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Modern Fantasy Dwarf Headcanons #1

Dwarves flock to mountain ranges and usually build their capitol in the largest mountain of that range. Though they prefer the company of other dwarves it is not uncommon to find dwarves in mining towns/former mining towns. There is no safer mine than a dwarven mine as they follow regulations strictly and efficiently, unwilling to risk the life of a single worker lest production go down. 

Be warned though! If a human works alongside dwarves for any extended amount of time the dwarves closest to them tend to adopt the human families into their own whether the humans in question likes it or not. This caused quite a bit of trouble in the past though not as much as it does in the present. 

Dwarves who adopt human families into their own have a tendency to simply take the children of the family (especially those of the human extended family) that aren’t being treated right. This has caused some strain between the communities as this is protected under dwarven law but illegal under human law. Most disputes end up in a mixed race court. Only one dispute has ended up going all the way to the High Council, The Copperbeard Clan vs The Herring Family. (The main reasoning being that the claiming dwarf was still rather young herself). The case is the most recent and set up a wobbly law stating that one member of the human family must contend that the minor would be safest with the claiming dwarf. Despite its more volatile nature as a law it has held strong since its establishment in 1982. 

Modern Fantasy Headcanons #1

While its more common in wealthier private schools, children can choose to take a nonhuman language. In recent years some forms of elvish are slowly being introduced into public education as an elective and most students can choose to take nonhuman history if they wish to learn more about other creatures beyond The Fae Wars. 

However, mixed schools have shown that a surprising number of children will pick up on each others languages and learn them that way. This has caused quite a few calls home when a student uses a bit of slang that a teacher is not familiar with and is assumed to be something insulting (this- rather interestingly- only seems to be the case in a half of the situations). In some cases children, especially younger ones, have no idea they are learning a different language at all. 

Some schools with a student mentor program find putting two different races together leads to the older teaching the younger their language for easier communication. A desertion piece by Dr. Lightfoot called ‘Why Your Children Talk The Way They Do’ goes further in depth on the subject of shared languages amongst children and teens. 

When asked why the children started learning a nonhuman language the answers ranged from ‘to communicate more fluidly’ to ‘enjoying the sound of it’. 

Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

Breathe: For The Reunion | PJM

For the @bangtanscenery​ - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Jimin’s curse is broken, allowing him to return to his own time. But there is a sense of emptiness that lingers inside of him as he readjusts to his former life. Just as things start to make sense again, he’s greeted by a face he’s longed to see once more.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: time-slip!au | modern fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | fluff

Pairing: Park Jimin x Female OC (Brianna Larkins)

Warnings: Mild language, mental health issues, implication of curses/magic

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 8.2K

AN: Well, we finally made it here guys. We made it and now I'm sad that it's over. But I'm also happy I made it this far. I never imagined I would write a story like this and now that I have, I want to incorporate time-slip themes every chance I get. LOL. Thank you all for who has followed and loved this story. And thank you to those who will stumble across this in the future. You're awesome and you are loved.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Yo, Jimin! Stop spacing out and come on!”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin followed behind the others as they made their way up a large, grassy hill. Spring was in full force and his allergies were acting up. He didn’t want to come out there in the first place. The countryside was nice, but only when he had the time to spare to enjoy it. Assignments were piling up now that he was about to finish Grad School. His friends were insistent that he take a break before he burnt himself out. Jimin didn’t mind the burn out. It meant he was putting his whole heart into something.

Trekking up the mountain, however, felt like a colossal waste of his time.

“Jimin Hyung, you’re too slow!” yelled Taehyung as he motioned for him to hurry up.

Jimin scoffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, clambering up the hill. Out of the seven of them, he was lagging behind. Mostly because he was in no real hurry to get to their destination. He wasn’t the superstitious type, but he indulged his friends every once in a while.

Hence why they were making this trip up the mountain in the first place.

“The house isn’t going anywhere, Taehyung-ah,” he called back, adjusting his sunglasses, “and neither is the old woman, I’m sure.”

He finally made it to the top of the hill where the others were taking a break to hydrate themselves. Even though they started their journey up the mountain in the morning, it was already nearing midday. The heat was slowly intensifying and Jimin could only wipe at the sweat on his neck and brow with his handkerchief.

Jungkook tossed a bottle of water over to him as he made his to the others. Yoongi and Namjoon were busy looking at a map while Hoseok fussed over Taehyung for not putting on enough sunscreen. Seokjin rifled through his pack to hand out granola bars for everyone. Jimin sighed, admiring the image while worrying about his mid-term assignments in the back of his mind.

“How much further, Hyung?” Jimin asked as he sipped from the bottle.

“Honestly? I’d say another mile.” Yoongi scratched at the back of his neck as he pushed the map off to a confused Namjoon. “If we follow Namjoon’s directions, we’ll stumble across the gateway to the Underworld.”

Namjoon scoffed as he clicked his tongue behind his teeth. “Not true, but okay, Hyung.”

Seokjin waved his hands back and forth in an attempt to chase away the tension. “Now, now,” he said, handing off the granola bars, “stop being so uptight. You guys clearly need an energy boost.”

Jungkook crushed the wrapper and shoved it into his pocket after having devoured his snack in two bites. He was still chewing. “Not that I have anything against it, but I can’t believe we’re going to a witch’s house.”

“Hey,” Taehyung said, sucking air through his teeth, “she’s not a witch! She’s a powerful shaman.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Oh geez…”

“I can’t believe I was dragged out of bed to hike up a mountain for half the day,” muttered Yoongi as he bit into the granola bar, “I’m already behind on my work.”

“You can work anytime,” said Namjoon as he bumped shoulders with him, “you need some sun.”

Hoseok smirked as he handed Yoongi a water bottle. “It’s true, Hyung. You can’t stay trapped in your basement all day.”

Yoongi frowned. “It’s my studio, guys.” 

Suddenly, Jungkook threw himself onto Yoongi’s back in a playful hug. “Aw, c’mon, Hyung! You’re starting to sound like Jimin Hyung, obsessed with work all the time!”

“I’m still in school, you dummy,” Jimin snapped as he reached out to poke Jungkook’s cheek, “and so are you. You should take it more seriously.”

He watched his friend pout, still clinging to Yoongi. “After college, that’s it. I’m never going back to school again!”

Jimin smirked as he shook his head. Jungkook had a plan, albeit a simple one, and if his parents hadn’t forced him to go to college in the first place, he’d already be joining the workforce like an adult. Having a college education didn’t make things better, but it would be nice if the world didn’t treat him like the simpleton he always portrayed himself to be. Thankfully, Hoseok and Seokjin helped him with his studies. Taehyung worked full-time and only gave himself time off to poke at Jimin since, out of the two of them, Jimin was the one who decided to attend Grad School.

Taehyung peered over Namjoon’s shoulder at the map, then looked over where another hill crested off just to the North. “Uh, shouldn’t it be just over that hill up there?”

Jimin watched Yoongi’s chest swell with pride. “You mean the one a mile off?”

“Yeah.”

A low groan came from Namjoon. Without saying a word, Yoongi held his hand out and Namjoon placed some bills into his palm. When had a wager been made?

“Well, let’s go,” said Seokjin, readjusting his pack into a more comfortable position, “the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get our fortunes read and head back down the mountain.”

“Agreed,” mused Jimin, already starting off toward the hill, “I have a paper due next week and I need to get started on it.”

Taehyung sidled up next to him and nudged his side with his elbow, causing Jimin to side-step to the left. “You’re telling me it’s not the first draft? I find that hard to believe.”

Jimin shrugged as they all started off toward the hill. “I had to help Grandma with her rice cake shop while she was going through treatment.”

He watched Taehyung’s playful demeanor deflate immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have swung by.”

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching out to pat Taehyung’s head like he was a child. Jimin laughed at the way his friend pouted, his cheeks puffing out in defiance. “She’s a lot better now. Just routine stuff and to get her prescription. You know how Granny likes to overwork herself.”

“Even so,” muttered Taehyung, “next time, just freakin’ call me, dude.”

“I will. I will.”

The trek up the hill wasn’t bad. In fact, it didn’t even feel like it was a mile at all. Everyone was talking all at once about different things. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Jimin really had missed his friends. They all grew up together in the roughneck parts of Seoul, but they’d grown up to be pretty decent human beings.

Maybe it was because they had each other. Or maybe because they feared getting beat into the next century by their families. Either way, they all managed to walk the path they felt was best suited for them.

