kitchen. it was a small comfort, but in that place, even the smallest comfort felt like a lifeline.

“i’m park chaeyoung, by the way,” she said, extending a hand to you in a gesture that felt almost old-fashioned in its sincerity. you took her hand, finding her grip warm and reassuring. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m—”

before you could finish your introduction, she cut you off with a knowing look. “have you met chef jung yet?” she asked, her tone more serious now, as if she was preparing you for something you hadn’t yet understood. you nodded, the memory of your brief, formal introduction still fresh in your mind. “yeah, he welcomed me and then put me straight to work.”

chaeyoung let out a soft, almost derisive laugh, shaking her head slightly. “rhat sounds like him. work is all he cares about.” her voice held a hint of bitterness, the kind that comes from experience, from seeing too much and saying too little. she hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully, before leaning in slightly closer. “you need to be careful around him.”

The warning was subtle, almost whispered, but it struck you with an unexpected force. there was something in her tone, a depth of concern that went beyond the usual advice given to new interns. you could feel the weight of her words, the implication that there was more to hoseok than just his stern demeanor and strict standards. “what do you mean?” you began, your curiosity piqued, but before she could respond, the sound of a door opening interrupted the moment.

you turned just in time to see hoseok emerge from his office, his presence immediately commanding the attention of everyone in the room. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his eyes scanning the kitchen with the precision of a hawk. every movement, every sound seemed to be registered, cataloged in his mind as he took stock of the ongoing work. there was a moment of stillness, the kitchen holding its collective breath as he surveyed the scene.

then his gaze locked onto one of the other cooks, a young woman named kim dahyun. she looked up at him, her face lighting up with a smile that was almost childlike in its adoration. it was as if his very presence was enough to make her day, her entire being focused on him as if nothing else mattered. “dahyun,” he said, his voice cutting through the air with the same precision as one of his knives. “come to my office.”

she practically leapt to her feet, her eagerness visible as she hurried over to him. there was something unsettling about the way she reacted to him, a kind of blind devotion that seemed out of place in a professional kitchen. she followed him into his office without a moment’s hesitation, the door closing behind them with a quiet finality. you couldn’t help but feel a chill run down your spine as you watched them go. there was something about the exchange that felt wrong, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. it wasn’t just the power dynamic at play—though that was certainly part of it—it was something more, something unspoken that lingered in the air long after they had disappeared from view.

chaeyoung’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her. “do you see what i mean now?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and resignation. there was a sadness in her eyes, a look that told you she had seen this play out before, that she knew where it would lead. but you shook your head, still unsure of what she was trying to convey. the confusion must have been evident on your face, because she sighed softly, her expression softening as she looked at you with a mixture of pity and understanding.

“you’ll find out soon enough,” she said quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow that made your heart sink. “just be careful. that’s all i’m saying.” with that, she turned back to her station, leaving you to grapple with the unease that had settled in your chest. the warmth and friendliness that had initially put you at ease were now overshadowed by a sense of foreboding, a feeling that there were things in this kitchen you had yet to understand, and that understanding them might cost you more than you were prepared to give.

the day had worn on relentlessly, each task blurring into the next until you lost track of time. the kitchen was a relentless machine, and you had been one of its many moving parts, a cog in the grand design orchestrated by chef jung. the relentless pace of service had demanded every ounce of your focus, leaving no room for distractions or second thoughts. each dish you plated, each garnish you placed, was an offering, a testament to the skill you had fought so hard to hone.

as the evening crept into night, the rush of orders began to slow, the once frantic energy in the kitchen tapering off into something quieter, more subdued. you found yourself still working, your hands moving on autopilot as you plated the last few dishes with the same care and precision you had started with. it wasn’t until you placed the final plate on the pass that you realized the noise had died down entirely.

you glanced around, noticing for the first time that the other chefs had finished their shifts and were long gone. the kitchen, once bustling with life, was now eerily silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the overhead lights and the faint clatter of pots and pans as you began to clear your station. you hadn’t even noticed that you were the last one standing, too absorbed in the rhythm of the work to register the passage of time.

with a quiet sigh, you began to return the ingredients to their proper places, meticulously ensuring that everything was as it should be. your movements were slow, almost practiced, as the exhaustion of the day finally began to catch up with you. every muscle in your body ached, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that you had made it through your first day unscathed—or so you thought.

as you turned around to grab the plates from the counter, your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. there, standing in the dim light of the kitchen, was hoseok. he was so still, so silent, that you hadn’t noticed him at all, and the shock of his sudden presence nearly made the plates slip from your hands. you caught them just in time, fumbling slightly as you tried to regain your composure. his expression was unreadable, the same stoic mask he had worn all day. there was a heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that made your breath hitch in your throat. “chef jung,” you managed to say, your voice betraying the nervousness that you had tried so hard to keep at bay. “did you need anything?”

for a moment, he said nothing, simply observing you with that intense, unwavering gaze that you were beginning to find so unsettling. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “you did a good job today,” he said, his tone flat, almost devoid of emotion. it was the closest thing to praise you had received all day, and yet it felt strangely hollow. you nodded, a nervous laugh escaping you as you turned back to put away the plates and tidy up what was left on the counter. your hands moved quickly, more out of a desire to escape the uncomfortable silence than anything else. but no matter how fast you worked, you could still feel his eyes on you, that penetrating stare that seemed to see through every facade you tried to put up.

it wasn’t until you heard the soft, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps that you realized he was moving closer. slowly, deliberately, he approached, each step measured and precise, like a predator closing in on its prey. the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, a sense of dread settling over you as you continued to work, pretending not to notice how close he was getting. but then, before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the kitchen. you froze, your hands stilling as the tension between you reached a boiling point. the counter behind you pressed into your lower back as you instinctively backed away, trying to put some distance between you and the chef who now towered over you.

your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked up at him, your mind racing to make sense of the situation. there was something different in his eyes now, something dark and unreadable, a flicker of something that made your skin prickle with unease. you couldn’t look away, trapped by his gaze, unable to move as the air seemed to thicken around you.

“i take good care of my employees,” hoseok said, his voice low, almost a whisper. the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. “especially the ones that know what they’re doing.”

he paused, letting the weight of his statement sink in. the smirk that followed was small, barely noticeable, but it sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless. there was a calculated cruelty in it, a reminder that you were playing a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand. the look of shock on your face must have amused him, because the smirk deepened, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a way that was anything but friendly. he held your gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch out until it became unbearable, before finally turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind reeling from the encounter. the exhaustion that had weighed you down only moments ago was now replaced by a new kind of fatigue, one born of fear and uncertainty. his words echoed in your mind, a reminder that you had only just begun to scratch the surface of what it meant to work under a man like him. and as the silence of the kitchen closed in around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the real challenge lay ahead, hidden behind the inscrutable mask of the man who had just left you standing there in astonishment.

the next morning at l’espoir was a blur of activity, the kitchen bustling with the early rush of orders and the frenetic energy that came with the start of a new day. as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to the unnerving encounter with hoseok the night before. the more you thought about it, the more the details seemed to gnaw at you, leaving you with a gnawing sense of unease.

in a brief lull between the chaos, you seized the opportunity to speak with chaeyoung, hoping for some clarity. she was at her station, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she expertly wielded her knife. you approached her, the question weighing heavily on your mind. “chaeyoung,” you began, trying to keep your tone casual despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. “last night, hoseok—chef jung—he said something that really threw me off. he said he takes good care of his employees, especially the ones who know what they’re doing. what did he mean by that?”

her eyes widened in surprise, and she set her knife down with a decisive thud. her gaze was fixed on you, a mixture of shock and concern crossing her features. “that was faster than i thought,” she said, her voice laced with a gravity that made your stomach churn. desperation tinged your voice as you pleaded with her for an explanation. “what do you mean? please, just tell me what’s going on.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a single word, the same voice that had cut through the atmosphere the previous day filled the kitchen once more. chef hoseok’s presence was unmistakable, his authority evident even from a distance. he appeared in the doorway, his stance casual but his expression unreadable. “seo soojin,” he called out, his tone commanding and precise. the moment the name left his lips, the kitchen seemed to hold its breath.

you turned to see soojin, another fellow cook, visibly excited as she looked up at hoseok. her face lit up with a smile that was almost childlike, a contrast to the stern expression you had come to associate with him. without a moment’s hesitation, she followed him out of the kitchen, her steps light and eager. dahyun, who had been bustling around earlier with a beaming expression, now stood with a look of disappointed resignation. her eyes followed soojin and hoseok as they disappeared through the door, her shoulders slumping slightly as if she had expected something different.

as you watched the scene unfold, hoseok’s gaze met yours for a brief, unsettling moment. there was that smirk again, a fleeting expression that seemed to carry a weight of its own. he held your gaze just long enough to make you feel uncomfortable before turning back toward soojin, leaving you standing there with a knot of confusion in your chest. you turned back to chaeyoung, your confusion evident. “what’s going on? why does he keep doing this?”

chaeyoung let out a heavy sigh, turning to face you fully. her expression was one of resignation, her eyes filled with an emotion that was hard to decipher. “you will never be special no matter how good you are,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that made your heart sink. there was no malice in her tone, but the words were stark and cold, cutting through the air with an unspoken finality. she paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “don’t let him make you think you’re special. he has a way of making you believe you’re important, but it’s all a part of the game he plays. you’re just another cog in the machine.”

without waiting for a response, she turned back to her station, picking up her knife and resuming her work with a practiced efficiency. the clatter of the knife against the cutting board was the only sound that filled the silence that followed, the atmosphere in the kitchen heavy with the weight of her words. you stood there, rooted to the spot, your mind spinning with the implications of what she had said. the confusion that had settled over you was now compounded by a growing sense of foreboding.

the kitchen was a symphony of clattering pans, the hiss of flames, and the murmur of orders being called out and fulfilled with practiced precision. you moved through it all with a growing sense of unease, still rattled by the strange dynamics you had witnessed earlier. the incident with soojin played over in your mind, intertwining with chaeyoung's cryptic warnings, leaving you with a gnawing sense of dread.

hours passed in a blur of activity, the rhythm of the kitchen demanding your full attention, but even as you focused on your tasks, a part of you remained on edge. And then, just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the routine, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. the familiar presence of chef hoseok filled the room, his energy commanding and intense. you were used to him surveying the kitchen with a critical eye, but this time, he wasn’t simply observing.

to everyone’s astonishment, including your own, hoseok called out your name. the room seemed to freeze as he paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before continuing. “come to my office.”

a shiver ran down your spine, your blood running cold as chaeyoung’s eyes widened in shock. she turned to you with a look of apprehension, and you could see the fear reflected in her gaze, as though she had been waiting for this very moment and dreading it all the same. you nodded weakly, the motion almost imperceptible, as you tried to steady your breathing. with leaden feet, you followed him out of the kitchen, feeling the envious glares from many of the female cooks boring into your back. the intensity of their stares made your skin prickle with discomfort, but you swallowed your fear, forcing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure.

the walk to his office felt interminable, every step echoing in your mind with a sense of finality. when you finally reached his door, it creaked open with an ominous slowness, revealing the space within. the office was stark and minimalistic, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the kitchen. the walls were a cold, muted gray, devoid of any decoration save for a single, large window that overlooked the city. the desk was made of dark, polished wood, a few neatly stacked papers and a sleek laptop the only items adorning its surface. a single chair sat opposite his, the leather worn but comfortable, a place where countless others had sat before you.

hoseok moved behind his desk with a certain predatory grace, settling into his chair and fixing you with a smirk that sent another shiver down your spine. the silence in the room was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that made your heart race. you stood there, feeling out of place, as though you were trespassing in a space where you didn’t belong. his eyes remained on you, studying your every move as you finally gathered the courage to speak. “why did you need to see me, chef jung?”

he was silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, and then, with a calculated slowness, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “you’ve got a special gift, don’t you?” the question took you off guard, and you furrowed your brow in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“for cooking,” he clarified, though his tone carried an edge of something more. “you’re an outstanding chef.” you forced a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the compliment that felt more like a trap. “thank you, chef jung.”

his eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were measuring your reaction, and then he continued, his voice smooth and deliberate. “performance means everything to me. in the kitchen, maybe even in the office.” the sound of his words hung in the air, and a sense of unease tightened your chest. you frowned, trying to keep your voice steady as you asked, “what do you mean by that?”

instead of answering, hoseok stood up from his chair with a fluid motion, his eyes never leaving yours. as he approached, you instinctively backed away, your heels hitting the wall behind you. the cold surface pressed into your back, trapping you as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. he was mere inches away from you now, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low purr. “you’re a pretty girl,” he murmured, his tone almost mocking. “a shy one too, it seems.”

your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for a way out of this situation. his gaze was piercing, intense, and when you turned your head to avoid it, he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “what’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with a cruel curiosity. “you really don’t want to sleep with me?”

his question hit you like a slap to the face, your eyes widening in shock as the reality of the situation clicked into place. the pieces of the puzzle—the office visits, the strange behavior of the female cooks, chaeyoung’s warnings—all fell together with a sickening clarity. a scoff escaped your lips, more out of disbelief than anything else. “why would i want to sleep with you?”

hoseok’s expression faltered, surprise flickering in his eyes as though he hadn’t expected such a response. you could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to reconcile your reaction with whatever twisted game he was playing. you pressed on, the anger rising in your chest as you confronted him. “do you bring all of your female cooks in here just to sleep with them? what kind of restaurant is this?”

the question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, the power dynamic between you shifted. his gaze hardened, the smirk fading as his expression turned cold. “watch what you say,” he warned, his tone icy. but the fear that had gripped you before was gone, replaced by a fiery determination. “or what?” you shot back, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “you’ll fire me?”

he seemed genuinely taken aback, as if no one had ever dared to stand up to him before. his eyes searched yours, trying to find a crack in your resolve, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction. “no need to fire me,” you continued, your voice firm. “because i quit.”

the words were final, a declaration of your independence from whatever twisted game he had been playing. you could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that someone had dared to defy him. “you have some balls to think i’d sleep with you,” you added, your voice dripping with contempt. “and for what? you’re an asshole who takes advantage of women for the price of an overcooked steak.” his eyes were wide, his face a mask of astonishment as you slipped off your uniform coat jacket, the fabric heavy in your hands. with a final, defiant glare, you slammed it down on his desk, the sound reverberating through the silent office. without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out, leaving the door ajar behind you.

the night air was cool as you walked home, the city lights a blur of distant halos against the encroaching darkness. each step felt heavier than the last, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl of emotions as the gravity of what you had just done began to settle in. the confrontation with hoseok replayed in your mind on an endless loop—his smirk, his words, your defiance. In the moment, it had felt powerful, even righteous, but now, with the adrenaline fading, a different sensation began to take hold.

by the time you reached the front door of your small apartment, the realization of your actions had fully sunk in. you paused, your hand trembling slightly as you reached for the keys in your pocket. the quiet creak of the door as it swung open felt like the final sound before the storm. you stepped inside, the familiar scent of home offering a fleeting sense of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to quell the rising tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

the door closed behind you with a soft click, and suddenly, the weight of the evening pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. you stood there, motionless, in the middle of your living room, the silence around you amplifying the chaos in your mind. the tears came slowly at first, a single drop trailing down your cheek as the full impact of what you had done crashed over you like a wave. you had just walked out on your internship, on the one opportunity that was supposed to be your stepping stone into the culinary world. hoseok was an asshole, yes, a man who clearly enjoyed taking advantage of his position, using his authority to charm his way into the beds of his female employees. but he hadn’t forced anyone—everything he did was consensual. so why had you been so angry, so furious that you had thrown away everything you had worked for?

you sank down onto the couch, your body trembling as the tears began to flow more freely. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s arrogance, his assumption that you would be willing to trade your dignity for his approval, though that stung deeply. it was the way he had discredited your culinary abilities entirely, reducing you to nothing more than a pretty face in his kitchen. the care and passion you had poured into your cooking, the countless hours spent honing your craft, all of it had been dismissed with a casual smirk and a lecherous comment.

you pressed your hands to your face, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked your body. it felt as though the ground beneath you had crumbled, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and regret. you had been so proud to land this internship, so eager to prove yourself, and now it was all slipping away. the memories of your mother flooded your mind—her gentle smile as she tasted your first attempts at cooking, the way she had encouraged you to follow your passion, the pride in her eyes when you were accepted into culinary school. all of it, you feared, was being tossed into the abyss along with your future.

your sobs grew louder, your chest heaving with the force of your despair. you had wanted so badly to succeed, to make your mother proud, and now it felt like you had failed her, failed yourself. you couldn’t imagine what would happen next—whether you would be blacklisted, your reputation tarnished, or if this was the end of your dreams altogether. the sound of your phone buzzing broke through your sobs, the sudden noise startling you. you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, your vision blurry as you fumbled to pull your phone from your pocket.

the screen glowed in the dim light, an unknown number displayed across it. for a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest as a flood of possibilities rushed through your mind. slowly, you unlocked the phone and opened the message. the words on the screen made your breath catch in your throat: “this is hoseok. be ready for work tomorrow. come on time.”

your eyes widened in shock, the tears still clinging to your lashes as you stared at the message in disbelief. you read it over and over, each time hoping that you hadn’t misread it, that it wasn’t some cruel joke. but the message remained the same, clear and concise, with no hint of the malice or arrogance you had come to expect from him. a fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they weren’t tears of despair. you cried out in a mixture of relief and gratitude, your voice breaking as you whispered, “thank you.” the words felt inadequate, too small to convey the whirlwind of emotions that surged through you—relief, disbelief, hope. you had been certain that you were finished, that you had burned the bridge beyond repair, but now, against all odds, hoseok was giving you another chance.

you clutched the phone to your chest, your tears flowing freely as you continued to murmur your thanks, as if by doing so you could somehow ensure that this second chance was real, that it wouldn’t slip away from you. the room around you was a blur, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and gratitude, but one thing was clear—you had been given an unexpected opportunity to prove yourself once more.

the early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the restaurant, casting a soft glow across the kitchen as you stepped inside. the space was quiet, the usual bustle of the day not yet begun, and the stillness allowed you a moment to steady yourself. the memory of last night was still fresh, the relief of hoseok’s message warring with the anxiety that had built up since then. you had come in early, determined to prove yourself, to show that you deserved the second chance he had inexplicably given you.

as you made your way through the kitchen, the faint sounds of someone already at work reached your ears—soft chopping, the gentle sizzle of something on the stove. you hesitated at the doorway, your eyes falling on hoseok, who stood alone at one of the stations. he moved with a kind of graceful precision, each action deliberate and practiced, as though he were conducting a symphony of flavors. his focus was entirely on the task before him, but even from this distance, you could see the ease with which he worked, the confidence in his every movement.

for a moment, you just watched him, awed by the skill that had made him such a formidable figure in the culinary world. he was the man whose name alone commanded respect, whose kitchen you had been so eager to join. and here he was, caramelizing onions with a level of care that spoke to a deep understanding of his craft. the rich, sweet scent filled the air, mingling with the subtle heat of the kitchen, and you found yourself momentarily entranced by the simplicity of the process.

it was then that you noticed something—he was stirring the onions more than you thought necessary. the instinctive urge to offer advice welled up inside you, but you fought it, knowing that you were in no position to critique a chef of his caliber. but before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out, almost without your permission. “chef, you shouldn’t stir so much,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the sound carried in the quiet kitchen.

the moment the words left your lips, regret hit you like a wave. how could you be so foolish? he was the same man who had just given you a chance to redeem yourself, and here you were, criticizing his technique. your heart raced as you waited for the inevitable rebuke, the sharp reprimand that you were sure was coming. you had spoken out of turn, overstepping boundaries, and now you were certain that your second chance was about to be snatched away as quickly as it had been given.

but instead of anger, instead of the cold dismissal you had expected, hoseok paused. he stood still for a moment, as if considering your words, before he slowly turned to face you. his eyes met yours, and you felt a jolt of fear mixed with confusion at the look he gave you—calm, measured, and without a hint of the scorn you had braced yourself for. “you’re right,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of acknowledgment rather than irritation. “they’ll brown faster if i don’t stir so much.”

the surprise that washed over you was almost as strong as the initial fear. your eyes widened in disbelief, and you barely managed to stammer out a response. but before you could say anything, he smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that softened the usually stern lines of his face. the expression was brief, gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it left you reeling. hoseok had not only accepted your advice but had done so with a humility that you hadn’t expected from someone of his stature.

he said nothing about the incident the previous day, and you knew better than to bring it up. the tension that had gripped you since last night eased slightly, but you still felt a lingering sense of unease. was it his way of testing you? or had he genuinely respected your input? the uncertainty gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus, reminding yourself that you were here to work, to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity he had extended.

his voice broke through your thoughts as he turned back to the onions, resuming his work with a quiet confidence. “i have an assignment for you,” he said, his tone suggesting that this was more than just a simple task. “since you seem to know so much.”

your heart skipped a beat at the words, a mix of anxiety and determination surging through you. you nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as possible, though inside you were mentally cursing yourself for speaking up earlier. you didn’t want him to think you were arrogant, or worse, insubordinate. but there was no turning back now. you had opened your mouth, and now you would have to see this through.

“i want a new product made to represent the restaurant,” he continued, his focus still on the onions but his words clearly meant for you. “something that embodies what we stand for here at l’espoir. you seem like you have some ideas, so i expect you’ll get right on it.”

the weight of the task settled over you like a heavy mantle, but you nodded again, your mind already racing with possibilities. it was no small request—creating a signature dish was a challenge that could define your place in the kitchen, perhaps even your future as a chef. you swallowed your nerves and replied with a quiet, “yes, chef,” your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. hoseok gave a small nod of acknowledgment, his attention once again on the stove as he continued to work. you stood there for a moment longer, watching as he moved with that same effortless grace, turning the now perfectly caramelized onions in the pan.

the kitchen became your safe spot as the hours slipped away, the clang of pots and the rhythmic sound of chopping filling the air. you were deep in the creative process, each movement purposeful, each decision calculated. the pressure of hoseok’s challenge weighed on you, but it was that very pressure that drove you, igniting the fire that had once fueled your passion for cooking. the thoughts of the previous day, the tension and confrontation, were pushed to the back of your mind as you focused on the task at hand.

you moved with an ease that came only from years of practice, your hands guiding the knife with precision as you sliced through vegetables and herbs. the familiar scent of garlic and onions filled the air as you sautéed them in a pan, the sizzling sound offering a comforting rhythm to your work. you experimented with various combinations, each one designed to evoke the flavors and essence that would truly represent the restaurant. the process was meticulous, each trial a step closer to finding the perfect dish that would encapsulate what l’espoir stood for.

but it wasn’t until your eyes landed on the jar of white kimchi that inspiration truly struck. the jar sat on the counter, seemingly forgotten amidst the array of ingredients scattered before you. the sight of it sparked a memory—an understanding of what this dish needed to be. kimchi was more than just a food; it was a symbol of resilience, diversity, and unity. the way it brought together a myriad of ingredients, each with its own distinct flavor, to create something harmonious and whole—it was the essence of what you wanted to capture.

qu'il y ait de l'espoir, let there be hope. the connection was undeniable, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. you worked quickly now, the energy flowing through you as you gathered ingredients. the white kimchi would be the star of the dish, its subtle flavors a delicate balance of sweetness and tang, with just the right amount of heat. it was different from the traditional red kimchi, yet it carried the same spirit. the idea of turning it into a ravioli—a fusion of korean and italian influences—felt like the perfect way to represent the blending of cultures, the melding of ideas that l’espoir sought to achieve.

unbeknownst to you, hoseok had entered the kitchen, his presence unnoticed as you became completely absorbed in your work. he lingered by the entrance, watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else—a hint of admiration, perhaps? he was drawn to the way you moved, the way your focus never wavered as you diced, sliced, and sautéed with unwavering determination. there was something about your dedication, the way you poured your heart into every step of the process, that intrigued him. a small smile played at the corner of his lips as he observed you in your element.

you began by preparing the filling for the ravioli, finely chopping the white kimchi and mixing it with sautéed garlic, onions, and a touch of ginger to enhance the flavors. the kimchi’s subtle acidity needed to be balanced, so you added a hint of honey to mellow the sharpness, allowing the natural sweetness of the fermented cabbage to shine through. the mixture was then combined with a smooth ricotta cheese, adding a creamy texture that would complement the crispness of the kimchi. you carefully tasted the filling, adjusting the seasoning with a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of black pepper, ensuring that each bite would carry the complexity of flavors you intended.

you moved on to making the pasta dough, your hands working methodically as you combined flour and eggs, kneading the mixture until it was smooth and elastic. the dough needed to rest, so you covered it with a damp cloth and set it aside, using the time to clean your station and prepare the rest of the components. hoseok watched as you moved around the kitchen, noting the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers deftly handled the ingredients. there was a quiet confidence in the way you worked, a confidence that had been absent when you first started. he saw it in the way you now approached the tasks before you, with a sense of purpose and an understanding of what you wanted to achieve.

once the dough was ready, you rolled it out into thin sheets, the smooth surface gliding beneath your fingers. you carefully spooned the kimchi filling onto the dough, leaving enough space between each dollop to fold the dough over and seal the edges. your movements were precise as you pressed the edges together, forming delicate ravioli that held the promise of something unique. you then moved to the stove, bringing a pot of salted water to a gentle boil. the ravioli was carefully lowered into the water, and you watched as they floated to the surface, the dough turning tender and translucent as they cooked. the anticipation built within you, your mind racing with thoughts of how this dish would come together.

in a separate pan, you melted butter, allowing it to brown slightly to bring out a nutty aroma. you added sage leaves, their earthy scent mingling with the butter, creating a sauce that would coat the ravioli in a layer of rich flavor. as the ravioli finished cooking, you transferred them into the pan, gently tossing them in the butter sauce, ensuring that each piece was evenly coated. hoseok’s eyes never left you as you worked, his curiosity deepening as he saw the dish take shape. there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the others he had worked with. it wasn’t just your skill—it was the passion, the thoughtfulness that you put into each step of the process. he found himself drawn to it, intrigued by the way you had approached the challenge he had set for you.

you plated the ravioli with care, arranging them in a way that was both visually appealing and respectful of the dish’s simplicity. you finished with a sprinkle of toasted pine nuts for texture and a light drizzle of the remaining butter sauce, the golden liquid pooling around the edges of the plate. the dish was a delicate balance of flavors and textures, each element working in harmony to create something that was more than just food—it was a reflection of your creativity, your understanding of what it meant to cook with heart.

the air in the kitchen had been filled with a sense of anticipation. after your creation had come to life, it was impossible to keep the secret contained. other chefs and cooks, sensing the undercurrent of something new, began to trickle into the kitchen, their curiosity piqued. the atmosphere shifted as more and more of your colleagues gathered around the counter where your dish sat, its delicate aroma mingling with the scents of the day’s preparations. hoseok approached you first, his expression unreadable yet calm, his eyes glinting with a hint of interest. “tell me about this dish,” he asked, his tone firm but not unkind. it was a command wrapped in curiosity, one that invited you to share the thought process behind the creation that now held the attention of the entire kitchen.

taking a deep breath, you began to explain, your voice steady as you described the inspiration behind the dish. “i wanted to create something that reflects both the tradition and the innovation that this restaurant represents. white kimchi is often overshadowed by its red counterpart, but it’s just as rich in flavor, just as versatile. i thought, why not use it in a way that brings together different culinary worlds? the idea of combining it with something as classic as ravioli felt like the perfect way to bridge that gap. the tang of the kimchi, balanced with the creaminess of the ricotta, and then brought together by the sage butter—it’s a fusion that represents the diversity of our kitchen.”

as you spoke, you could sense the room’s mood shift. some of the chefs exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in skepticism. the idea of blending such distinct culinary traditions was, to many, a daring move. you could hear a few murmurs of disbelief—mixing korean and otalian cuisine in such an intimate way was almost sacrilegious to the purists. a chef from the back muttered something about the integrity of traditional dishes, and a few others nodded in agreement. but you stood your ground, explaining how the fusion wasn’t meant to diminish either culture, but rather to highlight the beauty in their union.

hoseok remained silent as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. when you finished, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he didn’t care about—the unease among the other chefs. instead, his gaze dropped to the dish before him, and without a word, he picked up a fork, cutting through one of the ravioli with precision before bringing it to his mouth.

the room seemed to hold its breath as he chewed, his face a mask of concentration. you felt your heart pounding in your chest, the doubt from your peers weighing heavily on you, despite your best efforts to stay confident. the seconds stretched on, each one filled with an unbearable silence, until finally, hoseok’s expression shifted. a glint of something—was it surprise?—sparked in his eyes. slowly, he looked back at you, and to your utter astonishment, his lips curved into a smile. “this is amazing,” he said, his voice low but full of admiration. the tension in the room seemed to dissipate as his words sank in, and you could see the other chefs exchanging looks of surprise. “the balance of flavors, the creativity in combining these two culinary worlds—it’s exactly what i was hoping for. congratulations.”

a wave of relief washed over you, so powerful it almost brought tears to your eyes. the disbelief from your colleagues gave way to murmurs of approval as they began to gather closer, each one eager to taste the dish that had earned such high praise from chef jung. hoseok stepped back, allowing the others to try the ravioli, his smile lingering as he watched their reactions. he didn’t need to say more—his approval was enough to turn the tide of skepticism. as the chefs began to taste your creation, you could see their initial doubt melt away, replaced with genuine appreciation for the flavors you had brought together. it wasn’t long before the dish became the talk of the kitchen, its success spreading quickly through the restaurant’s staff. praise followed from all corners, each compliment fueling your sense of accomplishment. it was as though the entire kitchen had been given a new burst of energy, your dish acting as a catalyst for inspiration.

the next few days were a whirlwind of activity. news of the dish reached the restaurant’s management, and before you knew it, there was talk of adding it to the menu as the restaurant’s special. hoseok worked with you to fine-tune the presentation, ensuring that every detail was perfect. the dish quickly gained popularity among the patrons, its unique fusion of flavors creating a buzz that spread beyond the restaurant’s walls.

the recognition came swiftly. a local food critic wrote a glowing review, praising the dish for its innovative approach and its seamless blending of cultures. soon after, a food magazine reached out, requesting an interview with you and hoseok to discuss the inspiration behind the creation. but the pinnacle of the dish’s success came when the restaurant received a request to film a commercial, showcasing the process of creating the now-famous white kimchi ravioli.

the day of the shoot arrived, and the kitchen was abuzz with excitement. you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration as you prepared for the filming, knowing that this was a rare opportunity to showcase your skills on such a large platform. hoseok introduced you to one of the chefs who would be working with you for the shoot—kim seokjin. he was tall and handsome, with an easy smile that instantly put you at ease. there was something about his demeanor that was both professional and friendly, a balance that made working with him feel natural.