Namjoon reached the top of the hill first, determined to salvage some of his dignity from having lost his bet with Yoongi. He pointed to the house just further up the hill, surrounded by wildflowers and canvassed by a small cluster of trees near the back of the house. They all stopped, blinking slightly at the stark contrast of the house’s architectural design. Last they checked, they were definitely still in South Korea and while it wasn’t uncommon for structures to have a western look to it, it seemed a little farfetched to have one this far out in the countryside.

On the outside, it looked like a Tudor cottage with natural brick and molding. Everything else was white or a soft yellow color for the trimming, the roof tiles a rich cobalt blue. No one said anything, but it was clear that all they could do was silently marvel at the house’s appearance. Jimin had to wonder if the person residing in this house was, in fact, a witch, and not a shaman like Taehyung claimed.

“See? I told you it was a witch’s house!” exclaimed Jungkook, giving voice to what all of them were clearly thinking.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Who said that the shaman was Korean?”

“Give it a rest, you two,” said Hoseok in mid-sigh. He peered at Yoongi who was visibly battling with something internally. “Everything alright, Hyung?”

Yoongi bit his thumbnail, a telltale sign that he was uncomfortable. “...I think we should leave.”

Seokjin blinked as he managed to grunt out a noise in confusion. “Huh? Wha-already?”

Again, Jimin wasn’t the superstitious sort. But he learned to trust Yoongi’s hunches over the years. If their friend said they needed to leave, then they should have been hightailing it down the mountain. But even he couldn’t hide his own curiosity. Nothing was even happening yet. Why was he already wanting to leave?

“I feel like something is going to happen.”

“Like what?” Jungkook tilted his head slightly. “Something bad?”

“No,” Yoongi replied slowly, his line of sight shifting to look back at the house, “just...something different than what we’re probably expecting.”

Taehyung raspberried and then laughed. “Oh, come on, Hyung. You make it sound so ominous. We came up here to get our fortunes read, so let’s just do that and then we can leave.”

In that sense, Jimin couldn’t really argue with him there. They came all this way. Superstitious or not, he didn’t want to leave without having something to show for it.

Suddenly, the door to the house opened and out stepped a woman. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Her dark auburn hair fell across her shoulders and back in thick ringlets. She wore a garland of flowers on her head like a crown and her clothing made her appear to have stepped out of the Victorian Era - a long and flowing black gown with a white corset cinched tightly around her waist. The sleeves belled out at the elbows, covering her hands, and there was a golden sash draped across her chest - a black crest of a one-winged dragon emblazoned along it.

She took measured steps from the front porch of the house, her dress a point of reference against all the natural colors surrounding her. Her eyes were closed, but it was clear that she had no problem seeing if anyone were to assume she was blind. Turning her face slowly to look in the direction of the sun, Jimin couldn’t help wondering if the woman had seen them at all.

“I just finished making a pot of tea,” she said, and Jimin could feel everyone’s shoulders stiffen from the tension, including his own. The woman turned her head to face them, but her eyes were still closed. She smiled. “Would you all care to join me?”

They all began crowding Yoongi and speaking at once.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Do we go in? Yes? No?”

“She looks really pretty. I bet she is a witch!”

“I mean, we came all this way, right?”

“Dammit, I told you she was a shaman!”

“Since when are Westerners considered shamans?”

Yoongi angrily huffed air from his nostrils. “Shut-up!” he snapped, glaring at all of them, “I can’t fuckin’ think!”

“You came to have your fortunes read, did you not?” They all looked back up at the woman who gestured with one of her bell sleeves to the door. “Then please, come inside and make yourselves comfortable.”

There was a bit of reticence sparking inside of Jimin. But he resigned himself to do whatever his friends wanted, since that was the reason he allowed himself to be dragged out there in the first place. He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but he was just as much a skeptic as any other.

Taehyung, not waiting for them to decide, strode up the hill. Jungkook quickly followed suit until the others were left with no choice but to do the same. The fragrant smell of tea and something sweet seemed to linger from the doorway and the aroma eased whatever trepidation they may have had. Maybe this wouldn’t have been as bad as they were imagining it to be.

Upon entering the house, they were all stunned near the entrance. Everything inside the interior of the house was white. The walls. The ceiling. The floor. There wasn’t a single pigment adorning anything on the surface level. However, everything was decorated with flowers of various shades and sizes. The smell nearly overwhelmed Jimin and he quickly covered his mouth to keep an oncoming migraine at bay.

A small calico cat meowed at the appearance of guests intruding on its home. Jungkook and Taehyung immediately attempted to pet the cat, but it danced just out of reach. Instead, it strode to the far corner of the main living room area, sitting down to observe them from afar. It may have been a trick of the light, but Jimin swore the cat was looking directly at him more than the others.

“Don’t mind her,” said the woman as she closed the door, “she’s always been finicky around strangers.”

The woman gestured for them to have a seat wherever they liked just as the kettle whistled with life. The sound of dishes clinking showed that she was busying herself with preparations. The sweet smell of something freshly baked was even more powerful now that they were inside. Jungkook made a comment about it, to which the woman laughed but said nothing more.

It went without saying that the house, itself, was strange. The woman in question was even stranger. No one said anything about it. At least not yet. Jimin could see Yoongi across the room, rifling with what to speak out about in regards to their current situation.

“How did you even find out about this place, Namjoon?” Seokjin asked suddenly. Yoongi looked at him as if he’d read his mind.

Namjoon shrugged as he peered at a large fern hanging from the wall. “I read about it in some magazine article.”

Hoseok blinked. “A magazine article? Really?” He craned his neck to look at the woman as she started pouring tea. “Did you have an interview, Miss?”

“No,” she replied simply, “I haven’t been interviewed by anyone. I rarely get visitors as it is.”

“I see,” Jimin said slowly as he shot Namjoon a dubious look, “makes me wonder what magazine you were nosing through.”

He watched Namjoon’s expression change to one clearly offended. “You make it sound like I was reading porn.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It was just some magazine a friend gave to me while we were hanging out. Figured it would be a cool place to go check out.”

“So you dragged us out here on a whim?” Yoongi arched a brow. “Because of a magazine article, Namjoon-ah?”

“Come now. There’s no need for such hostility.” The woman approached them, carrying a large tray with tea and small butter cookies. “As I said, I rarely get visitors and your energy really livens up the place.”

Jungkook took the tray from her and bowed his head, even though she still had her eyes closed. “We’re sorry to intrude.”

She gestured to the large table off to the right. While the others sat in the chairs, he shook his head some. He didn’t remember the table being there earlier. Or had his mind been playing tricks on him while he was focused on something else?

The woman waited for them all to take a seat before slowly sitting down at the head of the table. With a wide flourish, she lifted her right arm up. As the bell of her sleeve slid down, revealing her pale skin, there was a large deck of cards clasped between her fingers. Some of his friends gasped in delightful surprise and even Taehyung clapped. Seokjin flashed an open-mouthed grin as he lifted the cup to his lips. Hoseok blinked curiously, his eyes full of wonder as to what would happen next. Jimin merely folded his arms across his chest, not really impressed but not dismissive either.

“I do not read fortunes so much as I read futures.” She placed the deck on the table, spreading the large cards out in a semi-circle in front of her. “Are any of you familiar with Tarot?”

As far as Jimin knew, none of them were really into the occult. Things regarding fortunes were often told through talismans and rice or even bowls of water. Cards weren’t really used and talismans were only brought out for exorcisms. These were all things that Jimin didn’t believe in to begin with. Superstitious practices were coupled with customs that all Koreans performed out of habit and from being raised in certain household environments that kept true to the old ways.

Again, Jimin just didn’t buy into that sort of nonsense.

The woman smiled warmly when a few replied that they did not, in fact, know about Tarot. “Wonderful,” she said as she gently clapped her hands together, “then you’re all in for a treat. Can I ask that you all please choose a card from the pile?”

Each of them looked to the other, before shrugging. Jungkook was the first to grab a card, followed by Taehyung. One by one, they all picked a card, with Jimin being the last to pull from the deck.

“Now, I want you all to place your card face up on the table.”

They each did as they were asked. The woman waited, her eyes closed, but it seemed like she was able to see regardless. She made little noises, nodding her head a few times, and then paused when she looked in Jimin’s direction. He didn’t know what card he was looking at, but it must have been something interesting enough to cause the woman to not say anything. Instead, she placed a finger on her chin and tapped it a few times. Her full lips formed into a small ‘O’ before shifting into a smirk.

“Well, well,” she finally said, folding her hands in her lap, “it seems that all of you have pretty good luck.” She turned her head to face Jimin, her elegant smile still present. “All except you. You have the worst luck of them all.”

His friends all turned to face him and his cheeks instantly grew hot, both from embarrassment and outrage. How could she determine something like that from a simple card draw?!

Not willing to accept her words at face value, Jimin scoffed loudly. “What makes you say that?”

She picked up his card and held it up so he could see it. “This is The Tower. It signifies a sudden change that is to occur, one that is completely outside of your control.”

He arched a single brow. “So?”

Again, the woman’s smile remained. “It means that you, a man who takes pride in your level of control, is about to have that control stolen from you.” Her smile widened a small measure. “And that pride of yours will be shattered as well.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” She gave a slight tilt of her head. “As someone as practical and rational as yourself, are you certain that you would not break if such a thing were to occur?” The woman placed the card among the pile, grabbing for the others, and then shuffled them in a wide circle. She gestured to Jimin, then to the pile. “Draw again, please.”

“Whatever,” he said, reaching for the pile and picking up a card. When he looked at it, his eyes widened. “What the hell is this?” Jimin stared at the woman, watching her smile grow a fraction more. It was like she already knew what he’d drawn.

He drew The Tower once more.

“See? I told you that you have the worst luck of them all.” Jimin was too flabbergasted to come up with a decent rebuttal. Instead, he could only watch the woman take the card back and place it back into the pile. Her hands shuffled the cards once more. She picked up a card and turned it face up on the table. “The Wheel of Fortune is what you fear. You fear change because change means having to adjust your current way of thinking; your current outlook on life. You also take many things for granted, but most people do.” She turned to face him again. “You fool yourself into believing that you don’t, smothering your selfish desires down in the hopes of keeping them hidden from those closest to you.”

Jimin balked, unable to process everything this woman was saying. Who did she think she was? She didn’t know him! She didn’t know how he thought or of the struggles he had to endure in order to get this far in his life. He was young and still had more things to experience; to learn. But that didn’t mean he was some bump on a log. He knew that due diligence and perseverance mattered when achieving a goal. Focusing on those goals was what led to dreams being reality.

Nothing came from simply sitting around idly and doing nothing. And in that case, Jimin didn’t believe in luck either.

He didn’t even bother stifling the laugh that burst out of him. It startled his friends, because they knew that laugh. It wasn’t a joyous sound. No.

It was an angry one.

“You’ve got some nerve, Lady,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “you don’t even know me. And what? You think flipping over a few cards means you can tell me all about my life? Like you’ve been there to see any of it? Don’t fucking kid yourself!”

“J-Jimin-ah,” called Hoseok gently, trying to get Jimin to calm down a little.

But it was too late. Jimin was furious.

Because what right did this woman have to expose him like that in front of his friends? His struggles were his own. His merits were his own. No one had a right to them because Jimin worked hard to get where he was. He was still working hard to maintain it. Winding up purposeless and with no drive was a nightmare he wouldn’t even dream of suffering through.

At the end of the day, who gave a damn about smelling the roses? Enjoying the little things in life didn’t erase the reality that he had to face. Small indulgences like being with his friends was more for them than for him. Because, in the end, he would have to deal with his problems by himself. No one else would be able to help him and, as such, he ultimately couldn’t rely on anyone but himself.

For the first time since they arrived, the woman’s smile fell. She even looked a little disappointed. “It truly is a shame you feel that way.” Shaking her head, she picked up another card and held it up to show Jimin. “And because of that, because of your lack of trust in others, as well as your own guarded selfishness, this is your fate.”

He glared at the words on the card, only to realize that she was holding it upside down. He quickly deciphered the backwards writing, then blinked in confusion.

It was The Hermit.

“You have lost your way, Jimin Park. You have deluded yourself into believing you have a purpose when, in fact, you do not understand your true purpose at all.”

Jimin’s gaze met the woman’s, causing him to shift back harshly in the chair. The legs scraped loudly on the floor, the noise sending an unpleasant chill to spread throughout his entire body. It wasn’t the fact that she knew his name, even though it wasn’t given in its entirety. That wasn’t what startled him.

It was her eyes.

Her eyes were finally open, revealing swirls of purple and blue the likes of which he’d never seen before. The house began to shake violently, causing the tea cups to rattle off the table and crash to the floor. When he looked around, he realized that his friends were gone. Only he was alone with the woman and he stood up quickly, forcing the chair to fall to the floor. The woman, however, remained seated. She seemed unaffected by what was happening and all Jimin could do was look around helplessly as he yelled for his friends who, for all intents and purposes, vanished into thin air.

“And until you are able to truly understand who you are, you will never be able to become who you are meant to be.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” he snarled at her. “And what did you do with my friends?!”

“You will be alone. Isolated. For as long as it takes.” Her eyes narrowed. “Until you recognize your mistakes. Until you can see beyond your own desires. The world that you’ve never bothered to give a second glance will now ignore you in return.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t fully understand what that meant, but Jimin had an idea and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

“And the day that it finally looks back at you, that will be the moment when you will have to make a choice. You will have to choose between the world...or yourself.”

And before Jimin could question what she meant by those ominous words, an array of colors burst forth from around her, nearly blinding him. He shielded his eyes, crying out into the void, before being swallowed up into a swirling galaxy of stars and nebulas. A place where he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he would be alone.

That he would be alone for a very long time.

Pain.

Hurt.

Everything hurt.

Jimin could feel himself fighting with it, struggling to climb to the surface of his consciousness. He was at the precipice of it. He knew he was so close to reaching that moment where he would be able to process everything. Most likely it would hit him all at once, but it was better than drowning in the darkness. So deeply submerged that there was little chance of him escaping.

There was warmth. And sound. A steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to rest along his skin. It was muffled at first, until it became clearer with each passing second.

It was a beeping sound.

His brows furrowed and a low groan escaped his throat. Rustling noises came from both sides and he finally managed to open his eyes. Everything came into focus all at once, including the bright light that nearly blinded him. Jimin squinted and lifted one arm to shield his face from the intruding brightness. 

“Jimin!”

“Jimin-ah!”

“Hyung!”

As he continued to shield his face, Jimin wrestled with the familiar voices. He was in pain, but it wasn’t in the way that he could remember it. Shouldn’t his shoulder have been hurting more than it was? And he remembered drifting off somewhere. Was he sleeping? Had it all been a dream?

“Don’t go!” shouted Bree as she tried to jump and reach for him, but he was too far away.

Was this really the end?

“I love you!” Jimin yelled suddenly, causing Bree to stop her attempts to pull him back.

She blinked up at him. “J-Jimin…”

A sad smile formed on his lips. This was inevitable. There was nothing they could do to stop this. He was going back to his own time now; to his own world.

“I love you so much…”

Bree gasped, covering her mouth. But when it seemed he would pass through the ceiling, she lowered her hands and flashed the same sad smile back up to him.

“…I love you too.”

Gasping, Jimin bolted upright and clawed at the air. His eyes, wide and full of tears, burned as colors flooded his vision. “BREE!”

Hands gripped at his shoulders, attempting to push him back down onto the plush surface he was resting on. Jimin struggled against them, his shoulders jerking in either direction as he yelled and bucked his hips off the mattress. Everyone called his name, trying to get him to calm down, but this made him rage against them further. He could feel the vein bulging near his neck as his eyes strained from the pressure building up behind them.

His eyes focused on those around him; familiar faces. His friends. They were all clearly worried about him, some even a little apprehensive about his response after just waking up. But the image of Bree wouldn’t leave the forefront of his mind. 

“L-Let go of me!” he shouted, lunging his upper body forward. “LET ME GO!”

A nurse swiftly pushed through his friends, pulling out a needle and injecting it into his IV. It didn’t take long for the sedative to work, Jimin’s vision growing cloudy. But he could tell it wasn’t meant to knock him out. His thundering heartbeat settled slowly and a heavy weight forced him to push his body back into the plush cushions. After the nurse whispered something to Seokjin, the others quickly surrounded him but made sure not to crowd him too much.

Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed slowly, his shoulders tense as he wrangled with what to say. “...Hyung?”

He blinked slowly as he rolled his neck to look at him. “J-Jungkook-ah?” Jimin shifted his gaze to Taehyung. “What’s going on?”