“nice to meet you,” seokjin said with a grin, his hand outstretched. “i’ve heard a lot about your dish.” you shook his hand, smiling back. “likewise. i’m looking forward to working with you.”

hoseok, standing off to the side with the director, watched the exchange with a calm expression, but you could sense the subtle shift in his demeanor. there was a tension in the way he stood, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the interaction between you and seokjin. it was as though something about the easy camaraderie between you and the other chef rubbed him the wrong way, but he said nothing, his face a mask of professionalism.

the filming began, and you and seokjin worked together seamlessly, preparing the ingredients for the dish. the cameras rolled as you sliced through vegetables, your hands moving with the precision that had been honed through years of practice. he was skilled, his movements confident as he worked alongside you, but there was a moment when he began to cut the kimchi in a way that you knew could be improved.

“seokjin, let me show you something,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. you took his hands in yours, guiding the knife through the kimchi with a more efficient motion. your fingers brushed against his as you adjusted his grip, your eyes meeting his as you explained the technique. “of you cut it this way, it’ll keep the pieces more uniform and release the flavors more evenly.”

his gaze locked with yours, his smile widening as he nodded. “thanks, that’s really helpful,” he replied, his tone warm and appreciative. the moment was brief, but the connection between you and him was undeniable. it was a simple act of collaboration, but to hoseok, who stood watching from the sidelines, it seemed to be something more. his jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he tried to suppress the surge of irritation that welled up within him. it was irrational, he knew that, but the sight of you working so closely with seokjin, the way your hands had lingered on his, sparked a jealousy that he struggled to control.

as the scene wrapped up, you turned to hoseok, eager to know if he was pleased with how the shoot had gone. “chef, how was it?” you asked, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. his response was clipped, his tone betraying the frustration he was trying to hide. “it was fine,” he said shortly, his eyes avoiding yours. without waiting for your reply, he turned on his heel and retreated back into the kitchen, leaving you standing there with a sense of unease.

seokjin, noticing the tension, turned to you with a soft smile. “it was nice meeting you,” he said, his voice sincere. “you did great today.”

“thanks, seokjin,” you replied, forcing a smile. “you too.” as he made his way back to his station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. hoseok’s sudden coldness lingered in your mind, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself that you had done your best. still, the uncertainty gnawed at you as you followed him back into the kitchen, the familiar scents and sounds offering little comfort.

you hesitated at the entrance, unsure whether to approach him, but before you could decide, hoseok’s voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding. “kim yerim,” he called, the sound of the name causing your heart to skip a beat. “come to my office.”

the girl peered over, a smile gracing her face as she obliged, following hoseok out of the kitchen and toward his office. the sight made your stomach churn, as did the sound of silence. you didn't miss it, the look he gave you before slipping out of the station. it was a look that you couldn't quite define, but it was enough to make your blood run cold. no matter how supportive he was, old habits died hard. at the end of the day, he was still the same man who did as he pleased with the women willing to give him a piece of their dignity.

chaeyoung approached you not long after the tension-filled exchange in the kitchen. her eyes were bright with excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. “you were amazing today!” she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine admiration. “the way you handled everything, from the dish to the filming, it was perfect.” you smiled at her praise, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thank you, chae,” you replied, your voice soft but appreciative. the validation from your peers meant as much as the recognition from hoseok.

she wasn’t done, though. she leaned in slightly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “and you and seokjin,” she began, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret, “seemed to have something going on there. the way he was looking at you—” you laughed, shaking your head at the implication. “no, no, there’s nothing going on,” you denied, though you couldn’t stop the slight blush that crept into your cheeks at the memory of seokjin’s warm smile.

she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she continued, “the team is going out for celebratory drinks tonight. it’s all on your behalf, so you have to come.” you hesitated, the idea of joining everyone for drinks sounding appealing yet a little daunting. “i’ll think about it,” you said, not committing but leaving the door open.

before you could say more, another voice chimed in, the tone playful yet insistent. “you’ll be there.” you turned to see seokjin, a knowing smile on his lips as he looked at you expectantly. his presence was both reassuring and slightly unnerving, given how easily he seemed to be able to read your thoughts. you found yourself nodding, caught up in his easy charm. “okay, i’ll be there,” you agreed, pausing before adding with a bit of uncertainty, “are you coming too?”

he shrugged, his expression teasing. “only if you want me to,” he said, his tone light but laced with something more. chaeyoung couldn’t hold back her giggles, her support for the budding camaraderie between you two evident in the way she swooned slightly. “drinks at nine,” she reminded, her voice full of enthusiasm.

but before you could fully relax into the idea of a fun night out, another voice cut through the conversation, this one colder and more authoritative. “what drinks?”

the three of you turned to see hoseok standing a few feet away, his expression stoic, his eyes focused intently on the three of you. chaeyoung, caught off guard, fumbled over her words, her earlier confidence evaporating under Hoseok’s intense gaze. “uh, we were just, um, planning to go out for drinks to celebrate, and we were wondering if you’d like to come too?” she managed to get out, her voice faltering slightly with each word.

you inwardly winced at the thought of hoseok joining. the situation already felt complicated enough without adding his presence to the mix, especially after the way he’d been watching you and seokjin earlier. but to your dismay, his expression didn’t change as he responded, “of course, i’ll be coming.” there was a finality in his tone that left no room for argument. you avoided looking at him, unsure of how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. instead, you turned back to seokjin, who was still standing beside you. his warm smile hadn’t faltered, and the ease in his demeanor seemed unaffected by hoseok’s looming presence.

hoseok, however, seemed to notice the silent exchange between you and seokjin. his eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice took on an edge as he asked, “and seokjin, will you be coming too?” he met his gaze calmly, his smile never wavering. “yes, i’ll be there.”

a smirk played on hoseok’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “great,” he said, the word carrying a weight that seemed to linger in the air long after it was spoken.

the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. chaeyoung glanced between you, seokjin, and hoseok, clearly sensing the undercurrent of tension but unsure how to address it. after a moment, she cleared her throat, forcing a cheerful tone as she said, “well, i’ll see you guys tonight, then!”

she quickly excused herself, leaving you alone with seokjin and hoseok. the latter’s eyes remained on you for a moment longer before he turned on his heel and walked away, heading back toward his office. aeokjin turned to you, his voice gentle as he said, “don’t worry about it. tonight will be fun, i promise.” you nodded, though the knot in your stomach didn’t entirely loosen.

getting ready for the evening felt different than it had for other nights out. the tension that had brewed all day still lingered, and as you stood before the mirror in your room, smoothing the floral dress you’d chosen, a part of you wondered if going was even a good idea. but you’d made a commitment, and besides, after everything that had happened, a part of you wanted to celebrate. you had achieved something noteworthy, and despite the awkwardness with hoseok, there was a sense of pride that you couldn’t ignore.

your hair, which you had usually kept tied up or tucked away beneath a chef’s hat, cascaded freely over your shoulders. the soft waves framed your face, and you had taken extra care with your makeup, applying just enough to enhance your features without overdoing it. you hardly recognized yourself as you gave one last glance in the mirror, but the reflection was a pleasant surprise. tonight, you weren’t just the diligent chef striving to prove herself—you were someone who could allow herself to feel beautiful.

when you finally walked into the barbecue bar, the warm, smoky scent of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of your peers. you were greeted enthusiastically by your colleagues, their smiles wide and their voices carrying over the lively buzz of the place. chaeyoung, already a bit tipsy, threw her arms around you, her eyes sparkling with delight. “you made it!” she cheered, pulling you into a tight hug. “and look at you, so pretty tonight!”

you smiled, trying to soak in the compliments, but your gaze drifted instinctively toward hoseok, who was seated at the end of the table. his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in his expression—something stern, something unreadable. you looked away quickly, the knot in your stomach tightening, only to catch seokjin’s gaze instead.

to your surprise, his face lit up when he saw you, and before you could react, he was closing the distance between you and pulling you into a warm hug. “you look prettier than usual,” he said, his tone playful but sincere. his eyes scanned your floral dress, taking in the way it flowed around you, your hair loose and soft, the faint makeup you had applied. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you smiled, feeling a bit shy at his directness. “thank you,” you managed, the words coming out softer than you intended. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and released you from the hug. from the corner of your eye, you noticed the way hoseok’s hand tightened around his shot glass, his knuckles going white. a moment later, he downed the entire shot in one go, the glass hitting the table with a bit too much force.

you took a seat, finding yourself in the center of the group, seokjin to your left, chaeyoung to your right, with hoseok directly across from you. the conversation flowed easily, the drinks making everyone more relaxed, more willing to laugh and share stories. chaeyoung, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, leaned in closer to you at one point, her voice a bit louder than usual. “you and seokjin are so adorable together,” she teased, her words slightly slurred. you felt your face heat up, and you laughed nervously, waving a hand dismissively. “we’re not together,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, though you could feel the curious stares of your colleagues.

seokjin leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “for now,” he added, his voice low enough that only those closest to you could hear. the whole table erupted in laughter, everyone except hoseok. he didn’t laugh. Instead, his face hardened, and he slammed his glass on the table with enough force to silence the room. without a word, he pushed back his chair and stood, heading toward the bathroom, leaving the table in an uncomfortable silence.

seokjin was the first to break the awkwardness, his voice a bit softer this time as he leaned in toward you. “don’t worry about him,” he said, his tone reassuring. “he’s just—” he paused, searching for the right words, but ultimately shook his head. “it’s not your fault.” you nodded, but the uneasy feeling in your chest didn’t dissipate. the rest of the group tried to continue the conversation, but it was clear that hoseok’s sudden departure had put a damper on the mood.

when he finally returned, it was obvious he had been drinking too much. his steps were slightly unsteady, and there was a glazed look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. you watched him carefully, noticing how his hand shook slightly as he poured himself another drink. concerned, you leaned in closer to him, your voice low. “are you going to be able to make it home?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

he looked at you, his expression hard to read, his eyes clouded by the alcohol. “what’s it to you?” he slurred, his words coming out a bit harsher than he probably intended. you bit back a sigh, your patience starting to wear thin. turning away from him, you addressed the others at the table. “i’m sorry, but i think i’m going to have to call it a night,” you said, pausing to glance at hoseok, who was swaying slightly in his seat. “i’ll need to drive hoseok home.”

the group erupted in protests, insisting that you didn’t need to take responsibility, but seokjin, who had been quietly observing, stood up and hugged you. “if you need anything, call me,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. you nodded, appreciating his support, and helped hoseok to his feet. he was surprisingly heavy, leaning against you more than you expected as you guided him out of the bar. the night air was cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth inside the bar. hoseok mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite make out, but you were too focused on getting him to his car to ask him to repeat it.

when you finally reached his car, he fumbled for his keys, dropping them once before managing to hand them to you. “you’re mean,” he muttered, his voice petulant, catching you off guard. the change in his demeanor was startling—gone was the stern, composed chef you were used to, replaced by someone far more vulnerable and childlike. taken aback, you looked at him, your brow furrowed. “put your seatbelt on if you’re sober enough to know how,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind.

he scoffed, his expression challenging as he tried and failed to buckle his seatbelt. the buckle slipped from his grasp twice before you finally sighed and leaned over him to secure it yourself. as you clicked the seatbelt into place, you glanced up and found his eyes fixed on you. his gaze was softer now, the earlier harshness replaced with something else, something that made your heart skip a beat.

flustered, you quickly looked away, securing him in before retreating to the driver’s seat. you started the car, the engine purring softly as you pulled out of the parking lot. “where do you live?” you asked, glancing over at him. but there was no response. when you looked over, you saw that he had already fallen asleep, his head resting against the window. you couldn’t help but scoff quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. “lightweight,” you muttered under your breath.

with no other choice, you decided to drive him to your place. the drive was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from hoseok as he shifted in his sleep. by the time you pulled up to your apartment, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. but as you looked over at hoseok, still fast asleep in the passenger seat, you knew that this night wasn’t over yet. there was still the matter of getting him inside, of figuring out what to do next. and as much as you wanted to just let him sleep it off in the car, you knew you couldn’t leave him out there.

the night air was crisp as you pulled into your driveway, the headlights of your car slicing through the darkness. your heart pounded with an anxious rhythm, still reeling from the night’s events. hoseok was fast asleep in the passenger seat, his head slumped against the window, oblivious to the world around him. you killed the engine, the sudden silence in the car amplifying the sound of your breath as you gathered the courage to wake him.

“hoseok,” you murmured softly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. he stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed. you shook him a bit harder, and this time, his eyelids fluttered open, groggy and unfocused. “we’re here,” you added gently. he blinked up at you, disoriented. “where?” his voice was thick with sleep, the usual sharpness of his tone dulled by the alcohol.

you sighed, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side. opening the door, you leaned in, unbuckling his seatbelt. “you fell asleep before you could tell me where you live,” you explained, your voice laced with mild frustration as you hoisted him out of the car, his body heavy and uncooperative. as you helped him into the house, his steps were sluggish, his arm slung over your shoulders for support. he stumbled slightly as you led him to the couch, guiding him down as he collapsed onto the cushions with a weary sigh. the warmth of your home enveloped you both, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.

“always been a lightweight?” you teased lightly, attempting to lighten the mood as you watched him sprawl out on the couch, his long limbs taking up most of the space. hoseok groaned, his hand coming up to rub his face. “i don’t drink,” he muttered, his voice muffled by his hand. he paused, glancing up at you with an expression that was oddly vulnerable. “it was my first time.”

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “your first time? why on earth did you decide to drink tonight then?” the question slipped out before you could stop it, your curiosity piqued. he shifted on the couch, rolling onto his back so he could look at you directly. his gaze was intense, almost too much to bear. “because of you,” he said simply, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something that made your stomach twist with unease.

you blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. hoseok’s eyes darkened, a scowl tugging at his lips. “maybe you should ask seokjin,” he retorted, the mocking edge to his voice making you flinch.

the implication behind his words was clear, and it stung. you scoffed, shaking your head as you tried to dismiss it. “he’s just a friend,” you argued, but the pause before you added, “and even if he wasn’t, so what?” made the words feel hollow. you turned away, intending to retreat and give yourself some distance from the tension that had thickened the air. but before you could take a step, hoseok’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a firm grip. you gasped as he pulled you back, your body stumbling and falling against his, your back pressing into his chest as his arms encircled your waist.

“don’t,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice low and almost pleading. you could feel his breath warm against your skin, the closeness of him making your heart race. “i don’t like you being so close to him.” his words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of shock and confusion rendering you silent. this was hoseok—strict, professional, always in control—yet here he was, holding onto you as if you might slip away.

he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “i only want you to be like this with me,” he confessed, the raw honesty in his voice making your breath hitch. you swallowed hard, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening. “you’re drunk,” you protested weakly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

but he shook his head, the movement causing his hair to brush against your skin. “i know exactly what I’m talking about,” he insisted, his voice steady despite the alcohol in his system. he hesitated for a moment before continuing, his next words sending a jolt through you. “you brought the hope back to l’espoir.”

you didn’t know how to respond, your mind a whirlwind of emotions as you tried to process the weight of his confession. but before you could form a coherent thought, hoseok’s grip on you loosened, his body going slack as sleep claimed him once more. you were left there, sitting in stunned silence, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the situation settled over you. he had just bared his soul to you, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the warm, enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. it was a comforting scent, one that slowly coaxed you out of the remnants of sleep. you stretched lazily, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the peace, before the memories of last night came rushing back—hoseok’s confession, the unexpected closeness, the weight of his words still lingering in your mind.

you rose from the bed, the soft padding of your feet on the cool floor the only sound in the quiet house. the scent of coffee grew stronger as you made your way to the kitchen, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. as you rounded the corner, you found him standing at the counter, his back to you as he poured steaming coffee into two mugs. he was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, though slightly rumpled from sleep, his hair tousled in a way that made him look more approachable than usual.

he turned at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes locking onto yours with an expression that was surprisingly gentle. “morning,” he greeted, his voice still carrying that low, warm timbre that had made your heart race the night before. “you want some coffee?”

you nodded, feeling a bit awkward in the face of his casual demeanor after everything that had happened. “yes, please,” you managed to reply, your voice coming out a bit softer than you intended. you moved to sit at the small kitchen table, the wooden chair creaking slightly as you settled into it. hoseok handed you a mug, and you took it with a quiet word of thanks. the rich, earthy scent of the coffee was even more intoxicating up close, and you noticed that it had been made using a french press—a sign of care and attention. you took a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. “thank you for this,” you said, gesturing to the coffee, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling back to the events of last night.

he leaned against the counter, cradling his own mug between his hands as he regarded you with a calm gaze. “it’s me who should be thanking you,” he replied, a hint of sincerity in his tone that you weren’t used to hearing from him. “for taking care of me when I was, well, not at my best.” you hesitated, swirling the coffee in your cup as you tried to find the right words. “are you feeling better? did you sober up?”

he nodded, taking a slow sip from his mug before setting it down on the counter. “yeah. i’m good now.” there was a moment of silence, the two of you just sipping your coffee, the unspoken tension between you almost palpable. your thoughts drifted back to the way he had pulled you close last night, the confession that had left you reeling. the memory of it made your cheeks flush, and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the implications of his words.

as if sensing the direction of your thoughts, hoseok’s lips curved into a smirk. he tilted his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with something that made your pulse quicken. “you’re thinking about what i said last night, aren’t you?” you nearly choked on your coffee, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, caught off guard by his straightforwardness. “i, well,” you stammered, trying to compose yourself as you fumbled for a response. the memory of him holding you, his breath warm against your skin as he confessed his feelings, was too vivid to ignore.

his smirk softened into a more serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he continued. “i meant every word of it.” his tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt, and the intensity of his gaze made it clear that he was being completely honest. your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. you opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself at a loss, your thoughts a jumble of confusion and emotions. “i, um, i have to get to work,” you finally managed to say, your voice a bit shaky as you clung to the one thing you could focus on—the need to be on time.

hoseok studied you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to press the matter further, before raising his hand in a gesture of understanding. “i’ll drive you,” he offered, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile. you shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “you don’t have to, i can—”

but he cut you off with a gentle insistence. “i want to,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. realizing there was no point in protesting, you simply nodded, your thoughts still in a whirlwind as you finished your coffee in silence. the ride to work was quiet, but not uncomfortable. hoseok seemed to be in a much better mood, the tension from the previous night having dissipated, leaving behind a sense of calm. he hummed softly to the music playing on the radio, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel as he drove.

when you arrived at the restaurant, you turned to him, offering a small smile of gratitude. “thanks for the ride.” he smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes that made you feel a bit more at ease. “anytime.” you watched as he walked into the restaurant ahead of you, his posture relaxed, a stark contrast to the way he had been behaving recently. it didn’t take long for you to notice that his good mood seemed to linger throughout the day, a lightness in his steps that was unusual for him. he didn’t snap at anyone, didn’t call any of the girls into his office like he usually did. it was as if something had shifted within him, and the change left you stunned, unable to shake the feeling that something significant had occurred between the two of you.

the buzz of the kitchen hummed around you as you settled into your routine, the familiar clatter of pots and pans mingling with the sharp sizzle of ingredients hitting hot oil. there was an unspoken rhythm to the place, a steady flow of movement and sound that kept the energy high, but today, there was an undercurrent of tension. whispers had already started to circulate, the staff exchanging wary glances as they awaited the inevitable—hoseok’s arrival. it was almost a ritual by now, the way he’d sweep in with that cold, calculating gaze, ready to single out yet another unfortunate girl to pull into his office. the atmosphere would shift, voices would lower, and everyone would brace themselves for whatever mood he was in that day.

but when he finally stepped into the kitchen, something was different. the usual noise faded into an expectant silence, all eyes turning towards him as he made his way through the bustling space. you watched as he paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, and for a moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of the stern, unyielding expression that had become all too familiar. but then, to everyone’s shock, his lips curled into a smile—an actual, genuine smile—and he offered a simple, “thank you, everyone, for working hard today.”

the reaction was immediate and palpable. people exchanged stunned glances, the tension in the room dissolving into an almost disbelieving murmur. no one quite knew how to react, the abrupt change in his demeanor leaving everyone off-balance. it was as if they were waiting for the punchline to some elaborate joke, but instead, hoseok simply continued walking, his steps light, his mood shockingly bright.

your heart skipped a beat when he started moving in your direction, his gaze locked onto you with a strange mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. you quickly turned back to your station, trying to steady your breathing as you busied yourself with your tasks, hoping he’d pass by without another word. but then he stopped right beside you, his presence looming, and you felt a prickle of anticipation at the base of your spine. “drop your shift,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you froze, your hands stilling over the cutting board as his words registered. Slowly, you turned to face him, confusion knitting your brows together. “what do you mean?” you asked, your voice laced with uncertainty. hoseok met your gaze, his eyes glinting with that same determined look. “you have the rest of the day off,” he clarified, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the words hit you like a sudden breeze, your heart leaping at the unexpected reprieve. it was a rare gift, one that filled you with a rush of excitement. your mind immediately started racing with all the possibilities of what you could do with the extra time, a smile beginning to spread across your face as you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. but just as quickly as the excitement rose, it was tempered by his next words. “on one condition,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

you blinked, the smile faltering slightly as you processed his words. “what condition?” you asked, your tone cautious, though the curiosity was already beginning to seep in. he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you spend the rest of the day with me,” he said, the request both unexpected and strangely intimate.

your heart skipped again, this time with a mix of surprise and something that felt suspiciously like anticipation. you hesitated, your mind running through the implications of his request, but there was something in the way he looked at you—something earnest and sincere—that made it hard to refuse. and truthfully, part of you didn’t want to. “all right,” you found yourself saying, the word slipping out before you could overthink it.

hoseok’s smile widened, his expression softening with something that looked a lot like relief. “good,” he replied, his tone light, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something that hinted at how much this meant to him. “i’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.” with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind buzzing with questions. the kitchen slowly returned to its usual rhythm, but the earlier tension was replaced by a new kind of energy—one that left you both excited and apprehensive about what the rest of the day might hold.

as you quickly wrapped up your station and informed your supervisor of your unexpected early departure, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle over you. there was no telling what hoseok had in mind, but as you stepped out of the kitchen and made your way to the front of the restaurant, you knew one thing for certain—today was going to be different.

the day stretched out before you like a blank canvas, one that you never imagined would be spent alongside hoseok. as you stepped out of the restaurant, the warmth of the sun embraced your skin, the bustling sounds of the city creating a lively backdrop to your unexpected adventure. hoseok guided you toward the bus stop, the two of you walking in comfortable silence, the earlier events in the kitchen still buzzing in your mind.

when the bus arrived, packed with the usual weekday crowd, you hesitated at the door. he stepped in first, his eyes scanning the interior for an empty seat. finding none, you both prepared to stand, but then, just as you were about to grab hold of the nearest rail, he gently nudged a young man sitting close by. there was something firm yet polite in his tone as he asked the man to stand and let you sit. the young man, caught off guard, quickly obliged, and you found yourself looking up at hoseok in surprise. “take the seat,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

you blinked, not used to such gestures from him—usually, his demeanor was all business, but today, he seemed different, more considerate, almost caring. you muttered a quiet “thank you” as you sat down, the unexpected kindness making your heart skip a beat. hoseok stood beside you, holding onto the overhead rail, his posture relaxed as he looked out of the window. the bus rumbled forward, carrying the two of you through the city streets, the vibrant blur of people and places passing by. you couldn’t help but glance up at him every now and then, curious about the change in his behavior, about what had prompted him to be so attentive. it wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of you.

“so, where are we going?” you asked, tilting your head to look up at him. hoseok smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. “it’s a surprise,” he said, leaving no room for further questions. you sighed in mock frustration, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your growing excitement. there was something thrilling about not knowing where the day would take you, something about being in the moment, just the two of you, that made you feel more alive than you had in a long time.

eventually, the bus came to a stop, and hoseok gestured for you to follow him. you stepped off the bus together, the cool breeze ruffling your hair as he led you through a series of winding streets. the further you walked, the more the hustle and bustle of the main roads faded away, replaced by quieter, narrower lanes lined with small shops and cozy cafés. finally, he slowed down, and you looked up to see a small, unassuming restaurant tucked between two taller buildings. the sign above the door was simple, the name “seong’s bistro” written in elegant script. It wasn’t anything grand, but there was a charm to it, a warmth that made you feel like you were about to step into someone’s home rather than a restaurant.

“this is it,” he said, turning to you with a smile. “come on, let’s go in.” he held the door open for you, and as you walked inside, you were greeted by the welcoming scent of home-cooked meals. the interior was just as cozy as the exterior, with wooden tables, soft lighting, and walls adorned with framed photographs of what appeared to be family gatherings and happy customers. there was a sense of history there, of stories shared over meals, and it made you feel instantly at ease.

a man in his late thirties, with a friendly smile and an apron tied around his waist, approached you both. his features bore a striking resemblance to hoseok’s, though his face was softer, more rounded, and his demeanor exuded warmth. “my cousin,” the man exclaimed, pulling hoseok into a quick hug before turning to you. “and you must be the famous chef I’ve heard so much about.” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his words. “famous?” you repeated, a bit flustered.

the man nodded enthusiastically. “of course! i’ve heard all about your kimchi ravioli. it’s an honor to finally meet you in person.” you felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, not quite used to such praise. “thank you,” you said, smiling shyly. “but i’m not sure if i’m as famous as you think.”

“nonsense,” hoseok’s cousin replied, waving off your modesty. “your dish is incredible. in fact, i have a little surprise for both of you.” he exchanged a knowing glance with hoseok, who grinned and placed a hand on your back, gently guiding you toward a corner table. you sat down, your curiosity piqued, and watched as hoseok’s cousin disappeared into the kitchen. the restaurant was quiet, only a few other customers scattered about, their soft conversations blending with the faint music playing overhead.

after a few moments, the kitchen doors swung open, and two chefs emerged, each carrying a plate. as they approached, your breath caught in your throat. on each plate was a perfectly presented serving of your kimchi ravioli, the dish that had won over so many palates. the sight of it here, in this small, family-run restaurant, filled you with a sense of pride and disbelief.

“how did you—?” you began, turning to hoseok in astonishment. he simply smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “i made sure to spread the word about your dish,” he said, his voice filled with genuine pride. “you’re a national hit now.”

your heart swelled with emotion, a mix of gratitude and disbelief washing over you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to do this for you, to share your creation with others, touched you deeply. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice thick with sincerity. “i can’t believe you did this.” hoseok’s smile softened, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual. “you deserve it,” he said simply.

the meal that followed was nothing short of perfect. the ravioli was just as you had imagined it would be, the flavors dancing on your tongue with each bite. it was a strange but wonderful experience, tasting your own creation in a setting like this, surrounded by people who appreciated it just as much as you did. every now and then, you would glance over at hoseok, and each time, he was watching you with a contented smile, as if seeing you enjoy the meal was satisfaction enough for him.

when the plates were finally empty, he paid the bill despite your protests, and the two of you stepped out into the cool afternoon air. the sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the city, and as you walked, the conversation flowed easily between you. you found yourself laughing more, the usual walls between you and hoseok slowly crumbling as the day went on.

at one point, you passed by a quaint little chocolate shop with a beautifully arranged display in the window. you stopped in your tracks, drawn to the sight of the delicately crafted chocolates, each one a tiny masterpiece. he noticed your interest and leaned in to peer at the display with you. “which one catches your eye?” he asked, his tone light. you pointed to a small box of chocolates dusted with cocoa powder, their rich, velvety appearance almost too tempting to resist. “those,” you said, a note of longing in your voice. “they look so soft and chewy.”

without another word, he pushed open the door to the shop and stepped inside. you watched from the window as he spoke to the shopkeeper, gesturing toward the chocolates you had pointed out. a few moments later, he emerged with a small box in hand, his smile wide as he extended it to you. “for you,” he said simply.

you took the box from him, your fingers brushing against his in the process. the gesture, though small, warmed your heart. “thank you,” you said, smiling up at him. you opened the box and took out a small pick, ready to try one of the chocolates. but instead of popping it into your own mouth, you surprised hoseok by holding it up to his lips, silently offering him the first taste. he looked at you, momentarily taken aback, before his lips parted slightly, allowing you to place the chocolate on his tongue.

his eyes widened as he savored the taste, a look of pure delight crossing his face. “wow,” he murmured, swallowing. “that’s really good.” you grinned, pleased by his reaction, and finally took a piece for yourself. the chocolate melted in your mouth, rich and smooth, the cocoa powder adding a subtle bitterness that balanced perfectly with the sweetness. it was a moment of shared indulgence, a small but meaningful exchange that seemed to bring the two of you even closer.

as you continued your walk, the conversation shifted to more personal topics. you asked him about his restaurant, about how he had come up with the name “l’espoir.” for a moment, hoseok hesitated, his usual confidence wavering. but then he sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “i’ve always been the one to bring joy to the people close to me,” he began, his voice quieter now. “but when my father was dying, i had to get serious. i had to take on responsibilities I wasn’t ready for, and after he passed, it was like i lost a part of myself. i lost hope.”

you felt a pang of sympathy, the memory of your own loss surfacing in your mind. “i know how that feels,” you said softly. “when my mother passed, i felt like i lost a part of myself too. everything seemed to lose its color, its meaning. cooking was the only thing that kept me going, the only way i could hold on to the memories i had with her.” hoseok’s eyes softened even more at your words, the weight of shared grief settling between you like a silent understanding. he nodded, as if acknowledging the invisible thread that now connected the two of you—one woven from loss, but also from the strength you both found in your passion for cooking.