“You passed out,” Taehyung murmured, draping a hand along the back of his neck, “so we took you to the hospital.”

Jimin licked his lips as he rubbed at one of his eyes. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple of hours,” Namjoon answered, causing Jimin to jump slightly, “not too long.”

He’d only been out for a few hours? That couldn’t have been right. Years went by as he traveled through all those different places! It didn’t seem feasible that he’d only been knocked out for mere hours.

Again, he tried to sit up. This time, Hoseok helped him so he could get more comfortable. “What about that woman?” His gaze met Hoseok’s and he noted the confusion etched on his friend’s face. “What happened?”

Hoseok tilted his head slightly. “What woman?” Jimin frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“That witch-shaman-fortune teller lady!” Jimin looked between all of his friends and they looked just as puzzled as Hoseok. What was going on?! “We went to the mountains to get our fortunes read, and--”

“No,” stressed Yoongi as he folded his arms across his chest, “we were about to board the train for Gwangju and you passed out at the terminal.”

Jimin’s heart skipped, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. “W-What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “The train?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he nodded. “Yeah. We were going to Gwangju for a few days to start off Summer Break, remember?”

Pain hummed behind Jimin’s eyes. He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead in an attempt to settle his nerves. They hadn’t gone to the mountains. They hadn’t met that woman who cursed him, trapping him in that house and sending him into an unexpected journey. They never even left Seoul!

So, it’s really broken, he thought, his hand moving to cover his mouth while staring at the bed sheets, I’m really back.

Bree’s smiling face flashed in his mind as she held Juno in her arms. What happened to them? Were they stuck in the house in his place? Had he condemned them to his fate once his curse was lifted?

An overwhelming sense of guilt exploded across his chest, causing Jimin to cover his face with his hands as he openly sobbed into them. He felt his brothers’ comforting embraces holding him as he cried. He knew they were probably thinking that Jimin was just confused and disoriented and, in truth, he was. 

But the true pain that seeped throughout his entire body was the thought of leaving Bree to suffer what was once his fate...alone.

Days bled into weeks. It was one giant blur for Jimin. After getting over his disorientation, he was able to regain some functionality in his daily life. His friends insisted they cancel their trip to Gwangju and just stay in Seoul, but Jimin said there wasn’t a need. He didn’t want to ruin their holiday because of his dysfunctionalism and he probably needed the break himself. After so many years of not working, studying, and even doing anything remotely productive during his travels, Jimin wasn’t sure if he was ready to get back into the swing of things.

After they returned from their trip, he contacted his advisors and professors to let them know he would be taking the semester off after he turned in his assignments. He was barely able to struggle through his paper and he couldn’t even remember what his term paper was initially about anymore. Sure, he’d left himself notes and even written an outline, but his head was jumbled with too many other concerns to focus on school.

His parents were extremely disappointed with his decision to withdraw from school, but Jimin couldn’t bring himself to change his mind. If it was still taking him over a month to remember what year it was, he knew he would just stress himself out in the middle of his classes. He needed a break. He needed something else to focus his attention on while also allowing himself to feel productive in the meantime. Jimin wasn’t giving up on school completely, but he knew that it just wasn’t for him right now.

He moved back to Busan to be closer to his family and to also help his grandmother with her rice cake shop. She was beyond ecstatic for the company and this allowed her time to pay more attention to her own health. Kneading dough and the smell of rice powder brought a sense of calm to Jimin’s routine. Meeting and interacting with customers, as well as doing research to help bolster sales, allowed him to momentarily forget the loneliness he felt.

But at night, everything always came back full circle. Jimin often had night terrors filled with visions of Bree blaming him for abandoning her; for leaving her behind in that perpetually never ending cycle. Jimin may have gotten used to it, but the inability to escape his prison, a prison he’d brought upon himself, was a concept he was sure would drive anyone mad.

If I left her there like that…

He could never finish the thought that followed swiftly after waking up from a nightmare. Jimin was too afraid to finish it. Because giving it a voice, even a silent one, would mean that there was a chance it would come true.

Every day and every night, Jimin thought about looking for Bree. But he honestly didn’t know where to start his search. Looking for her by name was one thing, but he couldn’t imagine how many “Brianna Larkins” would turn up. He didn’t have much money so hiring a private investigator was almost out of the question. It wasn’t like he lived in the new millennium where the internet and smartphones were regular things. This was the only thing that granted him a bit of solace, knowing he returned to only a decade after her time.

But who was to say that Bree was actually a person of the 80s? Just because her friends happened to have an 80's radio? For all he knew, they could have just been a bunch of trendy hipsters who wanted to seem eclectic by having an old-fashioned portable radio. Jimin traveled enough through the past and future to know that a person couldn’t always judge everything at face value.

What if she wasn’t even born yet?

These, and many other anxieties, haunted Jimin at almost every turn. Taehyung often visited him when he had the chance, as did the others, but nothing could chase away the panic-induced terror that threatened to suffocate him each and every single night.

His grandmother finally suggested that he see a therapist. Mental health wasn’t a strongly advocated subject at the time, but anything was better than falling into a tailspin of depression he wouldn’t be able to escape from. There were specialists in Busan, but the best psychiatrists were in Seoul. Taehyung supported his need for some kind of medical attention, even if it meant just sitting down and talking to someone unrelated to him. 

Jimin set his first appointment for the following week.

He didn’t think he’d be this nervous. 

After filling out all the paperwork, Jimin found himself wringing his hands together as he waited for someone to call him to the back. Taehyung and Yoongi both recommended this particular clinic because of the well-known specialists who hailed from different parts of the world and practiced medicine internationally. He wasn’t one to knock something until he tried it. Or at least that was how he felt he was now . Jimin was pretty confident his old self would never have entertained the idea of seeing a psychiatrist.

There was a first time for everything. Even this.

He fiddled with some magazines until he was called. Something to keep his hands busy. Part of him wanted to bolt out of the door and never look back. There was an old part of him that lingered in the deep recesses of his mind. About how this was just all in his head and he would just need some time to get over it. 

But he’d spent years in isolation. Regardless of whether it was in his own head or not wasn’t the point. Those moments were real to him and the mind was a powerful thing. The pain he felt was real to him. The feelings he experienced were real to him.

In essence, that was all that mattered.

I can’t keep running from this, he thought as he clenched his fists together, running is what got me into trouble in the first place.

“Park Jimin-ssi?” He lifted his head to see the receptionist waving at him. “The doctor will see you now.”

Standing, Jimin moved to the door as it opened and the receptionist smiled as she held a clipboard to her chest. She gestured for him to follow behind her and they walked down a small corridor. She opened the door before he could see the name on the outside, ushering him to go inside.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said, bowing her head slightly, “would you like some tea?”

Jimin bowed his head awkwardly in return. “Uh, yes, please. Thank you.”

She bowed again. “Of course. I’ll be right back. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She closed the door gently behind her and Jimin slowly sat down on the couch in front of a large glass and metal desk. It was littered with various books, mostly fairy tales and some self-help books. Others were reference materials and even subjects alluding to science fiction. Jimin couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. It reminded him of the months he spent with Bree, studying various texts to get even a vague idea of what his circumstances entailed. 

She’d been so selfless in wanting to help him. There was nothing to gain from doing so. All she wanted was for him to be able to return to his family; to his own world.

Again, the phantom ache of guilt pounded against his chest, causing Jimin to absentmindedly rub at it. He was here so he could put a voice to the remorse that ripped through him. Letting it eat away and fester inside wasn’t going to help things. There was no way to get back to Bree, but he wanted to believe that she hadn’t met the same fate.

Wanting to find something to distract his thoughts, he peered at the walls of the room and admired some of the paintings that decorated the doctor’s office. Some were simple ones - replicas of Monet’s work and some of Dali. But what gave Jimin pause was the silver-framed picture sitting on the doctor’s desk. 

It was a picture of a calico cat playing around in the flowers. The letters monogrammed on the lower half of the frame had Jimin’s jaw dropping.

JUNO

Suddenly, the door opened and Jimin jumped to his feet. His eyes focused on the person now in the room, but their back was to him. Her attire was simple, comfortable, but she still carried an air of professionalism. Her thick auburn curls were pulled into a low ponytail and silver hoops dangled from her ears. The door latch catching sounded like muffled cannon fire in his ears. 