“i started the restaurant because i wanted to bring that hope back,” he continued, his voice tinged with a quiet resolve. “for myself, and for others. i wanted to create a place where people could feel joy, where they could find comfort in food the way i did. that’s why I named it ‘l’espoir’—hope.” you walked in silence for a moment, absorbing the depth of his words, the sincerity behind them. there was a new layer to hoseok that you hadn’t seen before, a vulnerability that he had hidden behind his confident, sometimes stern exterior. it made you see him in a different light, not just as your superior or the chef who could command a kitchen with ease, but as someone who had faced the same kind of pain you had, someone who had chosen to turn that pain into something beautiful.

“i’m glad you did,” you finally said, your voice gentle but firm. “it’s a place where people can find more than just a meal. it’s a place where they can find a part of themselves, a piece of happiness, even if just for a moment.” he looked at you, his expression one of quiet gratitude. “thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of emotion. “it means a lot to hear that from you.”

the rest of the walk to your house was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. the bond between you felt stronger now, deeper, as if you had crossed an invisible line from mere colleagues to something more—friends, perhaps, or something that had the potential to grow even further. when you finally reached your door, you turned to him with a smile. “thank you for today, hoseok. it was unexpected, but in the best way.”

he returned your smile, but there was something more in his eyes now, a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “i should be the one thanking you,” he said, taking a step closer. “you gave me hope today.” his words sent a flutter through your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing gently against your forehead. the kiss was soft, barely more than a whisper of a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, leaving you momentarily stunned. your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you looked up at him.

when he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, something tender and unspoken. “i’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice low, as if not to break the fragile moment between you. you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. your mind was still reeling from the feel of his lips on your skin, the unexpected intimacy of it. as you watched him walk away, your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling within you—confusion, excitement, but most of all, a sense of anticipation for what might come next.

once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your fingers lightly brushing the spot where he had kissed you. the warmth lingered, a reminder of the day’s unexpected turns, and as you stepped inside your home, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. the rest of the evening passed in a blur. You replayed the events of the day in your mind, each memory filled with vivid detail—the way hoseok had stood up for you on the bus, the pride in his voice when he introduced you to his cousin, the taste of the kimchi ravioli you had created, and finally, the soft, tender kiss he had left on your forehead. each moment felt significant, like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together, forming a picture you had yet to fully understand.

the next few days with hoseok were like a dream, a soft, hazy blur of moments that felt too good to be true. he was always there—smiling, friendly, attentive in ways that made your heart skip a beat. whether it was a simple greeting in the morning or the way he’d casually ask if you needed anything during the day, his presence was a constant source of warmth and comfort. he had a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel special. if you were chopping vegetables, he’d find a reason to stand beside you, sometimes offering a quick tip on technique, other times just making light conversation that left you smiling. his laughter was infectious, filling the kitchen with a bright, cheerful energy that everyone seemed to notice.

it didn’t take long for the other chefs to start talking. chaeyoung, in particular, couldn’t help but ask you about it one day, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “hey, have you noticed anything different about chef jung lately?” she asked, her voice low as she leaned in closer. you felt your cheeks warm, but you played it cool, feigning innocence with a smile. “no, why do you ask?”

chaeyoung’s eyes narrowed playfully. “oh, come on! don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he’s been around you lately. it’s like you’re his favorite or something.” your heart fluttered at the thought, but you shook your head, still maintaining the pretense. “i really haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “maybe he’s just in a good mood lately.”

she gave you a knowing look, but before she could press further, hoseok entered the kitchen. as usual, his presence had an immediate effect on everyone—conversations stopped, eyes turned to him. there was an unspoken respect for him that filled the air whenever he walked in, a mix of admiration and a bit of fear. you had grown used to this silence, no longer feeling the same tension as before. Instead, you found yourself feeling at ease, knowing that his attention was likely to land on you with a smile or a kind word. but today was different.

“choi yongsun,” he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. the name took a moment to register. you were in the middle of organizing the ingredients for the day, your mind still half-focused on the conversation with chaeyoung. but when you finally registered the name, your heart stuttered in your chest. a pause followed. the kind of pause that feels like an eternity, stretching the moment out until it’s almost unbearable. you looked up, confusion washing over you as you turned to see another girl—choi yongsun—standing frozen, her eyes wide as she stared at hoseok. “come to my office,” he finished

your entire world stopped spinning. it felt as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. the warmth and comfort you had felt all week vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, as the reality of what was happening slowly dawned on you. you were invisible again. hoseok’s attention, his kindness, the gentle smiles and lingering looks—they hadn’t meant what you thought they did. all of it had been a cruel illusion, a fleeting moment that had now passed, leaving you behind like a forgotten afterthought.

your heart shattered in your chest, the pieces scattering in a thousand directions. a dull, numbing pain spread through you, making it hard to focus, hard to keep your composure. you watched as yongsun hesitated, glancing around the room as if seeking reassurance. hoseok’s gaze softened as he met hers, and in that moment, it became clear—she was the one he was focused on now. not you.

blood rushed to your head, the heat of embarrassment and hurt rising until it felt like your skin was on fire. the kitchen, once a place of warmth and comfort, now felt like a cage, trapping you in a nightmare you hadn’t seen coming. you needed to get out. before anyone could notice the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you spun on your heel and bolted from the kitchen. your breath came in shallow gasps as you fled down the hallway, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. the walls blurred as you ran, the sting of tears clouding your vision.

you pushed open the door to the street outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap. you didn’t stop. you couldn’t. not until you found a cab, your hands shaking as you flagged one down. the ride home was a blur of motion and suppressed sobs. the reality of what had just happened hit you in waves, each one more painful than the last. how had you been so naive? how had you let yourself believe, even for a second, that he saw you as more than just another chef in his kitchen?

the thoughts spiraled, tearing at your already fragile heart. by the time you reached your door, the dam broke. tears flowed freely now, your body shaking with the force of your sobs as you fumbled with your keys, the metal slipping in your trembling hands. finally inside, you collapsed against the door, the sobs wracking your body as you sank to the floor. the realization of how deeply you had let yourself fall, of how thoroughly you had been misled, was crushing. it wasn’t just about hoseok’s attention—it was about the hope you had allowed to bloom, the fragile seed of something more that you had nurtured, only to have it ripped away in an instant.

you had been so foolish to think that he could see you, truly see you, as anything more than just another girl in his life. all the moments you had shared, the laughter, the smiles, the tender words—they were nothing more than fleeting distractions to him, easily replaced the moment someone else caught his eye. and then, as you sat alone on your cold floor, the weight of your own heartbreak settling over you, the tears wouldn’t stop. they flowed endlessly, a river of pain that seemed to have no end, each sob tearing through you with a force that left you breathless.

your thoughts were a tangled mess of hurt, anger, and a deep, aching sadness that hollowed you out from the inside. you had wanted to believe in something more, something real, but now all you were left with was the bitter taste of disappointment. it was over. whatever connection you thought you had with him was nothing more than a cruel joke, a figment of your imagination that had shattered into a million pieces.

the sobs wracked your body, each one tearing through you with a force that left you trembling on the floor. you clutched at your chest as if trying to hold the pieces of your shattered heart together, but it was no use. the pain was too much, the disappointment too deep. tears blurred your vision, and the world around you became a distorted mess of shadows and light.

you didn’t hear the door open. you were too lost in your own anguish, too consumed by the despair that had wrapped itself around your heart like a vise. it wasn’t until you sensed a presence beside you that you looked up, your breath catching in your throat. hoseok stood in the doorway, his expression stricken, eyes filled with a mix of grief and concern. his usually confident stance was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. he took a tentative step toward you, his voice gentle, almost pleading.

“why did you go home?” he asked, his tone filled with an aching sorrow that matched the hurt in your chest. you felt something snap inside you at his words, a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. anger, hurt, betrayal—all of it came pouring out in a torrent as you stared at him through tear-streaked eyes.

“why did i go home?” you repeated, your voice cracking as you tried to keep the sobs at bay. “i thought—i thought you had really changed, hoseok. i thought you were different, that you were finally done with the games. i opened my heart to you, and you just, you went back to the girls in your office like it meant nothing.” your voice broke, the words trembling with the force of your emotions. you didn’t care how vulnerable you sounded, didn’t care that your tears were still falling, staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. all you could think about was the pain of realizing you had been wrong, so very wrong, about him.

hoseok’s face twisted with grief, his eyes darkening with regret as he closed the distance between you. “you’ve got it all wrong,” he said softly, his voice pained as he reached out to you. but you shook your head, pulling away from him as fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “no, i don’t,” you cried, your voice thick with emotion. “you’re an asshole, hoseok. you made me believe in something that wasn’t real. you made me believe that you could be more, that we could be more, and then you just—threw it all away.”

your words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your heartache. hoseok stopped in his tracks, his expression filled with a kind of desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if he was trying to hold himself together. then, slowly, he crouched down in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached out again, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was afraid you might shatter if he moved too quickly. his fingers gently wrapped around your hands, warm and comforting, even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your sobs.

“listen to me,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing. “i did call yongsun into my office. but it wasn’t what you think.” you tried to pull your hands away, the pain in your chest still raw, but he held on, his grip firm yet gentle. he leaned in closer, his gaze searching yours, his voice tender as he continued.

“she was quitting,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your skin. “that’s why i called her in. to talk about her leaving. that’s all.” you froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words registered. the hurt, the anger—everything you had been feeling—wavered, uncertainty creeping in. you searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be lying, but all you saw was sincerity, a raw honesty that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“you—you really didn’t sleep with her?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if you were afraid to even ask. a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of hoseok’s lips. he shook his head, his thumb brushing gently across the back of your hand. “of course, i didn’t,” he murmured. “i could never do that to you.”

relief washed over you, a wave of emotion so strong it left you breathless. the tears that had been born of heartbreak now turned to something else—something softer, warmer. they slipped down your cheeks in quiet streams, and hoseok reached up, brushing them away with his fingertips. “it’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you closer. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.” you didn’t resist as he gathered you into his arms, his warmth seeping into you, chasing away the cold that had settled in your heart. he held you like you were something precious, something fragile, and the care in his touch only made the tears fall faster.

you buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of him—familiar, comforting—wrapping around you like a balm for your wounded heart. his hands moved up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, his presence grounding you, anchoring you in a moment that felt too real, too tender to be anything but the truth. for a long time, neither of you said anything. there were no words needed, no explanations to be given. all that mattered was the way he held you, the way he made you feel safe, cherished, loved.

and then, slowly, gently, hoseok pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft as they searched your face. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears as he leaned in. the kiss was soft, tentative, a whisper of a touch that sent a shiver down your spine. his lips were warm against yours, his breath mingling with yours in a way that felt like coming home. there was no rush, no urgency—just a quiet, tender moment that spoke of all the things neither of you could put into words.

you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss grew deeper, more passionate. you could feel his heart racing against yours, the beat a frantic echo of the need that was building inside you. the taste of him was like a drug, something you hadn’t realized you’d been craving until now. your body responded, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your shirt, your pussy growing wet with desire.

his hands slipped down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips before sliding around to the small of your back. he pulled you closer, aligning your bodies so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach. you moaned into his mouth, the heat between you growing with every passing second. his touch grew bolder, more insistent, as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples through the fabric. the sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you arch into his touch.

you broke the kiss, panting, to look up at him. his eyes were dark with need, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “i’m sorry for hurting you. for making you doubt me. i’ll do anything to make it up to you, to show you how much you mean to me.” his words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the last of the raw edges of your heartache. you reached up, placing your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “make love to me, hoseok,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “show me that we’re okay.”

his eyes searched yours for a moment, looking for confirmation, for permission. and when you nodded, a soft smile curved his lips. he stood, pulling you to your feet, and then he was leading you to the bedroom, his hand warm and firm in yours. the room was bathed in soft, golden light from the setting sun, casting shadows across the bed that was already calling to you. you could feel your heart racing, your body thrumming with anticipation as he began to undress you, his eyes never leaving yours.

once you were naked, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze roving over your body with a kind of reverence that made you feel beautiful, desired. his hands followed, tracing the lines of your collarbone, your ribs, the swell of your hips. he leaned down, his mouth following the path his hands had taken, placing kisses along the way. you shivered, your skin coming alive under his touch. when he finally reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you moan.

his hand moved between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, stroking it lightly, teasing it until you were begging for more. but hoseok was in no hurry. he took his time, exploring every inch of you, building the tension until you were on the edge, your body quivering with need. and when he finally slid into you, it was with a slow, deliberate movement that made you gasp. his cock was huge, stretching you in a way that was both painful and beautiful. you felt so full, so complete, as he filled you completely.

his strokes were gentle at first, almost tender, as if he was afraid of hurting you. but as you grew more and more desperate, he picked up the pace, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you clinging to the edge of climax. he whispered dirty, filthy words in your ear, praising your body, your tightness, your beauty, and each one sent a fresh wave of heat through you. his attentiveness was intoxicating, his sensitivity to your needs surprising and arousing.

his thumb found your clit again, pressing down firmly as he fucked you harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. you could feel your orgasm building, a storm rising inside you, threatening to break. and when it did, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before—a white-hot explosion of pleasure that had you crying out his name, your body convulsing around his cock.

hoseok’s eyes never left yours, watching you intently as you rode out the waves of your climax. his own release followed closely, his hips jerking as he came deep inside you, his warmth filling you up. he collapsed against you, his chest heaving with the exertion. for a moment, you just lay there, tangled in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, hearts beating in sync.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. he kissed you again, deep and slow, his tongue stroking yours in a gentle dance that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical. it was a promise, a declaration of love and devotion, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

once you’d both caught your breath, hoseok pulled out of you, his cock still hard and glistening. without a word, he reached for the box of condoms on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving yours. you watched as he rolled one on, his movements sure and practiced, and then he was back, pushing into you again. the feeling of him bare inside you was different this time, a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. you knew it was risky, but with hoseok, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

his strokes grew slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he made love to you with a kind of tenderness that was almost overwhelming. every thrust was a silent promise, every kiss a vow to never hurt you again. and as you came apart in his arms, your bodies melding together in a symphony of passion, you knew that that was where you were meant to be—right there, with hoseok, forever.

✧.*

a/n: this one was lowk ass

a little older (더 나이든) — min yoongi (민 윤기)

✧.* 18+

building a life of your own was supposed to be the most important thing, a sacred endeavor carved out of dreams and determination. it was meant to be a testament to resilience, a collection of moments carefully stacked like cards, each one representing a triumph, a choice, a whispered hope. every decision, every relationship, every step forward was like placing a new card on the fragile structure—delicate, yet full of potential. there was an elegance in the construction, a beauty in the precariousness, as each layer rose higher, promising a future that was uniquely yours.

the foundation was always more fragile than it seemed. life, with all its unpredictable twists, was like a breath of wind, capable of unsettling even the sturdiest of foundations. the careful balance, once so meticulously maintained, could be disrupted by a single misstep, a fleeting moment of imbalance. and when it happened—when that one card faltered—it was as if time slowed, the world held its breath, and the house of cards began to tremble. in an instant, everything you had built with such care, such hope, began to collapse. the cards fell, one by one, in a cascading rush of loss. it wasn’t just the physical manifestations of your efforts that crumbled; it was the dreams, the aspirations, the very essence of what you had imagined your life could be. the crash was both silent and deafening, a paradox of destruction that left you standing in the aftermath, surrounded by the scattered remnants of what once was.

in those moments, it became clear that the life you had built, so painstakingly and with such love, was never as invincible as you had believed. it was delicate, ephemeral, a structure of possibilities rather than certainties. and now, with the cards lying in disarray around you, the realization settled in—building a life of your own was not just about the construction, but about the constant balance, the vigilance, the understanding that everything could be lost in a heartbeat. the house of cards was beautiful while it stood, but it was a fragile beauty, one that required more than just ambition to sustain—it demanded a deep awareness of its own impermanence.

the gentle hum of rome surrounded you like a comforting embrace, the city's timeless charm intertwining with the luxurious life you had carefully crafted for yourself. the cobblestone streets underfoot, the scent of freshly brewed espresso wafting through the air, and the vibrant murmur of voices from nearby tables—all were part of the life you had come to know and love. it was a life of indulgence, of quiet moments in quaint coffee shops between photoshoots, where you could savor the richness of your success, the delicate balance of beauty and fame that you had so skillfully maintained.

your phone vibrated softly on the marble tabletop, interrupting your thoughts. the screen flashed with the name of your manager, a reminder of the world that existed just beyond this fleeting moment of peace. you took a slow sip of your coffee before answering, already knowing the conversation that was about to unfold. “why won't you be able to make the shoot in milan?” her voice, usually calm and composed, carried a note of urgency, of disappointment that you could almost feel through the line.

you sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the decision you had already made. “i gotta go back to daegu,” you began, choosing your words carefully as you gazed out at the bustling street, the vibrant life that you had temporarily claimed as your own. “i was enjoying some time off between shoots, but i have to go back. my mother called. she wants to get the family together.”

there was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. then, your manager exhaled, the disappointment in her voice palpable as she responded. “i'm disappointed. you know how important this shoot is, how much it could mean for your career. but i understand—family comes first.” you ended the call with a simple, “i'll be in touch,” the finality of the words echoing in your mind long after the call had disconnected. the weight of her disappointment hung over you like a shadow, mingling with your own. you were disappointed, too—disappointed that your carefully constructed life, the life you had fought so hard to create, was once again being pulled away by forces you couldn’t control.

the last thing you wanted was to spend a month in daegu, surrounded by your family and whoever else your mother decided to invite into your life. you had built something here, something that was yours alone. the glitz and glamour of the modeling world were more than just a career—they were your escape, your sanctuary from the past you had left behind. the riches, the fame, the adoration of the media—they were all a part of the life you had chosen, a life that felt worlds apart from the one that awaited you back home.

your father had always been supportive, his pride in your achievements a quiet but constant presence in your life. but your mother, your mother was another story. she had never truly understood the life you had built, never missed an opportunity to remind you of the family you had left behind, the obligations she believed you were neglecting. she was too emotional, too needy, always quick to turn to you with her problems, her fears, using you as her therapist when all you wanted was to be her daughter. it was a role you had never wanted, a burden you had never asked for, and one that had driven a deep wedge between the two of you.

as you sat in the coffee shop, the realization settled in with a dull ache—you didn’t want to go back. not now, not ever. the life you had built was there, in those moments of quiet luxury, in the thrill of the spotlight, in the knowledge that you were beautiful and that the world loved you for it. the idea of returning to daegu, to the suffocating expectations of family, was almost unbearable.

and yet, there you were, about to board a plane back to the place you had spent so many years trying to escape. you knew that once you were there, the walls you had so carefully constructed around yourself would start to crumble, brick by brick, as your mother’s words chipped away at the confidence you had so painstakingly built. but for now, you let yourself savor the last of your trip. you let the warmth of the roman sun wash over you, let the taste of rich coffee linger on your tongue, let the sound of the city’s heartbeat fill your ears. you allowed yourself this final moment of peace, a small luxury before the storm that awaited you back home.

the airport was a sea of hurried footsteps and murmured conversations, a place of constant motion and transient connections. the lights overhead were bright, almost glaring, casting a harsh glow on the polished floors and sleek, modern architecture. you walked through the bustling terminal with your head down, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. the hat was slightly too big, the edges brushing against your sunglasses, but it was a necessary discomfort. you knew the hat and shades might draw attention, might make people look twice, but it was a risk you were willing to take. you couldn’t afford to be recognized tonight—not when the weight of the decision to return to daegu was already pressing down on you.

the noise of the terminal was a constant hum in your ears, a backdrop of lives intersecting and parting ways. you moved with purpose, but each step felt heavy, as if the gravity of what awaited you back home was pulling you down. the bustling crowd gave you a sense of anonymity, a comfort in the chaos, but there was always the underlying fear—what if someone recognized you? what if a single glance, a moment of misplaced attention, shattered the fragile anonymity you clung to?

you reached the gate, the final checkpoint before you could slip into the relative safety of the plane. the lady at the gate, dressed in a crisp uniform, greeted you with a professional smile, her eyes scanning you briefly before she spoke. “ticket, please.” you handed it over, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper, and you watched as she glanced at it, her expression unchanged until her eyes fell on your name. the realization dawned in her eyes, a flicker of recognition that quickly blossomed into a wide smile.

her voice dropped to a near whisper, a mix of awe and excitement as she spoke again, her tone more personal now. “are you in first class?” you nodded, a small, polite gesture, before affirming softly, “yes, i am.” her fingers trembled slightly as she checked the ticket, the formalities of her job momentarily forgotten as she glanced back up at you. the admiration in her eyes was unmistakable, a look you had seen a thousand times before, but one that still made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“i’m such a big fan,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “would you mind—?” she trailed off, pulling out a poster she had tucked away—a poster of you, one from a recent campaign, your face smiling back at you with a confidence you didn’t quite feel in this moment. you forced a smile, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you replied, “of course.” you took the pen she offered, your hand moving almost automatically as you signed your name, the signature that had become so familiar to you, yet felt so alien in moments like this. the pen scratched lightly against the glossy paper, the sound almost lost in the noise of the terminal, but to you, it felt deafening. when you finished, you handed the poster back to her, your smile still in place despite the churning in your stomach.

“thank you so much,” she gushed, her voice barely above a whisper now, as if she were afraid to break the spell. “i hope you have a safe flight.” you nodded again, murmuring your thanks as you took your ticket back, slipping it into your bag with hands that felt too heavy, too cumbersome. the brief encounter had left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that only the public eye could make you feel. as you walked away, towards the plane that would take you back to a life you weren’t ready to face, you kept your head low, your hat pulled down just a little further, your sunglasses pressed tightly to your face.

the publicity was suffocating, a constant reminder of the life you had chosen, a life that came with its own set of rules and expectations. there were moments, fleeting but persistent, when all you wanted was a normal life—one where you could walk through an airport without being recognized, where you could board a plane without the weight of fame pressing down on your shoulders. but that life wasn’t yours to live, not anymore. so you kept your shades on, the brim of your hat shielding you from the world as you made your way to the gate, your steps quickening as you neared the entrance to the plane. you handed your ticket to the flight attendant, her smile professional and warm, and without a word, you slipped past her and into the sanctuary of first class. you found your seat and settled in, sinking into the plush leather with a sigh that was more of resignation than relief.

daegu’s air felt different the moment you stepped off the plane. the warm breeze carried with it the scent of familiarity—of home, of memories both cherished and forgotten. you moved through the terminal with a practiced ease, gathering your luggage as if in a trance. the sleek, designer suitcases were a stark contrast to the airport’s simple decor, a reminder of the life you had built away from here.

once you had everything in hand, you made your way out of the airport, your hat still pulled low over your face, your sunglasses firmly in place. the crowds here were less intense, less likely to recognize you, but you weren’t taking any chances. it was better to remain hidden until you were safely out of public view. you stepped out into the open air, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement, and you quickly hailed a cab.

the driver—a man in his mid-fifties with a kind, weathered face—didn’t say much as you slid into the back seat. you gave him the address, and he nodded, pulling away from the curb without a word. the silence was a gift, and you found yourself grateful for it. the drive through daegu’s familiar streets was oddly comforting, the buildings and landscapes bringing back a flood of memories, some pleasant, others less so.

as the car approached your childhood home, you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. you tipped the driver a bit extra as a silent thank you for the uninterrupted journey, and he accepted it with a small, appreciative nod. only when you were certain you were out of sight did you finally remove your sunglasses and hat, letting the cool air of the evening touch your face. you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before stepping out of the cab.

the sight that greeted you was unexpected—your parents stood in front of the house, their faces alight with joy, and a small group of people you didn’t recognize clustered around them. there was a makeshift cookout in the yard, the smell of grilled meat and the sound of laughter filling the air. it was a welcome-home celebration, one that should have made you feel warm inside, but instead, it only heightened your unease.

your father was the first to approach, his arms open wide. he was a strong, silent man, not one for overt displays of affection, but in this moment, he wrapped you in a hug that spoke volumes. you allowed yourself to sink into the embrace, feeling a flicker of genuine warmth. when he released you, you noticed your mother standing off to the side, her expression slightly pinched, as if disappointed that she hadn’t been the first to greet you. still, you turned to her with a smile, pulling her into a hug. her embrace was firmer, more scrutinizing, as if she were searching for something. “you’ve gotten thinner,” she remarked, pulling back to look at you, her tone half-critical, half-concerned.

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, brushing off her comment. “that’s part of my job, mom.”  your father’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, his voice gentle as he added, “and you’ve gotten prettier, too.” he smiled as he stroked your hair, a gesture that felt both tender and grounding.

“i’ve missed you both,” you said, the words slipping out before you could fully process them. they felt genuine, though, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the comfort of this reunion. but the moment was fleeting, your eyes drifting to the unfamiliar faces in the yard. “who are all these people?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and slight irritation—from your voice.

your father gestured towards the group, his tone casual as he began introducing you to each of them. “these are some family friends. they’re only here for the day, but one of them will be staying for the month.” you smiled and nodded politely as each person was introduced, some of them expressing admiration for your work. you’d gotten used to it—meeting people who knew you before you knew them—but it didn’t make the encounters any less awkward.