“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Jimin Park,” she said, her voice laced with amusement; a voice he could never forget, “I like your name. I’m Doctor Brianna Larkins.” She turned around, a smile still on her face, but it fell instantly when her eyes locked with his.

Jimin could hardly believe what he was seeing. Even the loud clatter of her clipboard hitting the ground wasn’t enough to rattle his thoughts. Bree continued to stand by the door as Jimin remained where he was near the couch. 

For a while, neither of them moved. Jimin was too scared. He was afraid of what would happen the very moment he took a step forward. Would everything fizzle into smoke before his eyes? Would he lose her again?

And just like the last time, Bree was the one to speak first. 

“J-Jimin…”

Her eyes were full of unshed tears and Jimin’s own vision began to wobble. “B-Bree?”

He watched her tears fall and he felt like the universe was being created at that moment, her smile so radiant that he couldn’t believe that he was the reason for it. Not even for a second. 

Jimin soaked in her presence. She was older now. Of course she was. Even though he was the older one when they’d first met, it was clear that time hadn’t frozen for her. She was there with him, in his own time. Bree wasn’t trapped in his prison, made to suffer for his own transgressions.

He didn’t care about the why or the how. Jimin only cared that she was there with him and not traveling through space and time alone. She was free. They were free.

Rushing forward, Jimin closed the distance between them. His chest slammed up against hers and he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him. They both let out a sob at the same time and he could feel her fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades. Their bodies shook from the emotions overwhelming them until their legs could no longer hold them up. Sinking to the floor, Jimin cradled the back of her head in his hand as they cried their hearts out in each other’s arms.

“27. And you?”

“32.” She laughed while shaking her head. “Goddamn, I’m old.”

“You’re not old.” He brushed a stray curl back and tucked it behind her ear. “You still look the same, even now.”

Bree rolled her eyes. “Whatever, you’re crazy.” She was still smiling.

Jimin squeezed her hand as they sat on the couch together. He was too afraid of letting her hand go, worried that she might disappear when he did. She must have felt the same, because she didn’t try to pull away from him. Not even once.

After they’d calmed down a bit, Bree suggested that they at least look like they were having a session. The last thing she wanted was for the receptionist to come in and see them both hysterical messes on the floor. When she collected the clipboard and placed it on her desk, the receptionist brought Jimin his tea and swiftly left the room. 

He cupped her cheek with his palm, turning her face toward him. It was true. To him, she hadn’t aged a single bit. She still had the same healthy brown tint to her skin, her former dark curls were dyed a deep shade of red that he liked, and her eyes held a hint of the hazel glow he remembered. Her cheeks were tinted a soft pink, probably because he was staring so intently at her but he couldn’t help himself. Jimin pinched his forearm to make sure he wasn’t actually dreaming and Bree smacked his hand, forcing him to pout.

“Hey!”

She frowned. “Stop that. You’re going to give yourself bruises.”

He huffed. “It doesn’t matter.” Jimin twirled his fingers through the lower half of her curls. “...I still can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” Bree whispered, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, “I was beginning to think I’d dreamed the whole thing.”

“I don’t blame you.” Jimin’s brows furrowed as he leaned in a little closer. “For me, it’s only been a few months. But for you, it’s been years.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Fourteen, to be exact.”

Jimin pressed his forehead against hers, cradling her face in his hands as he closed his eyes. “God, I am so sorry, Bree…”

Bree lightly patted his cheek, pulling back a bit to look at him. “Sorry for what? In what way was any of that your fault?” She shook her head before flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you were able to get back to your own time.”

He nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. “So, why psychiatry?’ 

“Truthfully? I did it for myself. After everything that happened, I was a little worried I’d gone mental or something.” Bree laughed, as if she’d just flubbed up the colors in a coloring book. “But as time went on, I wanted to believe that I’d see you again. And if you were half as messed up as I was, then you were going to need someone to help you through it.”

It felt like a lead weight collapsed into his stomach. Even after everything, she was still looking out for him. Bree hadn’t given up on the idea that they would reunite. Whatever her dreams and goals were prior to their meeting, she shifted gears and changed her life, hoping that chance would bring them just a little bit closer.

Jimin laughed, covering his face with his hand. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said, his shoulders trembling, “it’s been absolute hell trying to readjust.” He lowered his hand and looked at her. “Though, I guess a good portion of my nightmares will stop now that I’ve seen you again.”

Bree nodded, brushing some of the fringe from his forehead. “The other half will just take some time.” She grinned cheekily at him. “And now that I’m a licensed professional, you’re guaranteed to get better.”

Rolling his eyes, he pulled Bree a little closer until their noses were barely touching. “I can’t wait for you to tell me everything that’s happened. Fourteen years is a long time.” 

“It is. And Juno is going to give you a stern talking to.” 

He raised his brows. “I can’t believe she’s still around.”

Bree shrugged. “She’s stubborn. That and I think it took some time for her body to get back in sync with the whole aging process.” She smirked. “That’s just my best educated guess though. I’m no scientist.”

Leaning forward, Jimin gently pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her full lips. He heard her gasp, felt her taking in a sharp breath, and then moved his mouth to brush over her cheeks and nose. Her hand grasped for his wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. He paused at her forehead, his lips barely touching her skin there. Even after all this time, she still smelled the same. Her lips tasted the same.

Like cherries. 

“I missed you,” Jimin whispered, his voice shaking a measure, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” She leaned her head back to peer at his face, his vision of her blurring slightly from the tears collecting in his eyes. “I missed you too, Jimin.”

“I live in Busan now.” His smile fell a bit. “But...but I can come to Seoul any time.”

She grinned. “And I’m a therapist, Jimin. I can move my practice anywhere.”

Jimin sighed, shaking his head but his smile returned. “I run a rice cake shop with my grandmother. I kinda like it. I think you might like it too.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Taking a breath, Jimin sealed his lips over hers and pressed his body across her own. She fell back against the couch and he wrapped one arm around her waist, practically pulling her into his lap. Her hands fell along his shoulders as he took every single moment given to him to nip, pull, and lavish his affections on her lips. They would be swollen from his attention, but he didn’t care. No matter how many years would pass by after that moment, he would never get tired of the taste of her mouth; of cherry lip balm.

Breaking the kiss, he quickly wiped at the tears on Bree’s face. She laughed, using the sleeve of her coat to do the same for him. He gave her little pecks to the mouth before pulling her into his arms once more - the steady cadence of her beating heart matching his own.

Craning his neck, he buried his face into her hair as she held him just as tightly against her. “...now that we have the time.”

Time that would never be taken advantage of ever again.

Breathe: For The Reunion | PJM

For the @bangtanscenery​ - April Showers Bring May Flowers Project in celebration of the Spring Season!

Plot: Jimin’s curse is broken, allowing him to return to his own time. But there is a sense of emptiness that lingers inside of him as he readjusts to his former life. Just as things start to make sense again, he’s greeted by a face he’s longed to see once more.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: time-slip!au | modern fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | fluff

Pairing: Park Jimin x Female OC (Brianna Larkins)

Warnings: Mild language, mental health issues, implication of curses/magic

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 8.2K

AN: Well, we finally made it here guys. We made it and now I’m sad that it’s over. But I’m also happy I made it this far. I never imagined I would write a story like this and now that I have, I want to incorporate time-slip themes every chance I get. LOL. Thank you all for who has followed and loved this story. And thank you to those who will stumble across this in the future. You’re awesome and you are loved.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

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An Unusual Tail of Love [1]

Genre: Romance/Angst/Fluff/Smut/Fantasy (Mermaid AU)

Pairing: Human Jungkook X Mermaid Reader

Summary: Junkook encounters Y/N, a helpless and innocent mermaid by the far ends of the sea shore. His immediate thought is to flee and wake up from this very realistic dream but when she asks him to save her with her deep blue, enchanting eyes, he chooses to protect her. He believes that in saving her, he’ll be able to rediscover his lost passion as an artist.

Rating: M

Taglist: TBA (Let me know if you’d like to be added and notified about updates on this fic)

|| Next

Chapter: 1

⚠️WARNING⚠️: An innocent, non-fuckboyish, sweet Jungkook ahead. A naked you.

JK’s P.o.V.

Jeon Jungkook stares out the window of the Hyundai Palisade, a glum look on his pretty face. He hates having to travel in these big SUVs but he has no other choice since they are now the brand ambassadors for this automobile company. He sighs wearily and looks at Jin but gets no reaction from the older male. His Hyung is too busy in reading some kind of business magazine for food-related things.

There are moments where an uncanny emptiness engulfs Jungkook and he finds himself feeling like he’s choking, sharp pangs hitting his chest. As a child, it was his dream (and duty) to become a famous artist loved by his fans (to support his family’s expenses). But now that he has achieved it all, it’s hard to find inspiration, the drive to work harder. It’s also hard to find motivation in doing anything at all. He wonders how Jimin Hyung does it. That man is always so hard working and manages to create something different about everything he does. What’s his secret? Why doesn’t he ever resign to the clutches of apathy? Jungkook wants to ask him a lot of things but he doesn’t want to make his extra-loving elder brother fret over him. If Jimin Hyung finds out that he’s been feeling down, he’ll share this with his soulmate aka V Hyung, who’ll be equally concerned and share with Namjoon Hyung and just like that, slowly but surely, the news will reach their PDnim.

He cranes his head to take a peek at the camera bag snuggled by his side. Nostalgia rushes over his emotions. He misses doing GCFs. Not that he’s been prohibited to do them, he just isn’t feeling inspired enough to create something new. At the front of the car, in the passenger’s seat, he can see a pen moving fast over a blank piece of paper. Namjoon Hyung is so good at this. He tells himself. The man can take inspiration from even the smallest of things and twist them into meaningful lyrics. What’s his secret then? There’s a reason why Namjoon and Jimin Hyung are considered the wisest amongst them. The two are never down when it comes to their job as Global Idols. Sure they have their bad days too but they rather ask to be left alone. They always sort their inner conflicts by themselves and come out even stronger.

Jungkook wishes he can be like them someday..

The car stops by a beautiful lodge near the beach that they are supposed to shoot at. For this year’s Summer Package shoot and Bon Voyage’s latest season, BigHit has chosen this secluded coastal city. And since they are going to shoot for the Summer Package at the beach, the company booked a luxurious lodge at the beach site itself as it’ll reduce some travel expenses and be convenient to go to and from on feet.

Jungkook steps out of the car, slinging his camera bag on his shoulder as his eyes scan the area in search of something..something unknown..something fresh and different..something that can bring his creativity out of its dormant state.

Jin Hyung steps out behind him and so does Namjoon hyung from the front. They both thank the driver for the safe trip and walk towards the lodge. From the other car, Taehyung Hyung emerges out. He immediately pulls out his camera to snap pictures of the surroundings, only to be bumped by a grumpy Min Yoongi. He shuts the door to their shared car in annoyance and rushes inside the lodge along with a weary Hoseok Hyung. Taehyung Hyung only smiles in amusement and resumes his photography. It’s so admirable how he’s so cheerful all the time. He masks all his issues behind that radiant box-smile and always takes the most amazing aesthetic pictures. How?Jungkook wonders yet again.

The last car finally arrives and the backdoor opens, revealing a very happy Jimin Hyung whose arm is linked with his personal manager Sarang. She immediately pulls her fingers out of his grasp and looks around to check if anyone noticed. Her worried gaze meets Jungkook’s and she smiles awkwardly as if caught on a live cam doing something fishy. Jimin turns his head to find what has caught her attention and himself smiles at Jungkook. He leaves the girl and approaches his dearest maknae, ruffling his hair affectionately before speaking, “Keep this a secret?” Jungkook nods at his favorite Hyung’s request even though there’s really no need. Almost everyone at their company knows (or atleast have a hunch) that something romantic is brewing between Jimin and his newly appointed personal manager. It’s surprising that Pdnim hasn’t fired her yet. But that isn’t Jungkook’s matter. Also, he really likes her and is happy that someone is making Jimin hyung this joyful. He nods once more and himself begins to walk into the lodge, ignoring the bubbling concern in Jimin hyung's eyes on his receding back. He really doesn’t want anyone to waste their time trying to make him feel better.

Inside Jungkook learns that just like others, his room has already been appointed to him by the company and by the way that everyone is complaining, it’s appears to be the best room at this lodge. He shrugs, takes the key from Manager Sejin and walks up the stairs towards his room.

Upon unlocking it, the first thing he notices is his other luggage already present inside, placed neatly in one corner of the room and gently puts his camera bag along with it. The things he notices afterwards though, well..he realizes why his hyungs were complaining. Right next to the bed, is a big wall facing the vast expanse of the blue sea. The scenery is very pleasant. For a moment, he simply stands and stares as if in a trance.

However, the padding of another person’s footsteps break the trance. Jungkook turns around to be greeted by the lovely eye-smile of one Park Jimin.

“Wanna check that out?” Jimin asks in a playful tone.

Jungkook dubiously asks, “Ch-check what?”

“The sea ofcourse!” chimes in a deeper voice and Jungkook sneaks a glance behind Jimin to see Taehyung standing by the door.

Jungkook admits that even if he’s a fully grown, twenty-two year old young man, he enjoys being doted on by his hyungs. He nods in agreement. Maybe this will help him rediscover his love for film and video direction.

“Great! Change into something lighter. Just a pair of swimming trunks will be fine too and meet us downstairs.” Jimin tells him and both him and the 95liner besties leave their youngest in his privacy.

Jungkook takes no time in changing into a normal pair of black shorts. It’s not that he’s very eager about this. Honestly, nothing excites him these days. Not even the games he used to love playing so much. He’s only accepted his hyungs’ offer because he hopes that this will help him, even if only a little to find some inspiration.

He switches his timberlands with his puma slippers and runs down the stairs, camera bag in one hand, a black hoodie in the other. Downstairs, he sees neither Taehyung nor Jimin. From the kitchen, Jin’s voice informs that the two are busy taking proper showers. Jungkook chooses to get out on the beach by himself. His hyungs can join him after their baths. Passing his hands through the long sleeves of the hoodie, he pulls it over his head and stretches it down his torso. Once put on, he pulls up the cap of the hoodie to conceal his face from the public’s eyes. He doesn’t want anyone to recognise him as a member of BTS. That will cause a lot of trouble to the managers as well other members.

He closes the door behind him on his way out of the lodge and assesses his surroundings once before continuing further ahead. He has always been a lover of solace and doesn’t enjoy being in crowded places. And so, he decides to go to the farther regions of the beach which are fortunately still not infested by the general public at this beach.

He plops his bag on the sand and crouches down to open it but a sound interrupts him. Immediately he turns his head around to check the area, silently hoping that it is just his imagination and that none of his crazy fans have found him. Shockingly the sound comes again and he discerns that it is actually a very faint voice— a voice of someone in distress. And it seems to be coming from behind the huge rocky bed at the end of the bridge.

Oh well, not his problem.

But his conscience insists on checking out on the person. He tries defying the good in himself but various ominous thoughts begin looming in his head. What if the person has been lost here at the beach? But won’t they atleast try to retrace their steps in this case? Okay, then what if the person has been cheated on by their lover and are crying their sorrows here in solitude? But in this case, shouldn’t their feelings be respected? Yes, they should be! They should also be allowed privacy in such a time. With this final thought, Jungkook nods to himself and unzips his camera bag.

Another wail of sadness reaches his ears and he stands up, his feet jogging off their own accord towards the source. He can’t help it. There’s something about the tone of this voice that’s calling him out, as if asking for his help. He chuckles to himself at the silly notion and increases his pace. On reaching the rocks, he uses his hands to exert force on the rocks and leaps over them. There he is greeted by the back of a woman, sitting by the shore.

“Um..excuse me. Are you..are you okay?” He asks. To be honest, he has never properly talked to a woman besides his mother and Manager Sarang. He has no idea if he’s doing it right.

The woman doesn’t respond. She’s way too immersed in her gloom to hear him.

“Are you lost? Or..maybe heartbroken?” He questions, hoping that he isn’t being too blunt with her.

She turns her head this time, her long,wavy brown hair,swishing due to the motion and Jungkook is stunned. His doe-like black eyes fall onto her blue ones. No! Not blue; a beautiful beryl shade of blue with hints of green swimming in them as if reflecting the sea itself. Her tiny button nose reminds him of Jimin Hyung but without the slight bridge on it and it is red due to hours of crying just like her eyes. Her lips are thin and pale. They’ve lost the natural color in them but somehow still look so kissable. To say that she is strikingly beautiful is an understatement. She is way more than just beautiful or attractive. She’s something else..she feels like an ethereal being who’s been sentenced to wander these lands for eternity.And yet, there’s something wrong..