“who’s the one staying?” you asked your father, trying to mask the apprehension in your voice. he chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “you know him very well.”

you frowned, confusion knitting your brow. “what do you mean by that?” your father didn’t answer directly. instead, he simply gestured to a man walking toward you from the other side of the yard. you turned to look, your breath catching slightly as you took in his appearance. he was handsome, undeniably so, with a soft smile on his lips and a calm, confident way of moving. there was something familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place it.

as he approached, his smile widened. “no, this can’t be (y/n),” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. for a moment, all you could think was how striking he was, and how frustrating it was that you couldn’t remember who he was. your father beamed with pride, his gaze flickering between you and the man. “she’s pretty, isn’t she?” he asked, his voice full of paternal affection.

the man nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. “gorgeous,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. there was a pause before he added, “do you remember me?” you searched his face, trying to dig through the layers of your memory, but nothing came to mind. with a reluctant shake of your head, you admitted, “i’m sorry, but no.”

your father laughed, a deep, hearty sound that rumbled through the air. “this is yoongi. he used to come over all the time to take care of you when you were younger and home alone.” your eyes widened in recognition, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly falling into place. “yoongi?” you echoed, incredulity coloring your voice.

he nodded, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i’ve changed a bit, haven’t i?” you laughed nervously, still processing the transformation before you. “only in the best way,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

yoongi shrugged, the smile on his face turning a bit wry. “that’s what divorce does.” you blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “you, you divorced miss jeon?”

he nodded, his expression calm, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “yeah. it was for the best, though.” you shook your head slightly, still reeling from the news. miss jeon had been such a constant presence in your life, always there to help out, to cook meals when your parents were busy. the idea of her and yoongi no longer being together felt strange, almost surreal. sensing your shock, yoongi gave you a reassuring look. “don’t worry about it,” he said gently. “it was the best outcome for both of us.”

you nodded slowly, still absorbing the information. “it’s just hard to believe.” he smiled again, this time a bit more softly. “i know. but it’s good to see you again.” he paused, stepping forward to envelop you in a warm hug, his arms strong and comforting. as he pulled back, he added with a teasing glint in his eye, “and don’t worry—you’ll be seeing a lot more of me for the next month.” you managed a smile in return, though your mind was still spinning with the unexpected turn of events.

yoongi had changed significantly, to your shock. it seemed to make your father chuckle, his amusement evident at your reaction, but it wasn't temporary shock. you found yourself staring at him for a second too long, trying to process how much he had changed. he was handsome, he seemed less stoic than you remembered. he had been taking care of himself, it was evident in the way his skin shined under the sunlight and how his muscles flexed in his shirt that was just, maybe, a little too tight. you had remembered him as skinny, borderline bland, but he took good care of you while he had to. he looked amazing for his age, even though he wasn't too older than you.

his mine had chosen to run wild, too. he was aware that you were no longer the little girl he watched over with his ex-wife. you had changed, blossomed into a woman. he knew it beforehand, when you had started working. as much as you were a global hit, you were a national star just as much, if not more. he had seen the photos, the interviews, the shoots. the first time he saw them, your father had showed them to him with a proud smile on his face that seemed to clash with yoongi's shock. it wasn't negative in the slightest, he simply couldn't believe how bold and beautiful you had gotten. seeing you in person made all the difference, you were even prettier in person.

the hot water cascaded over your skin, the steady stream washing away the lingering tension of the day. you stood under the showerhead, eyes closed, letting the warmth seep into your muscles, relaxing the knots that had formed from the journey and the unexpected reunion. the steam filled the small bathroom, wrapping you in a comforting cocoon of heat and humidity. the scent of the lavender-scented body wash mingled with the steam, creating an almost meditative atmosphere. there, in the quiet, steamy space, the world outside felt distant, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to be fully present, savoring the solitude.

but as you turned off the water and reached for a towel, your hand met only empty space. panic sparked in your chest as you realized you had forgotten to bring one with you. the heat from the shower quickly dissipated, leaving your skin to prickle with the chill of the air. you glanced around the bathroom, hoping to find a spare towel or anything to cover yourself with, but there was nothing.

resigned, you wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could, trying to cover your body as you opened the bathroom door just a crack. the house was quiet, the murmur of conversation from the yard barely audible through the walls. it was late, and most of the guests had left. you took a deep breath, assuring yourself that everyone else was either outside or already settled in for the night. the coast was clear. you stepped out into the hallway, your bare feet making no sound on the cool wooden floor. with your hands still clutched to your chest, you hurried towards your room, your steps quick and silent. the soft hum of the house was the only sound accompanying you, and you felt a small sense of relief as you neared the safety of your door.

but as you rounded the corner, your breath caught in your throat. standing in the hallway, just a few feet away, was yoongi. He froze, his eyes wide with surprise as they locked onto yours. for a split second, neither of you moved, the shock of the situation rooting you both in place. yoongi’s gaze traveled down, his eyes widening further as he took in the sight of you—damp, vulnerable, and very much exposed. you saw the moment he realized what he was doing, his eyes snapping back up to your face, filled with a mix of apology and something you couldn’t quite place. his mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. he seemed to be struggling with himself, as if trying to force his eyes away, but they lingered just a second too long before he finally managed to turn his head, averting his gaze.

your heart pounded in your chest, embarrassment flooding your system as you clutched the clothes in your hands to your body, trying to cover as much of yourself as possible. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. “i forgot to bring a towel.” he shook his head quickly, his back still turned to you, his voice strained as he replied, “no, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have looked. i didn’t mean to—i wasn’t trying to—” his words trailed off awkwardly, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he gestured vaguely for you to return to the bathroom. “just go back. i won’t look.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. with your heart still racing, you turned on your heel and hurried back into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. leaning against the cool tile, you let out a shaky breath, your skin tingling from both the chill and the residual heat of the shower. the image of his face, the way he had looked at you, flashed through your mind, and you felt your cheeks heat up in a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

meanwhile, yoongi stood in the hallway, cursing himself silently. he had seen you grow up, watched you transform from the little girl he used to babysit into the stunning woman you were now. but that didn’t give him the right to look at you like that, to let his gaze linger when he knew he should have looked away. you were his friend’s daughter, and he was supposed to be here to support you, not ogle you like some kind of creep. he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to dispel the image of you that was now seared into his mind—the way your wet hair clung to your neck, the water droplets that had trailed down your skin, the way you had looked at him with those wide, startled eyes. he had to have some restraint. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not there, not now.

on the other side of the door, you were having similar thoughts. you couldn’t believe you had been so careless, so oblivious to the possibility that someone might see you. the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, or worse, to leave him with a bad impression of you. you had always respected him, admired him even, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had ruined everything with one careless mistake. as you slowly dressed, your hands still trembling slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder how this would affect the next few weeks. you would be seeing a lot more of him, and the thought of facing him after what had just happened filled you with a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

dinner that evening was quiet, the usual hum of the house interrupted only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain and the soft murmurs of conversation. the long wooden table, covered with a simple white cloth, held the comforting spread of homemade dishes—steamed vegetables, grilled meats, and a bowl of steaming rice, all of which your mother had prepared with care. you had slipped into the kitchen earlier, wordlessly assisting her in setting the table and serving the food. she had smiled at you, her face softening with an expression you hadn’t seen in years. “thank you for helping,” she had said, her voice tinged with a quiet appreciation that made you pause. you had simply nodded in return, trying to ignore the strange twist in your chest.

as you walked into the dining room, you couldn’t help but notice yoongi seated at the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful, as if he were silently observing everything around him. you caught his gaze for the briefest moment, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were dark, reflecting the soft light of the room, and when he looked at you, it felt as though he could see right through you. flustered, you quickly looked away, busying yourself with placing the last of the dishes on the table. your mother noticed the faint pink on your cheeks but said nothing, though a small, knowing smile played on her lips.

“you look beautiful in that dress,” yoongi said suddenly, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the comfortable silence. You froze for a moment, the compliment catching you off guard. the white dress was simple, something you had thrown on without much thought, but the way he said it made it feel like a grand gesture.

“yes, it really suits you,” your mother added, her tone bright. she was beaming at you, clearly pleased that someone had noticed. you forced a smile, your hands twisting the fabric of your dress nervously. you could feel yoongi’s eyes on you, and when you finally looked up, he was smiling at you—not just a polite smile, but something warmer, softer, and it sent a shiver down your spine. you tried to smile back, but your lips wobbled with the effort.

you took your seat, feeling his presence beside you like a tangible force, even though he was seated across the table. your father, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, began to ask you about your recent time in italy. “how was it?” he inquired, his voice full of genuine curiosity.

you paused, gathering your thoughts, and then answered, “i indulged in three things in italy—writing, wine, and men.” the words slipped out with a playful lilt, intended to tease, and the room erupted in laughter. your father chuckled, your mother giggled, and even some of the guests offered polite laughs. but yoongi’s reaction was different. his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was something stiff about the way he forced it onto his face. you caught the change in his expression and quickly looked away, but the image of his tight-lipped smile lingered in your mind. the thought of you—his little princess, as he had once affectionately called you—indulging in men made his stomach churn. he couldn’t reconcile the image of the young girl he had known with the woman sitting before him now.

“did you find a boyfriend?” your mother asked, a hopeful glint in her eyes. the question was laced with expectation, but you shook your head, dismissing the idea. “no, i don’t have time for that,” you replied, waving off the notion with a flick of your hand. the truth was, the thought of settling down, of committing to someone, felt suffocating, especially when your life was a whirlwind of photoshoots and travel. you enjoyed the company, the fleeting connections, but nothing more.

your father nodded thoughtfully and asked about your writing, his voice full of encouragement. “and your writing? how’s that going?” you hesitated for a moment, thinking about the journals and notes you had scribbled away during your time abroad. “i’ve done some dabbling here and there,” you admitted, keeping your tone light. you knew your father was proud of your creativity, always encouraging you to express yourself. but the truth was that the words you had written were a reflection of your darkest thoughts, the sides of yourself you kept hidden from the world. they were pieces of you that you had no intention of sharing.

“you should show us sometime,” he suggested, smiling warmly at you. you nodded, knowing full well that you never would. those words were yours alone, a private sanctuary in a life that was otherwise so public. as dinner wound down, the conversation grew quieter, the energy of the evening mellowing out. the food was nearly finished, and you pushed your plate aside, offering to help your mother clear the table. “i’ll do it,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather the empty plates.

“i’ll help,” yoongi offered, standing up almost immediately, his hands reaching for the dishes as well. you glanced at him, surprised by his sudden eagerness, but you didn’t refuse. together, the two of you worked in silence, clearing the table and bringing the dishes into the kitchen. the room was warm, filled with the lingering smells of the meal, and the only sound was the soft clinking of dishes being stacked.

as you reached for the same plate, your fingers brushed against his. the touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through your system, your breath catching in your throat. you looked up, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. his expression softened, something unreadable in his gaze, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, spreading across your cheeks. you both pulled your hands away quickly, embarrassed by the unintended contact. “sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you focused on the dishes. “no, it’s fine,” yoongi replied, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there. he paused, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he simply turned away, continuing to clear the table.

the house had quieted down after dinner, the lingering smells of the meal now replaced with the comforting scent of night. you had helped your mother finish up in the kitchen, and after a few more polite exchanges with the guests, you excused yourself, claiming exhaustion from the long journey. your mother had given you a gentle, knowing smile, and your father had patted your shoulder, telling you to rest well. but even as you ascended the stairs, the house settling into a comfortable stillness, your thoughts were far from calm.

in your room, you began your nightly routine, each action methodical and deliberate, as if going through the motions might settle the unease in your chest. you pulled on a shirt—a soft, oversized one that hung loosely on your frame, the hem brushing against the tops of your thighs. it was one of those shirts that felt like a second skin, comforting in its familiarity. you paired it with a simple set of panties, the cool fabric brushing against your skin. the choice was practical, a blend of comfort and modesty, yet there was something almost intimate about it, a reminder of the solitude of the night.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the reflection showing a woman who should have been ready for sleep. but instead, your thoughts were restless, wandering to places you couldn’t quite control. you climbed into bed, the cool sheets welcoming against your warm skin, but the moment your head hit the pillow, you knew sleep would not come easily. there was something tugging at you, an inexplicable pull that you couldn’t ignore. it started as a whisper at the back of your mind, an insistent urge that grew louder with each passing moment. you told yourself it was foolish, that you should simply close your eyes and rest, but the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became.

before you knew it, you were slipping out of bed, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor as you made your way out of your room. the house was dark, save for the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, pale shadows along the hallway. you moved quietly, the soft rustling of your shirt the only sound as you padded down the corridor, your heart beating steadily in your chest. you paused outside yoongi’s room, the door slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling out into the hall. you could hear him inside, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet sound of his movements. you knew you shouldn’t be here, that you should turn around and go back to bed, but something kept you rooted to the spot.

you peered through the gap in the door, your breath catching in your throat at the sight that greeted you. yoongi was standing by the bed, his back to you, shirtless. his skin was pale, almost glowing in the soft light, his muscles defined yet subtle, the kind of physique that spoke of quiet strength. his shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, and as he reached for a shirt, you couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps flexed, the smooth lines of his back. you knew it was wrong to look, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away, your gaze drawn to the way the muscles in his back moved as he pulled the shirt over his head.

it was only when he turned around, his eyes locking with yours, that you realized you had been caught. your breath hitched, a wave of heat flooding your face as you stumbled over your words, flustered and embarrassed. “i—i’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, “i didn’t mean to—” but he just smiled, that familiar, soft smile that you had seen countless times before. it was a smile that was both understanding and amused, as if he found your embarrassment endearing rather than intrusive. “it’s alright,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing. “you don’t have to apologize.”

you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the awkwardness of the situation, but then you found your voice again. “i just wanted to wish you a good night,” you said, your tone earnest, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. his smile widened, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he replied, “good night to you too.” there was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with something unspoken, and then you nodded, offering him a small, shy smile before turning to leave. as you walked away, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it sending a shiver down your spine.

when you returned to your room, the sense of restlessness had faded, replaced by a strange, warm feeling that you couldn’t quite explain. you slipped back into bed, pulling the sheets up around you, but this time, your thoughts were quieter, your mind slowly drifting towards sleep. in the room down the hall, yoongi stood for a moment, his mind replaying the brief exchange. he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much you had grown and changed, to him, you were still that sweet, flustered angel—the same girl he had known all those years ago.

yoongi lay in the oppressive stillness of his room, his mind a tempest of conflicting emotions. the darkness enveloped him, offering no comfort, only amplifying the storm within. every attempt to find solace was met with the image of you in that absurdly tight white dress, an image that had seared itself into his consciousness with unforgiving clarity.

the sight of you—no longer the innocent child he once knew but a vision of such tantalizing allure—it was no shock when his hand found its way to his clothed dick, a silent admission of the battle he was losing. he began to stroke himself tentatively, the fabric of his boxers a barrier that only served to heighten the anticipation. his mind was a minefield of guilt and desire, each step he took towards release laden with the weight of his transgressions. he knew he should stop, that he should find some semblance of dignity and self-control, but his body was a traitor, demanding release from the prison of his own making.

his strokes grew more deliberate with his boxers gone, the friction increasing as he thought of what it would be like to touch you, to explore the softness of your skin and the heat that he was sure lay beneath. he bit his lip, trying to muffle the sounds of his own pleasure, his eyes fixed on the door that separated you from his indecent thoughts. the knowledge that you were so close only served to exacerbate his arousal, making his hand move faster and with more urgency.

his breath hitched as he imagined the moment of penetration, his cock pushing into you, feeling the warmth and wetness that was so alien to his usual solitary rituals. his hand was a poor substitute, but in the quiet of the night, it was all he had. the tension grew, a coil tightening in his balls, and he knew he was close. his thoughts grew more fervent, his strokes more frantic, until finally, with a silent groan, he reached climax.

his hand was sticky with his own release, a reminder of his failure to resist temptation. the guilt washed over him like a cold shower, leaving him trembling and ashamed. he knew he should clean up, should move on from this moment of weakness, but instead he lay there, panting and disgraced, the image of you still etched into his mind's eye. the quiet of the night was now a taunting silence, a reminder that he was alone in his depravity.

you awoke to the soft murmur of the morning light filtering through the curtains, its gentle embrace coaxing you from the depths of sleep. as you stretched languidly, you felt a sense of calm that made you smile. rising from your bed, you ribbed your eyes and padded softly down the stairs. the house was quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic ticking of a distant clock. it was a serene morning, perfect for easing into the day.

when you reached the kitchen, yoongi was already there, sitting at the table with a distracted air. his posture was rigid, and there was a certain tension in his demeanor that you couldn’t quite place. the moment you entered the room, his eyes flickered up toward you briefly before darting away. despite his efforts to look elsewhere, his gaze betrayed him, lingering far too long on your bare legs, which were still exposed, to his dismay. “good morning,” you said cheerfully, trying to set a light tone for the day. your voice was like a splash of warmth in the chilly air of the kitchen.

yoongi’s response was almost a whisper, a bare acknowledgment of your greeting. “morning.” you moved toward the coffee maker, the comforting routine of preparing breakfast a welcome distraction. “you want some coffee?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. “yeah, that’d be great,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of gratitude, though it was laced with an awkwardness that made you wonder about his mood.

as you busied yourself with the coffee, you noticed the kitchen was unusually empty. your parents were absent, a fact that piqued your curiosity. “where are my parents?” you inquired, your voice carrying a note of concern. yoongi shifted slightly, as if the question had pulled him from his own thoughts. “they’re out for the day,” he said, his gaze now firmly fixed on the table, avoiding meeting your eyes.

you nodded, accepting his answer without further question. the rhythmic sound of the coffee machine filled the silence as you went about your task. when you reached for the sugar, you bent over to retrieve it from the cabinet. the movement was casual, a natural part of your routine, but you were acutely aware of yoongi’s intense gaze. the breath caught in his throat was audible, a sharp intake of air that seemed to punctuate the otherwise silent kitchen. he watched the way your shirt rose, faltering just above your hips, giving him a view of your thighs pressed together, ass hanging in the air with nothing but a pair of stupidly red panties adorning your skin.

it struck you then that yoongi’s reaction was more than mere surprise. it was as if he was struggling to maintain composure, as though he thought you were doing this deliberately to tease him. but you weren’t aware of any such intent; it was simply the way you moved. you straightened up with the sugar and continued preparing the coffee. when you finally handed him his cup, his eyes met yours for a fleeting moment. despite the lack of makeup, you felt a surge of confidence in his presence. his eyes softened, and there was a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at his lips as he took the cup from you.

he cleared his throat, his voice tentative as he ventured into a new topic. “so, i’ve been meaning to ask about your writing. you seemed hesitant to talk about it last night.” you chuckled softly, the sound light and airy. “my writing is a product of all my worst parts,” you said with a shrug, attempting to downplay its significance.

yoongi’s eyebrows knitted together, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “i don’t believe you have any bad parts,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours for a hint of the truth. you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “you’d be surprised,” you replied. “there are things that even the closest people don’t see.”

his expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to ease. you felt a familiar sense of safety in his presence, as if no time had passed since the days when you had felt so secure in his company. the familiarity of his presence, combined with the casual conversation, made you feel as though the world outside had paused just for the two of you.

you prepared for a day by the pool with a casual elegance, slipping into a bikini that showcased your figure with a subtle confidence. over it, you draped a sheer cover—a delicate, airy jacket that fluttered with every movement, its only purpose to add a touch of grace rather than offer any real coverage. the fabric was almost ethereal, catching the sunlight with each step you took, giving you an otherworldly aura.

descending the stairs, you made your way back to the living room, where you spotted yoongi. the moment you entered his line of sight, he looked up, and the breath caught in his throat. his eyes widened, a visible shift in his demeanor as he took in the sight of you. his heart seemed to drop, overwhelmed by the sight of you in your swimwear, the sheer cover highlighting your figure in a way that was both mesmerizing and painfully distracting.

with a cheerful smile, you called out to him, “hey, i’m gonna be by the pool. if you need anything, i’ll be around.” he nodded, his response barely audible, as if his mind was struggling to catch up with the reality of the moment. there was a heavy silence between you, filled with unspoken tension, as you turned and made your way outside.

once by the pool, you settled into a lounge chair, stretching out and letting the warmth of the sun envelop you. the heat should have been palpable, but your thoughts were consumed by yoongi. the sun’s rays might have been intense, but they barely registered in your consciousness compared to the whirlwind of thoughts about him. your mind drifted, replaying moments with him, the sound of his voice, the way he looked at you.

the quiet of the morning was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. you turned your head, squinting against the sunlight to see yoongi emerging from the house. he was shirtless, the warmth of the sun glistening off his skin. in each hand, he carried a glass—one for him and one for you. you couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of him, the way his physique was revealed in the sunlight adding a new layer of intensity to your already tangled feelings.

he reached you and offered one of the glasses with a slight, nervous smile. “i brought you something to drink. vodka lemonade.” you accepted the glass with a grateful smile, the cool drink a welcome relief from the heat. “thank you,” you said, taking a sip and savoring the refreshing taste.

he sat down beside you, his own drink in hand. there was a hesitant chuckle in his voice as he remarked, “i can’t believe i’m watching you drink. it’s kind of surreal.” you laughed softly, the sound light and airy. “i’m not a little girl anymore,” you said, glancing at him with a playful glint in your eye. “can you believe it?”

yoongi’s laughter was nervous, a strained attempt at casualness. “yeah, i can,” he replied, though the lie was almost tangible in the way he avoided your gaze. oh, if only you had known just how deeply his words conflicted with his inner reality. the poolside atmosphere was serene, the gentle ripples of the water reflecting the sunlight and adding a soothing background to your conversation. you sipped your drink, feeling the cool liquid contrast pleasantly with the warmth of the sun on your skin. yoongi sat close beside you, the space between you charged with an undercurrent of unresolved tension.

the heat of the sun was almost unbearable, and you found yourself shifting restlessly on the lounge chair. the coolness of the vodka lemonade was not enough to quell the growing discomfort you felt. it wasn’t merely the oppressive heat that was troubling you; there was an unsettling awareness that you had developed feelings for yoongi, and it was all too complicated. you knew it was wrong, knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but the truth was undeniable.

rising from the lounge chair, you decided to seek refuge in the kitchen. the cool interior of the house was a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside. you carried both glasses with you, their contents now barely touching the bottom of the tumblers. as you walked through the house, you could feel the tension in your steps, an eagerness to escape your own thoughts and the weight of your emotions.

once in the kitchen, you set the glasses down and grabbed the bottle of vodka and the jug of lemonade. the motion of pouring the vodka into the lemonade, the swirl of the liquid mixing together, was almost meditative. yet, the comfort of the routine did little to ease the restlessness simmering within you. in an effort to cool off, you discarded your sheer cover, letting it fall onto a nearby chair. the fabric slid off your shoulders and pooled on the seat, leaving you in your bikini once more.

the heat of the kitchen seemed to intensify as you stirred the drink, but it wasn't just the temperature that was making you sweat. you were grappling with the undeniable reality that you had feelings for yoongi—feelings that were supposed to be off-limits. the conflict inside you was almost as unbearable as the heat itself. he was quite literally your father's best friend, you had to keep repeating that to yourself, praying for some sort of voice of reason.

just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps alerted you to yoongi’s presence. you turned to find him standing at the kitchen entrance, his eyes fixed on you. for a moment, time seemed to freeze. your heart leaped in your chest, each beat echoing the tumult of emotions that had been swirling within you. you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “are you okay?” you asked, the words slipping out with a hint of vulnerability.

his gaze was intense, almost pained as he took a step closer. he shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “how can i be okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with emotion. “with you like this around me, for the next month?” the words hung between you, charged with a tension that neither of you seemed able to escape. Your heart pounded as you processed the implication of his statement. it was clear now—he was feeling the same struggle, the same undeniable pull that you were.

you pressed your lips together, trying to find the right words. “i can’t handle it either,” you admitted quietly, the weight of your own confession settling over you. “but it feels so wrong.” to your surprise, yoongi closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. his hands reached out, gripping your waist with a firmness that was both reassuring and electrifying. his gaze was locked onto yours, filled with a blend of longing and resolve.

without another word, he pressed his lips against yours. the kiss was sudden, a powerful surge of emotion that seemed to silence every other thought in your mind. his touch was both demanding and tender, his lips moving with a desperate intensity that spoke volumes. when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours with an almost anxious urgency. “does it still feel wrong?” he asked, his voice a low, husky murmur.

the question hung in the air, and without thinking, you responded by closing the space between you again. you pressed your lips against his, this time with a fierceness that matched the tumult of your feelings. the kiss was fervent, each movement a declaration of the emotions that had been kept in check for far too long.

his hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your body, lingering on your breasts. the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin made you gasp into his mouth. yoongi took advantage of the opportunity, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. you could feel the hunger in his touch, the need that mirrored your own.

his thumbs grazed your nipples, eliciting a moan from your throat. the sound seemed to drive him wild, and his touch grew more insistent. he pinched and rolled your nipples, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. your pussy grew wetter with each touch, and you found yourself grinding against his thigh, seeking relief from the growing ache.

his hands slid down to your waist, then under the fabric of your bikini bottom. with a swift motion, he pulled it aside, exposing your wet, eager pussy to the cool kitchen air. the contrast made you shiver, and you felt his cock harden against your stomach. the reality of what was happening was overwhelming, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. all that mattered was the feel of his hands on you, the taste of him, the promise of what was to come.

you broke the kiss, panting. “right here?” you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. yoongi nodded, his eyes dark with lust. “right here, right now,” he confirmed, his voice a gruff whisper. he stepped back, guiding you towards the kitchen counter. “i need to taste you,” he said, his gaze dropping to your pussy.

his words sent a thrill through you, and you eagerly climbed onto the counter. your legs parted, and he stepped between them, his eyes feasting on the sight before him. you watched as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. then, his tongue touched you. the sensation was exquisite, sending shockwaves through your body. you grabbed onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning white as you held on for dear life.

his tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and probing, as his fingers delved deeper into your pussy. you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body tightening in anticipation. the air was thick with the scent of your arousal, and your moans filled the kitchen. it was all so wrong, but it felt so incredibly right.

his eyes met yours, and you could see the hunger in them, the desire to claim you in every way possible. without a second thought, you leaned back, exposing your throat. “choke me,” you begged, the words slipping out on a breathless whisper. yoongi’s eyes flared with surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. his hand wrapped around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel both safe and utterly vulnerable.

his mouth returned to your pussy, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. the feeling of his hand on your throat, the way he controlled your breathing, was intoxicating. your orgasm built, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over you. and when it finally hit, it was like nothing you had ever felt before—intense, all-consuming, and absolutely filthy.

his mouth remained on you, even as you gasped for air, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release. when he finally pulled away, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction. “you gonna help me out, too?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “gonna suck my cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do?”

you slid off the counter, your legs wobbly from the intensity of your climax. dropping to your knees, you looked up at him, his cock standing proud and hard before you. without hesitation, you took him in your mouth, the taste of your juices mingling with the salty tang of his skin. his hand found its way to the back of your head, guiding you deeper. “fuck, princess, just like that,” he hissed, his grip tightening. you could feel his cock thicken in your mouth, and the power of the moment was exhilarating. you sucked and licked, eager to please him, to show him how much you wanted this.

his hips began to rock, fucking your mouth with an increasing urgency, his head embracing the back of your throat. you didn't care, you had all the reasons in the world to stop and set boundaries, but even more not too. he pulled at your hair, grunting with his heavy cock splitting your throat open. he looked down at you, your teary eyes and puffy lips, and it only made it worse for him, his cock throbbing in your mouth, but he couldn't cum like that. he needed to feel you, to tear you apart, to ensure that you'd never look for that kind of control from any other boy. nobody but him, he was the perfect pick. you needed somebody just a little bit older.

his cock slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, and before you could even gasp for air, he turned you around, pressing you against the counter. his hand found its way into your bikini again, two thick fingers plunging into your pussy. you felt yourself stretch around him, your body begging for more. “you're soaked,” he murmured, his voice filled with a dark kind of glee. “you're gonna be the death of me.” you pushed back against his hand, wanting him to go deeper, to fill the ache that had only been heightened by his touch. “please,” you moaned, the word barely coherent as it slipped from your lips. “i need you.”

yoongi stepped closer, his body pressing against your back. “you're gonna get me,” he promised, his voice gruff with desire. he removed his fingers and lined up his cock, pressing the head against your entrance. he hadn't even pushed past your sopping folds yet, and you were already a mess. you felt him enter you, inch by inch, stretching you out. it was painful and perfect all at once, his girth splitting you open, filling you up in a way that made you feel so full, so alive. you bit your lip to stifle a scream as he pushed deeper, until he was fully seated inside you. your pussy clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, to never let him go.

his hand returned to your throat, squeezing gently as he began to move. the counter was cold against your stomach, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was the way he filled you, the way his cock slammed into you with each powerful thrust. his other hand snaked around your body, playing with your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

his grip tightened on your throat, cutting off your air. you felt the panic rise, but it only made you wetter. “you like that, don't you?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “you like being choked while i fuck you?” your eyes rolled back in your head, and you nodded frantically. it was sick, it was twisted, but you didn't care. it felt too good to think about stopping.

his strokes grew faster, more erratic, his breathing ragged in your ear. “i'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” you choked out the words, “inside me,” and he growled his approval. with one final, powerful thrust, he released his grip on your throat, and you felt his warmth flood into you. your body convulsed around him, your own orgasm ripping through you with a ferocity that left you trembling.

his cock remained buried inside you as he leaned over, pressing his sweat-slicked chest against your back. “all mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “mine to fuck, to fill up with my cum.” your pussy clenched around him, milking every drop he had to give. the thought of his cum inside you, claiming you, made your core throb with a deep, primal need.

his cock slid out of you, and you felt the emptiness acutely. but before you could protest, he was pushing his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth. “have a taste,” he demanded, and you eagerly complied. the taste was salty and bitter, but it only served to drive you wild. your eyes watered as you sucked on his digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

he pulled away, his fingers tugging your bikini bottom up, the fabric pushing his sticky cum further into your sore cunt. “keep it in,” he ordered, his eyes dark and possessive. “i don't want my cum to spill out of that tight little cunt.” you nodded, standing on shaky legs. he reached out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his. “good girl,” he praised, his eyes searching yours.

you stepped away from the counter, the stickiness between your legs a constant reminder of what had just happened. your bikini was askew, and your body was still flushed with arousal. yoongi reached out, gently adjusting your bottoms to cover your swollen pussy. “don't tell anyone,” he whispered, his eyes serious. “this is our little secret.” you nodded, your throat tight with the promise of more to come. the air was thick with the scent of sex, and the kitchen felt different now—like a sacred space where you had both lost and found something in the heat of passion. “i won't,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “but what happens now?”

yoongi leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “now,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “we do this again, and again. until we can't get enough of each other.” his hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing it possessively. “you're mine, and i have no intention of letting you go.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and fear. you knew this was wrong, knew that it could ruin everything, but the feeling of his cum inside you, his claim on your body, was too tempting to resist. you were in too deep, and you had no intention of climbing out

the hours stretched interminably, the passage of time marked only by the shifting light that filtered through the windows. you found yourself drifting between contemplation and restlessness, your thoughts endlessly circling the intimacy you had shared with yoongi. the weight of the moment, the raw intensity of the sex, seemed to press down on you with an almost unbearable gravity.

you had retreated to your room, seeking solace in its familiar confines. the bed, once a place of comfort, now felt like a vessel of confusion and regret. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the room around you bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight. your mind was a turbulent sea, tossing around memories of the kiss, the touch of his hands on your waist, and the conflicted look in his eyes. the sex, though fleeting, had been a revelation, an unspoken admission of what lay between you, and the enormity of it was daunting.

every time you closed your eyes, his face would appear, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and anguish. the guilt that gnawed at you was mirrored by his own struggle. you had noticed it earlier when he had walked away from the kitchen, his shoulders slumped and his expression a portrait of internal conflict. it was clear that he was grappling with the same turmoil that had taken root within you.

the silence of the room was occasionally broken by the vibrations of your phone. the pings were a jarring intrusion into your contemplation, each one a reminder of the world outside your cocoon of worry. finally, when you reached for your phone, you found a message from taehyung, a friend whose exuberance was a contrast to the somber mood you were engulfed in. it read, “hey! i heard you’re back in daegu. i’m at the club tonight, and it’s been a while. you should come out and join me.”

the simplicity of taehyung’s invitation, the promise of an evening away from your internal strife, was like a breath of fresh air. it was exactly what you needed to escape the relentless spiral of guilt and self-reproach that had been consuming you. the thought of a night at the club, surrounded by friends and lost in the rhythm of music, was a welcome distraction, a way to momentarily forget the weight of your decisions and the confusion surrounding your feelings for yoongi.

without hesitation, you texted him back, accepting his invitation with a mix of relief and eagerness. the prospect of spending a night out, dancing and socializing, offered a tangible remedy to the unease that had settled so heavily upon you. in the privacy of your room, you stood in front of the mirror, preparing for a night out at the club. you had carefully chosen an outfit that was both stylish and expressive of your current mood—a sleek, black dress with a daring neckline that accentuated your figure, paired with heels that added just the right amount of allure. the dress clung to your curves in a way that felt both confident and liberating, each movement highlighting the grace you carried with you.

you applied your makeup with a meticulous touch, opting for a smoky eye that added a touch of glamour, and a bold lip color that completed the look. each brushstroke was a deliberate effort to transform yourself into someone who could temporarily escape the heaviness of recent days. the final touch was a pair of sparkling earrings that caught the light as you moved, completing your ensemble with a flourish.

as you finished getting ready, you heard the faint sounds of yoongi moving about in his room across the hall. you knew he was there, but the emotional weight of your recent interactions had kept you from directly addressing him. yonight was about reclaiming a sense of normalcy and fun, and the club seemed like the perfect escape. as you prepared to leave, you crossed the hall to grab a quick look at your reflection in the full-length mirror one last time. just as you turned, yoongi’s door opened slightly. he stepped into the hallway, his eyes widening in surprise as they took in the sight of you.