She shakes her head timidly in response to his query, making Jungkook snap out of the haze. Taking her action as an affirmative, he moves closer towards her.

“Do you need help going–”

His offer dies down as he suddenly finds himself on the sandy grounds, the girl clinging to him like vice. And it takes a few moments for his body to sense and register how very naked she is. He can literally feel her perky nipples even through the thickness of his hoodie and his face begins flushing pink. This may sound shocking but he has no experience with women at all. The girl however, stares down innocently at him, a complete look of helplessness apparent in her enrapturing eyes.

He speaks whilst trying to sit up but is unable to.“I’m sorry but can you get-”He stops midway, failing again to sit up. His brows knit in suspicion as he becomes aware of the sensation of something long yet smooth and hard coiled around his legs. When he shifts his gaze to the side, Jungkook gasps inwardly for the sight renders him speechless. A lengthy blue, scaly and fish-like limb is wrapped tightly around his legs— a kind of limb that unmistakably is attached to the girl currently on top of him. A limb that he’s only ever seen in fantasy movies. A limb that looks exactly like the tail of a mermaid.

Fear begins gripping his form but the girl sobs again, her teary eyes pleading. “Please..save me..”

A/N: So this is a random thought that entered my head and I decided to write down. Sarang, the name of Jimin’s manager was chosen specifically. Can you guess why?

More will be revealed about Y/N in the coming chapters and why she was crying by herself at the shore.

Hope you are looking forward to the next chapter. Feel free to send asks..:)

Until Next Time...

|MASTERLIST|

An Unusual Tail of Love [2]

Genre: Romance/Angst/Fluff/Smut/Fantasy (Mermaid AU)

Pairing: Human Jungkook X Mermaid Reader

Summary: Junkook encounters Y/N, a helpless and innocent mermaid by the far ends of the sea shore. His immediate thought is to flee and wake up from this very realistic dream but when she asks him to save her with her deep blue, enchanting eyes, he chooses to protect her. He believes that in saving her, he’ll be able to rediscover his lost passion as an artist.

Rating: M

Taglist: TBA (Let me know if you’d like to be added and notified about updates on this fic)

Previous ||

Chapter: 2

A/N: Please forgive any errors.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: An innocent, non-fuckboyish, sweet but ‘shirtless’ Jungkook ahead. A semi-naked you..xD

JK’s P.o.V.

When he was still a child, Jungkook used to wonder why the kids his age talked about magic and fantasy and about witnessing something extraordinary. Something different. Something that he only use to hear from his mother in her bedtime tales. He never imagined coming across a beautiful fairy in the woods or saving one, like the other children his age loved to. Jungkook never gave such things the time of his day because he has always been a sensible child who keeps his head out of the clouds. So now that he is actually experiencing this unusual occurrence, he doesn’t know how to react. There’s literally no excitement in his form. Not even the slightest. What he is feeling though, is fear.

A tiny part of him that he has kept locked away till now— apart of him that has always wanted to explore the oddities is thrilled but the majority of him is scared of this unknown..

Jungkook can hear the waves crash across the sandy shore, wetting the tips of his feet just as much as the shiny fin of the mermaid on top of him. A bristle of wind touches his skin and he gulps. Jungkook was never a believer, okay? All that magic and fantasy shit is more of Taehyung Hyung’s thing. Not him though. No, not Jeon Jungkook. He has always been a realist because well..it’s real.

“Please..save me..”

Jungkook hears the girl’s statement of plea yet he completely disregards it, swiftly pushing her off of himself and scrambles farther away from her. Her completely uncovered breasts aren’t as much of a sight to him as the lower half of her body which consists of a single, long, blue tail instead of normal human legs. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes in hopes of seeing clearer and realizing that he’s only been hallucinating due to the heated rays of the sun. But nothing of the sort happens. The mermaid is still there and very much real. She is short of breath, the gills on her neck unable to help her respire at all. Anguish and helplessness are written all over her pretty face as she is trying desperately to crawl closer towards him.

“I’m not a monster!” she screams at him. “I just..I’m just alone!”

Jungkook ignores her, rummaging through his shorts in search of his cellphone when he recalls he had decided to leave it at the lodge. He didn’t think it’ll be necessary to have a phone whilst shooting at the beach. He simply wanted to explore the surroundings in hopes of being able to get back into the habit of making GCFs that his fans and he himself loves so much.

The panic and adrenaline aids him in standing up and he manages to jog further,reaching the rocks from where he had leaped off a minute ago. But just as he is about to escape, his conscience yet again gets the better of him and he commits the mistake of looking back. His eyes fall upon her’s and for the second time now, he feels a weird emotion— an inexplicable connection. It’s like their encounter was meant to be..

Jungkook’s body acts on instincts as if being called out by her and before knowing it, he finds his legs taking him back to her. He stops before her and she immediately latches a palm onto his leg in her last attempt at begging.

He sighs heavily. God he doesn’t know what he’s doing! Is any of this real? Is this actually happening? Maybe this is all a conspiracy of the universe. Maybe the universe wants him to believe in the unimaginable..

“Please..” is all that she is able to mumble before she finally passes out and he notices her tail beginning to thin, a small lining visible in the middle, along its length. The fish-like fins at the end begin fading until finally they are replaced by a pair of very human-looking feet. The lining along the middle of her fin deepens until it breaks her tail into two limbs of equal size and proportion and he realises what’s actually happening. He stares with amazement at the freshly formed pair of human legs on this girl/mermaid’s body as their bluish tone washes away, replaced by milky, white skin.

The fear within him is substituted by interest. He crouches down and places a palm near her nose. He can feel small release of air from her nostrils which is a sign that she’s still breathing. He frowns but then notices that the fine indents of gills on her neck have disappeared completely.

The fainting must be because she’s a being of the sea and the transformation is definitely a measure taken by her body to adapt itself to land. In fiction, water is essential to a mermaid's life even more than it is to humans. So for a moment, Jungkook wonders if he should just pick her up and toss her into the sea. That is bound to help, right? He mentally slaps himself at the ridiculous idea. He needs to be serious here. She had been sitting at the edge of the sea all this time. If she had wanted to, then she’d have jumped into the sea long ago which brings him to two plausible conclusions: either she didn’t want to live in the water bodies anymore or something was (and maybe still is) keeping her from going back. Therefore, taking her towards the sea is not an option for now.

So the first thing that Jungkook does is taking off his black hoodie. A part of him is glad that this mermaid is lying on her stomach because it’s atleast protecting the intimates between her newly formed legs, letting only her shapely butt be visible to him. He mentally berates himself for staring and with difficulty, manages to slip her small frame into his hoodie. It’s a good thing that the piece of clothing is big on her and reaches her knees. Then he picks her up bridal style, walks over the rocks and sloppily zips his camera bag. He slings it back onto one of his bare shoulders and starts jogging in the direction of the lodge.

Panic returns as soon as he arrives at the lodge. He didn’t think this through on his way here. How is he going to explain about this half-naked woman in his arms!? In the 6 years that he’s been with his hyungs, none of them has ever showed up with a woman at their dorm or any work sites. They prefer to keep their flings as private as possible.And Jungkook has never even had a fling. So how the hell is he gonna explain this mess!?

He sighs in worry and begins approaching the lodge. Jungkook is relieved when the company’s guard stationed outside the lodge doesn’t question him about the woman. He completely ignores the man and stumbles inside only to find the whole place void of any living activity. Where did everyone go?

“Jeon-ssi” Jungkook nearly jumps at the grim tone of voice and turns around. It’s the guard from before. He bows respectfully even though he’s probably older than Jungkook but Jungkook can only nod in response as his body is pretty much occupied right now due to another person being in his hold.

“Jeon-ssi, everyone left to enjoy the beach but they were worried since you had forgotten to take your cellphone and keys to this place.” The guard informs and Jungkook nods again sheepishly. These days he’s become so careless.

“If you want, I can call the others—”

“No thanks!” Jungkook blurts out, his face scrunched with worry. He still doesn’t know how he’ll explain this all to his Hyungs. He needs to think of a way to make them believe him first because he’s damn sure no one will accept his words if he tells them that this girl he brought with him is a real mermaid. He needs someone good with words. Someone who is patient but is also taken seriously at all times. A name instantly pops up in his mind and he clicks his fingers.