“where are you off to?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity mingled with an undertone of something else—something darker. you flashed him a bright, carefree smile, trying to inject a sense of lightness into the conversation. “taehyung is taking me to a club tonight,” you said, your voice cheerful despite the undercurrent of unease you felt.

his reaction was immediate. a flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a strained smile. “okay,” he replied, his voice barely concealing the tension that simmered beneath his words. “have a good time.” you nodded, feeling a pang of guilt at his subdued reaction, but the promise of a night out with friends was too alluring to ignore. you offered a final smile before turning and walking down the stairs, the click of your heels echoing in the quiet house.

as you stepped outside, the cool night air greeted you with a refreshing contrast to the warm interior. taehyung was waiting by his car, his face lighting up with a friendly grin as he saw you approach. he stepped out of the vehicle, and the two of you exchanged a warm hug. his arms encircled you in a friendly embrace, his laughter ringing out as he playfully commented on how good you looked.

from the window, yoongi watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. he saw the way taehyung looked at you, the way his eyes lingered on you with an admiration that seemed to cut through the night’s darkness. the casual familiarity of your hug, the easy way taehyung interacted with you, ignited a smoldering frustration within yoongi. he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the bubbling anger that rose within him. it wasn’t just the sight of you with someone else—it was the way taehyung’s gaze seemed to hold a mixture of affection and possessiveness that yoongi found almost unbearable. every movement, every gesture, seemed to etch itself into his memory with a burning intensity.

as you and taehyung got into the car and drove away, yoongi’s eyes remained fixed on the scene. the darkness of the night and the dim streetlights cast long shadows, but his thoughts were sharp and clear. the image of taehyung’s hug, the warmth and ease between the two of you, was seared into his mind, adding fuel to the smoldering frustration that had taken root within him.

the club was a pulsating whirl of neon lights and thumping bass, the energy of the crowd vibrating through the floor and into your very bones. the air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume and sweat, and the faint haze of smoke from the fog machines created an almost dreamlike atmosphere. music reverberated through every corner, a relentless beat that drove the rhythm of the night.

you and taehyung arrived to a warm welcome from the crowd, who greeted you with a mix of admiration and excitement. the club’s patrons had clearly heard of your return to daegu, and you were immediately swept up in the buzz of their enthusiasm. as you made your way through the throng of bodies, taehyung by your side, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of flashing lights and lively chatter.

at the bar, you signed another autograph, your signature fluid and practiced as you scrawled your name on a series of glossy photos and memorabilia. taehyung stood beside you, his laughter a comforting sound amid the chaos. “i’ll never get used to this,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. his eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and curiosity. you chuckled softly, the sound almost lost amidst the cacophony of the club. “neither will i,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. the constant attention, the flashes of cameras, it all felt a bit surreal, a reminder of the world you had momentarily stepped away from.

his expression softened as he glanced at you, noticing the subtle change in your demeanor. “why so down?” he asked, his tone gentle but inquisitive. you hesitated for a moment, the weight of your recent experiences heavy on your shoulders. “it’s a long story,” you replied, not willing to delve into the complexities of your emotions right now.

his eyes showed a glimmer of understanding, and he didn’t press further. instead, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “well, don’t let it ruin tonight. you’re here to have fun, remember? just let go and enjoy yourself for once.” his encouragement was a lifeline, and you took it to heart. you smiled at him, gratitude mingling with the resolve to let the night’s energy lift you from your thoughts. “okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “let’s do this.”

the two of you moved towards the dance floor, the pulsating rhythm of the music beckoning you closer. as you stepped onto the floor, the crowd seemed to part and then close around you, a living sea of people moving in sync with the beat. he slipped into the rhythm effortlessly, his movements fluid and confident. you followed his lead, allowing the music to wash over you and carry away the remnants of your lingering worries.

the lights above shifted in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting dynamic patterns across the dance floor. you lost yourself in the beat, your body swaying and twisting in time with the music. the beats were relentless, and as you danced, you felt the strain of the day’s emotions slowly dissolve, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment. the music seemed to resonate with something deep inside you, a reminder of the joy and freedom that had once been so familiar.

you occasionally glanced at taehyung, who was clearly having a blast. his infectious energy was a bright spot in the evening, and his carefree dancing seemed to pull you further into the night’s festivities. every now and then, he would catch your eye and flash a grin, as if to say, “see? isn’t this fun?”

as the night wore on, you took a break from dancing to grab a drink. the bar was bustling with activity, and the bartender quickly mixed a vibrant cocktail that was both refreshing and potent. you sipped the drink, feeling its coolness slide down your throat, and let the alcohol take the edge off your remaining anxieties. the conversation around you was a pleasant hum, and you found yourself engaging in light, cheerful banter with a few fellow partygoers.

every once in a while, you would catch sight of taehyung making his way through the crowd, often surrounded by a small group of admirers. his laughter and charisma were magnetic, drawing people in and creating an atmosphere of shared joy. you were grateful for his presence, his ability to make the night feel lighter and more enjoyable.

the night continued in a blur of music, dancing, and shared moments of joy. you felt a renewed sense of connection with taehyung and the people around you, a reminder that even amidst personal turmoil, there was still space for fun and camaraderie. as the hours passed and the club’s lights began to dim, signaling the approach of closing time, you felt a sense of contentment.

stepping outside into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, savoring the contrast between the heated club and the refreshing outside air. he stood beside you, his expression one of satisfaction and camaraderie. “see? that wasn’t so bad,” he said, nudging you playfully. you smiled, feeling a genuine sense of relief. “thanks for getting me out tonight,” you said. “i needed this.”

his grin widened. “anytime. let’s just make sure you don’t stay cooped up forever. there’s a lot more fun to be had.” as you both made your way to the car, the night felt lighter, and the burdens of the past few days seemed a little more manageable. the club had provided the distraction you needed, and as you drove away with taehyung, you allowed yourself to savor the fleeting moments of carefree joy that the night had offered.

in the stillness of the living room, the ticking of the clock seemed to echo louder with each passing second. yoongi sat slouched on the sofa, the dim light from the table lamp casting shadows across his face. his fingers fumbled with a can of beer, the metallic crumple of the empty container a testament to his mounting frustration. it was two in the morning, and you still hadn't come home. the silence of the house was oppressive, amplifying his anxiety and gnawing at his thoughts.

had something happened to you? had a stranger taken you for the night? the possibilities raced through his mind, each one more unsettling than the last. the quietness of the house was occasionally interrupted by the distant hum of the refrigerator or the soft rustle of the curtains, but these sounds did little to soothe his growing unease.

he watched the second hand of the clock tick away, each movement a reminder of the time slipping by. his fingers drummed impatiently against his knee, and the empty beer cans scattered on the table beside him were a reminder of how long he’d been waiting. the weight of his concern grew heavier with each passing minute, turning into an almost unbearable pressure.

finally, a sound broke through the silence—the unmistakable click of the front door opening. yoongi’s head snapped up, his heart racing with a mixture of relief and frustration. he watched as you stumbled into the living room, your movements unsteady and your eyes slightly glazed. the sight of you brought a wave of relief, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of anger.

you wobbled slightly as you approached him, your gaze softening as you took in his presence. with a tired but genuine smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him. “i missed you,” you murmured, your voice thick with the effects of too many martinis. he let out a low chuckle, his amusement tinged with exasperation. “you smell like alcohol,” he observed, his tone more resigned than accusatory.

you frowned slightly and gestured towards the table where the empty beer cans lay. “and you’re no better,” you retorted, a playful edge to your words despite your unsteady stance. he raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “what were you doing at the club for so long?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

you shrugged, your arms still draped around his neck. “having fun,” you replied, a hint of mischief in your voice. he scoffed, a small smile playing on his lips. “with who?” he demanded, his tone edged with a hint of jealousy.

you grinned, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “with taehyung,” you said, the name rolling off your tongue with an affectionate lilt. his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the information. to your surprise, he reached out and gently lifted you up, placing you onto his lap. the movement was deliberate, his hold firm but gentle as he settled you comfortably. “with taehyung, huh?” he said, his voice low and contemplative as he looked at you.

you nodded shyly, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. “yeah,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his gaze lingered on you, a conflicted mix of emotions evident in his eyes. “you two must be pretty close, huh?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of possessiveness.

you nodded again, feeling the intensity of his stare. “we’re friends,” you said, your voice steady despite the lingering effects of the alcohol. his eyes darkened slightly, his frustration evident. “i don’t like that,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.

you tilted your head slightly, leaning into his touch as you pressed closer to him. “why not?” you asked, your voice soft and inquisitive. his hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing gently against your skin. “friends who look at you the way he does,” he said, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. he paused, his lips brushing against your neck as he continued, “make my blood boil.”

your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, the warmth of his breath mingling with the softness of his lips. the sensation was intoxicating, drawing you closer to him. without further hesitation, yoongi closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. the kiss was both urgent and tender, a mixture of the longing and frustration that had been building between you. his arms encircled you, pulling you even closer as the world outside seemed to fade away.

the kiss deepened, his fingers tangling in your hair as he explored the softness of your lips. it was a moment of pure connection, a release of the emotions that had been pent up for too long. the intensity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, made you feel as though nothing else mattered in that moment.

his hand slid down to the small of your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you onto his lap. the fabric of your black dress was thin, offering little resistance to his touch. you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, a silent declaration of his desire. your breath hitched in your throat as his hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the material. your nipples were already hard, begging for his attention.

without breaking the kiss, yoongi reached down and began to tug at the hem of your dress. the sound of fabric ripping filled the room as he pulled it up over your head, leaving you in just your lacy black lingerie. the sight of you half-dressed was almost too much for him to handle. his eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties. as he pulled them down, he caught a glimpse of the cum stain from earlier, a pleasant reminder of what he had done. his eyes flashed with possessive lust as he took in the sight of his dry cum on the fabric. “took it like such a good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

his hands found your hips, guiding you onto his waiting erection. the sensation of skin on skin was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. he was rougher this time, his movements urgent and demanding. with each thrust, he slapped your pussy, the sound echoing in the quiet room. the stinging sensation only served to heighten your arousal, making you moan louder with each hit.

his hands gripped your waist, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you riding him like a wave. the feeling of his cock filling you up was almost too much to bear, but you craved more. your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons in his skin as you leaned back, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

his dirty talk grew more intense, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. “don’t wanna see you with anymore boys,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “they won’t ever get to have you like this.” the words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, your walls tightening around him as you neared climax. his strokes grew more erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he approached his own release. you could feel him swelling inside you, his muscles tensing as he fought to hold back. but you were beyond caring about his control, your own need overwhelming any thought of restraint.

he took sight of the way his cock buried itself in your stomach, the outline evident. it was enoufh to make his dick twitch, he could practically see it happening. finally, with a guttural groan, he let go, filling you with his hot cum. the sensation pushed you over the edge, and you came hard, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. tears streamed down your face, not from pain, but from the intensity of the pleasure that consumed you. as you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air, you realized that this was the most alive you had ever felt.

“we need to stop doing this,” you exhaled softly, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “stop?” he echoed, his voice gruff and surprised.

“it’s complicated enough already,” you murmured, your heart racing from the aftershocks of your climax. his grip on your waist tightened, his cock still pulsing inside you. “i don’t want us to stop,” he said, his voice unyielding. “is it such a crime to want you all to myself?”

his words sent a thrill through you, but also a pang of fear. you knew the consequences of your actions, the web of lies and deceit that would unravel if anyone found out. yet, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the way he made you feel alive and desired in a way no one else ever had. you pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the present, the warmth of his embrace, the scent of your mingled arousal, and the sticky mess between your legs. it was a mess you didn’t want to clean up, a mess that was a testament to your shared passion.

his hands began to move again, stroking your body with a gentle fierceness that made your skin tingle. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you ache for more. his fingers traced the path of his earlier possession, the cum stain on your panties now a wet smear as he slid his digits through it.

you gasped as he brought his hand up to your face, your own cum glistening on his fingers. before you could protest, he brought them to your mouth and slid them in, urging you to taste. the sweet and salty flavor filled your mouth, and you felt a wave of submission wash over you. his other hand found your clit, his thumb flicking and circling the sensitive nub as he began to thrust into you once more. his cock was still hard, the friction of his earlier release only adding to the intensity of the moment.

you couldn’t help but moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave in to the sensations. the room spun around you, your body no longer your own as he claimed you over and over again. it was a rough, animalistic fucking that made you feel more alive than you ever had. his slaps grew more forceful, his words more demanding. “say it,” he ordered, his voice harsh in your ear. “say you’re mine, only mine.”

“yoongi,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m yours, only yours.” his pace quickened, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared his second climax. you could feel his balls tightening, his body coiling like a spring ready to release. with a final, desperate groan, he emptied himself inside you, his cum mixing with your juices.

you collapsed onto him a second time, your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. the room was still, the only sound the harshness of your breathing and the thundering of your hearts. for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in a sea of passion and desire. but reality would come crashing back soon enough, with the light of day and the harsh truth of your actions. for now, though, you were his, and he was yours, bound by a secret that neither of you could escape.

you sat at your desk, the dim light of your lamp casting a soft glow over the pages of your journal. the room was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the pages as you turned them, the only sound breaking the silence of your introspective evening. the journal was your refuge, the place where you poured out your grief and unspoken pain, each word a release of the emotions that had been bottled up for too long.

your pen moved across the page in a hurried scrawl, the ink reflecting the depth of your sorrow. you wrote about the ache of missing your old self, the pressure of expectations unmet, and the weight of a future that seemed increasingly uncertain. tears blurred your vision, making the words on the page dance and waver. each tear that fell onto the paper seemed to absorb the rawness of your emotions, the ink smudging as your sorrow seeped into the pages.

you had shared so much with those sheets of paper, details of your grief that had remained unspoken. it was as if the journal was an extension of your heart, a place where your deepest fears and frustrations could find solace. but tonight, the act of writing felt especially cathartic and painful, the tears falling freely as you bared your soul to the empty pages.

the sound of footsteps from downstairs interrupted your solitude. you closed the journal and wiped your eyes hastily, trying to regain composure as you headed towards the staircase. the air downstairs was cooler, and the distant clinking of dishes and murmurs of conversation signaled that your mother was awake.

as you descended the stairs, you saw her seated at the kitchen table, her gaze directed towards the window. yoongi was in the living room, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of the familial tension. you greeted them quietly, your heart heavy with the emotions that you had tried so hard to contain. your mother looked up as you entered the kitchen, her expression unreadable. “how’s work?” she asked, her tone neutral but carrying a hint of concern. “when do you have to go back?”

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “i’ll be going back after the month passes,” you replied, forcing a calmness that didn’t match the turmoil inside you. she nodded, but there was a shadow of disapproval in her eyes. “i prayed for your success, you know,” she said. “but i wish you had chosen a different path—one that’s more respectable. you could have been a doctor, a lawyer, someone who makes a real difference. instead, you’re just posing for a camera.”

the words struck you like a physical blow, each syllable a reminder of the gap between your aspirations and her expectations. your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, your heart aching with the weight of her judgment. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the apology feeling inadequate in the face of her disapproval. her gaze softened slightly, but the damage was done. the conversation had laid bare the fact that no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you achieved, your mother’s acceptance was always just out of reach. the realization was a sharp, stinging reminder of the ongoing struggle to reconcile your dreams with her expectations.

without a word, you excused yourself from the room, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your shoulders. you moved with a sense of urgency towards the bathroom, needing a moment away from the prying eyes and the crushing disappointment. in the bathroom, the cool, sterile light offered little comfort as you shut the door behind you. you leaned against the sink, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the tap, letting the water run until it became a soothing backdrop to your tears. the tears came freely now, each drop a release of the pain you had been holding inside. the harsh brightness of the bathroom seemed to amplify your emotions, every sob echoing in the stillness of the room.

you closed your eyes tightly, letting the tears flow unabated. the mirror reflected your tear-streaked face, the red-rimmed eyes a testament to the depth of your grief. you took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had been stirred up by your mother’s words. the tears were a release, a way of letting go of the pent-up frustration and sadness. as the sobs began to subside, you found solace in the simple act of crying, allowing yourself to feel the weight of your mother’s disapproval and the grief of your own unmet expectations. you knew that the moment of vulnerability was a necessary part of your healing process, a way to confront and process the emotions that had been building up inside you.

yoongi's heart felt heavy with the weight of the earlier conversation. his concern for you had deepened, and he felt an overwhelming urge to understand more about what you were going through. his feet, driven by a mix of worry and compassion, carried him towards your room. the door creaked open slowly, and yoongi stepped into the space that was so intimately yours. the room was bathed in a soft glow from a lamp on your nightstand, its light gently illuminating the walls adorned with photographs. his eyes were immediately drawn to the collection of images, a testament to the life you had lived.

photos of you as a little girl lined one wall, capturing moments of innocence and joy. in some, you were caught in candid laughter, a radiant smile lighting up your face. others showed you at milestones, each image a snapshot of a time before the complexities of adulthood began to weigh heavily on you. yoongi’s chest tightened at the sight, a pang of sorrow stirring in his stomach. it was impossible not to feel the ache of how much you had grown, how far you had come from that wide-eyed child full of dreams.

next to those nostalgic images were more recent photos—of you as you were now, your beauty more striking than ever, yet layered with an undeniable sadness. each photograph seemed to tell a story of its own, a reflection of the woman you had become. his heart ached at the contrast between the vibrant child in the old pictures and the poignant figure in the more recent ones. it was clear that beneath the surface of your radiant exterior lay a deep, unresolved pain.

his gaze was drawn to the desk, where he saw your journal resting atop a pile of neatly stacked papers. he hesitated for a moment, knowing it was a violation of your privacy, but the pull of his concern was stronger. with trembling hands, he opened the journal, its pages warm from the gentle light of the lamp.

the first entry his eyes fell upon was a stark revelation of your inner turmoil, “i want to die, doesn’t everyone?” the words were raw and haunting, a glimpse into the depths of your suffering. yoongi’s breath caught in his throat as he read on, his heart breaking with each line. you had written about sleepless nights, about the emptiness that came with a lack of meals, and the guilt you felt for your suffering despite having what many would envy. the words were a vivid portrait of your struggle, painting a picture of the pain you had carried alone.

further along, you wrote about your mother, your conflicted feelings towards her. despite her love, you had felt her disapproval, her preference for a different path for you. the way you described your feelings of inadequacy, the yearning for acceptance, cut deep into yoongi’s heart. each entry was a window into a world of quiet desperation, a reflection of your most private fears and regrets.

as his eyes scanned the entries, he felt a profound sadness. the weight of your words, the anguish you had poured onto the pages, seemed to press down on him with a crushing force. he was lost in the depth of your pain when he heard the softest of voices behind him. “it’s stupid, isn’t it?” he turned sharply to see you standing in the doorway, a sad smile on your face, the remnants of tears still visible on your cheeks. his heart ached even more seeing you like that, so vulnerable and exposed. he took a step towards you, his face reflecting a mix of anguish and determination.

“nothing you feel could ever be stupid,” he said gently, his voice laden with sincerity. his hand reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that spoke volumes. “why didn’t you tell me about this? why didn’t you share any of this with me?” you shrugged, your gaze falling to the floor as if it held the answers you couldn’t articulate. “i always had a feeling i’d never live long,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

yoongi’s breath caught at your words. the notion that you felt such a finality in your existence was more than he could bear. without thinking, he closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug was a physical manifestation of his anguish and his need to offer you comfort. he stiffened as he held you, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders. “never say that again,” he whispered fiercely into your ear, his voice trembling with emotion. “is that really what you want? to leave me alone, to fight it all in silence?”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as you cried into his shoulder. “i’d give anything to be the little girl you remember,” you admitted between sobs. “i miss her more than anyone.”

his heart broke at your admission. he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own filled with an earnest intensity. “you should be proud of the woman you’ve become,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions within him. “that little girl would be so proud of you. and no one could be more proud than i am.”

you looked at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity, but all you found was a deep, unwavering conviction. “you really think so?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “yes,” he affirmed, his eyes locked onto yours with a warmth that seemed to dispel the shadows of doubt. “she would be proud, but nobody could be as proud as me. you’ve grown into someone incredible, someone who has faced so much and still stands strong.”

in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you felt a sense of comfort and acceptance that had been elusive for so long. his words, filled with genuine admiration and affection, offered a glimmer of hope amid the lingering darkness. you clung to the promise in his voice, the promise that despite everything, you were valued, you were loved, and you were worthy of pride.

✧.*

a/n: a shorter one lol a dabble if u will

roses (장미) — jeon jungkook (전정국)

✧.* WC: 11.9K

✧.* SYN: polar opposites were said to attract, but nobody specified when. no matter how beautiful, no matter how enchanting—sometimes, they were just made to repel.

✧.* 16+

roses were meant to be the symbol of love—romance captured in its purest form. their petals, silken and fragile, were light against the fingertips, and their colors, from the softest blush to the deepest crimson, seemed to glow with a kind of inner fire. roses were everything beautiful, everything tender. but to you, they were a lie.

for every rose, no matter how lovely, was laced with thorns. they were subtle, hiding just beneath the surface, waiting for a careless touch to remind you of their presence. they never scarred your fingers on purpose—how could they? the flowers themselves had no say in the sharpness of their defenses. and yet, they always found a way to mar your skin, leaving behind thin lines of pain, tiny rivers of blood mingling with the red of the petals. it was as if the rose took your blood as payment for its beauty, demanding a piece of you in exchange for the admiration it commanded. you couldn't see them as others did. where others saw a token of love, you saw a warning—a reminder that beauty often came with a cost, and that love, no matter how sweet, could hurt just as deeply.

you hated roses. not because they weren't beautiful, but because their beauty was tainted by the inevitability of pain. they were a paradox, a contradiction you could never reconcile. to love them was to accept the wounds they left behind, and you had no desire to be wounded. jungkook, with his warm eyes and gentle smile, knew this about you. he knew it better than anyone.

when you first started dating, he surprised you with a bouquet of red roses, each bloom more perfect than the last. they were vibrant, luxurious, their scent intoxicating in its richness. you smiled when you saw them, because how could you not? they were beautiful, after all, and he had chosen them with you in mind. but beneath your smile, a familiar unease churned. nothing that truly loved you, no matter how beautiful, would never hurt you. you didn't want to hurt his feelings, didn't want to dampen the joy in his eyes, so you accepted them with as much grace as you could muster. you held them close, careful not to let your fingers brush too harshly against the thorns. you placed them in water, tended to them, watched as their petals unfurled further, revealing their full splendor. yet, no matter how much care you gave them, they remained a symbol of everything you couldn't bring yourself to love.

the roses, with their beauty and their thorns, became a silent metaphor for your fears. they were a constant reminder that love—true, deep love—wasn't without its dangers. that even the most beautiful things could hurt you if you weren't careful. and so, while you couldn't see the beauty in the roses, you saw it in jungkook. you saw it in the way he beamed when he handed them to you, in the tenderness of his voice when he asked if you liked them. you saw the care he took in choosing them, the thoughtfulness behind his actions, and you loved him all the more for it. but the roses themselves? they remained, as ever, a source of quiet torment.

it wasn't until after a few dates that you finally confessed the truth. you remember the moment vividly—the way the words tumbled out of your mouth, hesitant yet firm, as you told him you didn't like roses. you hadn't intended to hurt him, and you could see the brief flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed slightly. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, his voice tinged with regret. his fingers traced the edge of your hand, a silent apology in his touch.

you sighed, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “i didn’t want to disappoint you. you were so thoughtful, i just didn’t have the heart to say it.”

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he’d wronged you in some unforgivable way. “i didn’t know.”

“it’s okay,” you assured him gently, lifting his chin so that his eyes met yours. “i kept every single one.” his eyes softened at your words, and a small, sheepish smile curved his lips. “really?”

“really,” you confirmed, squeezing his hand. “i may not love roses, but i love the thought behind them.”

the roses stopped after that day. in their place came something simpler, something that held a different kind of beauty. jungkook began to bring you dandelions, plucked from wherever he could find them, their bright yellow heads bobbing on slender green stems. they were humble, unpretentious, the kind of flower people often overlooked or dismissed as weeds. but to you, they were perfect.

you loved the way they scattered in the wind, carrying with them the weight of a thousand wishes. every time you held one in your hand, you couldn't resist closing your eyes, drawing in a breath, and blowing gently, sending the delicate seeds spiraling into the air. with each breath, you made a wish—small, secret hopes you whispered to the universe, trusting that somehow, some way, they would be heard. jungkook always watched you with a soft smile as you did this, his eyes never leaving your face. “what did you wish for?” he would ask, his voice warm and curious.

but you never told him. you always shook your head, a playful smile on your lips as you teased him with your silence. “i can’t tell you,” you’d say, “or it won’t come true.”

he would laugh, a rich, melodic sound that made your heart feel lighter than air. “one day, you’ll have to tell me,” he’d insist, though there was no urgency in his words—just the quiet patience of someone willing to wait as long as it took.

and maybe, one day, you would tell him. But for now, you kept your wishes close, letting them flutter away with the dandelion seeds, drifting on the breeze like tiny prayers. in truth, you always wished for the same thing—that you could hold on to this moment, to this feeling, forever. that the love you shared with jungkook, so pure and gentle, would last as long as there were dandelions to carry your wishes. you found comfort in the simplicity of the dandelions. there were no thorns, no hidden dangers. they were honest in their imperfection, and in that honesty, you found a kind of beauty that roses could never offer. the dandelions became a symbol of your love—humble, enduring, and free from the pain that had always accompanied the roses.

and every time jungkook brought you one, it felt like a promise—a promise that he understood, that he knew what you needed even before you did. it was a promise that he would never bring you pain, that he would love you in all the ways you needed to be loved, without the thorns, without the scars. you held on to that promise, just as you held on to each dandelion he gave you, treasuring it for what it was—a gift, not just of love, but of understanding. and as the seeds danced away on the wind, you knew that your wishes were safe, carried on the breath of a love that was as gentle and enduring as the flowers themselves.

“here’s your shirt,” you murmured, handing him the neatly folded fabric that felt heavier in your hands than it should have. the weight of finality clung to it, as if the fibers themselves had absorbed the tension between you, the countless unspoken words and unresolved feelings woven into the threads. you had gathered the last of jungkook's things, the remnants of a love that had once filled your home with warmth and light but now seemed to haunt it, like echoes of laughter long gone.

he took the shirt from you without looking up, his fingers brushing yours in a way that used to send a shiver of excitement through you. now, it only brought a dull ache, a reminder of what was slipping away. he had changed so much over the past year. the bright-eyed boy who once looked at you as if you hung the stars had morphed into someone distant, cold. his eyes, once filled with a warmth that made you feel seen, had grown dim, as though the light within him had burned out, leaving nothing but the shadows behind.

jungkook had quickly become the tear in your eye and the tear in your heart, a source of pain that gnawed at you from the inside out. he was no longer the man you fell in love with, but a stranger wearing his skin. you had watched the change happen slowly at first, like a creeping frost on a windowpane, but then it had sped up, and before you knew it, the warmth between you had been replaced by an icy silence. it was a silence that had once been comfortable, a shared space where words weren't needed because the understanding between you was so deep. now, it was a chasm, wide and unbridgeable, filled with all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

the end had come faster than you had anticipated, but perhaps that was how these things always happened. you tried to brace yourself, to prepare for the inevitable, telling yourself over and over that not everything was forever. it was a mantra you repeated to numb the pain, to convince yourself that you could accept it. but how were you supposed to accept losing him when every part of you still clung to the hope that things could be different? that somehow, the man you loved was still in there, buried beneath the layers of hurt and distance?

you watched as he turned away from you, his manner dismissive in that distinctly masculine, emotionally restrained way that cut you deeper than any harsh word ever could. It was as if he had already moved on, as if this—your heartbreak—was nothing more than a trivial inconvenience. you knew he felt the weight of it too, that he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to believe, but his silence was a wall, thick and impenetrable, that you couldn’t break through no matter how hard you tried.

he was about to walk out of your life for the last time, and you couldn't let him go without trying, just one more time, to reach him. to make him understand what this meant to you. the words were heavy on your tongue, almost too painful to speak, but you forced them out, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. “i wished,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. the words caught in your throat, and you had to swallow hard to keep going. “i wished for us to be forever.”

the simplicity of the statement hung in the air between you, raw and vulnerable. it was the truth, stripped of all pretense, the most honest thing you had said in a long time. it was the wish you had made countless times, with dandelion seeds drifting on the wind, with every shooting star that crossed the night sky, with every single breath you had taken while lying beside him in the quiet of the night. it was the wish you had carried in your heart since the beginning, even as things began to unravel, even as the distance between you grew.

you saw the slight falter in his step as the words reached him. he stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to you, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. you held your breath, waiting for the sound of his voice, for anything that would tell you he still cared, that he still felt something. but the silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, and you realized with a sinking heart that there was nothing left to say. he let the silence fill the space between you, allowing it to drown out your words, as if by not responding, he could erase them from existence.

the seconds dragged on like hours, the silence suffocating you as you stood there, waiting for a response that would never come. jungkook knew you were behind him, could probably feel the weight of your gaze on his back, but he didn't turn around. he didn't offer you the comfort of his eyes, the soft reassurance of his voice. Instead, he walked back inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty spaces of your heart.

you stared at the closed door, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to cry. not there, not now. you had given him everything—your love, your trust, your dreams of a future together. and now, you had nothing left to give. the door had closed, not just on this chapter of your life, but on the possibility of ever finding solace in his arms again. the silence that followed was no longer comforting. it was deafening, a void that pressed in on you from all sides, reminding you of what you had lost. and in that silence, you knew the truth—you were no longer there. not in his heart, not in his mind. the person you had been, the person who had loved him with every fiber of her being, was gone, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell of who you once were.

you forced yourself to leave, to walk away from the door that had once opened so easily for you. each step felt like a struggle, as if the weight of your heartbreak was pulling you down, making it hard to move forward. but you kept going, because you had no other choice. you couldn't stay in that place any longer, surrounded by memories that would only serve to haunt you. as you stepped out into the cool evening air, the world felt different—dimmer, less vibrant. It was as if the color had been drained from everything, leaving behind only shades of gray. the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of roses from a nearby garden. you inhaled sharply, the scent stinging your senses like the thorns that had once pierced your skin. and just like those thorns, the memories of your time with jungkook would leave scars—scars that would take time to heal, if they ever did at all.

you walked away, leaving behind the man who had once been your everything, and with each step, you felt the weight of the past slowly lifting from your shoulders. but the pain remained, sharp and aching, a reminder that some wounds run too deep to ever fully heal. and as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in darkness, you couldn't help but wonder if the wish you had once held so close to your heart had been nothing more than a foolish dream, carried away on the wind like dandelion seeds, never to come true.

when you returned home, the silence greeted you like an unwelcome guest, settling into every corner of the house, amplifying the emptiness that seemed to have grown overnight. the house felt colder, emptier than it ever had before, as though the very walls had absorbed the sorrow that weighed so heavily on your heart. and yet, nothing had changed. the furniture was still in its place, the same pictures hung on the walls, the same sunlight filtered through the windows, casting the same patterns on the floor. everything was as it had been, and yet, it all felt different—foreign, somehow, like you were a stranger in your own home.

you didn’t know why you had expected it to be any different. why had you thought, even for a moment, that the world would stop spinning on its axis just because your heart had been shattered? the absurdity of the thought struck you as both laughable and tragic. your heart was broken, yet the world found a way to keep spinning, indifferent to your pain. the birds still sang outside, the traffic still moved along the streets, and somewhere, people were still laughing, still loving, still living their lives as if nothing had happened. the world carried on, and you were left to pick up the pieces of a life that had been torn apart.

as you moved through the house, your gaze fell on the roses he had given you, still thriving in the crystal vases where you had carefully placed them. they stood proudly, their petals full and vibrant, a stark contrast to the withered dandelions that lay beside them. you had been diligent in changing the water, making sure the roses had everything they needed to flourish. and flourish they did, their beauty almost mocking in its perfection, as if to remind you of the love that had once been so full of promise.

but the dandelions—oh, the dandelions—they had not fared as well. you had taken extra care of them, watering them more frequently than you ever had with any other flowers, desperately trying to keep them alive. they were delicate, fragile things, just like the wishes you had whispered into the wind, and you had wanted them to last, to hold on to their golden beauty for just a little longer. but no matter how much care you gave them, they still found a way to wilt, their once bright yellow heads now drooping, petals shriveled and brown. they had died on you, leaving you with nothing but the memory of the hopes they had carried.

it was a bitter realization—one that struck deep, piercing through the numbness that had settled in your chest. you needed to stop watering dead flowers. the thought echoed in your mind, a painful truth you had been avoiding for far too long. the dandelions were gone, just like the love you had once shared with jungkook, and no amount of water or care could bring them back. it was over, and you had to let go. but letting go felt like an impossibility, like trying to breathe under water—each attempt only filled your lungs with more pain.

your eyes returned to the roses, and you realized just how little had changed. their beauty did not bring you any comfort. instead, it filled you with a deep, aching sense of emptiness. their perfection was a lie, a facade that hid the thorns lying just beneath the surface. thorns that had always been there, even when you hadn’t seen them, ready to pierce through the skin at the slightest touch. they were beautiful, yes, but their beauty came at a cost—one that you had paid dearly.

your heart sank as you reached out for the roses, your hand trembling slightly as you wrapped your fingers around the stems. you felt every prick, the way the thorns dug into the tender flesh of your palm, piercing through the surface with sharp, unyielding precision. the pain should have made you flinch, should have forced you to pull back, but instead, you tightened your grip, welcoming the sensation. it was almost a relief to feel something other than the hollow numbness that had been consuming you.

you watched, detached, as your blood began to seep from the wounds, mingling with the bright red petals, the crimson droplets staining the clear water. it was a sight both grotesque and mesmerizing—your life force mingling with the very thing that had symbolized your love, now tainted and corrupted. and yet, for the first time, it didn’t hurt. the pain was there, yes, but it was distant, as though it belonged to someone else, a stranger who had nothing to do with you.

you loosened your grip, letting the stems slip from your fingers and fall back into the vase. the blood on your hand began to dry, a faint stinging sensation left behind as a reminder of the thorns' touch. but the pain no longer mattered. it was just another sensation in a world that had become a blur of emotions too complex to untangle. you turned away from the flowers, leaving them behind as you walked further into the house, each step echoing in the silence that had settled around you. the rooms felt colder, the air thicker, as if the very atmosphere had shifted, mourning the loss that had taken place within those walls. but there was nothing left to mourn.

you slept. it was easier that way, easier to slip into the quiet oblivion of dreams where reality couldn’t reach you, where the sharp edges of your pain were softened, blurred by the fog of sleep. you slept because every time you woke up, the world was colder, more hostile, and you were too weak to face it. the bed, once shared, now felt like a vast, empty expanse, a void that swallowed you whole. the sheets still carried his scent, faint but there, a cruel reminder of what was lost. so, you buried yourself beneath them, cocooning yourself in a fragile barrier against the world.

every time you woke up, you were confronted with the same brutal truth: he was gone. the realization came slowly, like a wave that started far off in the distance, gaining strength as it approached until it crashed over you, relentless and unforgiving. it would hit you as you blinked yourself awake, in that brief, disorienting moment where you didn’t quite remember where you were. you reached out instinctively, your hand searching the space beside you, but it met only the cool emptiness of the sheets. the ache in your chest deepened, a hollow, gnawing pain that seemed to settle into your very bones.

you felt the urge to call him, to reach out to him, to hear his voice on the other end of the line—steady, warm, reassuring. your fingers would hover over your phone, trembling with the need to dial his number, to send a message, anything to break the silence that pressed down on you. but what was there to say? what could you possibly tell him that hadn’t already been left unspoken? the words died in your throat, choked by the knowledge that it wouldn’t change anything. he was no longer there, and no amount of pleading or wishing would bring him back.

and so, you turned away from the phone, sinking back into the bed, pulling the covers over your head as though you could block out the world itself. sleep became your refuge, your escape from the brutal clarity of consciousness. in sleep, you could forget, if only for a little while. in sleep, the weight of reality lifted, and you drifted into a world where things were as they should be, where he was still there, still yours.

but every time you woke up, the reality would crash back down on you, harder and more unbearable than before. the bed felt colder, the room emptier, and the silence heavier. it was as if the universe itself was conspiring to remind you of what you had lost, what had slipped through your fingers like grains of sand, impossible to grasp and hold on to. the disbelief settled into your chest like a stone, heavy and cold. it was easier to cling to that disbelief than to accept the truth, easier to let yourself be carried away by the numbness than to face the searing pain that lay just beneath the surface. you couldn’t believe it had happened, refused to let yourself truly accept that he was gone. had it happened? had you really lost him? the questions circled in your mind, relentless, unanswered, each one twisting the knife a little deeper into your heart.

you were confused, disoriented, lost in a labyrinth of grief that you didn’t know how to navigate. the world outside seemed distant, almost unreal, as though you were floating through it without truly being a part of it. the memories of him lingered like ghosts, haunting every corner of your mind, and you couldn’t tell where the past ended and the present began. everything was a blur, a swirl of emotions too tangled to unravel.

and so, you went back to sleep, because in sleep, the lines between reality and dreams were blurred, and you could still see him, still feel him. in your dreams, he was there, whole and real, his smile warm and bright, his touch gentle. in your dreams, he hadn’t left you, hadn’t walked away, and the world was still as it should be. you clung to those moments, those fleeting glimpses of a world that no longer existed, because they were all you had left. in sleep, the disbelief settled into temporary joy, a fragile, fleeting happiness that only existed in the depths of your mind. you knew it wasn’t real, knew that it would shatter the moment you woke up, but you held on to it anyway, desperate for any scrap of comfort. you would see him in your dreams, and for those precious moments, everything would be okay. you would laugh with him, talk with him, hold him, and it was as if nothing had changed.

but then you would wake up, and the illusion would fade, leaving you more broken than before. the bed would feel colder, the room quieter, the silence more suffocating. and you would lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself to get up, to face the day, but the weight of your denial would pull you back under. so you would close your eyes again, praying for sleep to take you, to pull you back into that world where he still existed, where you could pretend, if only for a little while, that everything was still the same. and so, you slept. and slept. and slept. because it was easier than facing the reality of a world without him.

jungkook shut down. it wasn’t something he consciously decided to do, but rather an instinctual retreat into himself, like a wounded animal seeking shelter in the darkest corner of the forest. his emotions were a storm that threatened to tear him apart, so he did the only thing he knew how—he numbed himself. he buried the pain deep, far beneath the surface, where he hoped it would never see the light of day.

his days became a monotonous blur of routine. he went through the motions, each one devoid of the color and warmth that had once defined his life. there was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth that never seemed to go away, a constant reminder of the emptiness that had taken root in his heart. he woke up, dressed himself, and headed to the gym, as if the physical exertion could somehow drown out the chaos in his mind.

the gym became a sanctuary, the one place where he could lose himself in the rhythmic clanging of weights and the steady thump of his heartbeat in his ears. he lifted, the strain on his muscles a welcome distraction from the thoughts that threatened to consume him. he ran, his feet pounding against the treadmill in a desperate attempt to outrun the memories of you. but no matter how fast or how far he ran, they always threatened to catch up with him, lingering at the edges of his consciousness like a persistent shadow.

he pushed himself harder, ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt like they would give out beneath him. he jogged, then walked, then jogged again, anything to keep his body moving, to keep his mind from spiraling into the dark places he feared. the pain in his muscles was a dull, constant ache, but it was nothing compared to the void inside him, the hollow ache that seemed to have settled in his chest.

when he left the gym, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, he found himself wandering aimlessly, as if searching for something—anything—that could fill the emptiness. he went to the market, seeking the comfort of familiarity in the mundane task of picking out fresh fruit. but even there, you haunted him. he would see the watermelons stacked neatly on the shelves, their bright, green rinds a stark contrast to the dullness of his mood, and he would be reminded of how much you loved them. he could almost hear your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about how sweet and refreshing they were on a hot summer day. the memory would twist the knife in his chest, and he would force himself to look away, to walk away, leaving the market with nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth.

nights were the worst. the silence of his apartment was suffocating, the loneliness almost unbearable. he started going to bars with his friends, seeking solace in the mind-numbing effects of alcohol. it was easier that way—easier to drown his sorrows in liquor, to forget, even if it was just for a little while. he would order round after round, paying for everyone, desperate to keep the drinks flowing, to keep the laughter and noise around him as a buffer against the silence that awaited him at home.

his friends would cheer, their voices loud and boisterous, their smiles wide and carefree. he would force himself to smile along with them, to laugh at their jokes, even as he felt the icy tendrils of grief winding tighter around his heart. the alcohol would dull the edges of his pain, make the world seem softer, more bearable, and for a few fleeting hours, he could almost forget. but he knew it wouldn’t last. it never did. he clung to those moments of reprieve, no matter how brief, no matter how hollow they left him feeling afterward. because as long as he could keep the pain at bay, as long as he could pretend, just for a little while, that he wasn’t completely shattered inside, he could survive. he needed those moments to last, needed them to stretch out into the dark hours of the night, to carry him through until the morning light.

but even as he forced himself to keep moving, to keep pushing forward, there was a part of him that knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. the weight of his grief was a constant, oppressive presence, and no amount of physical exertion or alcohol could truly erase it. he was running on borrowed time, and deep down, he feared the day when the numbness would wear off, and he would be left to face the full force of his emotions. so he shut down, closed himself off, and went through the motions, day after day, night after night. because it was easier than feeling, easier than confronting the reality of what he had lost. he couldn’t afford to break down, couldn’t afford to let himself fall apart, because he didn’t know if he would ever be able to put himself back together again.

you couldn’t cling to the false reality you had carefully constructed any longer. the threads holding it together unraveled, leaving you exposed to the raw truth you had desperately tried to ignore. the more you tried to force yourself back into the numb comfort of denial, the more reality clawed its way into your consciousness, demanding to be acknowledged. “why me?” the question echoed in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. you couldn’t understand how this had happened to you, how your life had spiraled into a pit of despair so deep you couldn’t see the bottom. what had you done to deserve this? what crime had you committed that was so terrible, so unforgivable, that you were now being punished in such a cruel and merciless way?

your thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anger and confusion, a storm that raged within you with no outlet, no direction. the more you tried to reason with yourself, the more frustrated you became. who could you blame for this? was it your fault? his? the universe’s? the questions tormented you, gnawing at your sanity, and with every passing minute, the fury inside you grew stronger, more uncontrollable.

there was nobody to lash out at, nobody to direct your anger toward. you were alone, left to wrestle with the seething emotions that had taken up residence in your heart. and every time your gaze fell upon the roses, still standing tall in their vase, they seemed to mock you, their vibrant beauty a contrast to the darkness that had settled over your life. they thrived, even as everything else around you withered away. their presence was a constant reminder of the love that had once been and the pain that remained. you had every right to hate them.

your hands trembled as you reached for the television remote, the plastic cool and unyielding against your skin. without thinking, you hurled it across the room, your vision blurring with the force of your anger. the vase shattered into a thousand tiny shards of glass, scattering across the floor in a sparkling array of destruction. but the roses—those damned roses—remained intact, their petals untouched, as if the chaos around them couldn’t reach their perfection.

you stared at the mess you had made, your chest heaving with ragged breaths, but there were no tears left to shed. the sadness that had once consumed you had been swallowed up by a burning rage, a fire that seemed to scorch everything in its path. how could he do this to you? how could he walk away, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a life that no longer made sense? the injustice of it all fueled the inferno in your heart, and you found yourself consumed by a single, overpowering desire: revenge. you wanted him to suffer, to feel the guilt that you believed should be eating away at him every second of every day. you wanted him to see you, to be reminded of everything he had thrown away, and you wanted him to beg for your forgiveness. if you couldn’t have peace, then you would have the satisfaction of knowing that he didn’t either.

with newfound resolve, you began to ready yourself. you meticulously prepared, every brush of makeup, every stroke of mascara, a declaration of war against the version of yourself that had crumbled in the wake of heartbreak. you refused to be the victim any longer. you would go out, find the pieces of yourself that still remained, and piece them together into something new—something that would draw his eyes back to you and make him realize what he had lost. you chose the bar carefully, the one where you knew he was a regular, where the chances of seeing him were high. as you slipped into a dress that clung to your figure, accentuating every curve, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. but the woman who looked back at you was a stranger—her eyes were sharp, glittering with the fury that had replaced every other emotion. the void was gone, buried beneath layers of anger and the determination to make him pay for the pain he had caused.

your heart hammered in your chest, a drumbeat of anticipation, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when you saw him. would he recognize you? would he see the fire in your eyes and understand that it was his doing? or would he turn away, indifferent to the transformation you had undergone? as you made your way to the door, your heels clicking against the floor, you clung to the hope that he would be there, that he would see you and fall to his knees in regret. but even as you tried to convince yourself that this was the outcome you wanted, a small, uncertain voice whispered in the back of your mind, asking if this was truly who you had become—someone who thrived on anger and revenge, who found solace in the idea of another’s suffering.

but you pushed that voice aside, determined to see this through. the fury in your veins was the only thing that felt real anymore, the only thing that kept you going. and so, you walked out the door, ready to confront the man who had once been your everything, even if it meant losing the last remnants of yourself in the process.

jungkook’s world had narrowed to a single point of focus—the relentless, unyielding ache inside him that refused to be named or tamed. it simmered beneath his skin, a beast with no outlet, coiled and ready to strike. the gym had become his sanctuary, a place where he could pound his fists into the heavy bag until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, until the sharp pain in his hands was all that existed in his mind. but even that wasn’t enough.

he hit the bag harder, his bare fists connecting with brutal force, over and over again. the sting of torn skin, the dull throb in his bones—none of it registered. all he knew was the rhythmic, punishing impact of his fists against the leather, the way his breath came in ragged gasps, the way his blood seemed to boil beneath the surface. he didn’t care that his knuckles were split, didn’t notice the way his sweat dripped off him in steady streams, matting his hair to his forehead and soaking through his clothes. he was beyond caring, beyond feeling anything other than the rage that consumed him.

he didn’t realize how loud the sound of his fists smashing into the bag had become, didn’t notice the way other gym-goers had started to watch, their eyes widening at the intensity of his aggression. they stared, some concerned, others keeping their distance, wary of the energy radiating off him in waves. but jungkook was oblivious, his focus entirely on the bag in front of him, as if it held all the answers to the chaos in his mind.

his thoughts were a tangled mess, a storm that raged without end. why was this happening to him? what had he done to deserve this? he needed answers, needed someone to blame, but the more he searched for a reason, the more elusive it became. the frustration gnawed at him, clawing at the inside of his chest until he felt like he might explode. he couldn’t make sense of the turmoil inside him, couldn’t find a way to quiet the incessant pounding of his heart or the restless tapping of his feet as he stood there, trying to regain control.

jungkook’s fingers twitched, playing with the edges of his gym towel, twisting it into knots as if the physical action could somehow unravel the knots inside his own head. his heart raced, a frantic beat that seemed to echo in the silence of his mind, a silence that only made him angrier. he hated the quiet, hated the way it left him alone with his thoughts, with the voices that whispered all sorts of things to him, things he didn’t want to hear, things that only made the fury inside him burn hotter.

he needed an escape, a way to release the tension that coiled inside him like a spring wound too tight. but nothing worked—nothing took the edge off the anger that bubbled just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment. he needed to feel something other than this gnawing, hollow rage, needed to drown out the noise in his head, even if only for a little while.

so he did what he always did when the pressure became too much to bear—he turned to the only temporary relief he knew. the bar called to him, a beacon of false hope in the darkness that had become his life. there, among the noise and the laughter, the clinking of glasses and the buzz of conversation, he could lose himself, if only for a little while. the alcohol would burn away the edges of his anger, would blur the sharp lines of his thoughts until they were nothing more than a dull ache in the back of his mind. he craved that numbness, the brief respite it offered, even if it never lasted.

as he left the gym, his mind was still running wild, the voices still whispering insidiously, feeding his anger, pushing him to the edge. he could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his hands still shook slightly from the exertion, the way his heart pounded with unresolved fury. but he pushed it all down, burying it deep inside as he made his way to the bar, seeking out the oblivion he so desperately needed. the world outside seemed indifferent to his turmoil—the sun still shone, people still went about their day, oblivious to the storm that raged within him. and that only made him angrier, made him feel even more isolated, as if he was the only one trapped in this endless cycle of anger and pain. but the bar was waiting, the promise of temporary relief dangling just out of reach, and he latched onto that hope, no matter how fleeting, no matter how false. it was all he had left.

you stepped into the bar with a forced sense of confidence, your heels clicking against the worn wooden floor as you entered. the dim lighting cast shadows over your face, but you convinced yourself that every pair of eyes followed your every move. you had to believe it, even if it wasn’t true. you were determined to be the center of attention, to show the world, and more importantly, to show him what he had let go.

as you approached the bar, you held your head high, the tension in your shoulders disguising the fragility beneath. the bartender caught your eye, and you ordered your drink with a voice that sounded stronger than you felt. the glass was cool in your hand, a momentary relief as you took a sip. the burn of the alcohol was sharp, a distraction from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

with every sip, the anger that had fueled you began to dissipate, leaving a hollow space in its wake. the bar's noise faded into the background, and your thoughts grew louder, clearer. you began to think—really think—about everything that had happened. the whirlwind of emotions, the moments you thought were forever, and the sudden, jarring end that left you lost.

the more you thought, the more you began to pray. it started as a whisper in your mind, a plea to the universe, to whatever force controlled fate. you begged for a chance to undo the past, to turn back time, to rewrite your story. you wished for him, for the universe to bring him back into your life, for the pain to dissolve and be replaced with the love you once knew.

your thoughts spiraled, one after another, questioning everything. what if you had done something differently? what if you had fought harder, loved him more, or been more forgiving? what if this was all a test, and you were meant to prove that your love was stronger than the pain? you pondered every possibility, every twist of fate that could have led to a different ending. the more you thought, the more desperate your prayers became. you weren’t just asking—you were begging, pleading with whatever power might be listening. you needed him back; you needed him to see you, to realize what he had walked away from. you would do anything, give anything, to have him in your life again.

as you stared into the depths of your glass, the alcohol no longer brought relief. Instead, it amplified the ache in your chest, the void that only he could fill. the world around you faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your prayers, and the unbearable longing that consumed you. you wanted to make it clear, to whatever force might be listening, that you would do anything—everything—to have him back. you needed him to know, needed the universe to know, that your love was stronger than the pain, stronger than the anger, and that you were willing to fight for it, no matter the cost.

jungkook walked through the dimly lit streets, the cool night air biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. his thoughts were too loud, drowning out the world around him. he replayed every moment with you in his mind, dissecting each word, each touch, each mistake. the pain in his chest was sharp, a constant reminder of what he had lost. he wondered if there was anything he could do to have you back, even for a fleeting moment.

he knew the truth, though. he knew he couldn’t have you the way he used to. he had been selfish, too caught up in his own world, too focused on his own fears. he had pushed you away, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to hold onto. you were the opposite of him in so many ways. where he was sharp and jagged, you were soft and warm. where he built walls, you built bridges. you knew how to fulfill wishes, how to bring hope to the hopeless. that was why people were drawn to you, why they loved you.

but he had pushed you away, scared you off with his sharpness, with the very things he thought were protecting him. he often hurt people, unintentionally but inevitably, and it was exactly how he lost you. he hated himself for it, for letting his fears get in the way of something so beautiful. he was beautiful on the outside, and you knew it. but the more he had let you in, the more he found himself hurting you, even if it wasn’t intentional. you had a way of mingling with the night sky, floating in the air in an etherreal way that gave those around you a sense of relief, as if their wishes were being fulfilled, whereas he was nothing of the sort. he was pretty, and with beauty, there was the inevitable pain attached to it.

he needed you, even if it was just for a moment. he needed to see you, to feel the warmth of your presence, to remind himself of what he had once had and lost. his mind raced with thoughts of how he could make it happen, what he could do to have you back, even if it was just for a second. he would give anything to look at you, to see the way you smiled, to remember what it felt like to be loved by you. as he approached the bar, his heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and dread. he hadn’t planned on seeing you here, hadn’t even thought it was possible. but as he stepped inside, his eyes scanned the room, and there you were, sitting at the bar, a vision of everything he had lost.

the world seemed to stop for a moment as he took you in. you were beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered, but it wasn’t just your appearance that drew him in. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you seemed to light up the room even when you were sitting there alone. he could see the sadness in your eyes, the way you sipped your drink like it was a lifeline, and his heart ached for you, for the pain he knew he had caused. he wanted to go to you, to say something, anything, but his feet were rooted to the ground. he couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to take that step. what would he say? what could he say that would make any of this better? he had lost his chance, and now all he could do was stand there, watching you, begging the universe for just one more moment.

but the universe was silent, offering him no answers, no solace. all he could do was watch as you sat there, beautiful and sad, and wonder how he had ever let you go. the weight of his regret was crushing, and he knew that no amount of wishing could change what had happened. he had lost you, and now all he could do was live with the pain of that loss. so he stood there, frozen in place, watching you from across the room, the distance between you feeling insurmountable. he didn’t approach you, didn’t say a word. he just watched, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he would never have you the way he once did, that the only thing he could do now was remember, and regret, and wish for things that could never be.

the neon lights of the city danced in the puddles of rainwater, casting an eerie glow across the deserted streets. it was a night much like any other, except for the quiet ache in your chest that had been lingering for months. the rain had picked up just as you stepped out of the bar, the droplets mingling with the tears that had been threatening to spill since the moment you saw jungkook standing by the entrance. the silence between you had been deafening, a cruel contrast to the laughter and shared secrets that once filled the air. now, you found yourself walking in the same direction as him, the cold rain a pitiful excuse for the chills that ran down your spine.

his eyes met yours, a silent question hanging in the air. he offered a tentative smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, and you felt your heart stumble. without a word, you turned and ducked into the nearest alley, the rain a veil hiding your desperate hope that he’d follow. the seconds stretched out like a tightrope between you, each drop of water echoing in the silence until you heard his footsteps approaching.

he stepped into the alley, the rain soaking his dark hair and tracing lines down his cheeks. he looked at you, his gaze intense and searching, as if trying to read the story etched on your face. you took a deep breath, the scent of wet concrete and rain-soaked asphalt filling your lungs, and closed the distance between you. the rain grew heavier, but the only sound you heard was the thundering of your heart, the universe seemingly holding its breath for what was to come.

jungkook reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed the wet strands of hair from your face. his touch sent a jolt through your body, a reminder of the electricity that had once danced between you. his thumb traced the outline of your jaw, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. you leaned into his touch, your own hand finding its way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. it was a silent conversation, a dance of longing and regret that needed no words.

with a soft sigh, you raised your face to his, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. it was a kiss that held the weight of a thousand unsaid i love yous, a silent apology for the time lost and the chances squandered. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the rain continued to pound against the two of you, a cocoon of pain and passion. the alley was a sanctuary for your fleeting reunion, a place where the outside world couldn't intrude.

you both knew it wouldn’t last, that the universe had only granted you this one night to set things right. but for now, you were lost in the warmth of his embrace, the taste of him on your lips, and the feel of his skin against yours. you allowed yourself to believe in the lie that this could change everything, that you could have a second chance. his hands roamed your body, relearning every curve and contour as if trying to burn the memory into his soul. the rain soaked through your clothes, melding you together in a bittersweet symphony of desire and despair.

the night unfolded in a haze of passion, every touch a whispered promise of what could have been. the air grew thick with the scent of rain and the heat of your bodies as you stumbled into his apartment, a silent agreement hanging in the air. the room was dimly lit, the rain now a gentle lullaby against the windows, the only sound the ragged breaths and soft moans that filled the space. you let him lead you to his bed, the softness of the sheets a contrast to the tumultuous storm raging within you.

as you lay together, the storm outside mirroring the one in your hearts, you felt the sting of tears on your cheeks. jungkook kissed them away, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. you didn't speak, didn't dare to break the spell with words that could shatter the illusion. instead, you communicated with touches and sighs, your bodies speaking a language that transcended the limitations of speech. the moments were fleeting, the time slipping away like the rainwater down the drain. you both knew it was just a temporary reprieve from the cold reality that awaited you come morning. yet, as you tangled together, lost in the warmth of his arms, you couldn’t help but cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, the universe had chosen to tip the scales in your favor tonight.