“Can you call Sarang noona?” Jungkook asks the guard in an unsure voice but relaxes when the guard nods in affirmation and pulls out his phone.

Meanwhile Jungkook heads upstairs with the girl in his arms with no difficulty.She isn’t heavy at all. He lowers her onto his satin bed-sheets and stares at her. It’s still hard for him to believe he saved an actual mermaid’s life. Well..he’s not sure if he saved her but the moment her tail transformed into legs, the fine indents of gills on her neck had disappeared too. And he can see the proper rise and fall of her chest, indicating that she can breathe like a normal human. So basically, her body’s transformation saved her. It's impressive how quickly her body adapted to the whole situation.

She moans suddenly and Jungkook is immediately at her side. He watches her, searching for any evidence of displeasure on her face but thankfully her breathing is even which means she’s only gone into a sleep. Maybe staying out of water for too long had weakened her body and the fainting was a result of loss of strength. In that case, it’s better to let her stay asleep like this.

An image of her enchanting eyes flashes in his head and he smiles. He has no idea why but coming across her today was a beautiful experience. Even with the fear of something new and unknown lurking in his being, he had felt so alive and blissful in those moments. And it’s the same even now. Her presence right now, in this very moment feels very soothing to him. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight flush to her cheeks, her chapped yet still pretty, pink lips, her whole tiny form in nothing but his black hoodie is a breathtaking sight. And although inappropriate to admit, the sight is also kind of a turn on. He has never seen a women like this. Moreover, he’s never been with a woman like this, wearing his clothes and sleeping on his bed. He knows its wrong but he can’t help but feel pleased at the sight. Caught in the moment, he picks up his cellphone from the side table, scrolls to and opens the camera app and snaps a picture of the innocently asleep beauty on his sheets. He thinks about using his digital camera instead because a phone’s camera won’t do justice to her heavenly form. And just as he turns around to act on his whim, he finds three pairs of eyes already watching him.

Jimin nudges Taehyung, the two smiling in amusement at their donsaeng but Manager Sarang glares bullets into him.

“Ho-How long have you guys been standing there?” Jungkook stutters out, something very uncharacteristic of him.

“Long enough to see you stare at her like a love-struck teenager.” answers Taehyung, a sort of pride in his eyes.

“No! I–”

“Is this why you left without telling us!? To find gullible women and take advantage of them!? I didn’t expect this from you of–”

Jimin places his palm over Sarang’s lips to stop her from scolding his baby brother any further. “Lets not jump to conclusions and let him explain.” He tells her softly. She narrows her eyes once at him but agrees.

Jungkook glances at Jimin hyung, who’s smiling reassuringly at him. It always surprises Jungkook how much Jimin understands him without him having to say a word.He is forever going to be thankful of Jimin.

“I..” He stops, wondering what exactly he should say now that he’s given a chance at explaining himself. He’s sure if he says shit like he came across a mermaid on the beach, he’ll get suspicious stares. He needs to take it slow. “I found her all alone, unconscious on the beach..” Yes! This is better. He can start from here and reveal about the whole mermaid-thing later on.

“And she was naked too?” Sarang asks, immediately noticing the flaw in his lie. Damn she is good!

“Ye-Yes” he tries to be confident but fails. He’s been stammering a lot today. What’s wrong with him?

The three elders eye him momentarily. Fortunately, Taehyung breaks the tension and shrugs his shoulders. “We can just wait for her to wake up and hear what she has to say on the matter.” Jimin nods in approval at the suggestion and drags his unwilling personal manager on his way out of the room.

“Oh wait!” Jungkook runs to the threshold of his room and peaks out at the retreating figures. They turn heads, stopping on the stairs and await his next words. “Noona, can you get her some clothes? Um..along with undergarments..” He asks awkwardly but thank goodness, she responds with an affirmative nod.

Y/N’s P.o.V.

Your eyes fidget as you rouse from your slumber. Funny. You don’t recall resigning to your bed of kelp to sleep. You don’t even recall swimming back through the sea to return to your home. The realization makes you snap your eyes open and sit up.You look down at yourself, lifting your arms in confusion, only to find your form covered in some sort of thick but soft material— a kind of material you have only ever seen non-mers use to cover their bodies. But why are you covered in it!? Your eyes dart around, trying to come up with some sort of explanation but then you notice you’re in a completely alien environment. When did all this happen? Panic begins bubbling within you, giving rise to a strong headache.

A sudden clicking sound from the side makes your whole form jump in fright. You avert your eyes towards the source to find some kind of space, a passage opening up and something, no,a non-mer appears. As soon as you meet his gaze, your memories begin bombarding your head. You recall all the bloodshed, the iron bars, the yelling voices, the mocking snickers and the distasteful frowns. All of it starts coming back. All of it till you remember a memory of yourself swimming away to the land where you came across this same non-mer.

“Please..save me..”

Your own words of plea echo in your head and you stare at the non-mer. Judging by the physique, your guess is that he’s a male. You were taught that a male non-mers generally referred as ‘Man’. So it was this man! He was the one who had heard you sobbing at the shore and had come to your aid. He is looking right at you, his hands weirdly moving over his upper body, as if trying to cover himself.

“You!” you address him since the lack of knowledge of his name and try to get out the soft thing that you had been sleeping on, only to tumbledown.

The man was immediately at your side, catching you mere seconds before the fall can occur. Instinctively, your arms wrap around him and you bury your head in his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently and you nod once into his chest.

JK’s P.o.V.

After requesting for a fresh pair of clothes from Sarang Noona for the mermaid, Jungkook drapes a blanket over her small form and goes to freshen up into the washroom. He takes a quick shower and puts on a clean pair of boxers and then wears his swimming shorts again instead of searching for some different clothes. Splashing his face with cold water, he stares at his tired face. So many thoughts are going through his mind. What is he going to do with that mermaid when she wakes up?There’s no way his hyungs won’t find out. Even if he manages to keep the mermaid from revealing her true self, sooner or later everyone is bound to find out. Shouldn’t he avoid that inevitable scenario and simply tell them himself? But the chances of them believing the raw truth are even lower. And he can’t always keep her around either.

So then..what is he supposed to do?

With all these thoughts muddling in his head, he walks out of the washroom. And suddenly, he regrets not putting on a shirt. The little mermaid on his bed is not asleep anymore. Fora moment, she stares at him in confusion and he stares back, trying to cover as much of his exposed chest with his arms as possible. He maybe a “bad boy” on the stage but he actually gets shy easily if people look too long at him.

“You!” she shouts out of the blue and jumps off the bed to reach him. Her newly-formed legs however stagger and Jungkook sprints to her, catching her mere seconds before the fall. It must be because she most likely never had legs and so, her brain and body aren’t coordinated enough to use them yet. She wraps her arms tightly around his naked torso and buries her face in his chest. He gulps at the skin contact and tries to stay calm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hoping she doesn’t catch the shyness in his tone. She moves her face up and down in what he thinks is a nod.

The two of them stay still, unsure of how to continue on with this conversation.

“You’re a mermaid and you were actually at the sea.” Jungkook says more to himself, to confirm to himself that all of this is not just him lucid-dreaming about fantasy novels turning into reality.

The girl/mermaid nods again in response to his statement and speaks, “Yes, I’m a mermaid. And I..” she hesitates for an instant before going on, “I swam away..”

Jungkook stares down confusedly at her sad expression. Swam away? Is this an equivalent expression used by sea-folk to convey an act of “running away”? He scratches his chin, his other hand still resting around her waist.“You mean you left the sea?” He asks.

She nods and looks up at him. But just as she is about to elaborate more on her previous statement, the door to his room opens and in comes Sarang Noona with two carry bags in her hands.

She sighs at the state she finds the two standing in. Then closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Jungkook, I won’t ask about what you two are upto right now, so just leave us. I’ll help her with changing clothes. After that,”she pauses for dramatic effect and points a finger at the girl/mermaid, “this girl will answer everything downstairs.”

A/N: So the name of Jimin’s manager was chosen “Sarang” because once an international fan on fancafe had asked what she should take-up as her korean name. A k-army suggested “Sarang” which means lovely. That I-army told Jimin about her korean name and Jimin replied to her, saying her name is very “lovely”. Cute story, right? :3

So.. Y/N swam away from her home in the depths of the sea. Why? will be revealed in the coming chapters..

Hope you are looking forward to the next chapter. Feel free to send asks..:)

Until Next Time...

|MASTERLIST|