but even as the thought whispered through your mind, the weight of the truth settled in your chest like a stone. the universe had never played favorites, and it wasn’t about to start now. this was just a brief intermission in the grand play of life, a poignant reminder of the love that once was and could never be again. as dawn approached, you lay there, your hearts racing, your bodies slick with sweat and the scent of each other. the rain had stopped, leaving only the quiet hum of the city waking up around you. jungkook's grip on you tightened, as if he could hold onto the moment forever. but the light grew brighter, and the shadows of doubt began to creep in, painting the walls with the harsh strokes of reality.

you knew it was over, that the universe had collected its debt and the bill was now due. you pulled away from him, the cold air hitting your skin like a slap. you dressed in silence, the weight of your clothes feeling heavier than the armor of a thousand warriors. jungkook watched you, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own, his expression a silent plea for you to stay. but you couldn’t. the sun was rising, and with it, the inevitable end to your stolen night. you whispered a goodbye, the finality of the word cutting through the air like a knife. he nodded, understanding in his eyes as you stepped out.

the days stretched out like an endless, monochromatic expanse, each one bleeding into the next with a sense of profound emptiness. the world outside your window seemed to spin on, indifferent to your internal collapse. you found yourself in a state of profound disconnection, where everything once vibrant had faded to gray.

you no longer cried, not because you had run out of tears, but because the depth of your sorrow had become a silent, consuming void. your eyes, once accustomed to weeping, now felt parched and vacant. the tears had dried up, leaving behind a dryness that mirrored the desolation within you. the very act of crying had become a distant memory, a faint echo of the anguish that had once poured forth uncontrollably.

the ache of his absence was now a dull, relentless throb in your chest. you moved through your days with a leaden sense of inertia, your limbs heavy and unresponsive. the bed you once shared with him felt like a vast, hollow expanse. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets cold and uninviting. the warmth of his presence had been replaced by an oppressive chill that seemed to seep into your bones.

you had lost your motivation, the spark that once drove you to engage with the world had flickered and died. the things that used to bring you joy now felt like meaningless rituals. you had no desire to engage with anything—no will to cook, to read, to socialize. the activities that once held meaning now seemed like empty gestures, as though they belonged to a past self you could barely recognize.

every corner of your home seemed to mock you with reminders of his absence. the roses he had given you still stood in their vases, their petals vibrant yet wilting against the muted backdrop of your sorrow. they had become a symbol of your hollow grief, their beauty now tainted by the pain they represented. they, too, had started to wilt. you found yourself unable to touch them, unable to bring yourself to care for them. they were a reminder of what had been lost, and their presence only served to deepen the emptiness.

the moments you had once cherished now felt like fleeting illusions. the memories of his touch, his laughter, his smile—they all seemed like echoes from a distant, unreachable past. they hovered around you, tantalizingly close, yet forever out of reach. the very essence of him had become a temporary fixture in your life, a fleeting warmth that had vanished as quickly as it had arrived. your days blended into a monotonous routine, each one passing in a blur of gray and silence. you moved through your life with an automaton’s grace, performing tasks without passion or enthusiasm. the mirror reflected a face that seemed unfamiliar—hollowed eyes, a wan smile that never quite reached your eyes. the person you saw there was a shadow of who you once were, a shell that had been hollowed out by the weight of your grief.

even as you went through the motions of daily life, your mind was a swirling vortex of despair and disillusionment. you felt disconnected from everything, as though you were observing your own existence from a distance. your body was present, but your spirit seemed to have retreated into a dark, inaccessible corner. the world was a blur of indistinct shapes and sounds, and you struggled to find meaning in anything. in the quiet of your solitude, you found yourself lost in a labyrinth of thoughts that offered no solace. the emptiness was all-consuming, a deep well that seemed to have no bottom. the once vibrant, hopeful person you had been now felt like a distant memory, a ghost of a self that had been irrevocably altered by the loss of him.

jungkook lay in the darkness of his room, the sheets crumpled around him, a silent testament to the upheaval of his emotions. the room was heavy with the scent of you, a lingering fragrance that had become both a balm and a torment. the aroma of you clung to the fabric, a ghostly reminder of a presence now painfully out of reach. he buried his face in the pillow, the soft, familiar scent washing over him like a bittersweet wave, mingling with the dampness of his tears.

his heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, each beat a sharp pang of longing and regret. he clung to the pillow, clutching it as if it were a lifeline, trying desperately to hold onto the remnants of you. the tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, soaking the fabric beneath him. he sobbed into the pillow, his cries muffled but raw, each sound an expression of his overwhelming grief. he could no longer see clearly through his tears, but the darkness of the room seemed to envelop him, pressing down on him with a suffocating weight. your absence was a gaping void that filled the space around him, amplifying his sense of loneliness. the bed, once a place of comfort and shared warmth, now felt like a desolate expanse where he lay alone, adrift in his sorrow.

desperation clawed at him, driving him to a place where he sought to express his pain in ways that went beyond mere tears. his hands, once gentle and loving, now sought a different outlet for his anguish. with a shuddering breath, he pushed himself up from the bed and stumbled to the wall, the dim light casting long shadows that danced with his movements. his knuckles, still raw from previous attempts to subdue his rage, were now red and bruised, but the pain seemed to offer a distorted sense of relief.

he pounded his fists against the wall, the sound of his blows echoing through the room. each hit was not driven by anger but by a profound sadness that had consumed him entirely. he felt the sting of the impact, the dull ache of his knuckles meeting the unforgiving surface. his punches were more of a plea than a fight—a plea to feel something other than the empty ache in his chest, a desperate attempt to make the void of your absence tangible.

the walls bore the brunt of his sorrow, and the small marks left by his fists seemed to mock his attempts to find solace. the physical pain was a poor substitute for the emotional torment, but it was the only thing he could grasp at in his moments of despair. the act of hurting himself became a ritual of sorts, a way to channel the overwhelming sadness that threatened to drown him.

he collapsed back onto the bed, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and his hands, now throbbing with the aftereffects of his self-inflicted blows, rested limply by his sides. the room was silent save for the soft rustle of the sheets and his uneven breathing. he stared up at the ceiling, the darkness above him a mirror of the darkness within. his mind was a whirlwind of fragmented thoughts and memories. He replayed moments with you over and over, each memory a painful reminder of what had been lost. the scent of you on the sheets, once a comfort, now felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of how close yet how unreachable you were. he wished he could reach out to you, to call you and hear your voice, but the reality of your absence was a constant, unyielding presence in his life.

jungkook’s sorrow had transformed into a deep, gnawing depression that consumed every corner of his existence. he felt hollow, his body moving through the motions of daily life with a mechanical detachment. the days blended into a blur, each one marked by a sense of loss and longing. his emotions were a tumultuous sea, and he struggled to find solid ground amidst the crashing waves. every time he lay down, every time he stared at the empty space beside him, the grief would engulf him anew. the scent of you, the lingering touch of your presence, was both a comfort and a torment. he was caught in a cycle of remembering and mourning, unable to escape the pain that had become a constant companion. the bed, the walls, the silence—everything around him seemed to echo the emptiness of your absence, amplifying his despair.

you had spent days entangled in the suffocating grip of despair, every day a struggle to drag yourself through the motions of life. your home, once filled with the remnants of a love that now felt like a distant dream, had become a place where echoes of your pain reverberated endlessly. but as time wore on, there came a moment—a quiet, insistent moment—when the weight of your sorrow began to lift, if only slightly.

the realization that you had been clinging to a fractured ideal of the past started to seep into your consciousness. you began to accept that what you wished for, what you had yearned for so desperately, was not something that could be willed back into existence. the journey to acceptance was not instantaneous; it was a slow, deliberate process, marked by small victories and subtle shifts in your mindset.

you found solace in the mundane details of daily life. you began to notice the subtle beauty in everyday moments—the way the sunlight filtered through your window, the calming rhythm of your breath as you practiced mindfulness, the comforting hum of routine, and the way the godforsaken roses had finally withered away. slowly, you started to feel a sense of security in these ordinary rituals. they were reminders that life, while changed, continued to offer moments of tranquility and purpose.

as you ventured out into the world, your heart began to open up to new experiences. a first date—a simple, unremarkable event—brought with it a feeling of genuine happiness that you hadn't experienced in a long time. it was a tentative, fragile joy, but it was there nonetheless. you allowed yourself to be present, to savor the laughter and the connection, to let go of the lingering shadows of the past. the date was a pleasant surprise, an unexpected gift of normalcy and hope. as you walked hand-in-hand with your companion, you felt a warmth in your chest that had been absent for too long. the world seemed to expand around you, filled with possibilities rather than regrets. you were starting to live again, to feel alive.

at the end of the evening, as you were handed a bouquet of flowers, your heart fluttered with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. the flowers were beautiful, vibrant red roses, their petals soft and inviting. you accepted them with a genuine smile, letting their delicate fragrance mingle with the newfound joy you were experiencing. the sight of the roses, however, didn’t evoke the visceral reaction they once did. instead, they were simply another part of your reality, no longer a symbol of the pain that once defined your days.

what you didn't realize was that jungkook had been waiting nearby, a bouquet of dandelions clutched in his hands. he had hoped to see you, to offer you something that held meaning for both of you. but as he watched from the shadows, his heart sank when he saw you take the roses with such ease, a gesture that seemed to signify a quiet acceptance of a reality that he himself struggled to embrace.

the sight of you with the roses, when he knew how much you had loved dandelions, was a harsh reminder of the chasm that had grown between you. it was a moment that crystallized the harsh truth he had been avoiding—your life had moved on, had found new sources of happiness and meaning, while he remained anchored in the past. the acceptance he had hoped to find in his own heart seemed elusive, overshadowed by the painful reality of watching you embrace a new chapter without him. jungkook stood there, paralyzed by the sight before him. the dandelions in his hand felt like a cruel joke now, a poignant symbol of what could have been. they were meant to be a token of his love, a way to reconnect with the joy you had once shared. but seeing you with the roses, accepting them so effortlessly, made the dandelions seem insignificant, a mere relic of a bygone era.

in that moment, he faced the unyielding truth of his situation: the reality he had been trying to avoid was indeed cruel and unforgiving. his heart ached with a profound sense of loss, but beneath the pain was a new understanding. acceptance was a bitter pill to swallow, but as he watched you with the roses, he began to grasp its necessity. as you walked away with your bouquet, your happiness palpable, jungkook was left alone with his dandelions and the reality that you had found a way to move forward. the once vivid pain of your absence was now tempered by a melancholic acceptance. it was a realization that, no matter how much he wished things could be different, the world continued to turn, with or without him in your life.

the sky was a somber gray, an oppressive expanse that stretched endlessly above you, mirroring the weight that settled heavily on your heart. you stood there, clutching the bouquet of roses in your hands, their vibrant red a definite contrast to the bleak backdrop of the overcast day. the flowers, once symbols of love now transformed into markers of loss, felt heavy and poignant.

you had come to understand something profound in this moment—something that had eluded you for so long. you understood why jungkook had been drawn to these roses, why they had held such a special place in his heart. the roses were undeniably beautiful, their petals velvety and rich, a testament to nature’s ability to create splendor even in the face of hardship. but you also grasped the deeper truth: beauty, as with everything, came at a price. the thorns of the rose were not just physical barriers; they were metaphors for the pain that often accompanied true beauty and love.

as you held the bouquet, you let yourself marvel at the roses’ splendor. each petal was like a delicate brushstroke of crimson on a canvas of green, a fleeting masterpiece of nature. you ran your fingers gently over the petals, feeling their softness, their warmth, and for a moment, you were lost in their beauty. the roses were not just flowers; they were a testament to the complexity of emotions and experiences.

a tear, born from the depths of your sorrow, slipped silently down your cheek. it landed softly on one of the petals, its glistening drop mingling with the rose's vibrant hue. you watched in a kind of mesmerized sadness as the tear traced a slow, shimmering path over the surface of the petal. it was a testament to the pain you felt, yet the flower remained unwavering in its beauty. the tear did not diminish the rose's allure; it merely added to its story, making it all the more poignant.

with careful reverence, you approached jungkook’s grave, the final resting place of the person whose absence had left a void in your life. the roses, now intertwined with your sorrow, seemed to carry a weight that transcended their mere physical presence. you set them gently by his grave, placing them with a tenderness that spoke of your deep, unspoken grief.

the wind stirred, causing the petals to flutter ever so slightly, as if acknowledging the gesture. as you stepped back, you observed the bouquet resting there, a symbol of your enduring affection, and also of your newfound understanding of the delicate balance between beauty and suffering. the roses, despite the tear that marked them, remained beautiful—unblemished in their elegance, a reflection of the love and the pain they represented.

the realization hit you with a cruel clarity: even as the roses symbolized something deeply personal and painful, they also embodied an immutable truth about beauty. it was a truth that jungkook had understood far better than you could have ever realized before. his love for the roses had been an acknowledgment of their dual nature—their ability to captivate and hurt simultaneously.

you stood there, feeling a quiet, aching acceptance. the sky above remained gray, a canvas as muted as the feelings swirling within you. the roses danced in the eind, their thorns seemingly harmless now, their crimson petals vibrant as the wind blew against them. they were beautiful, just as he was. if only they hadn’t withered as quickly as they did. maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have either.

✧.*

a/n: modu uril chyeodabwa

Love ≠ Limerence ̴ TEASER

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 376

Summary: It all started the day when a baby with chubby cheeks and tearful doe eyes stumbled on Y/N and her best friend’s table at the café. It was the day Y/N and the father of the baby’s paths crossed for the first time. Their fates were finally conjoined. As she’s gotten to know him, she thought that he was this sweet, kind, magnificent, gorgeous, sexy- basically the perfect guy. At this rate, they were becoming inseparable. Neither of them expected to get along the way they did. A match made in heaven. Except, little did she know the past of the guy she was slowly and irreversibly falling for, was still haunting him. Whenever he spoke of his ex, she knew he was the partner she’s longed for her entire life. Also how she could never have his heart wholly... Fighting his demons in the meanwhile, will he be able to fall for the girl who’s pretty much made for him or succumb to those demons and lose her altogether?

Release date: TBA

"Don’t lie to me Y/N. While I’m still giving you the chance to explain yourself, so do it. Or else…”

“Or else what Jungkook?” You can’t help but challenge this sudden attitude change of his. He wasn’t really asking you anything, he was expecting you to confess but what, you had no clue. The fact that eyes could tell much more than the words has never been truer. He doesn't have to say anything. Hate, sadness, disgust, disappointment…regret. All of them are right in there. Those eyes hurt more than the words leaving his mouth. And worst of all, you had no idea why this was all happening.

“You need to leave.” You feel your body freeze. You can’t fight back. Everything that’s happening at the moment reminds you of something like a poorly written K-Drama. No storyline, no character development…only plot holes and inconsistent characters. You do want to fight for him but you’re hurt and mad, mostly hurt. You know that you didn’t do anything wrong. And if you did, he didn’t tell you what it was. You had nothing to work with and the situation was beyond unfair. How could he accuse you of hurting the kid you’ve come to love like he was your own? Whenever he took a tumble, a part of your heart ached because he was just too precious for you.

“How could you think for one second that I would willingly harm Jihun?” You say hoarsely, barely a whisper, no fight left in you as the tears stream down your pink cheeks. Never once you've imagined how painful this could be but here you were in excruciating pain. How could he accuse you like that?

“Y/N leave.” His voice slightly wavers. His eyes briefly divert away from yours. His unsure and somewhat devastated guise might’ve sparked a tiny fragment of hope yet still not enough for you to stay. So you don’t. Just before you close the door as you leave, you give him one final look and this time he sees the regret in your eyes. The tug on his heart tells him that he messed up but it’s too late to turn back now. So he just watches the door close, biting down on his chapped lips to keep the tears from falling. It was over and this time, unlike how it was with his marriage, he was to blame...

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

💜💜💜

So I saw you were taking requests, how about writing on this idea that Jungkook is dating someone (they have been dating for a long time) who would always smile and say it's okay whenever Jk misses out on important things of y/n's life, and the boys would constantly hint that jk should give y/n more time. Jk gets super sad once she realises that he might be not making y/n happy anymore. A fluffy ending please. 💓 I hope this isn't too much ...

Mind & Music

Pairing: Composer Jungkook x Academic Female Reader

Genre: Established relationship, Absolutely Filthy Smut, Fluff, Angsty

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it up babes), mentions impregnation

Word count: 10k+

My first fic in ages! Feels good to be writing again~ This in not proofread because I was to excited to be uploading again hahah.

This request has been in my inbox for ages, thank you for being patient anon. Love ya 

Let me know how you guys like it 

- Ryeon <3

He isn’t here. You half expected him not to be. 

Still, you found yourself gazing into the audience half expecting to see that specific mop of black hair. Again, disappointment pulls at your heart as you still don’t find it.  

You hear your name being called and it snapped you out of your disheartening thoughts. You stood up and walked over to the podium and began your speech. 

“Thank you all for coming out today. It’s a privilege to be presented with this award. I am honoured to be standing here in front of you as the youngest recipient of the universities achievement of the decade award. Though I would not have been able to do this without the support and guidance of- “ 

You pause for a moment as you saw familiar smiling faces staring back at you in the crowd. Yoongi and Tae beamed at you from the back of the auditorium. Even from so far away, you could still feel the smiles radiating from their faces. You mirrored their expressions and met their proud grins with one of your own as you continued your speech. Having them here almost made all of your butterflies flutter away. Almost. Cause only the presence of one person could have caused them to disappear completely. 

After the ceremony was over, you rushed out to find your friends. You spotted them stood by the food table munching on some snacks. Your eyes locked with Tae’s first as you ran towards both men and rugby tackled them both into a giant bear hug. 

“Y/N-ah! Please, be careful! You could have knocked over my cucumber sandwich” You rolled your eyes at Taehyung ‘smocking tone. 

“Cucumber? That’s a little bland for you Kim Taehyung”

“First of all, don’t use my government name in public and second of all, it’s the best option this place has to offer. I mean, I get it, it’s Yonsei’s international focused program so it’s going to cater to foreigners but babe, you are in Korea! Where are the spices? Where is the flavour? Where is the taste?” He ranted while wiggling the pale looking sandwich in his hand. You giggled but you couldn’t deny he was wrong. 

“Hey! As a foreigner, I do not claim this cuisine” You retorted. 

“If you say so” Tae rolled his eyes. 

You shook your head at him then turned your attention to the quiet figure next to you. 

Yoongi smiled and held his hand towards you. 

“The youngest recipient of the achievement of the decade award, huh? Very impressive” 

Coming from anyone else, that sentence would have come out as painfully sarcastic but you knew coming from yoongi, it was the highest compliment he could have bestowed on a human being. You completely ignored his attempt at a hand shake and pulled him into a tight hug instead that he gladly accepted. 

Yoongi was the first friend you had made in Korea. You had met on a language exchange app. He was the only guy you had spoken to that hadn’t asked to go ‘eat ramen’ with you, go ‘see his cat’ or ask you to join a cult. But still you carried pepper spray in your bag when you agreed to meet him at the coffee shop because stranger danger is still a thing. It turns out you didn’t need it cause Yoongi was the sweetest guy you had ever met. Blunt as hell but lovely still. You recalled fondly that upon your first meeting that he had told you that your Korean pronunciation was like an elementary school kid. Did it sting? Absolutely. Was it the last time he would say something like that? Absolutely not. But he made sure you improved and got better. He decided midway through your friendship that learning English was ‘too troublesome’ for him. He had made up his mind that listening to you speak English occasionally was the best way to learn…Sure yoongs. 

It was actually Yoongi that introduced you to your boyfriend. Speaking of 

“So where is he?” 

Yoongi’s smile dropped slightly as he absorbed your change in mood. 

“He’s in the studio with Joon. They’re still working on finalising the soundtrack.” 

You forced a smile on your face, sensing the awkwardness in his voice. 

“Ah, its okay! He’s working, I’m happy he at least has a good excuse! If he was at home playing overwatch or something, I would have been super mad” you said hoping your joking tone would mask your disappointment. 

Taehyung chuckled but you know Yoongi could read you like a book. He knew how you really felt. 

“Let’s go! The rest of the guys said they’d be at the bar, right? I want to show them how cute I look in all my graduation gear. Seokjin is going to die of jealousy cause there is no way in hell he looked this good on his graduation” 

“He’s gonna murder you for even insinuating that” Tae gasped in feigned shock. 

“I’d like to see him try” you sang as you skipped in the middle of the two men. You hooked both of your arms in theirs and pulled them towards the exit. 

“There she is!” 

This was the first thing you heard before you were met with a flurry of applause and cheers as you stepped into the bar. 

You saw the gang sat at your regular booths now decorated with pink and white balloons and confetti. The table adorned with gifts and ‘congratulations banners’. Jimin, Seokjin, Hobi and Jennie stood there holding bottles of champaign. You felt your eyes start to well up, completely touched by the kind gesture. 

“Aww you guys” you spoke, voice wavering. 

“Ha! Pay up Seokjin, I told you Y/N would start crying before she even sat down! Thanks Y/N, you just won me 50000 won” Jennie exclaimed.

“No! Technically, she hasn’t cried! No tears have fallen from her eyes. C’mon Y/N keep it together” Jin begged.

“Sorry Jin, I gotta get my girl her money” You replied, blinking hard so the tears would run down your cheeks.

The group erupted in laughter as Soekjin took out his wallet. 

“That’s enough you two. Tonight, is about Y/N. Congratulations sweetheart.” Jimin said as he pulled you into a hug. You accepted his embrace but you found yourself looking over his shoulder to see if your boyfriend was amongst the crowd. He wasn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s about me! And my goal is to be as drunk as possible by the end of the night!” you proclaimed earning you more cheers from the group. Hopefully if you’re drunk, this feeling of disappointment will eventually go away. 

And it does. After 4 shots of soju, 2 vodka lemonades and a weird cocktail concoction Jimin force fed you, you were feeling better than ever. You were on the dance floor with Jennie having the time of your life. That was until you felt arms wrap around your waist. 

Oh hell no. 

You spun yourself around ready to fight whoever in the hell thought they could touch you unprovoked. Before you could administer your first blow, you were met with a pair of beautifully familiar brown eyes. 

There he was. Jeon Jungkook. 

Your fighting stance shifted as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck to envelop him in a warm hold. You inhaled his scent as he began to lovingly plant soft kisses in the crook of your neck. You felt a familiar fire start to burn at the pit of your stomach. His innocent gesture in your drunken state was igniting a reaction in you that you were eager to explore. 

“I’m sorry baby” he whispered in your ear. 

And just like that, the feeling was gone. At those three words your vagina dried up quicker than the Sahara Desert. Cause as quickly as you had forgotten, you were reminded once again that he had let you down again. But could you be mad? He was working. This had been his dream since he was a little kid and they were so close to finalising this project, they just needed to finish to complete some final composition. Could you be mad at him? You decide once again, that you couldn’t. Once again, you put his needs before yours. You pulled away from his shoulder and met his face. You plastered a fake smile on and put on another show. 

“Baby, don’t be silly! Don’t worry about it, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.” 

“Thank you, baby. I’ll make it up to you” 

“I know you will” 

And he did. 

The next day, Jungkook took you out to a beautiful dinner to celebrate your achievement. You loved him and you appreciated the gesture, you always did. But you couldn’t help still feeling hurt. 

You supported Jungkook, you always had and you always would. 

It’s funny to think about how devoted you were to him considering how rocky your fist interaction was.

Jungkook was Yoongi’s roommate. You and yoongi had been friends now for about four months before he finally decided to invite you over to his apartment. You had to say, this made you very nervous because Yoongi had always been such a private guy. You knew enough about him to say that you were friends but he always kept himself to himself. This was a part of him that was refreshing to you, really. He was excellent at establishing boundaries. You’ve never had a friend like that before. He was very mature but also very kind and very sweet. So, when he invited you over to game night with his friends you were ecstatic. It’s finally felt like he let you in and that you became real friends. 

And as excited as you were, you were equally nervous. Yoongi had told you bits and pieces about his friends but he assured you they were all really nice. 

You were still on edge but you assured yourself that you were a pleasant person! You had come out of your shell so much in the last couple of months. Your introverted personality had been spun on its head and you were now someone completely different. The constant support from Yoongi and your advancements in your career had made you feel absolutely unstoppable. 

And isn’t it amazing? How months of character development can be wiped away in 2 seconds. 

As soon as you walked into Yoongi’s apartment, you wished you could walk right back out because the second your eyes met with Jeon Jungkook it was very apparent, he did not like you. Like, at all. 

The boy, who had previously been laughing and talking to his friend, made eye contact with you and completely shut down. The smile fell from his face and his body suddenly became stiff and rigid. He looked at you for a millisecond before tearing away eye contact completely. 

You tried to ignore him. You really did because the rest of Yoongi’s friends were so cool. They made you feel welcome and you felt almost at ease. But still, your consciousness couldn’t help but wonder over to the pale, inked up boy stood in the kitchen dressed in an oversized t-shirt and ripped black denim. 

As much as you tried to ignore it, his coldness didn’t alleviate through the night as you’d hoped. In fact, not only did it not get better; it got worse as the night went on. As everyone kept drinking more and more you felt yourself become a little bolder. What was this guys problem? You haven’t done anything to him, he had no reason to be this hostile to you.

You raised this with Namjoon, another one of Yoongi’s roommates, who assured you that Jungkook was always a little weary of strangers. He was a shy person that had great difficulty adjusting to new people. His advice was to give him time to warm up to you and when you felt ready, try and start a casual conversation. 

But it wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried that. You’d made several attempts through the night to try and speak to him to at least extend the olive branch but each time he refused running away from you as if you had some kind of disease. You were sick of it.

You saw him alone on the balcony a few hours later and realised that this was your chance. You marched up to the doors and slipped out to give this guy a piece of your mind. Hearing the noise behind him Jungkook turned his head to be met with you. Again, panic started to run through his body as he tried to make an escape around you but you would not let him. 

“What is your problem?! What did I do to you why are you so weird towards me? I know Yoongi and Namjoon said that you are very selective with your friends and that’s cool but I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me so much. Fucking hell, we just met today! What could I possibly have done that hurt your feelings so much?!” You yelled at him. Your words slightly slurred. Liquid courage was really on your side tonight cause there was no way in hell sober Y/N could yell at him like this. Especially hear on the balcony, his beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight. And the way the evening breeze ruffled through his dark locks made him look like an actual prince.  

“Woah, where did you get the impression that I didn’t like you?”

Huh?! 

His almost idiotic question quickly snapped you out of your thoughts. Was he being serious right now? Or is he just making fun of you?

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t looked at me the entire night, you haven’t introduced yourself and every time I come over to you to try and get some kind of conversation going you run off. Now tell me why are you doing all of that and not speaking to me like a normal human being !?”

“Because I think you’re pretty! And I’m intimidated by you!”

Eh? 

You remained silent for what felt like forever. Did he really just say that or did you just imagine it? No, there is no way he woul- 

“Jesus Christ, say something! Anything!” He huffed. Now putting the half empty beer bottle to his lips to stop his mouth from humiliating him even further. 

Well, Jungkook thought, if he’s going to humiliate himself may as well fully go for it. 

“You think Yoongi hasn’t told us about you? He’s told us how incredible you are. About how you’re a transfer student at the most prestigious college in Korea. About how you’re on track to be the recipient for the ‘biggest brain ever in the whole century award’ or whatever its called. He made you sound so cool; I was banking on you at least being a little bit of an asshole but again, Yoongi’s stories proved us wrong. He told us about how you willing let a random little girl sit next to you for 2 hours at a café because she wanted to practice speaking to you to improve her English. And if im being honest, the more I heard the more I wanted to meet you but when you came in today, looking as fucking beautiful as you do. Which Yoongi coincidentally forgot to mention which is funny cause he mentioned every- fucking -thing else. When you came in…”

He paused and let out a sigh. Breathing for what seemed like the first time since beginning his outburst. 

“…When you came in, I realised how far away from me you were. And I dint have any business even speaking to you. We wouldn’t have anything in common and it would make me realise how inadequate I actually am”.

There was a pause again. Slowly, you began to let out a small giggle. Your small giggle quickly erupted into a full-bodied belly laugh. Your stomach began to hurt and your eyes began to water. You had to lean on the balcony door for support as you surely felt you would pass out. 

During your breakdown, Jungkook could only stare at you his head tilted to the side like a confused bunny. His eyes fell to the floor as your laughter pierced him like a knife and was the cherry on top of his mortification. 

“And you think Yoongi hasn’t told me about you, Jeon Jungkook?” You asked as your laughter subsided. 

“Jeon Jungkook, the musical prodigy. The Jeon Jungkook that could play the piano before he could even walk. The Jeon Jungkook that everyone refers to as the Golden Maknae because you’re so good at everything. Your friends are very vocal about not just your talents in your field but also socially. Apparently, you’re the reason you guys even exist as a friend group. You were the one to make friends with each of them and bring them all together. Do you know how impressive that is?! But I’m intimidating cause I’m a little smart and I’m not mean to children? You are something else Jeon Jungkook.” 

Jungkook paused again. A chuckle escaped his mouth as his laughter then began to mimic yours. You joined him again as both of you stood on the balcony laughing with or at each other. You must have looked like maniacs but at the time both of you were too buzzed to care. 

Either way, this broke the ice between both of you as you were both able to bypass each other’s extensive achievements and finally got to know each other as people.

You’ll never forget that night. You and Jungkook sat on that balcony from 10pm to 7am, long after the others had left or gone to bed. Just talking about anything and everything until you both reached a comfortable silence.

And as the sun was rising, welcoming a brand-new morning you nudged Jungkook’s hand. His head lazily turned towards yours and he met you with a dimpled smile. 

“For what it’s worth” You smiled back. 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

That was 5 years ago and you and balcony boy have been inseparable ever since. You had now been there for every single important moment in each other’s life. Well…Almost.

3 years ago, Jungkook and Namjoon got the opportunity to produce a music score for a short film. Despite the films small budget, it managed to exceed all expectations and ended up getting nominated for a golden globe! You were ecstatic and so fucking proud of him. You felt like his talents and hard work were finally getting realised.

Little did you know it would be a bittersweet moment for yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Naturally as more eyes were on the film, more ears were listening to the soundtrack. This had your boyfriend pulled off to here there and everywhere in front of directors and movie studios all interested in investing in the musical duo. And finally they had been hired to compose an entire score to a new movie for a huge studio! This movie in particular, Jungkook had begged and pleaded for. He said the scrip and film premise really spoke to him and were perfect and he needed to compose this movie. This was such a huge deal for them and again you were over the moon. But there were downsides. During the first year after their debut you saw Jungkook 10 times that whole year. You spoke almost every day but almost every conversation ended in an argument. It was either and argument about you feeling neglected or him not feeling supported and it sucked. It really took a toll on both of you. 

The second year was much better. This time for a bit more of a selfish reason. The film studio had its own recording studio in Seoul only a 20-minute walk from yours and Jungkook’s apartment! He was finally able to be home more and you could actually spend time together. And so you did. 

Honestly, the first 6 months Jungkook was back home all you guys did was fuck. It was constant and almost none stop. You fucked in every room of the house at all hours of the day. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other. 

There was a day you both decided to take a break from having sex and just play some video games together. It took you both all of 5 minutes before sonic was long forgotten about and you were bent over the sofa. 

It was very romantic really. But even that joy was short lived. 

Jungkook prioritised his art. That was one thing you’d always respected and admired about him. Even the way he talked about music that wasn’t his, he painted the emotions of the music into words to explain to you the way a piece made him feel. He could describe to you in detail the way the crescendos bend in the moments before it’s about to fall. About how the vibrations of the violins is the most romantic sound ever to grace the human consciousness. He was an artist through and through. His music was him and he was his music. They were one and could not be separated. But that raised a question for you:

Where did you fit in? 

This is what made the dinner you were on now very melancholic. It was to make up for him missing your award acceptance. 

He was sorry. You knew he was but you couldn’t ignore that this was your forth make up dinner this year: First was your birthday, second was your anniversary, third was dinner with your parents (that they had specifically flown out to Korea for) and the forth was the award. The award he knew you were on track to get before he’d even met you. The award you’d poured your heart into getting and the one you’d sacrificed so much for. But he was sorry, right? Plus, he had promised to make it up to you. Next week your professor had invited you to the university to give a special lecture to other projected recipients of the award you’d just achieved. It was a high honour as these students were the best and the brightest students from countries all over the world and of all the recipients to give the lecture, they had requested you! There have been recipients before you that had gone on to win Nobel Peace Prizes but they had specifically requested you. And Jungkook was so proud of you.

“Are you okay, little mouse? You seem a little quiet tonight”. Jungkook asked, genuine concern apparent on his face. 

“I’m just thinking bunny boy.”

“About me?” He winked at you, almost cartoonishly. 

“Bunny boy, how can you cross my mind if you never leave it” you winked back at him with the same playfully cartoonish obnoxiousness. 

“Ooh that’s going on my list” 

For the past 5 years of your relationship Jungkook has been keeping a list of things you say to him that makes him smile. This list has always confused you cause it would always be the silliest stuff. Once, when he was sleeping, you went and snooped through his notes app just to see this list and you couldn’t believe it. You were expecting the most romantic phrases or compliments that fluffed his ego but instead, the top three (out of four thousand!) were:

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home” 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

You woke him up immediately to ask about it. But his only defence was they were phrases you said that make him smile. You’re understanding of his list was ‘irrelevant’ to him. 

God, you loved him. 

“You’re so silly. But seriously Kookie; don’t worry, I’m good. Plus, you’re the one who’s been talking my ear off all night. I’m surprised you’ve even noticed me being quite” You quipped playfully, taking a sip of your wine. 

“Ooh, someone’s feisty tonight. I forgot what red wine does to you” He quipped back; eyebrows now raised highlighting the metal bar that accented it. 

God, he was cool.

“How could you forget? The first time we met I was wine drunk” 

“Ah yes, how could I forget. You get very mouthy off of red wine. Don’t worry, I know how I can put that mouth to good use” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” You yelled at him in a whisper.  Eyes darting around to see if anyone had heard your boyfriends lewd comment. Luck for you the other couples around you’re were too infatuated with their partners to even notice you guys. 

“Well, while were in pubic, put that mouth to better use and tell me about your day” he said, now leaning back in his chair. 

“Well, my day was pretty calm actually. It makes a change. I was walking Ban and bumped into Holly and Yoongi. We were talking about next week and he asked if he could bring a plus one. Wink, wink” 

“A plus one! Is Yoongi dating?! In the 12 years I’ve known the guy he has never shown romantic interest in anyone. I can’t even imagine his type. Did he give you any information”?! 

“Nah, you know how he is. Yoongi will only let you know what he wants you to know” 

“True. What’s going on next week?” 

You paused for a second and started chuckling. He was kidding. He had to be. 

The smile then fell from your face when he didn’t share in your laughter. 

“Oh my god you’re serious? You forgot about my lecture”?!

He gasped and began coughing as the bite of steak he had just put into his mouth had just gone down the wrong pipe.

“Of course not baby, how could I forget something so important to you” he continued to splutter. 

You stared back at him. The good mood you had felt a moment ago had completely evaporated. You waited for him to gain his composure so he could explain himself cause boy he had some explaining to do. 

“Just for giggles and fun and jokes, what date is your lecture again?” 

“The fifteenth” you said, shortly. 

His face fell and his eyes stayed stuck on his plate.

“Baby…Please don’t hate me. That’s the night we have the final run through of the soundtrack with the director. I can’t miss that…I’m so s- “

“You’re so sorry. Im sure you are.” You stood up. 

You grabbed your purse and you stormed out away from him. You could hear him calling your name but the burn of your throat as you fought back the tears overpowered his calls. 

How could he? No, how could you? How could you ever expect anything different. You will always be second to his first love and that was a pain you had to learn to live with. 

The moment you left the restaurant and the cold air of the night hit your face you decided to just let the tears fall. You sobbed as you walked further and further away from him. 

You heard the rhythmic pounding of laced up docks hitting the pavement behind you. 

“Y/N please I’m sorry. Just let me explain…”

“No! There is nothing you could say that would fix this! I have always been there for you! I have supported you from the very beginning! Every piece of music you have ever played for me I have cherished as if it were my own and you used to support me too! At my first presentation you were there. Cheering at the top of your lungs in a silent room. You used to be my number one cheerleader but now when all I ask of you, is to just show up? You can’t do it. And every chance I give you to fix it. You let me down. Jungkook, I need some time away from you. I’m going to be staying with Yoongi for a few days”. 

You said nothing more. You spun around and walked the 2 minutes to Yoongi’s apartment. And true to your word you stayed with them till the day before your lecture. 

Despite being a creative Jungkook worked like clockwork. Every single day at the same 3 times a day Jungkook would try to call you. The call was always followed by an ‘I love you’ text but today was different. After the second call of the day the text that followed said:

“I know this is such a fucking reach and such a huge ask but would you mind swinging around our apartment today at around 3? Director Anderson would like to speak to you. I know you probably still need your space so I’ll be in the apartment but I’ll be in the bedroom. I’ll come out only when you’ve left, I promise. Please come” 

He really had some fucking nerve. That ‘please come’ at the end of his text almost sent your blood boiling. 

“You should talk to him,” said a familiar voice. 

Your turned your whole body around on the sofa so Yoongi could see your eyes roll at his suggestion. 

“Yoongs, I feel like it shouldn’t be me your having this conversation with. You should try telling him not to break commitments to people” 

“Oh I have! That’s why I’m telling you, you need to speak to him. I know it’s none of my business but I think you guys just need to talk it out. And even if you don’t have anything to say, at least hear the boy out” he finalised before turning on his heels and heading back into his room. 

That wasn’t the speech you were expecting but it did calm you down enough to re-read Jungkook’s text. Your boiling rage had now been replaced with intrigue and curiosity. The meeting was requested by the director of the film? This was very unusual. You had heard about the director in passing but you had never spoken directly before. But you had decided that you were going to go. You we determined to look the man who practically stole your boyfriend for years in the face and lecture him about respecting his colleagues work/life balance! Plus it will be good practice for your lecture tomorrow. Two birds, one stone. 

It would be an absolute lie to say that you weren’t missing Jungkook. You knew the apartment would smell like him and you hoped you may be able to swipe one of his t-shirts to sleep in before you leave. 

You ubered over to your apartment and stood before the oak front door feeling oddly nervous. To took a shaky breath and inserted the passcode: 8008135 (you and Jungkook were children at heart cause you both laughed for hours after agreeing upon the code).

Upon hearing the beeping of the lock to confirm the door was unlocked you pushed it open. You stepped in, removed your shoes and couldn’t help the solemn smile that crept onto your face. Jungkook’s scent hit you as soon as you entered the room. 

God, you missed him. 

You strode inside and were met with a recognisable figure sitting upright on your sofa. His back stood tall and his hair was a mousy brown colour. It was so bizarre seeing him here. There was an uncanny feeling, seeing this man you knew but had never met sat in your living room.

He must have felt you staring at him because his head soon whipped around. 

“Y/N. So nice to finally meet you.” He stood up and walked over to you shoving his hand out towards you. You shook it hesitantly. His hands were cold and clammy but his eyes were warm. He was tall and chubby but he wasn’t foreboding, in fact he seemed rather friendly Damnit. You wanted him to be an asshole, it would have made telling him what was on your mind so much easier. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr Anderson” you said as coldly as you could muster. 

“Mr Anderson is so formal, just call me James. Although its strange. We’re meeting for the first time but it feels as if I have already met you” His German accent becoming more apparent as he spoke. 

“And why is that?”

“Ah, that is why I asked Jungkook to invite you over. Although it does feel strange extending you an invitation to your home” he chuckled to himself. 

He invited you to sit down on the couch, it was only then that you noticed a laptop connected to your TV. 

“What’s all this?” you asked. Genuinely curious. 

“I have a little something for you to watch. It may make explaining why I asked you hear a little more apparent. Please, have a seat my dear” he guided you to the sofa as you plopped yourself down. Eyes glued to the screen. 

You anticipated what would happen next when a familiar tune began to play. You knew it was Jungkook’s composition as soon as you heard it. Suddenly an animated mouse popped up on the screen. She was in the wings of a stage, obviously nervous but she strolled out into the spotlight in front of a stoic audience of other animals. Just as she was about to speak there was suddenly a loud whooping from the crowd that interrupted the slow score. It was a bunny. A bunny with banners and whistles and confetti and he was cheering for her. The others in the audience told him to be quite but he exclaimed ‘That’s my girlfriend’ still as proud as can be. 

The trailer played on and you slowly started to get it. It was you. This little mouse was you. Tears welled up in your eyes as yours and Jungkook’s entire relationship began to play in front of you. All your highs and your lows. It was beautiful and the accompaniment of his music made the tears pour from your eyes until it was over. 

You turned back to James and attempted to speak but only blubbers could come out. 

“Let me explain Y/N. When Jungkook and Namjoon came out to LA to play some stuff for the studio the only thing the boy would speak about, other than music, was you my dear. Jungkook and I sat for hours speaking about you. He told these elaborate stories about how you met, who you are and about the adventures you got into together. It was indeed very fascinating to me, you almost seemed like a heroine in his very own story. He bragged about your achievements almost as if they were his own. According to him, you are the smartest woman on the planet my dear and he would not be told otherwise. Oh, congratulations on the achievement of the decade award! And the youngest recipient at that? Incredible work my dear, just incredible. Jungkook went into great detail about what a huge deal that was. Needless to say the day after the networking event I went home and began writing the script for ‘Mouse & Bunny – Mind & Music’. I had just never seen someone so passionate about another person. His passion for you far outweighs his passion for his craft, that much was apparent, it was awe inspiring and I had to bring It to the screen. I think that is why Jungkook fought so hard to be the lead composer for the soundtrack. He wanted to intertwine the two loves of his life”. 

You sat there in complete shock for a moment before jumping into James’s arms and engulfed him into a hug. His moustache tickled your shoulder as he chuckled and said he was happy to have cleared things up. As he packed up his laptop, he was asking you so many questions, probably attempting to confirm the validity of Jungkook’s stories: 

“Did you really fight a microwave” 

“I most certainly did” 

“Did you really use protein powder as flour for a cake?” 

“I most certainly did” 

“Did you really not know the earth went around the sun?” 

“That son of a-… no comment” 

He snorted as he packed up the last of his things. You walked him to the door but he turned to you before saying his final goodbyes. 

“Y/N, it seems wrong for me to give the final approval for the soundtrack. I’ve heard it and I know it’s the most beautiful accompaniment to the film but it seems only fitting that the muse gets to give the final say so. Take the afternoon to listen to it and pass your notes to Jungkook. If you like it, I’ll approve it. So there should be no need for my originally planned final listen tomorrow. Jungkook seemed like he wanted to attend something much more important tomorrow anyway” He winked at you as he closed your door. 

You didn’t even wait for the door to fully shut before you were sprinting to your shared bedroom.

The pitter patter of your bare feet slapping the wood floor could almost not be heard over the beating of your heart. You bust open the door to see the love of your live leaning over his piano. 

You must have given him such a fright as his big boba eyes were the first to greet you. 

“Y/N I-“

You crashed your lips onto his, completely cutting him off. 

“I am the stupidest person in the world.” 

Jungkook laughs, standing up beside you. 

“No little mouse, why do you say that” he said with a soft smile while he caressed your tear-stained face. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t just ask! I’m so- “

“Even if you asked, I probably wouldn’t have told you. I wanted things to be a surprise. But baby, first I needed to apologise, like really apologise” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for” 

“Yes, I do. Ever since I met you, you brought light into my world. I wanted to express to you my love in the best way I knew how and this project, to me, was the best way for me to put into the world how I felt about you. But I was selfish, I took my expression of love and put it above all the things I knew you had work so hard to achieve. In a way, I put my love above yours and I will forever be sorry and I can assure you, it won’t happen again. I love you Y/N L/N” 

You reward his confession with another kiss, pulling him into your arms soon after. 

you sighed, almost longingly. “Whatever shall I do with my bunny boy?” 

“Whatever shall I do with my little mouse?” Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear, drawing soothing circles on your hip. 

He gently placed you down against your mattress. You clung to him and giggled  

You stay quiet, appreciating the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. 

God, he smelled good. 

“Okay,” he purrs, caressing your hip as he repositioned himself more securely. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh? A week away? It felt more like a lifetime” You nodded in response. Terrified that if you spoke, your voice would fail you.

Jungkook shifted, the hand that was previously on your hip swiftly fell over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my smart girl?” he hums as his hand slipped between your thighs. “My smart, pretty, intimidating girl?” 

Your eyes flutter closed and you revel in the feeling of him running his fingers over the front of your panties. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure.

“Ah,” you hissed.

“Hmm?” he says, mouthing against the crook of your neck. His mouth feels so warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “My smart girl doesn’t have anything smart to say?” 

“N-No,” you tried to scoff back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands were getting braver now as he slipped his hand beneath your waistband, and touched your wet heat head on. “Baby.”

Jungkook chuckled at your immediate submission for his touch and took the opportunity to connect his mouth back you yours. You whimpered in surprise, legs trembling as he gets to work circling your hardening bud. Your thighs are squirming, clenching around his hand every few moments. 

You bit down a whine. “I was just…” you trailed off as he teased his index and middle fingers against your opening. 

“Just what baby? Just thinking?” he said as he finally pushed himself off of you and propped himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze became a familiar dark. He moved at a godlike speed as he snatched his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs. 

Jungkook pulled away from you and rolled his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins pulling off his shirt. You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him. 

He threw his shirt off to the side of the bed, his sleeve of tattoos that wrapped around his bicep and crawled down his chest were wonderfully free now. “My eyes are up here, little mouse” he said and your eyes immediately shot back up to meet his gaze. He leaned towards you, muscled arms coming to cage you in against the headboard. 

“No one is looking at your eyes bunny boy” you attempted to quip back. Completely failing to mask the tremor in your voice. Jungkook always had a way of making you feel powerless under his gaze when he was on top of you like this. 

His hand grabbed beneath your knee and yanked you unforgivingly until you were slumped down onto your back with a squeak. You settled with his knee pressed directly against your core. Jungkook stayed towering over you. 

He placed his hand gently around the base of your neck as he leaned in to properly grind his thigh into you. “Is that right? No one’s looking at my eyes, huh?” he murmured darkly, thumb pressing a little harder into the side of your neck. You sobbed, soaked panties rubbing roughly against his leg. 

“Are you gonna touch me?” you interrupted, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook pursed his lips together in thought. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Not too sure yet.”

You whined. “Jungkook, please,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckled, running his hand up your waist and taking your dress with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouthed at your neck. “Cute,” he cooed. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You trembled, chest heaving into him as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gulped. “You just do it better.” Jungkook followed your admission with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

You mewled in response, determined not to give him the satisfaction of answering his question. Cause you both new the answer was yes. He made you cum so much better than you could.

“Remove your clothes for me...” he whispered gruffly yet sweet as he pulled himself from you. 

You hurriedly removed the rest of your clothes you caught Jungkook’s mouth falling open in awe at the semi-nude sight of you before him. After finally removing your bra and panties, you threw them to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you observed how he licked his lips shamelessly as he took in the view of your beautifully perky nipples that drove him absolutely insane. You looked into his deep eyes, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth and Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from palming his cock over the confinements of his pants – watching you get worked up just for him. 

“Are we that type of couple, Jungkook?” you whispered his name sweetly as you slowly climb on top of him. You straddled him, pushing your breasts flush against his chest.

“Which type are you referring to?” he murmured back as his hand moved back to between your thighs – feeling the damp patch of your essence now overflowing. You felt his cock pulsate in anticipation.

“The ones who have an argument, then have angry make up sex?” you giggled as you began pressing soft, delicate kisses along his neck. Jungkook’s eyes shut tightly as he felt your teeth nip at him – causing a breath of air to leave his lungs while you began sucking on his skin – leaving your mark on him. The next thing you knew, Jungkook pulled your mouth away from his neck and flipped you over. He was now hovering over you and began continuing on you what you had started on him

“Jungkook...” you let his name occupy your mouth and your thoughts as he suckled on your skin – alternating between kissing you, biting you and dragging his teeth further south to your boobs.

“Let us see how much of a good girl you can be for me...” you suddenly felt his breath dangerously close to the mound between your legs, before his hands began kneading and gripping at your ass-cheeks. Jungkook moved his face right into you – just shy of his nose touching your folds from behind as he took in your sweet scent. He wanted to devour you whole – but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to hear you beg and plead for your own pleasure and release. You trembled at the contact of his index finger running along your slippery lips, feeling it hastily stroke your bud before he pulled it back down again – repeating the same action over and over.

 Jungkook smirked at the noises coming from you; whimpers of frustration, want and need. He knew you were like putty in his hands with the way your lewd wetness heavily coated his finger; and he would have wanted it no other way.

“Please Jungkook...please stop teasing me – I need you so fucking badly I – “you rolled your head to the opposite side – placing your blazing cheek against the pillow in an attempt to extinguish the apparent fire that was burning your entire face. You knew he was making you wait for it – and you both simultaneously loved and hated it in a hundred different ways. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, along with moans of satisfaction as his tongue continued to explore every inch of you. The scandalous sounds from his tongue and his lips filled the room as he continued to consume you. 

“I’m so close Jungkook – fuck...” you moaned a string of further curses as he sped up his movements – his finger now wiggling heavily over your clit as his tongue probed you even deeper than before.

“Are you really?” he hummed, slowing his pace as you whined in response. “Hmm...I can’t have you coming undone on me just yet little mouse...where’s the fun in that? Plus, I had to wait a whole week for you to come back. Do you think I would let you cum so quickly?” he grinned coyly as he moved away from you – licking the remainder of you off his lips as you damn near cried out in anger at being denied your orgasm when it was seconds away.

God, he’s such an asshole. 

“You can cry and whine all you want...but you’re not getting anything unless I think you deserve it; do you understand me, baby?” he cooed with the heaviest form of sarcasm you had ever heard as he began coating his erection with your wetness – giving himself a few strokes as he smirked and watched you squirm in defeat underneath him. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, before turning onto your stomach as fast as you could to avoid his arrogant gaze. 

As you laid faced away from him, all you could feel was the thick width of his cock resting between your cheeks as Jungkook took it upon himself to slowly grind himself into you – giving him the minimal amount of pleasure and you the maximum amount of excruciating frustration.

“Yes! I understand...please...I’ll do anything, please!” you shamelessly pleaded – hearing the desperation in your own voice as you moved your ass backwards into him. Jungkook chuckled before he began sprinkling light kisses the whole way up your spine – the fleeting feeling of his lips leaving damp patches on your skin being enough to make it feel like he was burning you with desire for more of him.

“Good girl” Jungkook praised you – letting you feel the tip of his cock resting just on top your drenched entrance. And – without warning, he quickly eased himself in as far as he could go; hearing you let out breathy moans and whimpers as he pressed deeper.  

“Louder” he commanded as he leaned back – looking down to view his member leave your tight walls – much to both of your displeasures. “I want the entire world to know who’s fucking your pussy like this right now” he slammed back inside you, feeling your slickness engulf him as your screams filled the room. 

“That’s it Y/N, that’s my good girl” Jungook growled as he began pounding you into you at an unforgiving pace. You cried and sobbed feeling his cock reach deeper inside you with each time his skin smacked against yours. Jungkook relished in the look of your ass every time it bounced off his lower abdomen as he continued pummelling into you mercilessly – when he saw your hand reach back to try and hold his. Knowing that you needed to feel the security of his grasp, Jungkook leaned over your back and laced his fingers with yours – giving you fast, deep strokes of his cock while you felt it slam against your precious nerves inside you. Jungkook knew you were already on the verge of letting go from the way your voice got louder and higher – along with your walls constricting around his member so tightly that he had to almost hold his breath to not finish before you.

“Cum for me – you earned it sweetheart, let go and let me hear your beautiful voice” he cooed into your ear. And, like his words were the only thing that could set you free, you came hard around him while you closed your eyes tight as you felt your orgasm pour out of you. Jungkook coaxed you through your cries of ecstasy as he slowed his thrusts down – still keeping their depth while his groans harmonised with your own voice in the wake of your pleasure. And, just as quickly as it came, your high left your body – leaving you slumped face down into the pillow with no will to do much else other than breathe. You felt Jungkook slowly slide out of you – feeling the emptiness he left behind while he began pulling you up and back into his chest, his hands then roaming over every inch of your skin he could find.

“Did that feel good, baby?” he purred, nibbling on the bottom of your ear and letting you know that he was still standing to attention with the way his member pressed into your ass. You let out an airy chuckle, still not able to maintain a coherent train of thought.

“Mmhm” you hummed, reaching behind you to let your hand rest on the back of his neck, letting your fingers get lost in his hair as Jungkook dotted your neck with kisses once more.

“I can’t get enough of you – no matter how much you give me, no matter how much I take...” he murmured on top of your skin, making you shiver from head to toe and smile from ear to ear.

“What are you waiting for then, bunny boy?” you replied, turning around to him and coming face to face with his dark hooded eyes. “I want you to take more...take me, Jungkook” you mewled as Jungkook’s hands began caressing all his favourite parts of you – your hips and the tops of your thighs included. 

You swapped positions and you positioned yourself on top him. As you did, Jungkook quickly pulled his legs underneath your bottom before crossing them below you, while you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist so that you were both in a sort of Lotus Flower position. You looked down, seeing his head perfectly level with your tits as he began kissing and nipping at your hardened nipples – making you reel from the sensitive sensation that coursed through you. You observed his hand as it slipped underneath you – grabbing a hold of his pulsating member and angling it right before your welcoming entrance once again.

“Baby...aren’t you forgetting something?” you questioned immediately in reference to the fact that he was about to enter you whilst you both found yourself in the most romantic baby-making position known to man. Jungkook shook his head as he looked up into your eyes, his stare completely melting you from the inside out.

“I want to feel you when I cum inside you...I want to make you mine in every way possible...will you let me?” his husky voice travelled to every single part of your soul as you let your mouth hang agape. 

“But – what if...you know?” you replied, wondering how he felt about the most obvious thing that could happen from not using protection. 

“You have nothing to worry about, Y/N” he whispered softly, feeling himself press against your small opening as the tip of his cock became engulfed by your slick tightness. “’If it happens, it happens. I would want no other woman to mother my children” you both let out an intense moan in turn as he pushed his way inside you. When Jungkook thought about you carrying his first child and bringing the product of your love into the world; with him becoming a father and you becoming a mother, it filled him with delicate feelings of paternal happiness he knew he could never feel with anyone else but you. 

You bit your lip hard as you rolled your hips at a rhythmical pace into his – feeling every inch of him curving inside you. Jungkook placed one hand below your bottom, while cradling your back with his free arm as a means to let you set the pace of your love making, but still letting him have full control over your every movement. You felt wave after wave of pleasure strike you as your clit moved flush against Jungkook’s body that was tight against yours; and your moans continued to spill from your lips as he looked up into your face – his eyes full of life and love as he seemingly peered right into your soul. In contrast to Jungkook’s way of asserting himself over you just moments ago, you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he let his mouth hang open – panting and groaning at the feeling of pleasure from being inside you and so close to you.

“I love you...so much, Jungkook” you managed to speak – feeling your body almost grow limp from having little to no energy left as you felt your sweat drip down your temples. Sensing your exhaustion, Jungkook helped you lay down on your back to the bed – keeping himself still lodged inside you as he rested himself between your legs. His thrusts were slow, deep and meaningful as he pressed his forehead to yours and took your hands in his – pinning them to the bed while he felt your pulse rocket as he pushed you once again to your second orgasm of the evening. You felt like the entire world was spinning as you attempted to moan and writhe in fulfilment – but unfortunately, no sound left your mouth as you produced a silent cry in the wake of Jungkook’s pleasure-filled stokes that reached deeper and deeper within you.

“And I... I love you Y/N” Jungkook’s lips found yours for the millionth time as he felt himself twitch inside of you – his entire seed mixing with your juices as he came deep within you. He tensed every single one of his muscles, letting you swallow each of his moans as he slowed down gently.

“I’m so happy that you’re mine...” he almost whimpered as his movements ceased – before letting himself collapse on top of you, resting his head in the crook of your neck while you raised your arms up and over his back to hug him even closer to you.

“And I’m so happy that you’re mine, too” you kissed the top of his head – still feeling his cock buried inside of you as you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

Jungkook raised his head a fraction to look at you – his appearance both thoughtful and endearing as he held on to you. “I really am sorry Y/N. I never want you to feel like your aren’t a priority to me” he blinked gently as you continued to listen to his heartfelt, post love making thoughts.

“I know” you replied quietly, tracing the muscles along his back with your fingers. “And I’m sorry too. I guess we both just need to communicate a little better”.

“My Y/N – You are my world. You – you are my everything. I used to not understand what people meant when they said that to someone they loved, because before you – I thought music was my only love. But every day I spend with you, you give me a hundred more reasons to adore you. I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that.”

You felt yourself well up at his words of endearment. He really was your world and you now knew for a fact that you were his too. 

“Ooh, I forgot to say” you interrupted yours and Jungkook post love making silence. 

“James said I could approve the soundtrack for our film” 

Jungkook smiled to himself upon hearing you refer to it as your film. 

“If that’s what James said, who am I to undermine the director.” He declared. 

“The songs are on my phone in the Media Folder but im gonna hop in the shower while you listen. Cause it will break my heart if you don’t like them” he chuckled, half joking half serious. 

“I know im going to love them babe. But you go and take your shower, I’ll be right here when you come out”. 

He left with a smile. 

You scrolled through his phone to find the music files and tears began to fill your eyes once again as you read the tracklist: 

“I’d fight a microwave for you”

“You smell like home” 

“I think you’re pretty and I’m intimidated by you too” 

And the list went on. It was his list. His list of your phrases that made him smile. Before you could even finish reading the tracklist, you ran to the shower you embrace your bunny boy and show him for a second round how much you loved him. 

Although, if you had taken just a few moments to read the tracklist, Jungkook is sure you would have loved the last song on the soundtrack. It was the only title that wasn’t you contribution, it was his: 

12. “I hope she’ll marry me”

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Hope ya'll enjoyed it! My requests are open, feel free to send em across :)